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We entered the spacious tent at the same time, without talking. In the corner, on a low wooden chair, sat Fleur, nervous and pale, her perpetually haughty smile gone. Crum, as always, stood a little slouching but much more frowning.

"Oh, our young champions!" exclaimed Bagman, who had put on an old robe with black and yellow stripes. "Come on in, make yourselves at home!" ​​

The big, jolly, fat Bagman was totally out of place in this tense atmosphere, and his presence turned everything into some kind of theater of the absurd.

"All right, everybody's here. I'll tell you what to do now!" the big man, who looked so much like a wasp, announced cheerfully. "When the audience gathers, I'll open this bag right here."

Bagman picked up a small pouch of red silk and shook it.

"It contains copies of those with whom you have to fight. They are all different. Each, in turn, will put down his hand and take out whomever fate has sent him. Your task is to take possession of the golden egg."

No one around me moved, but they seemed to hear the wizard. Looking for a small chair, just like Fleur's, I quickly rested my butt on it and waited. Potter looked as dejected as possible, and, judging by his eyes, he knew exactly what he was about to face. And he didn't say. Uh-oh! Bad Potter, bad Potter.

Time passed. The atmosphere was getting more and more intense.

"Why is everyone so gloomy?" I asked with a smile, turning to everyone at once.

No one answered me, just shot disgruntled looks.

"Aren't you all wondering what kind of dangerous animal they have in store for us? The first round is always 'animal.' A class five danger. Maybe a manticore? A chimera of some kind? Basilisk? I'd also like to meet a Lethifold.

My assumptions didn't provoke any reaction from the champions, except that Fleur shook her head, saying quietly: "Garçon...crazy."

"Interesting. I can tell by your faces and eyes that you know who you're going to have to face."

Harry was somehow even embarrassed, but Krum, on the contrary, squared his shoulders.

"It's not a tournament. It's a farce..."

"Oh, come on, Mr. Knight!" smiled Bagman, still cheerful but confused.

Outside, the noise of people walking by was growing. Lots of people. It was the students being led to the stands to the corral. There must be a lot of adult wizards there, too - tickets seemed to be selling out, but that wasn't surprising - the event had to pay off.

Bagman untied the silk pouch and stepped out into the middle.

"Lady, please," he announced, offering the pouch to Fleur.

The girl approached the wizard and dipped her hand inside the pouch, a moment later pulling out a tiny model of a Welsh Green with a "two" tag around its neck. Fleur didn't sound the least bit surprised, which confirmed my thoughts.

The second to choose was Krum, and he got a Chinese fireball, a red dragon with the number three. The Bulgarian didn't blink an eye, just looked under his feet.

Bagman came up to me, and I followed the example of the others - put my hand in the bag. It turned out you could feel something in there, and it made sense now how Potter got the Hungarian Horntail - it was like a hedgehog, pricking as hard as it could. That's the one I picked. Why? Because I want to fight it, although it makes no difference to me.

"Hungarian Horntail," Bagman whispered, somehow conspiratorially. "You'll be the fourth."

Potter pulled out the last remaining one, a Swedish Short-Snout at number one.

"There you go!" said Bagman cheerfully. "These are the dragons you are to meet. There is a queue number on the dragon's neck. Is everything clear to you? Then I must leave you. I'm also a commentator today. Mr. Potter, on the whistle, you will be the first to enter the corral. Is that clear? Oh, yes, Mr. Potter, may I have a word?"

Bagman led Potter away, leaving us alone with ourselves. A minute later, Potter returned, standing beside me.

"Don't worry, Potter," I smiled at the nervous kid. "I know you have nothing to do with your name in the cup, and as for the dragon - we are no stranger to fighting scary creatures."

"Do you believe me?"

"I told you that on the day the champions were chosen. It's not so much a matter of faith as it is that I know your abilities and the limitations of the cup."

"Well, thank you, of course..." smirked Potter, but at least he stopped fidgeting.

The whistle blew, and the boy moved much more confidently to leave the tent. For fifteen tense minutes, we heard the oohs and aahs of the crowd, Bagman's comments about the "unexpected maneuver" and the "ingenious move by the young champion." "Ah, what a turn!". And stuff like that.

Judging by the comments, Potter did it and didn't even get badly damaged, just hit the stones. Another whistle and Fleur went to the corral, dealing with the dragon rather quickly. Though judging by the same comments of Bagman, the dragon nearly ate the girl and then nearly fried her, but nothing happened.

Another whistle blew, and Krum came out.

"What audacity! Great!" shouted Bagman. His screams were drowned out by the eerie roar of the dragon, and the stands fell silent. "The guy has strong nerves! He is not a man. He is flint! Yes! He grabbed the egg!"

Another round of applause rolled noisily over the tent. It's time.

I got up, corrected the nonexistent folds in my clothes, and left the tent. Past the trees, to the sound, along the path. Here the corral opened to me, and many hundreds of people watched with interest from the stands. It wasn't like in the movie - you just got out, and you're already fighting. The corral was spacious. Big and small boulders scattered around or sunk into the ground. Streams of water were gurgling, and a fire was burning in the right corner. All materials were provided.

Opposite me, practically on a nest, sat just a huge winged spiky monster, by some misunderstanding called a dragon. It was of a rocky gray color, with a horrible muzzle and a long, flexible tail with spikes that were as big as a good sword. In general, the creature is comparable in size to the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, adjusted for species peculiarities, because a basilisk is a long snake, after all. But their heads are the same size.

So... here we go.

<Are you sure?>

"What about you?"

<There's a tiny chance that the first plan will not work, in which case, transfigure into a monster and stupidly beat the dragon with our fists.>

"Let's go..."