Hogwarts' Golden Glory

When Cedric entered the arena, cheers from the stands surged forth like a tidal wave.

Kane sat near the front of the Slytherin area, with Igor perched on his shoulder, his silver eyes fixed on the center of the arena.

He neither clapped nor shouted; he simply watched quietly.

Cedric stood at the edge of the arena, wand in hand.

In the center of the arena, a Peruvian venomous dragon coiled, its dark green scales gleaming with a metallic sheen in the sunlight.

It wasn't the largest in size, but its muscles were well-defined, and its tail swayed slowly from side to side, every inch of it telling you—this was a killer.

Cedric took a deep breath. He raised his wand.

The dragon raised its head, its yellow vertical pupils locking onto its location.

Cedric did not act immediately, fearing that his actions would anger the dragon.

After seeing that the Peruvian venomous fanged dragon had no desire to attack him.

He stopped there and gently turned his wrist.

A gray beam of light shot from the tip of the wand, heading towards a large rock on the right side of the arena.

The moment the light struck the stone, it began to deform.

The edges became rounded, the outline lengthened, and gray hairs grew on the surface.

In just a few seconds, the stone transformed into a gray dog, the size of an adult hunting hound, standing firmly on its four legs.

The dog shook its head and then started running.

It ran to the edge of the field, its four legs digging up a patch of dirt on the grass.

The dragon's gaze followed its movement.

Cedric moved in another direction, his steps light and steady, trying to circle around to the side of the dragon's nest.

His plan was clear—to let the stone dog attract the dragon's attention, and then take the egg himself.

The dog ran very fast, like a gray lightning bolt.

The dragon stared at it for two seconds—then stood up. Its wings spread, the dark green wings blocking out a large patch of sunlight.

Someone in the audience gasped.

The dog continued running and had reached the center-left of the arena. Cedric was still twenty feet away from the golden egg.

He quickened his pace.

The dragon did not chase the dog.

It turned its head, its yellow vertical pupils locking onto Cedric.

It was never fooled by that dog from the beginning.

It kept staring at Cedric—just from a different angle, making it appear as if the dog had attracted its attention.

Cedric stopped. He saw his own reflection in the dragon's yellow eyes. Then the dragon moved.

Cedric rolled to the side.

The dragon's tail swept past the spot where he had just stood, the sound of the air being torn apart was sharp and piercing, and a deep trench was blasted into the grass.

Cedric scrambled to his feet and took two steps forward, but the dragon's second attack was faster.

The dragon's wings flapped, and a huge gust of air pushed him to the ground. His wand slipped from his hand and rolled into the grass.

Cedric reached out to grab it, but the dragon's claws had already come down.

He rolled to the side at the last moment, but the dragon's claw still grazed his left shoulder.

The black robe was torn open, and blood seeped out, red and staining the tear.

Cedric grunted and turned pale.

He didn't stop. He stood up, his left hand covering his shoulder, and his right hand reaching into the grass—where his wand lay.

The dragon turned around, its tail rising again.

Someone in the audience screamed.

Then Cedric touched the wand.

He immediately turned, pointed his wand at the dragon, and instead of attacking, swung it forcefully—"Obstacles Abound!"

A transparent barrier rose between him and the dragon.

The dragon's tail slammed into the barrier, shattering it but buying it two seconds.

Cedric sprinted toward the golden egg.

His left shoulder was bleeding, and he was staggering, but he didn't stop.

The dragon caught up and its claws struck a second time.

Cedric lunged at the golden egg, his fingers touching the surface of the shell—cold and smooth.

He grabbed it, and then he was thrown away by the force of the dragon claw.

Cedric did a somersault in the air and landed on the grass, the golden egg still in his hand.

He rolled twice before stopping, lying on his back with his chest heaving violently, the blood on his left shoulder staining half of his sleeve.

It looks terrible!

There was a moment of silence in the audience.

Then applause erupted.

A large number of wizards then rushed in and subdued the Peruvian Venomous Fang Dragon.

On the referee's stand, Bagman raised his hand.

"Cedric Diggory – has successfully retrieved the golden egg! Now, judges, please score the contestants!"

Five people sat side by side on the referee's stand.

He first looked at Mrs. Maxim.

Mrs. Maxim was silent for a few seconds. She looked at Cedric on the field—blood was flowing from his left shoulder, his black robe was torn, and he clutched the golden egg tightly in his hand. She lowered her head, wrote a mark on the score sheet, and then held it up.

"Seven points."

A murmur arose from the audience. Seven points wasn't high, but it wasn't low either for the Warriors, who were the first team to play.

Cedric stood on the sidelines and nodded slightly after hearing the score.

Bagman turned to Karkaroff.

Karkarov's expression was as if he were savoring some unpalatable food.

He picked up the quill pen, made a mark on the score sheet, and then held it up.

"Six points."

Someone in the audience booed.

Karkaroff pretended not to hear.

Bagman turned to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore didn't take the quill. He simply stretched out his finger and wrote a number on the grade sheet—without any hesitation.

"Nine points."

Applause erupted from the audience.

Cheers erupted in the Hufflepuff area. Nine points. The first warrior to step up scored nine points.

Cedric stood there, blood still seeping from his shoulder, but a slight smile curved his lips.

Dumbledore looked at him, his blue eyes filled with relief, but also with something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Bagman turned to himself. "I personally give Cedric... an eight! Excellent strategy, though there were some minor issues with execution, but commendable courage!"

Another round of applause erupted from the audience.

Eight points plus nine points plus seven points plus six points – Cedric's current total score is thirty points.

Bagman glanced at the scoreboard. "Cedric Diggory—30 points! That's a good start!"

Professor Sprout rushed over from the sidelines.

She was a short, plump witch, dressed in a robe covered in mud, and usually always smiling, but at this moment her expression was as if she had just seen her most beloved plant freeze to death.

"Cedric! You're injured!" Professor Sprout's voice rose eight octaves as she grabbed Cedric's right arm. "Your shoulder is bleeding!"

"Professor, I'm alright—"

"Nothing wrong? Your black robe is torn, and half your sleeve is stained with blood. You're telling me nothing wrong?"

Professor Sprout grabbed his collar with his other hand. "You're going to the first-aid tent right now. Mrs. Pomfrey is already waiting inside!"

"But there's more to come—"

"No buts!" Professor Sprout yanked Cedric forward, causing him to stumble. "You're a Hufflepuff student, and Hufflepuff students can't die on the field—because there's a banquet after the match! You need to go back for dinner!"

Cedric opened his mouth, wanting to object, but Professor Sprout's expression made him swallow his words. "...Yes, Professor."

Professor Sprout then released his grip, turned, and called out to the white tent at the edge of the field, "Mrs. Pomfrey! Prepare bandages and hemostatic agents—the more the better!"

A corner of the tent flap was lifted, and Mrs. Pomfrey's head peeked out, her expression suggesting she had been prepared all along. "Let him in quickly. He shouldn't stand here bleeding in the sun. It'll only hasten the bleeding."

Professor Sprout pushed Cedric by the back, leading him toward the tent.