Harry Potter stepped out onto the rocky arena and his world seemed to explode with all the noise around him. Thousands of voices shouted his name, some in support, others booing, but the sound hit him with such force that it made his eardrums ring.
Harry paused for a moment, breathing in the cold air filled with smoke from the previous fights. His green eyes scanned the stands, seeking validation, looking for the faces of those who doubted him or turned their backs on him.
"This is," he thought, "my stage."
"And here he is!" bellowed Ludo Bagman's amplified voice, echoing throughout the stadium. "It's time for the fourth and final champion! The Boy Who Lived! Harry Potter faces the deadly Hungarian Horntail!"
Across the arena, the beast was chained. The Horntail, a nightmare of black scales and bronze spikes, crouched over its clutch of eggs. Thanks to Aurelian's potion, its movements were a little slower than usual, but the irritation of being awakened and its maternal instinct kept it alert to any danger to its eggs.
The dragon let out a warning snort when it noticed Harry, and a five-meter flame licked a nearby rock.
Harry swallowed hard, his spirit faltering for a second. He raised his wand with a trembling hand.
"Desmaius!" Harry shouted.
A jet of red light struck the dragon's side and bounced harmlessly off its armored scales, disappearing into the sky.
"Oh!" narrated Bagman, "A brave spell, but useless! That skin is tougher than steel, but better luck next time, Harry!"
The dragon, annoyed by the sting, turned its head toward Harry and roared. A column of fire shot toward him. Harry threw himself to the ground, rolling awkwardly behind a large rock as the flames scorched the spot where he had been standing a second before, leaving nothing behind.
From the Slytherin stands, Aurelian watched with a raised eyebrow, his fingers drumming rhythmically on his knee.
"Looks like he's improvising," Aurelian muttered disapprovingly. "I was hoping he had some strategy, but he's just shooting blindly and making the dragon even angrier."
Harry, coughing from the smoke, peered over the rock. He knew he couldn't win on the ground. He needed to be in his element.
He pointed his wand toward the sky.
"Accio Broomstick!" he shouted with all his might.
There were a few tense seconds where all that could be heard was the dragon roaring as it clawed at the rock where it thought Harry was. Then, a whistle cut through the air.
The Noxum came buzzing down from the Gryffindor Tower and came to a perfect hover in front of its owner.
"Incredible!" Bagman shouted, jumping to his feet. "Harry has summoned his broom! Look at that beauty of craftsmanship!"
The crowd erupted in cheers. Harry mounted the broom and shot into the sky like a bullet, leaving the dragon's flames behind.
The wind on his face restored his lost confidence. He felt invincible. From the air, the dragon seemed smaller, slower. Harry dove, taunting the beast, then spiraled upward, easily dodging a bite.
"Look how he flies!" Bagman exclaimed. "He's a natural! He's playing with the beast!"
Euphoria washed over Harry. He heard the cheers and felt they were for him, only him. In a moment of vanity, Harry let go of one hand on the broomstick handle to wave to the Gryffindor section, smiling smugly as he performed an unnecessary spin.
"Stupid boy," Aurelian whispered from his seat.
The Horntail, taking advantage of the fact that the "fly" had slowed down to show off, spun around at high speed. Its tail, bristling with long, sword-like spikes, swept through the air like a giant whip.
CRACK.
The tail struck Harry and his broomstick in mid-flight.
The impact was brutal. Harry was thrown like a ball, crossing the arena in a painful arc until he crashed violently into one of the stone walls of the coliseum.
He fell to the sandy ground and didn't move.
"Oooh!" The crowd groaned collectively in pain. Bagman was silent for a moment, searching for the right words.
Aurelian sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Once again, Harry had disappointed him and shown his stupidity.
Beside him, Hestia and Flora leaned forward, their eyes shining macabrely.
"Is he dead?" whispered Flora.
"I think I saw his neck snap," said Hestia with a cruel smile. "It would be a shame if the 'Mighty' Potter ended up as a stain on the wall."
Down in the sand, Harry wasn't dead, but he wished he was.
