Compared to the lively commotion on Draco's side, Harry Potter, who had cast the Disillusionment Charm the moment he entered the field, was moving in near silence...
[Listen, Harry. The Disillusionment Charm may fool foolish creatures, but remember—this does not include a Thunderbird with a danger level of XXXXX. Don't count on luck. It will sense you immediately.]
Recalling Professor Moody's words, Harry Potter carefully circled past the giant Troll, which was absentmindedly playing with its own fingers. Clearly, the not-so-bright creature hadn't noticed the invisible Harry nearby.
Only after slipping past the Troll and losing sight of it did Harry finally stop, panting hard. The mental pressure of the competition and the nonstop pace had left the already frail Harry Potter pale, his strained expression revealing that things were far from easy for him.
Even so, the light in his eyes hadn't dimmed at all...
'Maintain the Disillusionment Charm until the other Champions reach the task location...?'
Although he wanted to complete the task in his own way, Alastor Moody's warning quietly pushed that thought aside.
Besides lacking confidence, he'd also been training privately under Professor Moody lately—and along with certain secrets he couldn't speak of, all of it had made Harry trust and admire Alastor Moody deeply.
So in most situations, Harry still followed Moody's instructions.
"But... why do we have to be the last to reach the task site?"
Listening to the commentary—so clear he barely needed to focus—Harry crouched down and began analyzing the positions of the other Champions and the developing situation. His wand traced lines across the ground as he worked things out, a gesture that had Mr. Ollivander fuming in the VIP seats.
To Garrick Ollivander, who considered every wand his own child, Harry Potter's behavior was unforgivable. If this weren't a competition, he would have marched in to stop him.
Of course, Harry wouldn't know any of this until the tournament ended, because right now he was entirely absorbed in determining Draco's location...
"Malfoy... Judging from the noise over there, he's about to reach the task site. Is it because he's heading straight there? And why is Fleur Delacour with him?"
His muttering carried a tone that might have been shock at Draco's reckless approach, or frustration with Draco's overwhelming strength. Either way, Harry Potter's eyes were filled with conflicted emotion.
He tightened his grip on his wand in silence.
Compared to his own stealthy strategy, the other seemed more like a Gryffindor wizard...
[Thunderbirds are extremely dangerous. Even with the training you've received from me, defeating such a creature head-on is impossible. So, Harry...]
The hesitation in his eyes vanished the moment Moody's words resurfaced, replaced by firm resolve.
Because only by doing this could he defeat Draco Malfoy...
At that moment, a sharp cry split the air, followed by a surge of terror sweeping over him. Harry Potter froze for a few seconds, then snapped his head upward.
A colossal silhouette filled his vision, large enough to blot out the sky.
His chance had truly come...
...
Nothing is absolutely impossible.
It's only a matter of how prepared you are.
For most wizards, the Thunderbird's escape was an unexpected disaster. For the Thunderbird itself, it was nothing short of a miracle. The entire arena—even the host—stared wide-eyed, stunned into silence by the sudden turn of events...
How had the Thunderbird, a creature not known for brute strength, managed to snap those thick chains and break free?
"Albus!"
"Don't worry. Unexpected, yes, but still manageable. No need to panic. Though... Severus, I may need your help."
"...You don't need to say it. I was going to intervene anyway. And don't call me that!"
Even in the face of Dumbledore, Snape showed no courtesy. After locking eyes with the smiling headmaster for a few seconds, he swept off with a dark scowl, his robes billowing as he left.
He clearly had something to prepare.
And aside from Dumbledore, no one noticed the brief glance Snape had cast toward Harry Potter's position...
"Should we call off the match? At least restrain the Thunder—"
"No. That won't be necessary. I imagine the four champions on the field wouldn't agree either, would they, dear Maxime?"
"You—!"
Maxime, utterly unable to understand what Dumbledore was insisting on, finally tore her gaze from Fleur and glared at him, her brow furrowing sharply.
If not for the stunned looks from the professors led by Minerva McGonagall, and the two Hogwarts champions still on the field, she might have suspected this entire situation was orchestrated by Dumbledore himself...
"Look over there!"
She looked up.
A streak of golden light soared across the thunder-lit sky.
The next moment, time seemed to freeze.
The massive golden figure vanished from sight, followed immediately by a thunderous boom.
BOOM!
The blast came from the Thunderbird striking the magical barrier with its claws.
While the wizards stared in shock and fear, wondering whether they should flee first, the Thunderbird was stopped cold by the barrier and flung backward in full view of the crowd.
Though the transparent barrier rippled violently, it was clear that breaking through it and escaping from here was not something the Thunderbird could accomplish quickly.
At the very least, no one felt even the slightest sign that its attack had made any real impact...
"Screech!!!"
Lightning split the sky.
Rain poured in sheets.
The Thunderbird's XXXXX rating wasn't solely because its power posed a lethal threat to wizards.
One other reason played an enormous role.
Its intelligence.
Having abandoned further attempts at the barrier, the Thunderbird now fixed its gaze on the humans below.
Lightning—pale white and crackling—coiled faintly around its talons. The oppressive power radiating from the creature turned the young witches and wizards in the stands ghost-pale.
Everyone could feel it.
This Thunderbird, rated at the highest danger level of XXXXX, had entered a state of fury...