With a dark expression, Wayne dragged Hermione away, leaving Harry staring puzzled at their retreating figures.
"Why does it feel like Wayne's angry?"
Though the two had been speaking in hushed tones, Ron, seated beside Harry, had overheard.
Despite barely exchanging a civil word recently, they were dormmates, shared every class, and usually moved as a pair.
This time, Harry remained characteristically oblivious—but Ron had a breakthrough.
The realisation hit him, draining the colour from his face.
"Stop eating!" Ron hissed under his breath, glaring as Harry continued shovelling bacon and eggs into his mouth.
Harry's heart leapt, his lips quirking up. "You're talking to me?"
Their standoff had been like a petty lovers' quarrel—whoever spoke first lost. Clearly, Harry thought Ron was about to cave and apologise.
But Ron had bigger concerns now. He stared at Harry as if he were an idiot.
"You're about to die at the ripe age of fourteen, and you're smiling?"
Harry scowled. "Ron, even if you're still mad, you can't just curse me like that!"
His voice rose slightly, drawing curious glances from nearby students.
Ron yanked him into a secluded side room, where they were alone, and snapped, "Dragons! Wayne was warning you—the first task is dragons!"
Harry gaped. "But he said Charlie—"
"Idiot! What does Charlie do? He's a dragon keeper! It's not even a holiday—if he's here this early, there's only one reason—" Ron locked eyes with Harry, enunciating each word. "He came with the dragons."
Harry's face turned ashen.
...
Hogsmeade's streets were packed, every shop bursting at the seams.
Hogwarts students revelled in their day of freedom, while visiting students eagerly snapped photos and soaked in the sights.
Even foreign wizards had flocked to the village, likely drawn by the Triwizard Tournament's spectacle.
Amid the frenzy, shopkeepers grinned from ear to ear, their flashy signs luring wave after wave of eager customers.
Wayne walked down the street with the girls, attracting countless glances, though few dared to approach and cause trouble.
The weather had turned rather chilly. Astoria tucked her hand into Wayne's large palm for warmth, and Gabrielle imitated her. But the little girl was too short, having to raise her arm awkwardly high.
Before long, she grew tired and withdrew her hand, pouting miserably.
Astoria shot her a triumphant look, which so infuriated Gabrielle that she went tattling to Fleur, leaving Wayne helpless.
These two can find ways to compete despite the age gap. Impossible to manage.
They spent the morning browsing several shops, mainly Fleur and the other girls buying souvenirs. Even items Wayne considered utterly ordinary, they would purchase without hesitation.
In the end, everyone had spent a significant amount of money. Fortunately, they had Undetectable Extension Charm pockets, so they didn't have to carry bulky packages.
Before noon, the group arrived at the Three Broomsticks and secured two tables in advance.
Soon after, Charlie and several of his colleagues arrived. Seeing the 'spectacle' around Wayne, Charlie discreetly gave him a thumbs-up.
With Wayne's way of charming girls, the Lawrence family would soon replace the Weasleys in the wizarding world's hierarchy.
"Many children, many blessings" was absolutely not an empty saying in the magical world.
By the time the pub was completely packed, Cedric finally arrived, fashionably late.
Charlie had been briefed beforehand, so as soon as he spotted Cedric, he enthusiastically pulled him over.
"Charlie," Cedric whispered, his breathing slightly uneven. "Is it really...?"
"Let me introduce you," Charlie said, slinging an arm around his shoulders without directly answering. "Sutter, my boss and colleague. Kuhlmann, my good mate—he's got a unique understanding of handling Hungarian Horntails. I wouldn't go near those vicious things myself."
Charlie introduced several colleagues in one breath, and Cedric's smile grew increasingly strained.
Eight!
He'd introduced eight types of dragons!
Instinctively, Cedric glanced at Wayne, but Wayne showed no interest in his predicament, busy whispering to Sakura.
Cedric: "..."
He genuinely wanted to withdraw now and let Harry be Hogwarts' sole champion.
Was this bloody task designed to kill them?
...
At Hogwarts, Harry was even more panicked than Cedric.
After listening to Ron's divine analysis, Harry was now utterly convinced that Moody's goal had been achieved—he definitely wanted Harry dead at the claws of a dragon.
