Krum entered the arena alongside a magnificent Chinese Fireball. Its scales gleamed like polished rubies, and its lion-like snout was crowned with a golden fringe of spikes that caught the sunlight. Bulging yellow eyes gave it a perpetually furious expression, and as it paced restlessly around its nest, mushroom-shaped fireballs erupted from its nostrils like artillery shells. The eggs in its nest were deep crimson, speckled with golden spots that seemed to pulse with inner fire.
Krum appeared determined to meet the dragon head-on. He cast a spell on himself and swallowed something—Orli was certain it involved dark magic, because his entire body suddenly swelled like an inflated balloon. His muscles bulged grotesquely, and his eyes turned blood-red.
Then he charged.
Like a maddened bull, Krum sprinted straight at the dragon, darting between its massive legs with reckless abandon. For one heart-stopping moment, he seemed to channel every instinct he'd honed as a Seeker—speed, precision, and absolute fearlessness. As he flashed beneath the dragon's belly, he fired a curse upward.
The Chinese Fireball's shriek could have shattered stone. Krum had struck it directly in the eye. The beast thrashed in agony, its massive claws stomping and crushing half its own eggs in its blind fury.
"Absolutely fearless!" Bagman roared through his amplified voice. "Incredible courage—ah—Conjunctivitis Curse, brilliant execution—he's got the golden egg!"
Applause crashed over the arena like thunder. Krum had done it—retreating to safety with the golden prize clutched against his chest, his body already shrinking back to normal size. His shirt hung in tatters, exposing his muscled torso as steam rose from his skin in the frigid air. Several girls in the stands let out appreciative squeals.
The judges' scores materialized: Bagman and Minister Bones awarded eight points each, while Dumbledore gave nine. Karkaroff, predictably, conjured a perfect ten. Madame Maxime, in petty retaliation, displayed a measly five.
Hermione frantically calculated the totals. "Cedric—thirty-eight points. Fleur—forty-two. Krum—forty..." Her voice caught. "I just pray Harry survives this."
Finally, it was Harry's turn.
At the arena's far end, the Hungarian Horntail waited like a nightmare made flesh. Its massive, spike-covered body made Harry look like a child's toy by comparison. The dragon crouched low over its nest, wings half-furled, those terrible yellow eyes tracking Harry's every movement with predatory intelligence.
From their distant seats, they watched Harry raise his wand and cast something. Then came a familiar sound—the whistle of something cutting through air at tremendous speed.
"He did it! He did it!" Hermione shrieked, nearly shaking Orli's arm from its socket. The Firebolt streaked into the arena like a golden comet, hovering beside Harry with perfect precision. He swung onto the broom and shot skyward in one fluid motion.
"Merlin's beard—he can fly!" Bagman bellowed as the crowd erupted. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"
Orli had no idea what Krum thought from inside the champions' tent—her eyes were riveted on Harry. This was like the strangest Quidditch match ever played: his opponent wasn't another team, but a forty-foot dragon. The golden egg was his Snitch, and jets of flame were the Bludgers he had to dodge.
Harry spiraled higher and higher, the Horntail's massive head swiveling to track him. Its neck twisted like a serpent's, following his every loop and dive. Finally, growing impatient, the beast opened its jaws and unleashed another torrent of fire.
In that split second, Harry dropped something tiny into the dragon's gaping maw and plummeted toward the ground.
A powerful Sleeping Draught!Orli clenched her fists, holding her breath as she waited for the Horntail's reaction.
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