At that moment, even the most Slytherin-hating Gryffindor would cheer for Malfoy, because this close-quarters dance with a dragon meant sheer danger—one slip-up, and he'd be dead under its claws, or crushed flat beyond any hope of rescue.
But that kind of thrill was exactly what gripped the audience, especially the Muggles. They didn't understand magic, so they couldn't fully appreciate the previous champions' tactics.
Like turning invisible with a spell to snatch the golden egg, or distracting the dragon and sneaking it away—for Muggle spectators, those matches felt a bit dull. They craved something more exciting, scenes that truly satisfied their fantasies of magic.
The last one that got them this fired up was Krum's Firebolt. A wizard on a flying broomstick fit plenty of Muggles' ideas of what a wizard should be, but compared to Draco now, a mere broomstick just didn't cut it.
Because he was the first young wizard attempting to defeat a dragon head-on.
Especially after the dragon handlers had struggled to remove nearly ten dragons from the arena, both wizards and Muggles now fully grasped just how powerful these dragons were—but here was a young wizard trying to take one down all by himself?
Even from the safety of the stands, the crowd put themselves in Draco's shoes, holding their breath as they watched that small figure dodge and roll amid the dragon's furious lunges and razor-sharp claws. His dual hammers were wrapped in flames and lightning, and every strike shattered scales, sending them peeling away.
The spraying dragon blood was especially riveting—even before it hit the ground, it was devoured by roaring flames, but scenes like that were enough to get the audience's blood pumping.
Because melee combat is romance. It was way more thrilling than standing at a distance, waving a wand and shooting colorful lights.
"Malfoy's still weaving across the dragon's body! Heavens! I never imagined a wizard could be this agile! Or is it all because he's not a full wizard? Did the shamans teach Malfoy all this? But shamans are supposed to wield elemental magic, right? Is there some shaman spell that makes a person more nimble?! I don't get it!!"
Ludo was shouting frantically, jumping up and down—er, he'd even climbed onto the commentary table, tearing at his collar just to vent his excitement.
"Oh! No! This Hungarian Horntail has completely lost it! Is Malfoy about to face the embarrassment of the dragon egg getting crushed?! Wait! It rolled again! My God! Its wings! The wings are sweeping toward Malfoy— No! Hold on!! Malfoy turned into a wolf?!"
"Did I just hallucinate?!" Ludo yelled feverishly. "No, no! Just as Malfoy was about to get hit by the dragon's wing, he instantly transformed into a massive, semi-transparent wolf! Incredible jumping power! He slid across the ground like that! And he even bit into the dragon's torn flesh with those massive jaws! Listen! The dragon's screaming!!!"
"What was that?! Was that Malfoy's Animagus? But a Slytherin student's Animagus is a wolf? Is that really an Animagus? I clearly remember Animagi can only turn into ordinary animals without magic, not a semi-transparent, ghostly wolf like this!"
"What's an Animagus?" Hack asked again.
"A transfiguration magic that lets a wizard turn into an ordinary, non-magical animal," Harry explained briefly. "But what Malfoy just used isn't an Animagus—it's a special shaman spell: Ghost Wolf."
"Ghost Wolf?" Scrimgeour asked. "That semi-transparent body? So it's like a ghost?"
"Pretty much," Harry nodded slightly. "Shamans can harness the power of spirits, and this spell is one application of spirit power."
"I see," Scrimgeour said with understanding. "At least I don't have to debate arresting him for illegal Animagus and sending him to Azkaban."
"Uh, what's Azkaban?" Hack asked cautiously.
"The wizard prison."
Scrimgeour's icy response shut Hack up—he didn't dare ask more. Prison wasn't exactly a fun topic.
Not the time for it.
While they were talking, a loud dragon roar suddenly echoed from the center of the arena. But unlike any before, this one was still full of anger—yet mostly... helplessness.
"...What's wrong with it?" Perrier stood up, leaning over the railing in surprise. "Why isn't it moving?"
It really wasn't.
The dragon Malfoy had drawn was also a Hungarian Horntail, but this creature—known for its explosive temper, aggression, and ferocity—was now lying rigid on the ground.
It looked pretty pitiful. Its once-impressive black scales were now patchy, like a fish half-scaled, missing chunks everywhere. Even the spikes running from its head to its tail along its spine were knocked off in places, broken and uneven.
Its body was covered in craters and wounds, some still burning with flames or crackling with blue lightning.
But most importantly, it wasn't moving—just sprawled there, panting heavily, its chest heaving.
Amid the buzzing chatter of the crowd, that striking Ghost Wolf leaped lightly from under the Horntail's torn wing membrane, then gracefully landed atop the downed dragon's back, transforming back into a wizard wielding dual hammers.
Surveying the arena, Malfoy suddenly raised his right-hand war hammer high!
"—Malfoy! Malfoy! Malfoy!!"
It started from the Hogwarts student section—specifically the Slytherin stands—but in seconds, it spread to all Hogwarts students. Even Gryffindors, yes, Gryffindors were cheering Malfoy's name in that moment!
