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As soon as I left the corral, I was greeted immediately by McGonagall, whose face was a clear mix of joy and confusion. The reason was obvious - I'd won, but I'd killed a dragon. I have no doubt she would have slain the lizard herself if necessary, but nowhere does it say you have to kill a dragon during the task.

"Congratulations, Mr. Knight," still joy for my success overcame the rest of her doubts. "The fastest pass, by far. Less than a minute. But I don't think the judges will appreciate the collateral damage."

"I was only following the conditions. It seemed to be to get hold of the egg as quickly as possible, and there wasn't a word about anything else."

"Absolutely. Go to that tent over there," the professor nodded toward the one next to the champion tent. "That's where our healer will examine you."

Nodding, I quickly made my way to the tent. Inside was the most authentic camping version of our hospital wing. Rows of simple iron beds with screens, and Potter was sitting on one of them with a bandaged arm. A little farther away, next to the nook for various potions and medicines, Fleur sat hugging an egg, glancing sideways at the burnt edge of her sweatpants, where you could now clearly see the girl's chiseled leg. For a brief moment, the feeling of "boiled chicken" was recalled.

"Just think of it!" Madam Pomfrey emerged from her cubbyhole in her unchanging burgundy and white uniform. "Bring on the dragons!"

The healer quickly approached and, with a couple of passes of her wand, performed a diagnostic.

"You're perfectly fine, Mr. Knight," she nodded happily and then turned immediately to Harry, who had stirred. "Unlike you! Potter! Either you will obey my recommendations, or I will have to apply emergency treatment measures!"

"All right, I got it. I'm sitting down," the boy replied with a mischievous smile, but he stopped creeping toward his freedom.

Hermione stepped into the tent with a confident stride and just as confidently reached me, immediately hugging me.

"Dragons," she spoke softly, almost in my ear as she continued to hug me. "I can't believe it! Dragons!"

"Come on," I stroked the girl on the back. "Just dragons."

"Well, yes, 'just,'" Hermione pulled away. Still pale, obvious concern in her eyes, though not a single emotion on her face. "If you only knew how scared I was when I found out the nature of the task."

"It wasn't that hard."

Indistinct sounds of outrage echoed from the rest of the champions, especially from Potter.

"Of course," Hermione nodded. "It's not hard to kill. It's hard to accomplish the task without killing. You'll probably get your points reduced because of it."

Then another member of the action showed up - Ron Weasley. Looking at me with both consternation and dislike at the same time, the redhead headed toward Potter. At the sight of his former friend, the redhead was visibly embarrassed, but he spoke seriously.

"Harry. Whoever put your name in the cup, I get it: he wants to kill you!"

"Figured it out at last?" replied Potter equally seriously. "It took you a long time to figure it out."

We watched this drama in silence, and Ron tried to find words but couldn't.

"Normally," I couldn't keep my mouth shut, "in such situations, it's customary to apologize for the inconvenience caused."

"Oh, fuck you," the redhead said. "Son of Death Eaters. Dumbledore will show you yet!"

Even the foreign guests didn't hold back a chuckle, but there was some shouting and commotion outside, and a chunky redheaded guy in his twenties literally flew into the tent.

"You!" the guy flew over to me, roughly pushing aside Hermione, who was standing nearby and grabbed me by the chest. He was of England's average height, a little shorter than me. "Bastard!"

"Charlie?!" exclaimed Ron in surprise.

This same Charlie, apparently a Weasley, swung for a punch. At this moment, two more guys burst into the tent, although the second, fair-haired, would be more suitable for the word "man." They were all rather stocky, and I could see that their work was dangerous - there were burn marks and minor injuries to their hands, including blisters. I caught a glimpse of all of this as Charlie swung around.

I leaned forward and ran my forehead over Charlie's nose, crushing his face and throwing him off me. The two wizards who had run in raised their wands, but then Hermione found a method to relieve stress, and both wizards, under the influence of a powerful spell with the verbal formula "Yeaah!" which was a disarming spell, flew out of the tent like corks out of a bottle.

"You killed it..." Charlie looked at me angrily from the floor, wiping blood from his broken nose.

"There is no need to stir up drama," I grinned involuntarily, but I didn't have time to continue.

Ron flew toward me, ready to punch me.

"Don't touch my broth..."

A right kick from the body sent Ron lying down with his brother, but unlike Charlie, Ron passed out.

"There is no need to stir up drama," I began my speech again. "The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary is famous for the quality of its dragon ingredients, and the age is also indicated."

I squatted over the two lying brothers.

"Your hypocrisy is as vile as a decomposing corpse," I quietly, literally spat into Weasley's face. "What are you accusing me of? That I killed the dragon too soon, and she could have hatched a few clutches of eggs?"

Charlie was lost. Literally. He clearly didn't know what to say in such a case.

"How many have you killed personally or helped kill your colleagues? Why is the butcher of a regular slaughterhouse rebuking me for killing an animal?"

"What's going on here!" popped Madam Pomfrey out of her nook, immediately rushing to the aid of the victims. "Mr. Knight."

"Self-defense," I summarized briefly, getting up and heading for the exit.

Abruptly, without a swing, but with all my might, I kicked Charlie in the head. The distinctive crunch of his jaw and its obvious deformity, along with the blood splatter and teeth flying out, hinted at severe fractures.

"And this is for a disrespectful attitude towards a girl."

"Mr. Knight! Don't you dare beat the wounded in front of me!" outraged Madam Pomfrey, waving her wand over Ron. However, at the same time, she was in no hurry to help Charlie. I nodded to our healer, and we left the tent with Hermione, heading back to the corral. The scores should be announced soon, though I didn't really care about them.