Flames chased behind them, the crowd in the stands seemed to be boiling, and Mr. Bagman was excitedly shouting something, but none of that mattered anymore.
Vilan and Fleur sprinted into the tent at the exit.
As soon as they entered, they saw Krum and Daphne waiting nervously to be called, both of whom were very surprised by Fleur's return.
"That Dragon went crazy!"
Half of Fleur's long hair was burnt, and she tried her best to describe the terrifying scene to the remaining two:
"I don't know why, that Dragon had a particularly strong grudge, and to attack me, it even shattered its own Dragon eggs."
"The trainers were nowhere to be found, and all of that Dragon's attacks were aimed at me; if it had hit me even once, I would have been finished."
"Fortunately, this little Wizard jumped down from the stands and used a magic to attack the Dragon's eyes, barely covering my retreat."
When Fleur's azure blue eyes looked at Vilan, they were so tender they seemed to drip with affection.
"I still don't know your name? Could you tell me—"
"Weilan Costa."
Vilan simply answered her, not caring about much else. He was so angry he almost swore:
"Where is Mr. Bagman? Why didn't the Ministry of Magic officials allow the trainers to enter and control the Dragon? Does he not know people could have died?"
The sounds outside the tent were chaotic, and a Wizard who looked like a Ministry of Magic Sports Department employee repeatedly apologized to Fleur and Vilan.
He promised to call the entire judging panel over, then hurried out of the tent.
The three of them sat in the tent, Krum clearing the soft leather sofa for Fleur and Vilan to rest.
Vilan sat between Fleur and Daphne, breathing heavily from the intense physical exertion.
To Vilan's left, Daphne was looking towards the arena entrance with a terrified gaze. The last trace of color had drained from her face, and her slender body trembled uncontrollably.
"What's wrong with her?"
Vilan pointed at Daphne, asking Krum and Fleur.
Krum stomped his foot restlessly and replied to Vilan, "Perhaps she's scared. Because she was the one who drew number 1 at the very beginning."
Vilan's eyelids twitched almost imperceptibly, and he sought Fleur's confirmation in disbelief:
"Is this true? Daphne was originally scheduled to be the first to face that Hungarian Horntail?!"
Fleur nodded in affirmation: "Yes, little Vilan, we drew lots to decide the order of appearance and the Dragon we would face."
"This little girl drew number 1 and should have been the first to go."
"But she was too scared. She didn't want to go first, so she asked to exchange Dragon models with me."
"The Dragon I drew was a Swedish Short-Snout, number 3, the last to appear."
"I saw she was very young and had to face such a terrifying creature, so I agreed to her request."
"We exchanged the models we drew before Mr. Bagman noticed, and then I became the first champion to go."
Upon hearing this, Vilan knew that what he had predicted had still happened.
Vilan's mind was currently occupied with a lot of thoughts, and he didn't notice Fleur approaching him.
Daphne was still being plotted against, she was indeed being plotted against...
This time, the Ministry of Magic was also secretly cooperating; if those officials hadn't stopped the Dragon trainers, the situation wouldn't have become this critical.
Who tampered with the Dragon?
Vilan thought of Mr. Bagman and Madam Maxime, who had requested to "pet the Dragon" last night.
At the other end of the tent, Hermione's brown head peeked out from behind the curtain:
"Vilan, how are you... Miss Delacour, what are you doing to Vilan?!"
Hermione's gasp pulled Vilan back to reality.
He felt his left cheek was wet and turned to see the French girl, Fleur, enthusiastically kissing his cheek.
"Oh no!" Vilan immediately jumped out of Fleur's arms, intending to stop Hermione—"Hermione, let me explain..."
Hermione did not blame Vilan.
She pushed Vilan behind her and looked at Fleur with hostility, like the furious female Dragon in the arena earlier.
"Miss Delacour, I don't understand your French etiquette, but treating a newly met person of the opposite gender like this in Britain is truly overstepping!"
With that, Hermione pulled Vilan out of the tent.
The other end of this tent led to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. About 40 minutes ago, they had just walked this path to the entrance of the stands.
"Thank you so much, Hermione." Vilan didn't know why he was thanking Hermione, but he just felt that Hermione was a really good girl for not getting angry at him.
Hermione crossed her arms and snorted, "You don't need to thank me, I understand you; you are a devoted boy—"
Before Vilan could fully grasp the meaning of this sentence, Hermione added an explanation:
—a boy devoted only to Galleon and studying."
Hermione's words should have been an expression of understanding... because although the tone was strangely sarcastic, it described a fact.
Vilan guessed the girl's thoughts this way, believing the crisis was over, and reached out to take Hermione's hand.
"Hmph!"
Hermione slapped his hand away fiercely and turned to leave.
Vilan stood frozen, taking a long time to figure out what went wrong:
"What's going on... didn't she already indicate forgiveness?"
Ron emerged from the grass behind him, patted his shoulder, and explained everything he had seen to Vilan:
"Vilan, do you know? How scared Hermione was when you jumped from the stands and cast a magic at that Dragon? She was so anxious she cried, and almost jumped down from the stands to save you too."
"And then Hermione, so worried and frantically rushing into the tent to see you, only to see you being kissed on the cheek by that French girl she dislikes the most."
"Cough, cough, I think you need to apologize to her properly."
Vilan looked down, pulling at the frayed hem of his school robe, so overwhelmed with guilt that he couldn't lift his head.
"No, no, I need to apologize to Hermione properly tonight. But right now, a more important task awaits me."
Vilan shook his head, momentarily shaking off these annoying emotions.
At this moment, inside that tent, the Dragon incident was still waiting for him. This incident involved foreign guests, and its impact was undoubtedly significant.
"Our mission has just begun."
Vilan took a deep breath and pulled Ron by the hand towards the tent:
"We need to be present for this case."
"Remember, Ron, last night, we were also there, so we can be considered eyewitnesses."
"Mr. Bagman, or Madam Maxime, could have tampered with those Dragons."
Vilan recalled that last night, it was in this enclosure that Mr. Bagman and Madam Maxime suddenly proposed to pet these three Dragons.
Ron looked in the direction Hermione had run off to, seemingly hesitant: "What about Hermione...?"
"Time is precious; if needed, we can send someone to call her over later."
"Let's find out the culprit sooner, so no more people get hurt."
He stepped firmly into the tent and found that many people were there now.
Including the three Principals, Crouch and Bagman, and Charlie Weasley.
Mr. Bagman's round face was covered in a sweaty smile, and he was constantly trying to calm Charlie:
"Calm down, Mr. Weasley, this was an absolute accident; the people who stopped you were Ministry of Magic outsourced personnel and have nothing to do with us."
And Charlie? That big man with a red ponytail looked as if he was determined to twist off Mr. Bagman's round head.