This was an overt scheme, impossible to counter.
Either choose not to compete, break the contract and become a Squib, or take the gamble—forget turning a bicycle into a motorbike; just surviving would be enough.
The two academically challenged boys crammed desperately, skipping Hogsmeade altogether and burying themselves in the library, searching for spells to use against dragons.
Due to the open day, the library was unusually quiet, with only a handful of first-years around.
They pulled out every book related to dragons and combed through the massive pile like searching for a needle in a haystack.
"Magical claw maintenance... treatments for scale rot, how to increase a dragon's libido, secrets of breeding..."
Bang!
Harry slammed a thick book shut in despair. "Right, why would normal people ever think of killing a dragon? Maybe I can tame it with love?"
"The task can't possibly be this insane," Ron said, brainstorming ideas. Ever since learning what Harry was up against, his envy had vanished, replaced by deep pity.
"You're no match for a dragon. Neither is Cedric nor Krum. At best, they'd last a few minutes longer and die more peacefully."
"Good point," Harry perked up. "So we just need to find a way to survive under a dragon's claws."
They resumed their frantic reading, but even after seeing stars, they hadn't found anything suitable.
Ron suggested Harry seek Wayne's help, but Harry refused.
He had already obtained the dragon hint, so seeking out Wayne again would be pushing his luck. Yet Ron had inspired him.
He couldn't approach Wayne, nor any of the professors, as he couldn't explain how he'd learned about the tournament's contents.
But he could contact Sirius!
The two hurried to the owlery, writing a letter to Sirius and arranging to meet via the Gryffindor fireplace at eleven that evening.
After an agonising wait, the clock finally struck ten fifty.
Harry and Ron crept out of bed without waking the sleeping Neville and Seamus.
The common room was deserted. At precisely eleven, the fireplace flames turned green and Sirius's head emerged, making both boys break into grins.
"Harry, you alright? Oh, Ron, thanks for helping this daft lad."
After weeks of recovery, Sirius's gaunt face had filled out considerably, regaining some of his former vigour. He reached out to ruffle Harry's hair.
"I'm not alright at all. Everything's been dreadful lately." The words came pouring out - being mysteriously selected as champion, Rita Skeeter's articles, Ron...
He desperately needed to vent his recent frustrations.
Mentioning Ron made him pause. He didn't mention their falling out to Sirius.
Sirius listened quietly without interruption. Only when Harry paused for breath did he speak: "About the tournament - I've spoken to Dumbledore. He'll ensure your safety. Trust him."
"I have my doubts." Harry shrugged. "The dragons could kill me any moment in a few days."
"Don't worry about the dragons. We can handle them." Sirius flashed a confident smile.
"Your task definitely won't be defeating one - you couldn't possibly manage that anyway. Not everyone's at Wayne's level."
"You'll just need to distract them briefly to complete the task. Plenty of spells can achieve that."
"But books say dragon hide is incredibly tough." Harry fretted. "I could never penetrate their defences."
"True in most cases, but dragons have weaknesses. One spell will do - the Conjunctivitis Curse."
Sirius spoke rapidly. "Eyes are among a dragon's most vulnerable spots. You must master this spell quickly - and fire it fast and accurately."
"I'll try." Harry looked uncertain. "Only four days left. Not sure I can manage."
"Isn't there something simpler Harry could do now?" Ron interjected.
Both boys stared at Sirius's floating head as he pondered.
"Then you must play to your strengths."
"Strengths?" they chorused.
"Defence Against the Dark Arts? I got an 'Outstanding' last term."
"No. Quidditch." Sirius said gravely. "You fly as brilliantly as James did. You've got the Firebolt too. However you manage it, that'll keep you alive."
Harry's eyes suddenly lit up. "You're right!"
He was utterly confident in his flying skills—any broom would do. But he wasn't allowed to use the Firebolt during the match, so—Summoning Charm!
Harry quickly pinpointed the key factor.
Compared to the unfamiliar Conjunctivitis Curse, he had far more faith in his Summoning Charm, as he'd nearly mastered it already. The only uncertainty was whether the spell would work given the distance between the castle and the competition grounds.
