The arena fell silent as Colette Marchand's stretcher disappeared through the medical tunnel. The Beauxbatons section continued their mournful song, their voices rising and falling like waves on a distant shore. The crowd, still buzzing from the intensity of her seven-round stand, slowly turned their attention back to the champions' entrance. Two remained. Two would enter. Only one would leave.
Barnaby Fingle's voice, hoarse from shouting, cut through the quiet. "Colette Marchand has surrendered after seven heroic rounds. She is being treated for poison, curse damage, and magical exhaustion. Her condition is serious, but stable. We wish her a full recovery."
A ripple of applause swept through the stands—respect for a fallen warrior.
"Now," Fingle continued, his tone shifting, hardening, "the second champion will enter. Antonin Dolohov of Durmstrang."
The Durmstrang section erupted. Their crimson banners slashed through the grey air like wounds. Students stomped their boots in rhythmic unison, a primal drumbeat that echoed across the arena. Dolohov's name was chanted in low, guttural tones.
He emerged from the champions' entrance like a blade drawn from a sheath.
---
## Part One: The Cold Arrival
Antonin Dolohov was not tall, but he seemed to occupy more space than his frame should allow. His Durmstrang robes were dark crimson, almost black, trimmed with fur from some northern beast. His face was sharp, angular, the face of a boy who had been told since birth that he was destined for greatness. His dark hair was cropped short, and his eyes—grey, cold, unblinking—swept across the crowd with the calm assessment of a predator counting prey.
He walked to the centre of the arena with measured steps, his wand held loosely at his side. He did not acknowledge the crowd. He did not look at the pedestal where the Triwizard Cup waited. He looked only at the ten circles etched into the stone—ten circles, ten rounds, ten opponents. Unlike Colette's Gauntlet, which had thrown a Dire Wolf, a Horned Serpent, a Venomous Tentacula, a Harpy, a Wraith Knight, a Dark Wizard Construct, and a Doppelgänger at her, Dolohov's path would be different. The Labyrinth was alive, intelligent. It tailored its challenges to the champion.
Dolohov had trained for this his entire life. At Durmstrang, they did not learn defence. They learned combat. They learned to kill.
Barnaby Fingle's voice boomed across the stadium. "Antonin Dolohov of Durmstrang! The second champion! He will face ten rounds. Let the Gauntlet continue!"
---
## Part Two: The First Blood – The Acromantula
The first circle flared red, but the symbol that blazed was not a wolf. It was a spider, its legs spread wide.
Round One: Acromantula.
The creature that materialized was a giant spider, its body the size of a horse, its legs covered in bristly hair, its eyes glistening black. It scuttled forward with terrifying speed, its mandibles clicking, venom dripping from its fangs. Acromantulas were XXXXX-class creatures, deadly to any wizard who faced them alone. But Dolohov had studied them at Durmstrang. He knew their weaknesses.
The spider lunged.
Dolohov sidestepped, his wand already moving. He cast a Severing Charm at its legs—not the main body. The spell caught the first leg, severing it cleanly. The spider screeched, a horrible sound, but it did not stop. It lunged again.
He cast again, taking another leg. The spider wobbled, unbalanced. Dolohov did not wait. He cast a Blasting Curse into its abdomen, and the creature exploded in a shower of green ichor.
The Durmstrang section roared. Barnaby Fingle's voice was incredulous. "One exchange! Antonin Dolohov has defeated an Acromantula in one exchange! He targeted the legs first, immobilizing it before delivering the killing blow! He is not here to compete—he is here to dominate!"
Dolohov wiped a speck of ichor from his cheek and walked to the second circle.
---
## Part Three: The Pack – The Warg
The second circle flared. The symbol was a wolf's head, but different from the Dire Wolf of Colette's round. This one had glowing red eyes.
Round Two: Warg.
The creatures that materialized were not one but three—massive wolves, larger than any natural wolf, their fur matted with dried blood, their eyes burning with an unnatural intelligence. Wargs were not just beasts; they were cunning, capable of coordinating attacks, of flanking, of wearing down a single opponent.
The three wolves spread out, surrounding Dolohov. The crowd gasped. Fighting one wolf was difficult. Fighting three was suicide.
Dolohov did not wait for them to attack. He raised his wand and cast a ring of fire—a circle of flame that erupted around him, forcing the wolves back. They snarled, pacing at the edge of the flames.
He needed to break their coordination. He targeted the largest wolf, casting a Blasting Curse. The wolf dodged, but the explosion staggered its companions. Dolohov stepped out of the fire ring and cast a Stunning Spell at the second wolf. It crumpled.
