No one objected to Percy temporarily becoming the person in charge of the tournament's final arrangements.
After all, the competition had reached its final stage, with just one task remaining, and everything that needed to be prepared was more or less already ready and in place.
As long as Percy wasn't deliberately causing trouble or making catastrophically bad decisions, there wouldn't be any major problems that couldn't be fixed.
However, the competition had originally had five judges to ensure fairness and proper control, and now three of them had encountered serious problems—Crouch murdered, Karkaroff dead after a brief recovery, and Bagman dismissed from his position in disgrace.
With only Dumbledore and her remaining to judge, an ominous premonition arose in Madame Maxime's heart. But at this point, with everything already in motion, it was too late to say anything or make changes.
In mid-June, as the days grew longer and warmer, Hogwarts entered the traditionally tense period of final examinations.
The library was packed at all hours. Students could be seen with dark circles under their eyes, clutching textbooks as they walked. The common rooms buzzed with anxious studying late into the night.
As one of the four champions, Harry was exempted from all final exams—undoubtedly a treatment that all students desperately dreamed of, though few would want the accompanying dangers.
Therefore, during the examination periods, he could only sit awkwardly in the back row of each classroom, idly watching everyone else scratch their heads in frustration, gnaw on their quills, and stare desperately at their parchment as if wishing answers to appear.
In fact, unlike most of his classmates who viewed exams as torture, Harry didn't particularly dislike examinations.
Perhaps this was simply the confidence of being a naturally good student who actually studied. Or perhaps it was because he'd faced far more terrifying tests than written exams.
Meanwhile, Adrian silently hoped that his students had indeed been paying proper attention in Care of Magical Creatures class throughout the year rather than just playing with the creatures.
His exam wasn't intentionally difficult—the practical portion only required a bit of cleverness and basic knowledge to pass, and he had no intention of making things too hard for students on the written test either.
He wasn't Snape.
Finally, after what felt like an infinity of anticipation and preparation, the day of the Triwizard Tournament final task arrived.
The atmosphere at Hogwarts was electric with excitement. Students who'd finished their exams were practically bouncing off the walls.
Like the previous two tasks, rows upon rows of spectator stands had been set up early around the massive maze.
The competition would take place in the evening as the sun set, creating appropriate atmosphere, so the champions still had a long preparation time to mentally ready themselves.
The conference room was very lively and crowded in the morning—the champions could meet with their visiting relatives here, as they had been specially invited to Hogwarts to watch the competition and support their children.
Adrian was also present, standing near the snacks and drinks table and talking pleasantly with Fleur's mother, the elegant Madame Delacour.
With his exceptional memory, plus borrowing a little magical help from Ravenclaw's diadem which he'd been studying, learning French hadn't proven very difficult at all.
It didn't even require much dedicated time or effort—just a few months of evening practice.
He could now manage basic communication comfortably, though his accent probably needed work.
Madame Delacour was a witch who possessed the same stunning, otherworldly beauty as her daughter Fleur, though matured and superior with age.
Adrian knew that Fleur had one-quarter Veela blood, which meant Madame Delacour obviously had considerably more—perhaps half, making her extremely close to pure Veela heritage.
However, unlike Fleur, while Madame Delacour's appearance was undeniably striking and turned heads, that was all—she didn't possess or project the subtle, unconscious allure that Fleur constantly emanated and couldn't fully control.
'This was definitely a powerful witch,' Adrian thought with respect, studying her controlled demeanor.
Someone who could suppress Veela heritage so completely must have formidable control and magical strength.
"Gabrielle has mentioned you many times in her letters home, Professor Westeros," Madame Delacour said warmly, her English carrying a slight, charming accent but remaining very fluent and elegant. "You made quite an impression on her during her time here."
"I certainly hope it's all good things she's been saying," Adrian replied with a genuine smile on his face, glancing down at the young girl.
Madame Delacour held Gabrielle's small hand gently. Gabrielle looked up at Adrian with bright and sparkling with interest and what might have been a bit of hero worship.
"She likes you immensely," Madame Delacour said with a glance down at her younger daughter, her tone carrying a trace of maternal helplessness and amusement. "A few days ago, this child was even having wild fantasies, pestering Madame Maxime constantly, asking if she could somehow figure out a way to borrow you to teach at Beauxbatons for a while. She was quite persistent about it."
She couldn't help but laugh warmly as she spoke.
Gabrielle's cheeks flushed pink and she pursed her lips, turning her head to the side.
Adults always liked to treat children's earnest affairs as amusing anecdotes for entertainment. It was terribly unfair.
At that moment, Fleur also entered from outside, pushing through the crowded room. She was dressed in her Beauxbatons uniform.
Seeing her mother and little sister chatting so happily and comfortably with Adrian, a trace of surprise appeared on her face.
"Maman," she said to Madame Delacour in rapid French, her tone starting light and cheerful as she approached them. "I didn't expect you so early—"
However, the moment Madame Delacour properly saw her daughter up close, really looked at her, she somehow immediately restrained her previous warm smile.
Her expression shifted to something more serious, and more worried.
"You used that spell again?" She asked sharply, switching to French, her tone carrying both concern and clear reproach. "Fleur, we discussed this. You promised me—"
The smile on Fleur's face stiffened noticeably for a moment as she was caught off guard by her mother's reproach. Then she said in a dismissive, defensive tone, waving one hand carelessly,
"That was months ago, Maman, during the first task to deal with that horrible dragon. Look, I'm perfectly fine now, nothing's wrong at all. See?"
