"Cooperation?"
The word hung in the air like a Bludger no one had expected. Fred and George Weasley froze mid-step, identical expressions of disbelief on their freckled faces.
They were three schools. Rivals. The whole point was to outshine one another, to claw every possible point away from the others. Tripping your opponents was practically tradition.
Cooperate? That was madness.
Yet when they met Harry's eyes—bright, burning, absolutely certain—the twins traded a quick look, broke into matching manic grins, snapped off a theatrical salute, and bellowed in perfect unison:
"At your command, Captain!"
"Switching to Plan B—mutual survival pact!"
"Let's knock that overgrown lizard out of the sky!"
In the stands, Lee Jordan was practically vibrating out of his robes, voice cracking with excitement as he leaned so far over the microphone it looked ready to file a restraining order.
"Merlin's pants, folks, we are in serious trouble down there! One hit and all three champions are eating dirt—what are they going to do now?!"
The crowd leaned forward as one, breath held. Whispers rippled through the sections.
"Is Ethan's task actually impossible?"
"Beautiful to watch, sure, but if nobody can win, what's the point?"
"Kid probably thinks the rest of us breathe fire in our spare time."
At the judges' table, Madame Maxime's face had gone the color of an overripe plum. She slammed a massive hand on the railing hard enough to rattle the goblets.
"This is not a tournament, this is humiliation!"
Karkaroff only stroked his silver goatee, staring down at Viktor Krum pinned beneath a fallen boulder of a tail. He said nothing, but the set of his jaw spoke volumes.
Beside them, Ludo Bagman mopped his forehead with a lime-green handkerchief. "This is exactly why I said letting a student design the task was—"
Dumbledore raised one calming hand, eyes twinkling like he was enjoying a private joke with the universe.
"Patience, my friends. Mr. Vincent cured lycanthropy before breakfast. I suspect he knows precisely what he's doing."
A shame the Hat hadn't put the boy in Gryffindor. Ravenclaw already had more talent than was strictly fair.
Down in the arena, Ethan Vincent—black hair, sharp cheekbones, smile that could cut glass—watched the chaos he'd orchestrated with the serene contentment of a cat who'd just knocked every ornament off the mantelpiece.
"Come on," he murmured, almost tenderly. "When the danger is bigger than any one of you… what will you choose?"
He was testing something. Something important.
Then it happened.
His eyes lit up like he'd just been handed the keys to the world.
There—Harry extending a hand to Krum. Fleur shouting something in rapid French that sounded suspiciously like teamwork. The Beauxbatons girls forming a defensive ring while the Durmstrang boys hauled rocks aside.
Ethan's lips curved, slow and delighted.
Lee Jordan nearly swallowed the microphone.
"Hold the front page—Hogwarts champions are helping Durmstrang up! They're—they're actually talking to each other! Is this allowed?!"
"Mr. Jordan!" McGonagall snapped.
"Just observing, Professor! Purely journalistic!"
Two heartbeats later the stands detonated.
Madame Maxime's mouth fell open so wide she could have caught a Golden Snitch in it. "Cooperation? In a competition?"
Karkaroff blinked twice, then gave a slow, reluctant nod. "In this situation… yes. It is the only rational move. Fight alone and die alone. Fight together—" He glanced sideways at Dumbledore's unreadable smile and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse in Bulgarian.
Ethan, meanwhile, was practically glowing.
It worked.
[When the threat is large enough, even those divided by greed and glory will stand together.]
A soft, reverent laugh escaped him. "So all I have to do is give the world a big enough monster… and peace will follow."
He licked one canine tooth, tasting genius.
He turned to the Hungarian Horntail—no, bigger, blacker, meaner, a dragon that looked like someone had taken nightmares and given them scales—and gave it an encouraging little wave.
"Don't let up now, darling. They're counting on you."
[ROOOAAAARRRR!]
The dragon answered with a bellow that rattled teeth in skulls. Crimson lightning gathered around the spear-sized horn on its snout.
But this time the champions were ready.
Krum planted his feet, wand raised. "I draw its attention—you get the brooms!"
Fleur, hair wild and eyes blazing, snarled through gritted teeth, "We provide cover!"
CRACK—!
The lightning spear slammed down, turning stone to glass.
The crowd screamed.
Then—movement.
Three figures burst from the smoke ringed in silver light—Fleur's shield charm, reinforced by every Beauxbatons wand. Behind them, transfigured stone barriers erupted like breaking waves, courtesy of Durmstrang.
Harry, Fred, and George rolled, snatched their fallen brooms, and kicked off in a single fluid motion.
Harry caught his Firebolt mid-air and shot upward like a comet.
Lee Jordan lost what remained of his mind.
"THEY'VE GOT BROOMS! HOGWARTS IS IN THE AIR! I LOVE THIS SCHOOL!"
The stadium exploded into color and noise—scarves, banners, stomping feet. Despair flipped into delirium in the space of a heartbeat.
Even Madame Maxime was on her feet, cheeks flushed with pride as Fleur orchestrated a barrage of glittering spells. She scrawled a large, loopy 10 on her scoring parchment and muttered, "Not bad, little Vincent. Not bad at all."
And handsome, too. Very handsome. She made a mental note to have a word with Fleur later.
Up in the sky, the black dragon fixed three blood-red eyes on the tiny flying figures and roared again.
The pressure was physical—pure predatory weight pressing down, trying to force them into paralysis.
A jet of crimson flame exploded against the dragon's foreclaw.
Krum, expressionless, already casting the next spell.
Fred whooped. "Nice one, Viktor!"
Harry grinned despite himself. World-class Seeker indeed.
Krum allowed himself half a second of satisfaction—he'd been aiming for the eye—but aggro was aggro.
"Keep hitting it!" he barked. "Give Potter his opening!"
He wasn't being noble. Conserve energy now, crush Vincent later. Simple mathematics.
Harry circled higher, sweat stinging his eyes, staring at the soft patch beneath the dragon's jaw.
"It's too fast—we'll be swatted before we get close!"
The twins flew up on either side, grins manic.
"Got a plan, mate!" they chorused.
"Binding charm—full power—around the neck!"
Harry gaped. "You'll never hold it!"
"Not hold," George laughed. "Choke. Just long enough."
"You'll get flattened!"
"Please," Fred scoffed, "we're uncatchable. We're basically Bludgers with better hair."
Harry opened his mouth to argue—then saw the absolute certainty on their faces.
"Do it," he said.
Golden ropes shot from the twins' wands, thick as ship hawser, looping and tightening around the dragon's sinewy neck. The beast thrashed, wings beating hurricanes, but the ropes held—barely—long enough.
Harry dove.
Wind screamed. The world narrowed to that one vulnerable spot.
Ethan watched, hands clasped behind his back, looking for all the world like a proud parent at a school play.
In the stands, someone started a chant that quickly became a roar:
"EN-LIGHT-EN-MENT! EN-LIGHT-EN-MENT!"
Ethan's smile widened until it was almost gentle.
Look at them, he thought warmly. My little club is about to become legend.
And the world will never be the same.
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my pa-treon:
pat reon .c-om/windkaze