The big guy stood frozen, watching the Swedish Short-Snout spew flames in all directions. When he heard the question, he numbly nodded in response.
"Pull it out! Pull out the Corpse-Eating Vine!"
Viktor Krum shouted loudly.
One end of the Corpse-Eating Vine was by Stanislav Ivaneski's foot, and the other end was wrapped around the dragon egg beneath the Swedish Short-Snout's claw.
It was unrealistic to expect the dragon to willingly lift its claw. On the contrary, the Swedish Short-Snout was preparing to roast the entire area and clean up the grease.
If the Corpse-Eating Vine were to be burned, then the only connection to the dragon egg would be lost.
Of course, Stanislav Ivaneski himself didn't understand any of this, but he trusted his classmate Viktor Krum completely. Since Viktor told him to do it, he would follow through.
"Strengthen!"
Stanislav Ivaneski first cast a basic Dark Magic spell on himself.
Then, stowing away his wand, he bent down and began yanking the Corpse-Eating Vine. With one powerful tug, he ripped out the shallow-rooted vine. Next, he pulled with all his might, stretching the vine taut. A tug-of-war with a fire dragon had begun.
"Doesn't this look like a rabbit pulling out a turnip? Except the rabbit's a bit bigger, the turnip a bit smaller, and the turnip leaves a bit longer,"
Regulus Black said to Rita beside him.
"When you put it like that, it really does! But if you make that kind of comparison, Headmaster Igor Karkaroff is going to be furious."
Rita Skeeter knew exactly what her little man meant. Once they got back, this turnip-pulling scene would surely appear in the paper, complete with images and captions, turning the whole thing into a joke for everyone.
Even if Durmstrang Institute of Magic won the match, it still wouldn't escape being ridiculed.
"Pull! Come on! Pull! Come on! Pull! Come on!"
All the spectators were cheering for Durmstrang's champion, and Stanislav Ivaneski had already begun pulling the Corpse-Eating Vine out bit by bit. It seemed the grease on the ground did help provide some lubrication.
But things rarely go as planned. In the end, dragonfire did touch the vine, and everyone fell into despair. How could this be the result?
But to the single-minded Stanislav Ivaneski, this wasn't a problem at all. The vine hadn't burned through yet!
So just keep pulling! Pull until it finally does!
Sure enough, the world has a way of rewarding those who persevere.
Just before the vine was about to burn through, the Swedish Short-Snout turned to breathe fire in another direction. Its claw lifted off the egg, and just before the vine snapped, it yanked the dragon egg free.
The vine broke in midair, but the egg arced through the air and landed right in Stanislav Ivaneski's arms. The big guy held the dragon egg and grinned foolishly.
"Congratulations to Stanislav Ivaneski! Durmstrang Institute of Magic wins!"
Barty Crouch's voice rang out from the audience, offering his congratulations, and the crowd rose to applaud.
Headmaster Igor Karkaroff looked smug, as if everything had gone exactly as he planned.
However, once tomorrow's newspapers came out, he likely wouldn't be smiling anymore.
"Durmstrang's rabbit can pull turnips"—that line became a running joke for a long time afterward.
The tournament continued. Originally, each of the three schools was supposed to send out one champion per match. But now that each school had two champions, the matches were doubled in number. The plan was to finish everything in one day, but only three matches had been completed yesterday. Today's fourth match had taken up a good chunk of time as well, and Barty Crouch had no intention of letting the dragon challenges drag into a third day.
"Now, let's move to the stands for the fifth match!"
After announcing the victory and congratulating the champion, Barty Crouch quickly urged the students to change venues.
Each change of venue meant a new scramble for seats. Front-row spots were always the most coveted. While the process of moving was a bit of a hassle, the students considered it very fair.
Fast legs win, slow ones lose. Running slowly wasn't your fault, but blocking others definitely was.
Still, no matter how wildly the students ran, none of them dared bump into the professors. No one wanted to flunk their exams!
Cedric Diggory vs. the Welsh Green
"Cedric's lucky. The Welsh Green is one of the more docile fire dragons."
"As if that's better than the Chinese Fireball? A dragon that hands over the egg the moment you talk to it?"
As soon as a few students took their seats, they began chatting away. After all, the champions were about to face dragons, and it wasn't just the champions who were scouring books for information—even the spectators were eagerly doing their own research and were more than happy to share what they found.
This wasn't mutual assistance—it was called being helpful, or perhaps just enthusiastic participation.
"Quiet! Cedric's up."
"Cedric! We love you!"
"Over here! Cedric, look over here!"
The sudden outburst of cheers from the stands instantly soured the expressions of many girls—and even Cedric himself looked visibly uncomfortable, his face turning green. Just look at who was doing the cheering!
It was one of Hogwarts' most notorious groups of students, known as the "Theban Legion."
That row of gluttonous, pudgy boys made up the core of the group.
After eating the Valentine's Day chocolates that Cedric had thrown away—gifts from girls but made by Regulus Black, with love potions secretly added—the outlook of these boys on life had changed. A new world had opened up to them on Valentine's Day.
"Dear Black, can I report on this?"Rita Skeeter asked Regulus Black with great anticipation. Every report now had to be factual, which was a tough adjustment for someone like her who had made a career out of embellishment. But this situation was just too juicy to pass up—how could she possibly not report it? How could she let down The Daily Prophet and its generous salary?
Still, she had to ask Regulus Black for permission first. After all, this little man now meant more to her than anything else.
"Cedric Diggory's father is Amos Diggory, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic. You should consider the implications before reporting,"Regulus Black said, and Rita Skeeter understood exactly what he meant—he wanted to stir things up. Drag down the father along with the son? Clearly, her little man had his eye on that position.
Of course, Regulus Black would never admit to that. High-ranking positions at the Ministry weren't insignificant to him. If someone lives within society, then their worth is often measured by their status.
Even though Regulus Black possessed significant assets and influence outside the Ministry, and his magical prowess far exceeded that of most wizards, in the eyes of the average wizard, he was still just a professor's assistant at Hogwarts.
Such a title hardly matched what Regulus Black had achieved. Even Lucius Malfoy held an official position at the Ministry—why shouldn't Regulus do the same?
Even if he secretly wanted to use the son to take down the father, he still had to keep up appearances and act like the good guy.
With a wave of his wand, Regulus Black instantly silenced the members of the Theban Legion who had been shouting. Suddenly mute, they flailed their arms and legs in silent desperation like actors in a pantomime.
At the entrance, Cedric's expression finally relaxed.
The Welsh Green dragon was lazily observing the wizard at the entrance. Hmm… it was clearly a male wizard.
But what was he doing? Coming to visit? Trying to get something from him? The dragon drifted into idle speculation.
Earlier, Regulus Black had used a spell called Floral Slumber, which conjured a vast meadow of grass and wildflowers around the dragon. To the Welsh Green, the flowers looked as tempting as a feast. After devouring them all, it had promptly fallen asleep.
Cedric Diggory knew he couldn't pull off anything like that. Just as Regulus Black had said—even if he taught Cedric the spell, he wouldn't be able to cast it on such a massive scale. If it wasn't enough to satisfy the dragon's appetite, then the spell would be useless.
Still, Cedric Diggory was the Head Boy of Hufflepuff!
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