Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 298: The First Task, Nightmare Difficulty III (CH - 317)

As soon as Cedric stepped into the arena with Jean and Roger by his sides, thunderous applause erupted from the stands, the Hogwarts name roaring out in a unified chant.

On any other day, in any other competition, they might have relished it. But today, they did not have the luxury to focus on anything else.

Their wands were ready, held firm as their attention narrowed to the goal at the center. Determination marked their expressions, fear lingering at the edges despite their efforts to suppress it. They had known what was coming, but still, facing it in person was something else entirely.

And just as they paid no mind to the reaction from the stands, the audience likewise gave little heed to their expressions. The announcer seemed even more fanatical, sounding as though he had far too much energy and no idea where to release it.

He first gave a brief introduction of the trio, and without granting them even a few moments to prepare, he enthusiastically announced the start of the task.

It was a raw, outright thrill from the very start, keeping the audience on edge as their roars never faded for even a moment. The only place that remained quiet was the tent where the other champions were waiting, where not even the announcer's voice could reach, and within it, a suffocating silence lingered.

"I still don't get why we're barred from watching the game…"

"To keep things fair, Ron. Weren't you listening to Mr Diggory?"

The Golden Trio sat in one corner of the tent, though calling an interior space nearly as large as the Great Hall of Hogwarts merely a tent would be an understatement. The other five trios were scattered around as well, each group quietly discussing plans to get through the trial.

"...Besides, it's not entirely a disadvantage. Going sixth gives us the most time to work out a solid strategy," Hermione added with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Now that you mention it… I feel bad for Ced now, you know. Drawing number one barely gave him any time to prepare. It's a clear disadvantage if you ask me," Harry sighed. He honestly did feel for Cedric. Why couldn't it have been Durmstrang instead?

"That's not our concern. And I seriously doubt the professors haven't accounted for it," Hermione replied, then added, giving them a pointed look, "Our priority should be working out a strategy, you two..."

"Right, right… stealing an egg from a bloody murderous dragon," Ron said slowly. "Absolutely brilliant."

Harry glanced at him. "What, having second thoughts now, Ron?"

"Are you kidding, mate?" Ron straightened at once, leaning forward from his slouch and pulling a thinking face. "What if we just do what we did in the last practice with Professor Caesar?" he said after a moment's hum.

"That won't work." Hermione shook her head. "We can't expect a dragon, especially a mother dragon, to react the same way as a mindless puppet."

"So what then?"

A moment of silence passed as the three Gryffindors sat thinking, and across the room it was a similar scene, most with hands to their chins, trying to figure out how best to tackle the situation.

Time passed.

Back inside the arena, the roar of the crowd continued unabated.

The performance was not flashy, with overwhelming spells flying everywhere or destruction raining down, nor did it look like a deeply calculated strategy. What held the energy instead was the sheer thrill of it, gripping from the very beginning.

Without being told, it would have been difficult to believe they were only teenagers.

Cedric Diggory proved himself a champion in a breathtaking display of nerve and quick thinking. It was like watching someone dance along the edge of a blade, his life constantly on the line as he streaked through the air on his broom, drawing the dragon's fury again and again. Each pass ended in a near miss, the crushing jaws snapping shut just behind him, the massive claws sweeping through the air where he had been only a heartbeat before.

The dragon's roars thundered through the stadium, while the crowd answered just as loudly, and it was hard to tell which belonged to which.

Jean and Roger were just as fearless, hurling binding spells and explosive hexes straight at the dragon's face whenever Cedric came a breath away from being torn in half or swatted aside like a fly. Each well-timed spell bought him another second, another narrow escape, and the crowd could hardly keep up with the pace of it all.

Many in the stands struggled to accept what they were seeing, especially when it came to the small witch on the field. She was only a second year, and yet she held her ground against a creature of legend. If this was what she could do at just twelve years old, there was little doubt she would one day become a force to be reckoned with.

At the topmost tier of the stands, Charles Xavier and Ororo Munroe clapped enthusiastically at Jean's performance, pride plain on their faces. It was a big day for her, and there was no chance they would have missed it.

"Remarkable children, aren't they, Ororo," Professor X remarked, unable to help himself. "Especially the boy on the magical broom."

"You don't have to tell me, Professor. Even I wouldn't dare moves like that against a beast that big," Ororo replied, clear admiration in her voice. It was dangerous, yes, and under normal circumstances they would have felt only worry for children placed in such danger. But they had seen Mavrick watching the action closely, and they knew he would step in if the children were in any real danger.

