Before long, the young witches and wizards in the gazebo dispersed, heading toward the competition grounds, some straightening their clothes, others quietly discussing tactics. The air gradually filled with the tension and bustle of an approaching competition.
Draco stayed close beside Pansy as well, walking slowly toward the competition grounds in the center of the garden.
Goyle and Vincent still held their backs straight, following at a moderate distance as though ready for orders at any moment.
The Puffapod Engorgement Charm competition was being held on the flattest, most open stretch of lawn in the center of the garden, which also offered the best view, with no obstructions on any side.
This allowed the contestants to cast their spells freely while giving all the guests a clear view of the competition. The arrangements were extremely thoughtful.
A row of exquisite white wicker chairs stood neatly along the edge of the lawn, each with an ivory parasol beside it, its canopy embroidered with delicate patterns.
The canopies gleamed softly in the sunlight, providing shade and relief from the heat while adding an elegant touch.
Most of the adult guests sat in the rear rows or on a slightly elevated terrace.
They could overlook the entire competition and take in every contestant's performance while maintaining a "proper" distance from the grounds, avoiding the loss of dignity that might come from getting too close.
From a distance, it looked rather like watching a vivid painting in motion.
The spectators occasionally exchanged a few quiet words, their tones composed, displaying all the reserve and propriety of pure-blood families.
Most of the young guests who were not competing gathered in the front rows or in designated areas along the edge of the grounds, closer to the contestants.
Their faces were full of anticipation and curiosity, and they whispered to one another now and then about the coming competition, making the atmosphere increasingly lively.
Draco had little interest in participating in this sort of exhibition competition between pure-blood families in the first place.
Naturally, he had decided to slack off throughout. All he needed to do was stand beside Pansy and play the role of a "competent partner." Not causing trouble would be enough.
But where some slacked off, others naturally took things especially seriously. The young contestants were already in position, their gazes intensely focused.
Clearly, they were all making their final preparations for the competition. None wanted to disgrace their family in front of everyone.
An individual area had already been marked out for each contestant in the center of the lawn.
Each area contained an elaborately decorated worktable covered with a pale gold velvet tablecloth edged in exquisite lace.
Several round, plump beginner-level Puffapods were neatly arranged on each worktable.
The pods had a faint green sheen and had already been treated with a Stabilizing Charm to prevent accidental explosions during spellcasting from injuring anyone.
The judges' seats were directly in front of the competition grounds, occupied by several adult wizards in formal attire.
With a clear announcement from a judge, the competition officially began.
The young contestants immediately got to work. The noisy grounds grew much quieter in an instant, leaving only the sounds of incantations and the faint noises of fluctuating magic.
Pansy stood beside her worktable, poised and ramrod straight, maintaining a faint, reserved smile with a hint of concentration.
It preserved her girlish charm while showing a contestant's seriousness. Her deportment was impeccable.
Once the competition began, Pansy took a deep breath and focused on the Puffapod on her worktable. Then her red lips parted, and she pronounced the syllables of the Engorgement Charm with textbook precision: "Engorgio!"
Her delivery was steady, every syllable clear and ringing, without the slightest deviation.
At the same time, she raised her wrist gently, her movements light and steady. Her wand pointed at the Puffapod as her magic flowed out slowly, smooth as fine silk, without the slightest hitch.
Even while fully absorbed in casting, Pansy did not entirely disregard Draco's presence.
She adjusted her position as discreetly as possible, ensuring that Draco remained at the edge of her vision, reassuring her without distracting her from her spell.
Standing two steps behind her to the left, Draco took in all her movements and expressions. His lips curved into a smile as he offered some praise. "Very practiced, Pansy. Precise movements, and such steady magical output. You must have put in quite a bit of work."
Pansy's smile deepened at his words, but she did not turn to look at him.
Her hands did not pause in the slightest as she spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear. "Thanks to a certain reasonably competent partner not making a nuisance of himself beside me, I can concentrate on my spell."
