Days blended into one another, and time moved forward like a steady current. The hype surrounding the Triwizard Tournament did not fade as the days went by, instead it only grew stronger, spreading through the school and far beyond its walls.
On the last day before the first task was set to begin, all the champions were summoned for a final screening. Every measure was taken, from magical confirmation of each champion's identity to searches for alchemical products that could offer an unfair advantage, followed by examinations for lingering spells or any sign of outside interference.
Lastly came Mr. Ollivander, who took each champion's wand and gave it a brief examination. His pale eyes missed little as he checked their balance and feel, passing them back one by one, and with that, the champions were cleared to face the challenges ahead.
Alongside the six champions, two "random" students from each school also underwent a similar screening process, though the reason for it was never made clear, at least, not to the press or the witnesses there that day. The champions, however, understood well enough, and they left with a quiet certainty about what awaited them on the eventual day.
And speaking of the press, once the security and formalities were finally out of the way, the champions were swept into a frenzy of photograph sessions, dragged from one interview to the next until the sun dipped low.
It was supposed to be a day of rest before the task that followed, but instead, they ended it more exhausted, at least mentally, than after a full marathon of training.
Fortunately, nothing else was scheduled for the evening. At dinner, the only announcement was a reminder for everyone to be on their best behavior, and that went for all students, after all, the school perimeter was set to be flooded with thousands of visitors from across Europe the very next day.
---
The sky was clear that night, and Hogwarts waited beneath the half-moon, silver light resting on its towers and sleeping courtyards.
A few hours before sunrise, Mavrick lifted the duvet with care and eased himself out of bed. When he glanced back, a quiet smile found its way to his lips at the sight of Isabella still sprawled across the mattress, face turned into the pillow, arms spread wide, one foot peeking out from beneath the covers, lost deep in sleep.
He sat there for a moment, committing the scene to memory, then turned away and made his way toward the shower, careful not to wake her.
Of course, with magic, he could have skipped it all, but he never bothered doing so, especially the little things, like taking his time in the shower the way any normal person would. Small routines like that made up for the normalcy now missing from his otherwise extraordinary life.
About ten minutes later, he came back into the room, towel-drying his hair, and found Isabella still in the same position, her cheek buried in the pillow, only now her eyes were open, following him with a soft smile.
"Was I too loud?" he asked, smiling.
"Say you did." She pushed herself upright, wrapping the duvet around her shoulders as she smiled back. Then, teasingly, she added, "So how are you going to make it up to me?"
"Hm…" Mavrick hummed as though contemplating something profound, then dropped onto the edge of the bed. "I can think of a number of things…"
He leaned toward her face, which made her pull the duvet higher, a crimson flash blooming across her cheeks.
"How about," he began, a sly smirk tugging at his lips, but she hurriedly pushed him away.
"Bah, get away from me. I'm not an archmage with endless energy like you."
Chuckling, Mavrick returned to getting ready while Isabella simply watched him from the bed.
"Are you sure I don't need to make something for breakfast, Ricky?"
"I'm sure, hon. Besides, those little guys in the kitchen would probably lose their minds if they found out."
Now dressed in a plain white long-sleeved shirt, brown pants, and a black wizarding robe thrown over his shoulders, he sat beside her once more, leaning close.
"You've got a long day ahead." He leaned in to peck a gentle kiss on her lips, then pulled back and lightly poked her forehead, making her already crimson cheeks burn even brighter. "So get some more sleep."
Isabella did not reply, only nodded shyly.
She had only arrived yesterday as part of the press covering the Triwizard Tournament, and over the next few days they would be spending most of their time in and around the castle, coming and going as work demanded. Isabella, though, for obvious reasons, did not have to leave the grounds each time.
---
It was four o'clock in the morning.
The corridors lay empty and quiet, broken only by the occasional chirp of crickets and the soft, unhurried tap of Mavrick's footsteps against stone. The castle still slept as he made his way through familiar passages, turning corners by instinct alone, until he finally pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.
And it was anything but empty.
One of the long tables had been completely claimed, not by students, but by rows of uniformed personnel. Aurors, to be precise. The team dispatched by the Ministry of Magic to assist Hogwarts in maintaining security for the multinational event now underway.
They sat in quiet clusters, some nursing cups of tea, others murmuring in low voices, while a few simply stared ahead with blank expressions. Wizard or not, after all, it was way too early for anything.
Well, that changed quickly.
Mavrick had barely stepped inside before the room stirred. Sleep-heavy eyes sharpened, chairs scraped softly across stone, and most were on their feet without even realizing it.
