The Power of Gravity
"What does he think he's doing?" cried Hermione. Harry had flown towards the school, out of sight, when the Horntail had managed to snap its chain. "That monster could catch him! Ron! Ron?"
Ron's face, pale enough under normal circumstances, and been drained of all color. "What?" he muttered. "He put his own name in the Goblet. He should've guessed something like this would happen."
"For the love of…You're still on about that? Your best friend is fleeing from a dragon you didn't even tell him about, and you're still mad for that? You are hopeless!" Hermione screamed at him. She squinted in vain at the school, before grabbing Fred's binoculars from him.
Harry, meanwhile, was more occupied with the creature trying to cook him alive than what his best friends were arguing about. He circled around Hogwarts' many towers, trying to lose the Horntail, or at least get it confused.
Around Gryffindor tower, he thought. Just around that, and I have to try to get back. He looked behind him. Nothing there. He sighed, relieved.
Thwack. The dragon had come around from the opposite side, to hit Harry in the chest with its tail. The Firebolt slid from his hands as he slid down the roof of Gryffindor tower. He managed to get a hold of a spike above one of the protruding windows before he could slip off and hit the unforgiving rocks. Harry looked through the window, trying to distract himself from the sounds of the dragon clawing its way towards him, and trying to ignore the pain in his right side.
It was his own window. Before his traitor mind could think he might never see the inside of it again, the spike, only being made of wood, snapped.
Harry fell again, and tried to grab something, anything, to slow his fall. He managed to catch hold of another window, with his right arm. He grimaced, and tried not to let go, not even to relieve his side from the pain. He looked up to see how far away the Horntail was now.
And caught sight of his Firebolt. His gift from his godfather, and what could very well save his life. His feet braced against the lower ledge, he reached with his left for the broom.
Crack. And the lower ledge gave way beneath his weight. His right arm, already weak, seemed to be on fire with the strain of his weight.
His fingers slipped.
"Fred, what are the chances of Harry returning?" asked George, grinning.
"Why, I believe that would be," he frowned, as if trying to think. "Ah! One to three million!" The twins laughed.
"You two! How could you! People have died before in this stupid tournament! And you have the nerve to joke like that?" Hermione screeched.
"Calm down, now, Hermione. We were just jok---," George started.
And was cut off by a dragon's triumphant cry.
Silence filled the stadium. The golden egg still sat, gleaming atop the jagged gray rocks.
"That dragon…it didn't….," Ron whispered. Everyone's eyes scanned the sky for some sign, any sign of the fourth and youngest Champion.
And everyone gasped to see the Horntail return with blood staining its claws.
This would happen to be my first published fan fiction, which I have attempted to fix, and probably only made it worse. My bad.
Any reviews are greatly appreciated.