She spread her hands wide, displaying herself and turning slightly, trying to prove her physical condition was perfect and her mother was worrying needlessly.
But Madame Delacour was clearly not entirely convinced by this performance. She reached out and gently brushed a strand of silver hair from Fleur's forehead, her gaze becoming somewhat more serious and sharper.
She lowered her voice, speaking softly so others wouldn't overhear. "Fleur, listen to me carefully. Tonight's competition... perhaps you should seriously consider withdrawing. For your own safety. Please."
"Withdraw?" Fleur reacted as if she'd been suddenly pricked by a sharp needle, her voice rose in alarm. "You must be joking, Maman! That's completely impossible! I've come this far!"
Her blue eyes flashed with indignation and determination.
Madame Delacour naturally understood her stubborn, prideful daughter and her fierce competitive spirit. It was a family trait, after all.
So even though she was clearly unhappy about Fleur's decision and her face tightened with worry, she didn't insist on persuading her further or pushing the matter.
Some battles couldn't be won with words.
The mother and daughter had been conversing in rapid French throughout this conversation.
Adrian, standing politely nearby and pretending to examine the refreshment table, watched this scene from the side with careful attention and immediately understood exactly what Madame Delacour was worried about.
Under the constant observation of the Tree of Wisdom, which he checked periodically, the "unstable magic" condition afflicting Fleur hadn't been eliminated at all—it had persisted for most of the year despite his hopes it would naturally resolve.
Obviously, Madame Delacour with her greater experience and Veela's instinct had also noticed this dangerous abnormality in her daughter.
Before long, the other champions and their various relatives also entered the conference room one after another, filling it with noise and excitement.
Adrian saw the fat Mr. Diggory vigorously patting Cedric's shoulder with pride, his face was beaming. Senior Mr. Krum was speaking rapidly to his son in low, intense tones in Bulgarian.
And the entire Weasley family had arrived—all of them, from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to all the siblings, they must have come primarily to see Harry.
The gesture touched Adrian.
After simply greeting everyone politely and exchanging a few pleasantries, Adrian didn't linger in the crowded conference room.
He left the castle through a side door and walked straight across the grounds to where the maze was located. At the maze entrance, Percy was talking with several workers wearing official Ministry of Magic uniforms, looking somewhat stressed.
Percy straightened his back stiffly, trying to project authority, holding a long parchment checklist in his hand with various items marked off. He was trying desperately to make his voice sound authoritative and commanding rather than nervous.
"...According to the official arrangement, item thirteen specifically requires ensuring that the Blast-Ended Skrewts are placed precisely at the crossroads in the southeast area..." Percy pointed at the checklist with one finger, speaking to a round-faced wizard with a full, graying beard who looked experienced and thoroughly unimpressed.
'It seemed Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts had finally found some practical employment,' Adrian thought with amusement.
Those dangerous creatures had been controversial all year, with parents writing complaint letters, he heard.
However, despite Percy's obvious earnestness and clear dedication to following proper procedures, the older wizard looked like he wasn't listening at all to his instructions.
He was impatiently waving his wand with dismissive gestures, directing a huge, constantly wriggling and thumping crate to float toward the depths of the maze.
He was muttering just loud enough to be heard, "Always sending these green kids fresh from school to boss us around like we don't know our jobs..."
Percy's cheeks flushed slightly pink with embarrassment and frustration. Adrian could clearly sense his discomfort from across the area.
When Percy spotted Adrian approaching, he acted as though he'd found a savior and hurried over quickly, his relief was obvious.
"Professor Westeros!" Percy's voice rose slightly from urgency and perhaps hope for support.
He straightened his clothes nervously, tugging his robes into place and adjusting his collar, trying to regain some composure and dignity. "You've come at just the right time. I'm currently supervising the final procedures for releasing the magical creatures into the maze, ensuring everything follows Ministry regulations strictly and properly."
As Percy spoke, he unconsciously waved the parchment checklist that no one seemed to be paying the slightest attention to, his gesture was almost pleading.
Adrian wanted to gently say this was ultimately futile, that experience mattered more than checklists, but he still preserved a bit of dignity for Percy and simply nodded gently in acknowledgment.
"You're doing well," Adrian said kindly. "It's a complex operation."
Percy adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down his nose, and continued in his most formal tone, clearly trying to sound professional. "Oh, Professor, when I was checking through the official list earlier, I noticed that you've also provided some... special creatures for the maze portion of this competition?"
His tone made it clear he wasn't entirely sure what these "special creatures" were, and was perhaps slightly concerned.
"Yes," Adrian confirmed. "A few Treants from the Forbidden Forest. They're quite safe, actually—they'll simply block paths and test the champions' problem-solving skills. Nothing dangerous."
Percy nodded, making a note on his checklist. "Treants, yes, I see that here. Item... seventeen. Good, good."
He seemed relieved it was nothing too exotic though the name was new and felt weird. Just as he was about to ask what creatures they were.
"How are the other preparations proceeding?" Adrian asked, looking genuinely curious.
Percy's expression became more confident, happy to discuss his work. "Quite well, actually! The Sphinx arrived this morning from Greece, they are beautiful creature, very intelligent. The Boggart is in place, properly contained. The Red Caps are in the northern section, well away from the entrance so the champions have time to prepare. And Hagrid's Skrewts are... well, they're certainly enthusiastic."
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