He felt as if his insides had been set on fire. It was hard to breathe, each inhalation was agony, and he could barely feel his arms. He had broken ribs, he was sure of that, and probably even worse. Warm blood ran down his forehead, blinding one eye.
He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't respond. He felt a giant shadow fall over him.
Harry turned his head. The Horntail was there, a few feet away, closing in to finish off its wounded prey. Its mouth opened, revealing rows of teeth and a throat that was beginning to glow with fire.
Absolute panic filled his mind. Acting more on instinct than reason, he raised his wand. It was kill or be killed.
With a gurgling, choking cry, Harry aimed at the face of the monster that was already on top of him.
"Confringo!" Harry shouted at point-blank range.
The explosive spell hit the dragon squarely in the eye.
BOOM!
The dragon's eye burst in a shower of flesh and thick blood. The beast roared so loudly that it made the bones of all the spectators vibrate. Blind and filled with pain and fury, the dragon's head shook violently backward, its hind legs kicking in agony.
One of the giant claws struck Harry in the chest, sending him rolling across the sand... ironically, right toward the nest where the eggs lay.
Harry landed face down, coughing blood onto the ground. He looked up through blurry vision and saw something golden, shining inches from his nose.
The Egg.
His hands shaking uncontrollably and his vision darkening by the second, Harry stretched out his fingers and clutched the golden egg.
"I've got it," he whispered, and a faint, bloody smile spread across his face. Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, unconscious.
"Incredible! He's got it!" Bagman shouted, though his voice no longer had its previous enthusiasm. "Harry Potter has got the golden egg!"
Immediately, a dozen dragon keepers burst into the arena, casting stunning spells to subdue the enraged beast, now blind in one eye. Madam Pomfrey rushed toward Harry's limp body, her medical bag floating behind her.
The stadium was plunged into stunned silence. No one knew what to say in the shock.
Aurelian watched as Harry's mangled body was levitated toward the first aid tent, leaned back in his seat once more, and exhaled the breath he had been holding unconsciously.
"That was close, Potter," Aurelian thought, a smile of relief curving his lips. "For a second there, I thought you'd killed yourself and ruined all my work. But you survived... that's what matters," he thought.
When the medical team finally managed to stabilize Harry, they floated him away to the infirmary. Dumbledore had to use a full-power Sonorus spell to calm the crowd.
"Mr. Potter is alive!" announced the headmaster, his voice echoing over the murmurs. "He has suffered considerable injuries, but Madam Pomfrey assures us that he will make a full recovery."
Once the panic subsided, the judges gathered to award the scores.
Fleur Delacour, for her masterful use of magic and coming out almost unscathed, received high marks. Cedric Diggory, for his bravery and effective transformation, matched her score. The two were tied for first place. Viktor Krum, penalized for destroying the real eggs, came in second.
And Harry... well, Harry had gotten the egg, at the cost of destroying part of the stadium, injuring the dragon, and ending up unconscious. He came in a distant and lonely last place.
The weeks passed and snow began to cover the grounds of Hogwarts, bringing with it a radical change. Fear of dragons was replaced by a different kind of fear: The Yule Ball. The castle was filled with nervous giggles, groups of girls whispering in the hallways, and boys walking stiffly, practicing phrases in front of mirrors.
One quiet afternoon, Aurelian was sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, enjoying a light lunch of pheasant salad while writing on a parchment. Hestia and Flora had gone to the library to return some books, leaving him alone for a rare few minutes.
Then someone plopped down on the bench across from him.
Aurelian looked up. Cedric Diggory was there, nervously fiddling with a fork. Usually the picture of confidence, he now looked like a bundle of nerves.
"Everything okay, Cedric?" Aurelian asked, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you're about to face the dragon again."
Cedric glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned over the table and lowered his voice.
"Aurelian... you have experience with this," Cedric murmured, scratching the back of his neck. "How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Win over Hestia and Flora," Cedric blurted out. "They're... intense and, honestly, a little scary. But you managed to make them both fall head over heels for you. What's the secret?"
Aurelian blinked, surprised. He put his food aside and turned to face his friend, took him firmly by the shoulders, and looked at him seriously.
