Chapter 25: Chapter 25: The First Task

The morning of the first task dawned grey and blustery, with tension hanging in the air so thick you could almost taste it. Lessons dragged on in a blur of distracted whispers and nervous glances, finally stopping at midday.

Students bundled up against the November chill and streamed out of the castle toward the Forbidden Forest, pulled by a mix of morbid curiosity and school spirit. They didn’t know exactly what waited for them, only that it involved the champions, danger, and that mysterious structure that had appeared near the woods.

Arthur, unlike everyone else, felt none of the panic gripping his classmates. He took his time finishing a particularly difficult Chapter on temporal enchantment theory in the quiet of his room before finally heading to the meeting point – a large tent pitched near the edge of the forest clearing where he’d spied on the dragons. He deliberately arrived last, finding the other three champions already inside, either pacing nervously or staring blankly at the canvas walls.

Harry Potter looked absolutely green, fidgeting by the tent entrance. Fleur Delacour kept up her elegant appearance, though her tightly clenched fists gave her away. Viktor Krum brooded in a corner, radiating intense gloominess. Ludo Bagman bounced around them like an oversized, brightly-robed puppy.

As Arthur pushed aside the heavy canvas flap and entered, Bagman quickly spotted him.

“Ah, our final champion arrives!” Bagman boomed, his boyish excitement completely out of place among the grim-faced champions. “Cutting it rather fine, aren’t we, Mr. Hayes?”

Arthur shrugged, totally unbothered. He noticed Harry standing slightly apart from the others, looking pale but definitely calmer than during their chat yesterday. The boy gave a small nod, which Arthur returned.

Fleur and Krum exchanged confused looks at this unexpected interaction, but before they could think about it too much, Bagman clapped his hands for attention.

“Well, now we’re all here, time to fill you in!” He beamed around at them like he was announcing a surprise holiday. “When the audience has assembled, I’m going to offer each of you this bag”—he held up a small purple silk sack—”from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different—er—varieties, you see. And your task,” Bagman continued, “will be to collect the golden egg!”

Arthur smiled at Bagman’s pathetic attempt to keep the dragons a secret even now. As if all the champions didn’t already know what they’d be facing.

When the sounds of hundreds of feet passing the tent told them the crowd had gathered, Bagman opened the silk bag and offered it to Fleur first. “Ladies first!” he said cheerfully.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and pulled out a tiny, perfect model of a Welsh Green dragon.

Krum went next, his permanent scowl unchanged as he got the scarlet Chinese Fireball.

Arthur stepped forward calmly. As his fingers brushed against the miniature dragons inside the bag, he felt the distinct, sharp edges of the Horntail model and the smoother shape of the Short-Snout. He could easily pick the less aggressive Swedish dragon, but then he remembered Harry’s panicked face from yesterday. With a mental shrug – what difference did it really make which beast he faced? – he deliberately grabbed the spiky miniature. His plan would look more impressive with the fiercer dragon anyway.

He pulled out his hand, revealing the tiny, perfectly detailed Hungarian Horntail. It twisted in his palm, showing its tiny fangs in a silent, useless snarl. Arthur found it rather amusing.

“The Hungarian Horntail!” Bagman announced, looking at Arthur with a mix of alarm and respect. “Rather you than me, my boy! That’s number four, so you’ll be going last.”

Arthur mentally sighed. He hadn’t thought about how choosing the Horntail would put him last in line. If he’d given it a bit more thought, he might have picked differently—going first would have let him finish quickly and get back to his research. Now he’d have to sit through all three performances before taking his turn.

Harry came forward last, getting the remaining Swedish Short-Snout. He looked relieved to be going first, probably wanting to get it over with quickly and give his wobbly legs a rest.

“Well, there you are!” said Bagman. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face and know the order in which you are going to face them. Now, I’m going to have to leave you in a moment, because I’m commentating. Mr. Potter, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear the whistle, all right?”

As Bagman hurried out, Arthur turned to Harry. “Good luck, Potter,” he said simply.

Harry looked startled but grateful. “Thanks. You too… though you don’t seem to need it.”

“I’m adequately prepared,” Arthur replied with a faint smile.

Fleur and Krum were now openly staring at them, clearly wondering about this unexpected friendliness between champions.

When Bagman left, Arthur transfigured a nearby chair into a comfy couch without any effort, then settled in to wait. He then summoned, out of nowhere, a small notebook containing his latest research notes on enchantment transference and began reviewing them, completely ignoring the tension around him.

Minutes later, a whistle blew, and Harry walked out of the tent with shaky determination. Once he was gone, the remaining champions could only guess what was happening from the crowd’s reactions and Bagman’s excited commentary.

“Oh, excellent move! Very clever use of flying skills!”

“Narrow escape there, very narrow!”

“That’s some nerve he’s showing!”

“YES! HE’S GOT THE EGG!”

Arthur allowed himself a small smile. He could guess what was going on outside—Harry had used the Summoning Charm to call his Firebolt and was using his flying skills to outsmart the dragon. Unlike in the canon, where he’d had some trouble with the Horntail, Harry should have completed the task quite easily against the somewhat less aggressive Short-Snout.

Next came Fleur. The crowd’s reaction shifted – murmurs, then a collective sigh, followed by nervous silence. Arthur heard Bagman mention a “sleeping charm” and then a sudden yelp of pain. Ah, the snoring incident, Arthur remembered. A bit of fire must have caught her robes. More murmurs, then applause – polite, but less enthusiastic than for Harry. She’d succeeded, but not without getting hurt.