Seeing Harry had a plan, Sirius grinned.
"I'll be there to watch on the day. If you need anything, ask Wayne for help. Just remember to bring money—come to me if you run out. I've got plenty of the stuff."
True to his reputation as an elite among wizards, Sirius might be reckless, but he wasn't stupid. He'd grasped the crux of the matter instantly.
Harry nodded, while Ron drooled with envy.
He wished he had a godfather like that...
...
With a solution for the dragon in place, the weight in Harry's chest lightened somewhat. After chatting with Sirius about trivial daily matters, the fireplace flames returned to normal.
The two turned to head back to the dormitory—only to jump out of their skins in fright.
At the entrance to the boys' dormitory corridor, two identical faces stared at them eerily.
"G-George? Fred?!" Ron stammered. "How long have you been there?"
"Since you and Sirius started discussing dragons," the twins said, descending the steps with arms crossed as they scrutinised Harry.
Harry's heart leapt into his throat. "You won't tell on us, right?"
"Of course not," Fred broke into a grin, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. "When did you find out? Why didn't you tell us sooner? This sounds like fun!"
George nodded in agreement. "Taking on a dragon? That's bloody brilliant. You're lucky, Harry."
"Lucky?" Harry gaped at them as if they were ghosts. "It's a dragon! Aren't you scared?"
"Terrified," George shrugged, pulling Harry onto the sofa.
"But Wayne's the judge—he'll protect you. So just enjoy yourself."
Fred sat on Harry's other side, trapping him between them. "You should've told us earlier. Dealing with a dragon? We've got loads of ideas."
"Oh?" Though Sirius had already pointed him in the right direction, Harry wasn't opposed to more options.
"Obviously. We're what Wayne calls..."
"The Sleeping Dragon and Young Phoenix."
"Yeah, that's the one."
Fred leaned in to whisper in Harry's ear, while Ron sulked nearby.
"I'm your brother! Can't I hear too?"
George waved him off. "Your mouth is nearly as big as Hagrid's. Tell you, and it's game over."
Harry's expression gradually shifted from puzzled to resolute.
"I'd rather die than use your method."
"Don't be so hasty," George said sagely. "You've got time to think it over. We've got plenty in stock—guaranteed to get you first place."
"Right, use as much as you want. Free of charge."
With matching grins, the twins slung their arms around each other and sauntered out of the common room, undoubtedly off to stir up more trouble.
...
The twenty-fourth soon arrived.
On the day of the tournament, the school buzzed with nervous excitement as everyone eagerly anticipated the event. Classes were cancelled after noon, and the entire staff and student body made their way down to the dragon enclosure.
Inside the suitcase's miniature world, Wayne stood before a mirror.
His ordinary school robes had been replaced by splendid dress robes, worn over a simple white shirt.
Luna was helping him with his tie, carefully adjusting it before stepping back to admire the handsome youth's reflection – his upright posture and striking features drawing an unconscious smile to her lips.
Yet something still felt missing. The girl tilted her head in thought before producing a carrot sticker from her small bag and affixing it to Wayne's tie, instantly adding a playful touch.
"There."
"Odd aesthetic," Wayne muttered, yet made no move to remove it.
The two emerged from the suitcase and headed towards the tournament grounds.
Near the original dragon enclosure, several towering stands had sprung up overnight, now filling with orderly streams of students and outside spectators amidst the clamour of voices.
"I'll go ahead," Luna bid Wayne farewell before merging into the crowd.
Wayne turned towards a large tent where the champions were to assemble.
"Potter, don't be nervous," Professor McGonagall said as she escorted Harry forward. "We've stationed wizards nearby, and Mr Lawrence will be present to control the situation."
"Just focus on demonstrating your abilities, all right? Don't worry about winning or scores. Merely competing at your age is remarkable enough."
Harry nodded numbly, his mind already reduced to mush.
As they reached the tent, they found Wayne waiting outside with Bagman standing obediently behind him.
Professor McGonagall gave him a nod. "Wayne, I'm entrusting Harry to you."
"Rest assured," Wayne smiled. "I'll return his body to you in one piece."
McGonagall: "..."