( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓 ) — the first task
The first task of the Triwizard Tournament was a daunting one. It commended on the twenty-fourth of November, involving retrieving a golden egg from the protection of a dragon.
Evangeline sat through the first three contestants rather calmly. It wasn't that she didn't care for their safety; that wasn't the case, at all. But Remus cared about Harry, and she cared about Remus, so that was where her loyalties lied.
She cheered and clapped politely as Cedric Diggory fooled the blue-gray Swedish Short-Snout by transfiguring a boulder into a Labrador, which diverted the dragon's attention long enough for him to steal the egg. He was followed by Fleur Delacour, who charmed the Common Welsh Green into a trance, yet he snored out a flame that set her robes alight. Third was Viktor Krum, fighting against a small Chinese Fireball with a Conjunctivitis Curse, causing the beast to thrash about and damage some of the other eggs.
Finally, out came Harry. The brunette had wished him luck when she had passed him in the halls earlier that day, secretly sympathising with the fact Ron had turned against him for the time being, but she supposed she understood where both the boys were coming from. The Potter boy couldn't help but have trouble following him like an angry swarm of bees, but the Weasley boy couldn't help his insecurities either.
At the other end of the enclosure he had found himself in was the Hungarian Horntail. She crouched low over the clutch of her eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him. A monstrous, scaly,black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, yet Evangeline couldn't decipher whether it was friendly or not.
He raised his wand in the air, before he shouted, ''Accio Firebolt!''
It only took a couple of seconds before the broom was hurtling towards him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount.
He swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground high up into the heavens, before diving back down again. The Horntail's head followed him; there was no secret about what she was going to do and pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away.
''Great Scott, he can fly!'' Bagman yelled as the crowd shrieked and gasped. ''Are you watching this, Mr Krum?''
Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck — if he kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy.
He plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky — he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes —
The crowd screamed and groaned as he zoomed around the back of the Horntail. She writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings, too protective of her eggs.
Harry began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make her breathe fire to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared . . .
He flew higher, causing the dragon's head to rise with him her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, like a snake before its charmer. He rose a few more feet and she let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now . . . she shot fire into the air, which he dodged . . . her jaws opened wide . . .
And then she reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wing sat last, as wide as those of a small airplane — and Harry dived.Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front legs —he had taken his hands off his Firebolt — he had seized the golden egg —
And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely under his uninjured arm.
The crowd was screaming and applauding as loudly as the Irish supporters at the Quidditch World Cup.
''Look at that!'' Bagman cried. ''Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going toshorten the odds on Mr Potter!''
The dragon keepers rushed forward to subdue the dragon, whilst over at the entrance, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, Hagrid, and Evangeline hurried to meet him.
''That was excellent, Potter!'' Professor McGonagall congratulated, before shakily pointing at his shoulder. ''You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score . . . over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already . . . ''
''Yeh did it, Harry!'' Hagrid said hoarsely. ''Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors'—''
''Thanks, Hagrid.''
''Congratulations, Harry!'' Evangeline squealed, giving him a one-armed hug. If he had to pick, she was definitely one of his favourite professors at Hogwarts; she was kind to all who deserved it, and even took fifty points from her own house when Malfoy was being a toad. ''You flied beautifully, it was admirable, really.''
Harry smiled, returning her gesture. ''Thank you, Professor Rosier.''
''Nice and easy does the trick, Potter,'' Professor Moody growled, although his magical eye was dancing in its socket.
Evangeline escorted him to the first aid tent, holding his hand whilst Madam Pomfrey cleaned his cuts and repaired his shoulder.
Two people came darting inside soon after — Hermione, followed closely by Ron.
''Harry, you were brilliant!'' Hermione said squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. ''You were amazing! You really were!''
He ignored her praise, deciding to look at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.
''Harry,'' he began seriously, ''Whoever put your name in that goblet — I — I reckon they're trying to do you in!''
''Caught on, have you?'' Harry snapped. ''Took you long enough.''
Hermione stood between them, glancing at their Charms professor, who smiled at her warmly. The two were definitely alike in some ways, for a pureblood and a Muggle-born.
''It's okay,'' Harry reassured him as Ron opened his mouth to apologise. ''Forget it.''
''No, I shouldn't've—''
''Forget it.''
Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back, before Hermione burst into tears.
''There's nothing to cry about,'' Evangeline told her, startled by the outburst. ''You're all friends again!''
''Those two are so stupid,'' she shouted, stamping her foot. Never in a million years would the boys have thought Hermione Granger, self-proclaimed teacher's pet, would act like this in front of one. Tears splashed down her front, and before either of them could stop her, she had given both boys a hug and dashed away, now positively howling.
''Barking mad,'' said Ron, shaking his head. ''Harry, c'mon, they'll be putting up your scores . . . ''
Harry picked up the Firebolt and golden egg, ducking out of the tent with Ron and Evangeline by his side.
Ron breathlessly explained the performances of the three other champions before him, talking faster than the brunette could even think. They had reached the enclosure fairly quickly, met with the five judges sat at the other end, in raised seats draped in gold.
''It's marks out of ten from each one,'' the Rosier girl informed Harry.
The first judge — Madam Maxime — raised her wand in the air. What looked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.
''Not bad,'' Ron hummed as the crowd applauded.
''I suppose she took marks off due to your shoulder injury . . . ''
Crouch came next, shooting a number nine into the air.
''Looking good!'' Ron hollered, thumping his friend on the back.
Next, Dumbledore. He too put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.
Then came Ludo Bagman — ten.
''Ten?'' Harry said in disbelief. ''But . . . I got hurt . . . what's he playing at?''
''Don't remind him!'' Evangeline whispered. ''All that matters is winning! That ten could be the means to an end.''
And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment,and then a number shot out of his wand too — four.
''What?'' Ron bellowed furiously. ''Four? You lousy, biased, scum-bag, you gave Krum ten!''
Evangeline patted Ron on the shoulder, urging him to calm down. She steered the boys away from the enclosure and back to the stands, where Charlie Weasley was hurrying to meet them.
''Nice to see you again, Charlie.''
''Evangeline, the pleasure is all mine,'' he returned, before turning to face Harry as the four of them walked back towards the castle. ''You're tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum! Listen, I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened — but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah — and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few minutes . . . Bagman wants a word, back in the champions tent.''
Ron and Evangeline waited for Harry as he reentered the tent, discussing Charlie's field of work and what exactly he got up to in Romania. The brunette learned that after the Quidditch World Cup incident, one of the Weasley children had let slip about the ordeal involving her, and Molly Weasley had since then taken an interest in the matter of Evangeline and Charlie.
Eventually, Harry rejoined the two and they started to walk back around the edge of the forest, talking about anything and everything. Then, as they rounded the clump of trees, a witch leapt out from behind them.
It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them.
''Congratulations, Harry!'' She tittered, beaming at him. ''I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring?''
''Yeah, you can have a word,'' Harry said savagely. ''Goodbye.''
Rita crossed her arms like a child, furrowing her eyebrows. ''Might you be more helpful, Miss Rosier? Tell me, how are you finding life upon your exile from the elite high pure-blood society?''
Evangeline ignored her, swishing her silky-smooth hair over her shoulder so that it whipped Rita around her pinched face. ''Do you two boys hear something buzzing? A beetle, perhaps?''