Because he'd truly defeated a dragon! At least exhausted it to the point it couldn't fight back!
Malfoy was standing on its spine!!!
Even the pickiest, most anti-Slytherin Gryffindor couldn't deny Malfoy now. A third-year student defeating a dragon was an unbelievable legend in itself—something most people could never replicate in their lifetimes!!
Not to mention Malfoy was a Hogwarts student too. With so many outsiders and spectators around, all Hogwarts students were on the same side!
"Full marks!! Absolute full marks!!!" Ludo Bagman was slamming the table and roaring. "This has never happened before! A third-year student! A student who hasn't even graduated! He defeated a dragon head-on, all by himself! And he didn't even get a scratch!!!"
"Draco Malfoy has undeniably created a brand-new legend for us!! There's nothing—no deduction possible! Anyone who docks his points has ulterior motives!! I'm not a judge, but I'll say it anyway—this kid! This boy deserves perfect scores across the board!!!!
"Because he defeated a dragon fair and square! He held his head high, strode boldly, and took the golden egg in broad daylight!!!"
Needless to say, Karkaroff gave him a ten with a face like he'd lost a family member—the only person besides Krum he'd scored that high—while Dumbledore and the others, of course, gave full marks.
The student champions were originally just supposed to steal the golden egg from beside the dragon, but Draco had single-handedly elevated the student division to new heights.
"Good thing this Malfoy went late," Perrier joked. "Otherwise, I'd probably struggle to give anyone else more than an eight."
"Yes, yes," Hack nodded vigorously. "What a shame we can't—I'd give him twenty if it were allowed, haha."
It was predictable: not just for the first task, but for any future student champion, getting high scores would be tough. The judges would undoubtedly expect more from Draco Malfoy in the coming events, so they'd score more cautiously.
"Congratulations, Dumbledore, Principal Potter," Madame Maxime said with a sigh. "You've raised a legendary wizard. I'm already looking forward to the important role this Malfoy will play in the magical world."
"Oh, Maxime, you got one thing wrong," Dumbledore said humorously. "The magic Draco used was all shaman spells—which means I didn't contribute much to his training. Otherwise, in all my years as headmaster, I would've produced at least one such outstanding student."
"Malfoy's strength comes from the combined teaching of all the professors and his own hard work," Harry said with a smile. "No need to be so modest, Dumbledore."
Just as Perrier had said, the student champions who followed Draco all performed excellently, but after someone had straight-up defeated a dragon and seized the egg, their matches felt a bit lackluster—not exciting enough.
Makes sense: how could stealing compare to outright taking?
Forcibly grabbing something from a ferocious dragon sounded way cooler than sneaking it away—like slaying the evil dragon and claiming its treasure. Classic tale.
"...Excellent, we've finally reached this moment," Ludo said excitedly after taking a sip of water. "I've been waiting for this since the champion list came out—especially after Malfoy dominated that dragon so hardcore. Now, we've finally got the third shaman champion!"
"She's Hogwarts' genius witch, perfect scores in all subjects, Principal Potter's assistant in shamanism class, and just like Malfoy, a shaman champion—Hermione Granger!!!"
Ludo's shout reignited the crowd's interest after watching the other schools' champions. They craned their necks toward the arena entrance, where a vigilant Chinese Fireball was already crouched.
This was Hermione's opponent—striking in appearance, with smooth scarlet scales gleaming in the sunlight. Unlike other dragons, the Chinese Fireball had a lion-like snout ringed with golden, fringed spikes, and bulging eyes.
"...The biggest difference from other dragons is that the Chinese Fireball doesn't breathe a full sheet of flame—it shoots mushroom-shaped fireballs from its nostrils that can even explode, making its breath more dangerous than the others'..."
As commentator, Ludo was dutifully explaining the dragon's features to the audience.
The dragons chosen for the task were all aggressive and ill-tempered ones—gentle breeds like the Common Welsh Green would never be brought in.
"Maybe we should just call it off, sweetie," Mrs. Granger said worriedly outside the champions' entrance tunnel, holding Hermione's hand. "I've seen the others—they were so brave, but you—"
"It's okay, Mom," Hermione interrupted with a big hug, saying seriously, "I'm strong—I'm stronger than a lot of adult wizards. Trust me."
Mrs. Granger was speechless. She just stared at her daughter, watching as Hermione stepped back to hug her father, then turned confidently, wand in hand, and strode into the arena.
"It'll be fine," Mr. Granger said, hugging his wife. "I trust Harry wouldn't let Hermione take needless risks—he's the headmaster now, right? Such an outstanding person; Hermione must have learned so much from him... Trust her."
Even with his own worries, Mr. Granger wouldn't show them now.
Hermione had already entered the arena amid cheers, and the moment she stepped in, the crowd's noise vanished—blocked by magic. Even looking up, she saw only clear sky, no stands, no spectators.
Just the dragon irritably scraping its claws.
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