Nothing strange about it.
Mavrick, after all, was not just anyone. He continued forward without breaking his unhurried stride, and only halfway across the hall did he lift one hand in a lazy gesture for them to sit.
At the head of the table sat Flitwick and Alastor, with one chair conspicuously vacant between them, obviously meant for him.
He took his place, and almost at once the empty plates and cups were filled. Breakfast and briefing commenced together, conversations weaving between bites and sips as people were allocated, tasks assigned, and important points laid out one after another. Instructions moved down the table in quiet waves, routes were confirmed, checkpoints established, and contingency plans repeated until everyone had them memorized.
By the time plates began to empty and cups cooled, the framework for the day was already in place. The castle still slept beneath the waiting sky, the sun yet to rise, but their work had already begun.
---
Morning light crept across Hogwarts, touching stone towers and high windows alike, and with it came a restless energy that seemed to settle into every corridor. The professors tried, repeatedly, to rein things in, but their warnings barely made a dent.
After all, the first task of the Triwizard Tournament was set for later that afternoon, and expecting young witches and wizards to remain calm on a day like this was just wishful thinking.
By the time lunch arrived, the castle was buzzing. Plates were left half-full as students rose from their seats, calling to friends and rushing off toward the arena. It was still early, far too early by any reasonable measure, but whispers had been racing through the corridors since morning, students swearing they had heard the roar of a dragon in the night.
What could fuel the frenzy more than rumors of a battle against a creature like that?
"Merlin's beard, could it be that the first task has something to do with dragons?"
"I heard the Gryffindor trio talking about it a few days ago."
"Stop eating, come on, we have to go now or we'll miss the best seats."
And just like that, the crowd began to surge from the castle. Some wore their school uniforms, others in casual clothes, and together they spilled out like a slow-moving river, crossing the long covered bridge and winding down the slope beyond.
They passed the Black Lake, where students from Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic folded into the stream, adding their voices to the growing tide. The path then carried them along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and after about half an hour of walking, they rounded a jutting stretch of woodland.
Their view opened all at once. A wide, circular grandstand waited ahead, its clean lines softened by elegant curves, vast enough to welcome students and visitors alike. Thirty thousand, apparently, was its full capacity.
Uniformed witches and wizards moved through every section in steady patrols, while alchemical mechanisms hummed along the edges of the stands, layers of protective enchantments settling over the arena to keep spectators safe without stealing the thrill.
Audience members continued to arrive in steady streams through specially prepared fireplaces set up beyond the perimeter. Each group was guided through security checks before being ushered inside, the flow never stopping for long as visitors from across Europe filtered into the stadium.
Isabella's magical news network had secured the exclusive live broadcast, and she and her team were already deep in controlled chaos, directing staff and fine-tuning equipment while enchanted lenses floated into position.
Amid the frenzy, which somehow remained organized, the students finally entered the arena in waves, and one by one they slowed, then stopped, unable to hold back their gasps.
"Merlin… there really are dragons. I'm not imagining this, am I?"
"There's no way..."
"That has to be at least fifty feet long."
"Fifty? Are you blind? That thing's closer to a hundred."
The stadium itself was circular, nearly twice the size of a Quidditch pitch, and right at its center lay a massive Hungarian Horntail, apparently asleep, its dark scales catching the light while several dragon handlers kept watch nearby.
"This is too exciting. This is really too exciting…"
"You know what, I'm glad I wasn't picked as a champion. I'd be scared stiff just getting anywhere near that."
By two in the afternoon, the stadium was packed to the brim, and thunderous noise rolled through the stands. Among the visiting crowd were delegations from every participating school, students who had come to cheer for their champions. Hundreds from each academy filled entire sections of the grandstand, banners raised high as chants rose in waves.
Hogwarts was no different. Some signs bore Harry Potter's name, others called out Cedric Diggory, though most had both written side by side. After all, a victory for either was a victory for the school.
And then there were Fred Weasley and George Weasley.
The Gryffindor troublemakers had taken full advantage of the charged atmosphere, running an off-the-books betting frenzy through the stands.
They wove between rows like seasoned professionals, pulling in students from every school and even members of the public, their charm doing most of the heavy lifting. With the hype at its peak, it did not take long before even some adults were happily parting with generous sums.
Meanwhile, in contrast to the roaring excitement in the stadium, the tents set aside for the champions were almost eerily quiet.
While tens of thousands waited with bated breath, the few who truly mattered sat in stillness, each preparing in their own way for what awaited them.
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Author's Note:
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