The remaining two wolves charged. Dolohov raised a Shield Charm, deflecting the first wolf's leap. The second wolf sank its teeth into his left arm.
He screamed. The crowd screamed with him.
Dolohov did not drop his wand. He pressed it against the wolf's head and cast a Bone-Breaking Curse. The wolf's skull shattered, and it fell. The last wolf, seeing its pack destroyed, tried to flee. Dolohov did not let it. He cast a Killing Curse—the green light shot from his wand, struck the wolf, and it collapsed.
"Round two! Antonin Dolohov has defeated a pack of three Wargs! He has been bitten on his left arm—the wound is deep—but he continues!"
His left sleeve was soaked with blood. He tied a makeshift tourniquet with a strip of his robe and walked to the third circle.
---
## Part Four: The Guardian – The Stone Golem
The third circle flared. The symbol was a fist.
Round Three: Stone Golem.
The creature that materialized was not flesh and blood. It was a construct of living stone, eight feet tall, its body formed from the black rock of the arena itself. It had no eyes, no mouth, no vulnerable organs. It was immune to most curses, resistant to fire, and strong enough to crush a man with one blow.
The Golem stomped toward Dolohov, its massive fists swinging.
Dolohov cast a Blasting Curse. The Golem's chest cracked, but the stone reformed within seconds. He cast a Severing Charm at its arm. The arm fell, then reattached itself. The Golem was regenerating.
He needed to disrupt its enchantment. He cast a spell of revelation—a variant of the *Veritas Revelio*—and saw the runes glowing on the Golem's back. They were the source of its power. He needed to erase them.
He dodged a massive fist, rolled between the Golem's legs, and came up behind it. He pressed his wand against the runes and cast a counterspell—a general dispel, broad and powerful. The runes flickered, then faded. The Golem froze, then crumbled into a pile of rubble.
"Round three! Antonin Dolohov has defeated the Stone Golem by erasing its enchantment runes! He is bleeding heavily from his arm, but he is still standing!"
The Durmstrang section was on its feet. Katerina Volkov watched in silence, her face pale.
---
## Part Five: The Swarm – The Doxy Colony
The fourth circle flared. The symbol was a winged insect.
Round Four: Doxy Colony.
The creatures that materialized were not one but hundreds—a swarm of Doxies, tiny fairies with sharp teeth and venomous bites. They buzzed through the air like a cloud of needles, their eyes glittering with malice. Doxies were not individually dangerous, but a swarm could strip a wizard to the bone in minutes.
Dolohov could not fight them individually. He needed area-of-effect magic.
He raised his wand and cast a fire whip—a whip of white-hot flame that shot from his wand and swept across the swarm. The Doxies shrieked, their wings burning, their bodies falling like ash. He swept again, and again, until the swarm was gone.
But a dozen Doxies had broken through. They swarmed his face, biting his cheeks, his lips, his eyelids. He screamed, clawing at them, casting a wide-area Stunning Spell that finally finished the last of them.
"Round four! Antonin Dolohov has defeated a Doxy Colony! He has been bitten multiple times—the venom is causing swelling and pain—but he continues!"
His face was swollen, his eyes nearly shut. He stumbled toward the fifth circle.
---
## Part Six: The Dark Wizard – The Summoner
The fifth circle flared. The symbol was a hooded figure, but different from Colette's Dark Wizard. This one had a staff, not a wand.
Round Five: Dark Wizard Summoner.
The figure that materialized was a wizard in dark grey robes, his face hidden behind a mask. In his hand, a staff topped with a glowing red crystal. He raised the staff, and three Inferi rose from the ground—shambling corpses, their eyes hollow, their hands reaching.
The Summoner cast a curse at Dolohov while the Inferi advanced. Dolohov raised a Shield Charm, deflecting the curse, but the Inferi were upon him. He cast a Blasting Curse, destroying one. He cast another, destroying the second. The third grabbed his injured arm.
Dolohov screamed. He pressed his wand against the Inferi's head and cast a fire curse, burning it to ash.
The Summoner raised his staff again. Dolohov did not give him the chance. He cast a Disarming Charm, but the staff's enchantment held. He cast a Severing Charm, aiming at the staff itself. The staff cracked. The Summoner stumbled.
Dolohov cast a Stunning Spell, and the Summoner fell.
"Round five! Antonin Dolohov has defeated the Dark Wizard Summoner and his three Inferi! He is bleeding, swollen, exhausted—but he is still standing!"
He was barely standing. His left arm hung useless, swollen from the Doxy venom. His face was a mask of bruises and bites. But he walked to the sixth circle.
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