Disclaimer: Playing in Rowling's and Riordan's sandbox. They own the toys; we're just having fun!

Previously on Chapter 1:

Jeez, calm down guys. But honestly, it is a story about humans, demigods and gods. Read at your own risk.


'Dragonstaff and Technomage' - Thoughts

Chapter 2: Dragon Duel

Or as Percy called it 'A regular Monday'

The arena crackled with an electric tension as the audience hushed to a near-silent murmur. The anticipation was palpable, the air thick with the weight of centuries-old tradition. At the edge stood Harry Potter, a lone figure on the precipice of challenge, a modern-day knight clad in basilisk hide armor that gleamed with an ethereal sheen with a scarlet and silver cape draped over his shoulders that billowed in the brisk wind.

Harry gripped his wand of holly and phoenix feather wand core as he tried to distract himself as he waited for the cannon to signal his turn to face a dragon.

A DRAGON! None believed he hadn't put his own name in the goblet of fire. Not even his best mate Ronald.

'Hermione believes me, at least' he thought. This wasn't a tournament. It was an execution.

He tried to push back the dark thoughts. He was going up against the opposition that were in their final years of schooling. Despite his "extracurriculars", his late night jaunts, catch-up was still a daunting task indeed.

He rubbed his wand, which had begun to take on a more branch-like appearance from when he had first bought it. He was fond of this wizarding tool. One of the few things that hadn't abandoned him to this murder.

The hype of the arena grew louder. He missed quidditch, but he missed flying more. There was something cathartic in being able to fly freely away from the problems of the world. The people, the situations, nothing mattered when he was in the air. Away from his own problems. 'Alas, I cannot not fly by my own power', he thought. 'At least not yet' he allowed himself a rueful smile.

Harry's emerald eyes hardened behind his glasses. He closed his heart.

Do or die.

Those were the options offered to him by the wizarding world. Forced into a magical contract that would attempt to kill him if he tried to bow out.

It was a simple decision to make. Harry Potter had no intention of dying here.

His breath echoed in the sudden void left by the roar of the crowd. Gripping his wand, Harry met the waiting silence with a steely resolve. It was time. The dragon awaited.

Harry felt himself sweating beneath his attire. Despite all his studying, all he had been taught, it may just come down to the one Unforgivable Curse that might be able to save him. The very same that took his parents from him. The one curse that marked his brow indelibly with a scar that never faded.

Tears ran down his face as Harry closed his heart to his own suffering. In the immortal words of Dylan Thomas, 'Do not go gentle into that good night'

The Hungarian Horntail was the most dangerous dragon in the world, and even Hagrid, of all people, agreed it was a nasty piece of work rather than just another one of the misunderstood creatures.

He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. No one could be permitted to see the terrified kid. He had to be The Boy Who Lived.

He had faced the dark lord in one way or another every year for four years now. This whole setup reeked of Voldemort. Nothing to do but accept he'd never have a normal life for as long as he lived.

Indomitable.

Powerful.

Any flicker of vulnerability could become a target, another arrow in the quiver of a fickle public who thrived on tearing down their idols. Weakness, for them, was the cardinal sin.

It was the nature of fame. He wasn't allowed to be a child. He had to be bigger, larger and better than life itself.

Only as big as his last success, only as weak as his last failure; this was the nature of his life.

Ronald Weasley had no idea how truly alone you were when you were vaunted and placed upon a pillar above everyone else. Nobody smart wanted fame.

By definition, that made his best mate an idiot bordering on troll!

Naturally, he had to face the biggest, nastiest dragon around. He snapped his finger! Of course! He relaxed immediately; that was the secret!

Reframe it into something he did know and knew quite well! The Hungarian Horntail was really the dark lord Voldermort!

The jitters left him instantly. Now that!

Now That was something he could do for sure!

A resounding explosion as the cannon went off. Harry reluctantly allowed himself the chance to smile.

He could do this! Harry girded himself and strode confidently into the arena.

Unassailable! He reminded himself in his mind as he felt the multitude of eyes upon him.

Unbreakable as the world, Unconquerable as the dawn itself!

He was announced, but Harry ignored it as the jeering of the people who disliked him filled his ears. He pushed it down. There would always be those who disliked him.

He wanted to cry, but he steadfastly refused them the pleasure of his tears. Harry had hoped the wizarding world would accept him; how naive of him.

As the dragon roared, its fiery breath illuminating the arena, Harry's eyes glinted with a fierce determination. He stood alone, yet his presence was monumental, a testament to a wizard who dared to redefine the boundaries of what was deemed possible.

He strode with purpose and cleared the boulders shielding him from the evilest black lizard he had ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on.

