HP Princess bravely enters Hogwarts

Harry and the other three warriors waited peacefully in the tent.

Unfortunately, he just drew the Hungarian Tree Peak.

It is the most dangerous of all fire dragons. Its body is covered with black scales and its appearance is more like a lizard.

He was trying to rehearse the almost ridiculous plan in his mind.

Summon a Firebolt and... fly? In front of a fire-breathing dragon?

What's worse is the silence at this moment.

He was the only one left in the tent with Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Quidditch star, whose presence was as imposing as his muscular frame.

Harry could feel Krum's eyes occasionally falling on him, with a look of scrutiny and curiosity.

This made him feel uncomfortable, and he twisted his fingers unconsciously around the edge of his robe, wanting only to shrink into the canvas wall.

He would rather face this fear alone than expose his anxiety in front of another warrior.

Seeing that Harry remained silent, Krum broke the deadlock in advance.

"Hey," his voice was a little stiff, and he was obviously not used to taking the initiative to talk, "How have you been recently?" He paused, as if choosing his words, and then as if he had made up his mind, he took a step forward.

Before Harry could react, a heavy arm was on his shoulder, pushing him down with undeniable force.

Krum's signature hooked nose was almost close to Harry's ear, and his warm breath sprayed on his earlobe, causing Harry to stiffen instantly.

"I heard from Hermione that she and you have a good relationship." Harry could smell a faint scent of sweat and a kind of...leather conditioner on him.

"Then you should know what Hermione likes. She never tells me." Krum's voice was filled with frustration and confusion. "Books? I know she likes books, but... other things? What does she like to eat? What kind of flowers does she like? Or... something else?"

Harry's face suddenly felt hot.

Embarrassment wrapped around him like a vine, strangling him so that he couldn't breathe.

He was just terrified of the prospect of a life-and-death battle with a fire-breathing behemoth, and the next second, this Quidditch superstar was holding his shoulders and asking Hermione Granger about her preferences under the shadow of a dragon's roar?

The absurdity of this scene simply exceeded all of Lockhart's boasting!

He opened his mouth, but his throat felt like it was stuffed with hay.

What could he say? Tell Krum that Hermione liked clever men, liked a sense of justice, liked... Cygnus?

The thought made Harry's stomach churn.

He couldn't just say, "She likes my favorite friend, right?"

Or worse, admitting that he had no idea what Hermione would like in a gift? That would be even more embarrassing than facing a dragon.

Subconsciously, Harry hurriedly moved to the other side, avoiding Krum's touch.

Harry himself was stunned. He didn't know why he reacted so strongly.

Krum was a champion of Durmstrang, a seeker for the Bulgarian national team, and the man who graced the covers of countless Quidditch magazines.

Logically, Harry should have at least a little admiration for him.

But every time he saw Krum's face, saw him wandering around the corner of the library like a big bat, and especially saw him chatting with Cygnus, he would feel an inexplicable sour feeling in his stomach.

"I don't know," Harry said, his voice stiffer than he'd intended. He turned his head away from Krum. "Perhaps you could ask Cygnus. She gets along better with Hermione than I do." He paused, then added, "Or Ginny Weasley."

The suggestion sounded perfectly reasonable, at least to Harry himself.

Cygnus does have a very good relationship with Hermione, and Ginny is Hermione's roommate.

But as soon as he said that, he heard the end of his voice rise slightly. To make matters worse, he felt the tips of his ears burning, and it was definitely not because the tent was too hot.

Krum slowly lowered his arm, his eyes becoming searching, the same intense focus he had when he locked onto the Snitch on the pitch now fixed firmly on Harry's face.

"You're angry."

It wasn't a question, Krum pointed out calmly in his heavily accented English.

"I didn't!" Harry retorted too quickly and too loudly.

He had to clear his throat and repeated in a low voice: "I'm not angry. I just..."

His gaze drifted to the shadows swaying at the tent entrance. "I'm about to take on a fire-breathing dragon, if you don't mind."

Krum suddenly laughed.

It wasn't a polite smile, but a real grin that made his usually gloomy face suddenly come alive.

"Ah," he nodded, as if he had finally solved a mystery, "you're jealous."

Harry felt his heart skip a beat.

"What? No! I'm not—I mean, jealous about what?" His voice began to thin. "This is ridiculous!"

"For her." Krum took a step forward, his Quidditch player's physique looming large in the small tent. "You don't want to tell me what she likes because you don't want me to get too close to her."

There was a sudden commotion outside the tent, and it seemed that a game had ended.

But Harry could no longer hear any of this; his ears were buzzing, blood was pounding against his eardrums, and it was as if a thousand vixens were having a party inside his skull.

Krum's words were like a sharp dagger, accurately piercing the emotions he had been afraid to face.

"I—" Harry opened his mouth, but found himself speechless.

Denial would make it all the more obvious, while admission would be too embarrassing. Just then, Bagman's voice came from outside the tent, his voice filled with undisguised nervousness:

"Potter! It's your turn! Come out now!"

Harry had never been so grateful for an interruption.

He almost jumped towards the tent exit, but just before he opened the curtain, he heard Krum's deep voice from behind:

"Good luck, Potter. But about her—" there was a hint of teasing in the voice, "let's play fair."

Harry stumbled and nearly tripped over the threshold of the tent.

He didn't dare look back, didn't dare think about the meaning of this sentence, and didn't dare to imagine how Ron or Draco would react if they knew about this.

At this moment, facing a fire-breathing Hungarian Horntail seemed like an easy option.

At least the dragon wouldn't care whether he liked Hermione or Cygnus.

As he stumbled into the glaring sunlight, the audience erupted in deafening cheers.

But all Harry could hear was the pounding of his own heart and two thoughts that kept echoing in his mind:

First, he had to make it through the program alive;

Second, he was never going to discuss anything about girls with Viktor Krum again in his life.