By the time she finished speaking, she had completed the casting.
Under the influence of her magic, the Puffapod on the worktable slowly began to swell at an even pace, growing rounder and fuller. A healthy pearly sheen gradually spread over its surface, translucent and especially pretty.
Once the pod reached the perfect size, it hovered steadily above the worktable for a moment before slowly descending to rest securely on the velvet cloth. Its size, shape, and sheen were all models of perfection, without a single flaw to be found.
Throughout the casting, Pansy's expression remained calm and composed, almost blank.
Only at the moment the spell was perfectly completed did she turn her head slightly, offering an extremely restrained smile toward Draco and the judges.
It displayed confidence without sacrificing dignified propriety, striking just the right balance.
The wizards in the judges' seats nodded, their faces showing approval.
The parents in the back rows also exchanged quiet remarks, their words full of approval.
"The Parkinson family's upbringing really is beyond reproach. Such ability and deportment at her age. She's certain to have a boundless future."
"Indeed. Precise spellcasting and excellent manners. You can tell she's been carefully raised. She's far ahead of many children her age."
Praise continued to flow. Seated on the terrace, Pansy's mother looked especially proud and gratified, her smile radiant.
In stark contrast to Pansy's pursuit of absolute perfection, the Greengrass sisters' performances had a charm of their own.
They were clearly not fixated on enlarging their pods to perfection, placing greater emphasis on grace and ease during the casting, full of girlish liveliness and playfulness.
Astoria stood before her worktable with a faint smile, her eyes clear and bright.
Though her movements were somewhat unpracticed, she was particularly earnest and attentive, reciting the incantation softly and unhurriedly.
Under the influence of her magic, the Puffapod did not grow into a regular sphere. Instead, it gradually swelled into an adorable, slightly asymmetrical heart, plump, appealing, and particularly distinctive.
After finishing her spell, Astoria stared at her work for a moment, then could not help laughing herself.
Her eyes curved as she smiled, her expression innocent and carefree, naive and playful, without the slightest trace of affectation.
Such effortless originality stood in sharp contrast to Pansy's tightly maintained "perfection," instantly drawing the attention of many guests.
Many smiled kindly, and applause followed, more sincere and enthusiastic than the applause Pansy had received.
The parents began discussing it quietly, their voices full of affection. "The Greengrass Family's younger daughter is such an interesting girl. Clever, and so innocent and adorable. She's utterly endearing."
"Indeed. Rather than pursuing rigid perfection, she has ideas of her own. That unaffected manner is more appealing than deliberately maintained dignity. I'm sure children her age enjoy spending time with her too."
Elders and peers alike praised Astoria's performance without reservation, and their impression of the Greengrass family grew more favorable along with it.
This made Pansy frown slightly.
Compared with Pansy's dignity and Astoria's playfulness, Theodore Nott's performance was particularly distinctive.
The moment he began, a faint, awed stir ran through the parents, and their discussions grew considerably more solemn.
Theodore stood straight before his worktable, his expression utterly calm throughout, even carrying a trace of cold indifference, as though the competition before him were no more than a trivial matter.
His method of casting was extremely distinctive, precise almost to the point of severity, calm almost to the point of ruthlessness.
There were no unnecessary movements and not a moment of hesitation. His incantation was crisp and concise, his magical output so precise that not even a trace went to waste.
Under his control, the Puffapod expanded at an exceptionally even pace.
The finished pod's size, roundness, and surface sheen all looked as though they had been painstakingly measured with a ruler. It was flawlessly standard, yet utterly devoid of feeling.
After completing his spell, Theodore did not even look down at his work, as though he had long been certain he would make no mistake.
Then he turned and walked straight off the grounds, his steps steady and his expression as composed as ever. He spoke to no one throughout and paid no attention to anyone's gaze, aloof and coldly proud.
