Chapter 315. Flying Sand and Stones
Viktor Krum took the field not long after Fleur's task ended.
As a Durmstrang student, he was clearly more adept at duelling.
And he seemed inclined to finish this task in the most direct way.
No sooner had he entered the arena than he tried a flurry of offensive spells on the Norwegian Ridgeback, but such standard jinxes had little effect on those solid dragon scales.
Of course, he carefully avoided using any Dark Arts—even if Durmstrang taught them openly.
Clearly he knew full well that using Dark Arts would land him in a great deal of trouble.
In the end, his Conjunctivitis Curse struck the Norwegian Ridgeback squarely in the eye.
While the dragon thrashed, he rushed in and, amid the chaos, took the Golden Egg.
Unfortunately, the dragon trampled many of its own eggs, costing him part of his score.
When the eggs were crushed, Ludo Bagman winced as if it were his own flesh—Adrian Wesson genuinely could not understand why they were using real dragon eggs.
That was a hefty sum of money.
In short, Krum finished with forty points—neither high nor low—temporarily in second place.
"Excellent, three champions have now completed their tasks."
"Next, let's welcome the final champion—Hogwarts's Harry Potter!"
Bagman's voice rolled over the arena, and the stands erupted in applause and cheers.
If anyone among the four champions drew the most attention, it was undoubtedly the "fourth champion" who had entered by accident: Harry Potter.
This was his best chance to prove himself.
Amid everyone's expectations, Harry stepped slowly out of the shadows of the entrance.
At last people could see him. His face was calm, but the tight grip on his wand betrayed that he did not feel so—nerves were only natural.
Harry walked to the very centre of the arena and squinted at today's opponent.
It was a dragon with green scales, relatively small in build, neck lifted as it watched its surroundings warily.
Harry studied the great beast carefully.
A Common Welsh Green!
He could do this, couldn't he?
What did it take to best a dragon?
Courage, wisdom, and most importantly…
Powerful magic!
Harry suddenly remembered that thunderous blast he'd used in training.
It had been the most exhilarating Blasting Curse he'd ever cast.
If it were magic like that, it would undoubtedly hurt the dragon before him.
When only a few steps separated Harry from the dragon, it finally reacted: it threw back its head and let out a deafening roar, every emerald scale standing on end as wisps of smoke jetted from its nostrils.
This was a final warning: go no farther.
Harry stopped dead.
"Confringo!" he shouted, a dazzling red burst flaring from his wand-tip.
The curse struck the Welsh Green's left foreleg. The blast made the dragon cry out in pain.
It stumbled back onto its knees, emerald scales blasted open in a small patch to reveal the pink flesh beneath.
"Nice one!" Ron yelled, elated, from the stands.
However, there was no joy on Harry's face; he sighed instead.
"So it failed, then…"
The Blasting Curse he was using now, though still powerful, was far short of that day's level.
The sudden attack enraged the dragon. It opened its jaws and spewed a torrent of searing flame.
Harry dived into a roll to dodge, but the heat-wave still knocked him sprawling; the hem of his robes was scorched.
Gasps rippled through the stands.
To them, it looked as if Harry were already in danger.
Harry did not think so; everything was still within his control.
"Protego!" He threw up a Shield Charm and kept moving without pause.
He knew he had to stay calm—an injured dragon was often more dangerous.
The Welsh Green lashed its tail in fury, whipping up a roaring gust.
Harry seized the opening and raised his wand again. "Stupefy!"
The red bolt shot for the dragon's eye, but this time it was ready; it jerked its head aside.
The spell only clipped the corner of its eye and did no harm.
"Oh, it seems our champion and the dragon are locked in a grapple," Bagman said, dabbing at his brow and pressing on with the commentary. "But I should say, your task is only to seize the Golden Egg, not to defeat the dragon, Potter. Now then, let's see what happens next…"
Seeing his spells fail to land precisely, Harry changed tactics at once.
He slashed his wand through the air and cried, "Vincula Ferrea!"
Several heavy, iron chains of magic surged from his wand-tip.
"Is that your spell?" Remus Lupin turned to Adrian Wesson on the dais in surprise.
"Oh, yes," Wesson said with a smile. "That one's my speciality—but I will say, Harry's binding isn't much weaker than mine."
"Truly?"
Lupin's eyes lit up and he quickly looked back to Harry—he had seen Wesson's binding before; those chains could hold him motionless even in werewolf form.
Under Harry's control, the chains coiled round the dragon as if alive.
Because the Welsh Green was comparatively slight and not overwhelmingly strong, the binding worked brilliantly.
The dragon struggled in rage, belching scorching fire, but the chains, reinforced by magic, did not budge.
Harry seized the chance and sprinted for the nest.
Even as he ran, his wand-work did not stop.
"Confringo!"
"Confringo!"
"Confringo!"
Three Blasting Curses burst in succession over the dragon's head. It thrashed wildly, its neck-scales spattered with sooty residue from the explosions.
At last, Harry reached the Golden Egg—and as he scooped it up, he flicked one final spell.
"Saxa Volant!"
Blue fire flared between the dragon's brows.
"Boom!"
A powerful shockwave rippled out, making the entire arena shudder.
Before everyone's incredulous eyes, the Welsh Green's massive body swayed a few times; its golden, slit pupils slowly lost focus.
It gave a low, mournful whine, its forelegs buckled, and it crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
It had blacked out!
Silence fell over the arena like a shroud. Ron and Hermione gaped from the stands, forgetting even to cheer.
Harry glanced at the fallen dragon, then at the Golden Egg in his arms.
All right—he might not need to run for it.
But… why wasn't he hearing the crowd?
He looked around and spotted Adrian Wesson in the stands—his teacher was nodding to him.
That simple gesture made Harry grin.
He waved in Wesson's direction.
"Harry Potter!"
Then someone shouted his name.
A heartbeat later, the entire Forbidden Forest rang with thunderous cheers.
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