"Cedric, listen to me carefully," Aurelian said in a clear voice. "I have no idea. I didn't do anything. They were the ones who hunted me down, cornered me, and decided I was theirs. I just... adapted and accepted my fate."
Cedric looked at him for a moment and sighed, slumping over the table in resignation.
"That doesn't help me much."
Aurelian let out a short laugh and patted him on the back.
"Why the question, buddy? Got someone in your sights?"
Cedric's ears turned red.
"Well... there's a girl. From Ravenclaw. Cho Chang. But I don't know how to ask her. Every time I get close, I forget how to talk."
Aurelian laughed again at his friend's innocence. Cedric, a little annoyed, punched him in the arm.
"Don't laugh! This is serious."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Aurelian apologized, regaining his composure and smiling warmly at him. "Look, Cedric, you're noble, handsome, and a good person. You have nothing to fear. Just go, be yourself, and ask her. I guarantee she'll say yes before you even finish your sentence."
Cedric looked at him. He straightened up and smiled broadly.
"I think you're right. I've faced a dragon before, I can do this. Thanks, Aurelian."
At that moment, a shadow fell over the table.
"Excusez-moi."
Both boys looked up. Fleur Delacour was standing there in her blue silk uniform. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders and her blue eyes sparkled with determination.
Cedric and Aurelian exchanged a quick glance. Fleur was known for being haughty and aloof, so seeing her approach voluntarily was strange.
Fleur ignored Cedric and fixed her gaze on Aurelian.
"Lord Gaunt," she said, "I've been watching you. You're the only one in this castle who seems to have... niveau."
Without warning, Fleur reached out her slender hand and took Aurelian's hand resting on the table, intertwining her fingers with his. She looked him straight in the eye, deploying all her Veela charm.
"I would like you to be my partner for the Yule Ball," Fleur asked with a flirtatious smile. "We would make a... magnifique couple, don't you think?"
The Great Hall seemed to fall silent.
Aurelian opened his mouth to politely decline, but before he could make a sound, the temperature plummeted.
Cedric paled. His eyes darted toward the entrance of the Great Hall and he swallowed loudly.
"Oh, no," Cedric whispered, shrinking in his seat.
Hestia and Flora had just entered, laughing and chatting with each other. Their eyes locked on the scene: the French bitch's hand touching her betrothed's. The transformation was immediate. Their smiles vanished, replaced by masks of cold fury.
Aurelian sensed danger. He tried to gently withdraw his hand and stand up to calm the situation.
"Girls, this isn't what..."
"Sit down, dear," said Hestia in a sweet voice that promised pain, placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.
"We'll take care of it," added Flora, standing on the other side.
Both girls surrounded the table and stood in front of Fleur, blocking her view of Aurelian.
"Well, well," said Hestia, looking Fleur up and down with disgust. "What do we have here?"
"A dirty little bird trying to steal from someone else's nest," Flora finished, crossing her arms. "Didn't they teach you in France not to touch what isn't yours, half-breed?"
Fleur let go of Aurelian's hand and straightened up, her face contorting with offense.
"Pardón?" said Fleur, offended. "How dare you speak to me like that?"
"You're just a creature," spat Hestia, bringing her face close to the French girl's. "A glorified pet who needs cheap charms to get someone to look at her."
"Get away from him," hissed Flora. "Or we'll pluck those feathers out one by one."
Fleur, whose pride was as great as her beauty, would not tolerate such an insult in front of everyone. Her eyes flashed with fire and her features sharpened, revealing her Veela heritage.
"Enough!" Fleur shouted, pulling out her wand. "If you have such a problem with me, settle it like witches! I challenge you to a duel!"
The silence in the dining hall was absolute. Everyone expected the twins to back down or go find a teacher.
But Hestia and Flora did something much more terrifying.
They smiled.
An identical smile, sweet, innocent, and completely psychotic. That was exactly what they wanted. A legitimate excuse to destroy her.
"Oh, little birdie..." said Hestia, slowly pulling out her wand.
"...you just made the biggest mistake of your life," Flora finished, her eyes shining sadistically. "We accept."
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