"Just look at the grin on her face." Ororo pointed toward the large screen as Jean's figure flashed into view, wand raised in both hands, a binding spell wrapped around the beast's jaws as she tried, unsuccessfully, to yank it her way. "She looks like she's having the time of her life."

Charles chuckled, barely audible amid the thunderous atmosphere. "Well, what child wouldn't want to battle a creature of legend."

Out on the field, as the minutes slipped by, the trio slowly managed to draw the massive dragon away from its nest. It was a simple tactic, reckless even, but it was working. The dragon, for lack of a better word, was pissed off by their constant harassment, and little by little she lost sight of what she was meant to protect.

And then, in what could only be called spectacular, the daring boy dove beneath the dragon's wings, swept over the nest, and tore the prize free. The stadium fell into sudden silence, and then, as if released all at once, the noise returned in a deafening roar.

They had done it, and with ten full minutes to spare.

The task had only been to snatch the egg, nothing more. And sure enough, the moment Cedric secured it and put some distance between himself and the nest, the dragon trainers moved in, sending the creature to sleep and bringing the task to a spectacular close.

"Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts!"

The chants thundered through the stands, especially from the section packed with Hogwarts students, where the frenzy reached its peak. The three figures appeared on the large screens as they regrouped, hands raised high, Cedric lifting the golden egg toward the sky like a trophy, with Roger and Jean beside him, grinning just as widely.

And just as quickly, barely a minute into the celebration, the announcer's voice cut through the stadium once more. The large screens changed, now displaying the judges' panel as they prepared to declare their scores. The noise in the air dipped, anticipation tightening its grip on the crowd.

"From the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, twenty points!"

For a brief heartbeat, there was silence, and then the stadium roared back to life with the first declaration.

"From the Headmaster of Durmstrang School, eighteen points!"

The noise swelled higher.

"From the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic… twenty-four points!"

The stadium erupted.

"And finally, from the British Ministry of Magic, twenty points!" The announcer paused, letting the anticipation hang for a heartbeat, before finishing it all in one breath. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Hogwarts' first champion. Cedric Diggory and his team have scored eighty-two points out of one hundred. Simply… simply incredible!"

The instant he finished, a wave of cheers and applause crashed through the stands, sweeping across the vast arena and echoing on and on before settling into a deep, rumbling roar.

The celebration could not be allowed long. After all, this was only the first contestant. Before the cheers had fully died down, the commentator spoke again, his magically amplified voice rolling across the stadium.

"That's one champion down, with five still to face their dragons, and hopefully just as thrilling as the first one!"

As Cedric and his team were escorted off the field to the chorus of cheers, more dragon handlers swarmed into the rocky arena. Working together, they restrained the unconscious behemoth with heavy iron chains and hauled it away to its enclosure.

It did not take long before another dragon was brought in through the tunnel under professional care. It was the same species, a Hungarian Horntail, just as massive as the last, with the only difference being that its scales were a slightly lighter shade.

Soon after, the commentator's piercing shout rang across the stadium again, this time with even greater fanfare. "And now, the time has come for our second champion to make her entrance. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, our next champion is a lady, hailing from the incredible Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Miss Fleur Delacour!"

Everyone's eyes went to the large screens first, and less than a heartbeat later, the girl in question appeared, her mesmerizing face filling the display as she emerged from the tunnel with her two teammates and stepped into the arena.

Among the many elegant young witches of Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour was easily the most dazzling. Normally, the outwardly cold yet graceful witch carried herself with quiet pride, as if nothing around her truly mattered. But today, she did not wear her usual calm and confident expression, and for good reason.

As she entered the arena with her hair tied in a high ponytail, her reaction mirrored Cedric's earlier one, her gaze lifting instinctively toward the dragon. Those pale cheeks betrayed unease as she took in the monstrosity before her and the nearly impossible feat she was expected to accomplish in the short time given.

The commentator, however, seemed unconcerned by her troubled expression and far more interested in keeping the excitement high.

"The breathtaking Miss Fleur Delacour stands against the Hungarian Horntail. The question is, who walks away victorious?"

He paused for breath, his tone making it sound as though she had come to conquer the dragon outright, then continued loudly, "Well, I think I speak for all of us here today when I say I am waiting with bated breath to see what brilliant feat the young lady and her companions have prepared for us!"

The crowd cheered, the applause losing none of its intensity despite the previous champion being from the host school and this one from another.

