The air inside the champion's tent was thick with anticipation, the kind that settled deep in the bones and coiled tight around the lungs. The muffled roar of the crowd outside was a constant reminder of the spectacle waiting beyond the canvas walls. A brazier in the center flickered with an eerie glow, casting long, restless shadows against the fabric as the champions made their final preparations.

You sat at the far end, away from the others, your fingers tightening around the hilt of your wand as you tried to steady your nerves. The weight of expectation pressed against you - your school, your headmaster, your fellow students - all looking to you to bring glory to Koldovstoretz. You had trained for this, studied, practiced every incantation, but knowing you would soon be facing a dragon made your stomach twist all the same.

A shift in the tent's entrance made you glance up. The last person you expected to see stood just inside the threshold, dark robes billowing slightly from the draft outside. Severus. His gaze flickered over the other champions before settling on you, eyes sharp as obsidian yet betraying something else beneath the surface-concern.