Such extreme magical control and such a calm attitude considerably shocked the parents present.
Their hushed discussions were full of awe. "The Nott family's boy really is extraordinary. Such astonishing magical control at his age. It's frightening. His future achievements are sure to be limitless."
"Indeed. Expressionless throughout, so calm he hardly seems like a child. His temperament is far too composed. Still, he's rather too withdrawn and indifferent, lacking some of a child's vitality."
Despite their awe, some felt slightly uncomfortable with his excessive coldness, but no one failed to acknowledge his ability.
Compared with these outstanding contestants, the Macmillan family's child seemed somewhat less impressive.
He stood before his worktable, his face visibly tense, his hands trembling slightly and his gaze wavering. Clearly, he cared too much about the result and was under excessive pressure.
When he recited the incantation, his voice went slightly off pitch from excessive force, and the syllables were somewhat indistinct.
His wand wrist shook uncontrollably, making his magical output unstable as well.
As a result, the Puffapod on his worktable expanded in fits and starts, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, its shape gradually becoming somewhat lopsided.
In the end, the pod barely finished swelling. It was passable overall, but one side was visibly flattened, and its sheen fell far short of Pansy's and Theodore's results.
Compared with Astoria's creativity, it had no distinguishing features at all.
The instant he finished casting, he let out a long breath, his face full of relief.
Then he eagerly turned toward his parents, his eyes full of anticipation and apprehension, longing for their approval.
Seeing this, his parents immediately led the applause, their voices filled with encouragement and comfort.
Out of courtesy, the surrounding guests joined in with polite applause, but it was sparse, far less enthusiastic than for the preceding contestants.
The other parents exchanged discreet glances, their expressions suggesting there was still work to be done.
"The Macmillan family's child does have some ability, but his composure is too poor. He was far too nervous and didn't perform as well as he should. He'll need more practice and tempering in the future."
"Indeed. With that mentality, he might easily fall apart on a more important occasion. He still needs careful nurturing."
If the preceding contestants' performances had been stunning, adorable, or awe-inspiring,
then Goyle and Vincent were the competition's "comic relief," responsible for bringing some amusement to this rather serious event.
The two stood before their respective worktables, their faces full of seriousness.
But their hands were exceptionally clumsy. The way they swung their wands hardly resembled spellcasting at all. It looked more like swinging heavy spiked clubs, with huge, utterly haphazard movements that made the surrounding guests shake their heads to themselves.
Once they began casting, their performances became even more farcical.
Goyle's incantation was mumbled and indistinct, and his magical output was a complete jumble. The Puffapod on his worktable either remained utterly motionless, showing no response no matter how he waved his wand,
or suddenly swelled violently under the impact of his magic before bursting with a "poof," splashing harmless but particularly comical colored juice all over the ground and covering his face and body in a sorry mess.
Vincent's performance was much the same, though he did just about manage to recite the incantation correctly.
But his magic was completely out of control. Rather than taking on a normal shape, the Puffapod twisted and warped, finally swelling into the shape of a bloated gnome.
The pod sprawled crookedly across the worktable, ugly and ridiculous.
After finishing their spells, both stood frozen, their faces full of confusion and bewilderment as they stared at their "results," momentarily at a loss for what to do. Their blank, foolish expressions instantly tickled everyone's sense of humor.
Mindful of their status, the adult guests could only fight back their laughter, letting out muffled snickers.
The young guests in the front rows had no such reservations and burst into laughter. Their clear, ringing laughter echoed across the lawn, instantly bringing the atmosphere to a peak.
Goyle's and Vincent's parents sat in the back rows, their faces full of embarrassment, yet they had to force themselves to remain composed, drinking tea as though nothing had happened.
After the competition ended, the surrounding guests offered only a token smattering of applause, with far more barely suppressed laughter.
This much-anticipated Puffapod Engorgement Charm competition finally drew to a close with Goyle and Vincent's farcical performances.