Inside the champions' tent, the six champions had naturally arrived early to prepare for the competition.
Harry felt the muscles in his face twitch awkwardly, as though they had forgotten how to smile.
His life lately had been far from pleasant. In fact, it had only grown worse.
It was all because of Rita Skeeter's article about the Five-Wizard Tournament. Rather than a report on the tournament,
it was more an embellished account of his love life.
Even now, whenever Harry thought about it, he felt a burning sense of humiliation.
But there was no time left for nerves now.
With the competition approaching, he had had no appetite that morning. Hermione had practically forced him to eat a few bites, which showed just how nervous he was.
Harry turned to look around. The other six champions looked no better.
Pheobe sat on a low wooden stool in the corner, without a trace of her usual elegance and composure.
Her face was terribly pale, and she looked quite ill.
Krum looked even gloomier than usual and kept staring at the ground. Perhaps that was his way of showing his nerves.
Boris paced back and forth, stretching in various ways as though warming up before a match.
Gais, the quiet young witch, seemed the calmest, but her tightly clenched fists betrayed her feelings.
As for Draco beside him, his face was frighteningly white.
Seeing his friend so nervous, Harry forgot his own anxiety. He reached out, clasped Draco's hand, and comforted him in a low voice.
"Draco, we've prepared thoroughly, and the professor even predicted the task for us. Whatever difficulties we face, we can overcome them!"
Draco forced a smile and withdrew his sweaty hand, looking a little embarrassed as he nodded at Harry.
"I'm fine."
Harry drew his hand