Krum followed. His entrance was met with booming cheers, especially from the Durmstrang lot. Bagman’s commentary turned frantic almost immediately. Shouts about “bold spell-casting” and “direct approach” were mixed with angry roars from the dragon and worried noises from the crowd. Arthur recognised the pattern – the Conjunctivitis Curse. Effective, but brutal, and apparently clumsy this time. He heard Bagman mention damaged eggs alongside the retrieval of the golden one. Krum had succeeded, but likely lost points for messing up the nest.

Finally, it was Arthur’s turn. The whistle blew, and he calmly closed his notebook and with a wave, it disappeared to wherever it came from. He then walked out into the arena with the same unhurried pace he’d used to arrive at the tent.

—

(POV Shift: Ludo Bagman)

From the commentator’s box, Ludo Bagman watched in confusion as the fourth champion emerged. Unlike the others who had entered the arena with wands drawn and tense postures, Arthur Hayes strolled in as casually as if he were taking an afternoon walk by the lake.

“And here comes Mr. Hayes, our final champion!” Bagman announced to the crowd. “Facing the Hungarian Horntail, widely considered the most dangerous of our four dragons! Let’s see what strategy he employs!”

The crowd murmured, a mixture of worry and hostile curiosity rippling through the stands.

Arthur looked ridiculously calm, his dark school robes neat, his expression unreadable. Across the arena, the Horntail shifted, its massive black form coiled protectively around a clutch of large, grey eggs. The golden egg glinted amongst them, deceptively small.

The dragon let out a deafening roar, unleashing a torrent of fire towards the stands opposite Arthur, forcing spectators to duck behind magical barriers.

“Blimey, nasty temper on this one!” Bagman chirped nervously. “Now, let’s see Hayes’s opening move! What strategy will he employ? A complex charm? A daring transfiguration?”

But Arthur did… nothing. He simply stood near the entrance, seemingly observing the dragon. Seconds ticked by. The Horntail ignored him, focusing its reptilian fury on the noisy crowd.

“Er… any time now, Mr. Hayes!” Bagman prompted into the microphone. “Dragon’s not going to invite you over for tea!”

A few boos started to rise from the crowd, mainly from sections packed with Gryffindors. “Scared, is he?” someone shouted. “Nothing like our Gryffindor champion!”

Arthur appeared completely unfazed by the jeers. He subtly rotated his right wrist, his fingers flexing slightly at his side – a movement so small it was almost invisible from the stands. Then, to the absolute shock of everyone watching, he began to walk.

Not run. Not sneak. Not cast a single spell. He simply walked forward, directly towards the monstrous, fire-breathing Hungarian Horntail and its nest, his pace steady and unhurried.

“What’s he doing?!” Bagman yelped, forgetting his commentary duties for a moment. “Is he mad? He’s walking right at it! Hayes, get back!”

The crowd gasped together. People leaned forward, convinced they were about to see something horrible. The Horntail was easily ten times Arthur’s size, radiating heat and danger. Its massive head, bristling with horns, moved slightly, yellow eyes tracking a bird flying high above. It hadn’t even seemed to notice Arthur approaching.

Arthur continued walking, his path taking him right beside the dragon’s massive side. The heat coming off its scales should have been intense, the sheer closeness terrifying. Yet Arthur didn’t flinch. He stepped carefully between the scattered rocks, moving with quiet purpose.

He reached the edge of the rough nest. The Horntail shifted slightly, its spiked tail sweeping dangerously close, but still, it paid Arthur no attention, letting out another roar towards the stands. It was utterly bizarre. It was as if, to the dragon, Arthur simply wasn’t there.

With impossible calm, Arthur stepped into the nest, carefully moving around the large, real eggs. He reached down, picked up the gleaming golden egg, and tucked it securely under his arm.

The dragon finally seemed to sense something weird. Its massive head swung around, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air within its nest. Its gaze swept over the clutch of eggs. Arthur, moving with surprising speed for someone who had appeared so relaxed moments before, took a swift, long step back out of the nest just as the dragon lowered its snout to investigate.

The Horntail nudged its real eggs gently, sniffed again, and seemed satisfied. Seeing its precious clutch apparently untouched, it dismissed whatever brief disturbance it had sensed. With another defiant roar aimed at the noisy humans in the stands, it settled back down, ignoring the spot where the golden egg had been moments before.

Meanwhile, Arthur Hayes, holding the golden egg, was calmly walking out of the enclosure entrance. He didn’t run; he didn’t look back. He simply walked away, leaving behind a stadium filled with thousands of completely stunned witches and wizards.

“I… I don’t believe it,” Bagman stammered into the microphone, saying what everyone was thinking. “He just… walked in? And the dragon… it didn’t do anything to him? How is that possible?”

—

Arthur reached the exit where Professors Moody, McGonagall, and Snape waited, their own faces showing carefully controlled astonishment. He handed the golden egg to McGonagall, who took it numbly.

A small, almost invisible smile played on Arthur’s lips as he met the professors’ intensely curious gaze. The confusion, the shock, the shattering of expectations – that was almost as satisfying as the rare books he’d acquired. Sometimes, the most powerful magic was simply doing the completely unexpected.

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