Fleur's face filled all four screens, leaving barely any screen time for her companions, before the start was finally announced.

"Reminder, you are limited to thirty minutes. Begin!"

At the announcer's call, Fleur and her teammates took one last deep breath and prepared to put their hastily formed strategy into motion.

"Proceed according to plan," she said, and the three of them dispersed, keeping a safe distance as they began seemingly to circle the dragon.

Meanwhile, high above the arena, Mavrick observed everything with sharp focus, prepared to intervene the instant real danger appeared. Just moments ago, he had heard the tall woman's voice, calm but firm, warning him that if her precious apprentice were to suffer any serious injury, she would chase him to the very ends of the world.

Bah… who does she think she's trying to scare?

Anyways, according to the rules, intervention by him or Flitwick to prevent a fatal accident to the champion or their teammates would not disqualify them outright, but it would cost points. Ten points for each intervention, to be precise, after which they could resume the task.

However, this could happen only up to ten times, and any more than that would reduce the champion's score to zero, effectively ending their participation in the task altogether.

Mavrick had been genuinely impressed earlier when Cedric, Roger, and Jean completed the task without forcing a single intervention. Of course, there had been moments when Cedric came dangerously close to being torn apart, but it was never enough to demand action.

And as long as there was no certainty of fatal danger, Mavrick would hold back. Perhaps that clever boy had already figured that out and played accordingly, pushing his luck just far enough to be daring without crossing the line.

But not everyone could be that daring. Well, maybe Harry and his two thugs.

While musing, he watched the three Beauxbatons students move carefully, approaching the dragon from three sides. It was immediately clear that their approach was very different from the earlier attempt.

For one thing, they were not charging in headfirst. An actual strategy?

Sure enough, what happened next left the entire stadium stunned, and even Mavrick could not stop the quiet, unconscious "Oh…" that slipped from him.

"Fascinating, their innate magic, isn't it, Mavrick," Flitwick murmured as he steered his broom closer, eyes fixed on the scene below. "I had expected the effect to be weaker, given that her Veela heritage is only partial. But that level of allure is remarkable. I would say it rivals even adult purebloods."

Mavrick gave the shorter man an unreadable glance, eyes half-lidded as one brow lifted. "Sounds like you have a lot of… experience, with Veelas," he said, a faint smile touching his lips.

Could it be that beneath that pure and innocent exterior lurked a rather... weird fetish? Interesting.

"I…" Flitwick opened his mouth to respond, then stopped, as if something inexplicable had lodged firmly in his throat. "Ahem. Cough, cough. Let us keep our eyes on the action, Professor."

Back on the field, Fleur Delacour had indeed drawn upon her Veela heritage, subtly weaving it into the spell she was casting. To the average sight, it was unmistakably a sleeping charm, but it was clearly not that simple. Those with keen magical senses could perceive that the spell had been strengthened far beyond its usual limits, carried and amplified by her natural Veela allure rather than by the charm alone.

Just moments earlier, as the Hungarian Horntail had been about to unleash a torrent of fire, it faltered, its jaws snapping shut as confusion seemed to overtake it, before its massive head slowly lowered.

Her "unique" magic had clearly worked its, well, magic. But Fleur's spell alone was not responsible for the dragon's reaction. Across from her, her teammates were casting their own magic as well, not sleeping charms, but calming spells. And together, the three enchantments combined to achieve what seemed impossible: three teenagers putting an adult dragon to sleep in moments.

The only downside was that it was, admittedly, a bit anticlimactic.

The screens then showed Fleur casting a cushioning charm on herself while the commentator explained her actions to the audience. She then began walking slowly toward the nest, her figure appearing impossibly small beside the sleeping behemoth.

Unlike the previous match, the crowd remained unusually silent throughout their actions, even more so at the climax. Not because it was uninteresting, but because it was tense. Even with the dragon clearly asleep, the sight of her small frame moving cautiously toward the center was enough to make anyone hold their breath.

As expected, she retrieved the prize without incident. When the dragon tamers arrived moments later, they did not even need to cast additional spells. The creature was already deeply unconscious.

Regardless, the audience erupted into thunderous applause for Fleur and her team at the end. Despite the lack of explosive action, the objective had been met, and it had been done flawlessly. Few could have executed such precise coordination, timing, and spellwork. It was clear why she had been chosen as a champion.

Her final score came in just two points shy of Cedric's, a total of eighty. And soon after, preparations for the third match of the day were already underway.

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Author's Note:

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