He kept his eyes straight ahead toward the golden egg that was the objective. Those baleful yellow eyes remained half open as the dragon barely deigned to consider him.

Like his detractors who looked down on him, whether due to age or inexperience, they all would regret discounting him as a lucky bastard and nothing else.

They wanted him at his best?

Very Well.

All of you want to see what I'm truly capable of? The Hungarian Horntail whipped its tail around. The golden egg gleamed amidst the dull concrete-colored eggs as the spiked club-like tail gouged the rock.

This wasn't just another dangerous task; it was a stark reminder of the recurring peril that had become his life within the supposedly secure walls of Hogwarts. Four straight years, each more perilous than the last, all despite Dumbledore's guarantees that Hogwarts was most definitely the safest place on Earth for him.

The bitter taste of betrayal lingered as Harry surveyed the sea of onlookers. For the second time in four years, those he considered allies had turned their backs on him. The sheep, as he dismissed the fickle masses, were inconsequential, but Ron's betrayal cut deep. Harry understood Ron's insecurities, the envy that simmered beneath the surface of their friendship, but to witness Ron succumb to the poisonous whispers and turn against him in this pivotal moment was a wound that Harry felt keenly.

The realization struck him like a lightning bolt—no pun intended. Harry, the supposed savior of the wizarding world, was done playing the role of Dumbledore's golden boy, the compliant friend of Hermione, or the easygoing companion Ron expected him to be.

This was his life on the line, his survival at stake, and he vowed, in the silent recesses of his mind, that he would no longer conform to the expectations of a society that failed to understand the weight on his shoulders.

"No more," he thought fiercely, his eyes narrowing as he faced the dragon. "No more hiding, no more pretending. If they want the Boy-Who-Lived, they're about to get the Boy-Who-Lived. It's time to show these idiots the consequences of underestimating me." The storm within Harry, fueled by anger and defiance, raged on as he prepared to confront the dragon with a newfound determination that transcended the confines of his past roles.

The reactions of the onlookers mirrored the spectrum of emotions that danced across the arena. Severus Snape, ever the embodiment of envy, wore a sour expression as he witnessed the Potter brat flaunt basilisk wares that had been promised to him, at least in his own twisted interpretation. The emerald hue of his robes seemed to intensify, matching the shade of his festering jealousy.

Dumbledore, the orchestrator of this spectacle, observed the change in Harry with a thoughtful gaze. His piercing blue eyes, usually twinkling with a deceptive warmth, now bore into Harry as if attempting to decipher the complex layers of rebellion unfolding before him. The Headmaster's long, white beard twitched ever so slightly, a sign that he too recognized a shift in the well-choreographed narrative.

Hermione Granger, the voice of reason and intellect, found herself in an uncharacteristic moment of vulnerability. Her clasped hands were a silent prayer, a plea for Harry's survival against the impending danger. The unraveling of the events, the defiance in Harry's stance, left her momentarily speechless.

Ron Weasley, perpetually caught in the shadows of Harry's fame, grumbled under his breath about the ostentatious display of wealth. In his murmurs, one could catch the bitterness of a friend who had grown tired of living in the shadow of Harry's fortune.

Draco Malfoy, not one to be outdone, was visibly green with jealousy. His sharp eyes darted from Harry's flamboyant attire to his own modest robes, and a flicker of inadequacy crossed his features. For the first time, he found himself envious of the Potter spectacle.

Meanwhile, the female population of Hogwarts found themselves drawn to the unexpected allure of Harry Potter. Sighs of admiration and wistfulness echoed among those enchanted by the romantic notion of a powerful wizard. Some plotted to claim him, recognizing the newfound magnetism in his defiance. Others sent suggestive looks, realizing that beneath the hero's exterior, a powerful man was emerging, ready to defy expectations. The arena, filled with a cacophony of reactions, became a theater for the unfolding drama of Harry Potter's transformation.

As the reactions of the audience swirled around him like a cacophony of irrelevant noise, Harry's focus narrowed to a razor-sharp point. None of their whispers, glares, or envy mattered now. Survival was the singular goal etched into the core of his being. The stakes were high, and the roar of the dragon echoed the impending danger that loomed.

His eyes locked onto the dragon, the embodiment of the peril he had faced time and again. The emerald hues of Snape's robes, Dumbledore's speculative gaze, Ron's bitter mutterings—they were mere distractions, inconsequential in the face of the task at hand.

"Alright, you might not have known it, but you've been training for this for the past four years! Time to make Hogwarts herself proud." Harry whispered to himself, a declaration that echoed with a determination that defied the expectations of the spectators. It was a proclamation that this story, this moment, was distinctly different from the canon narrative people anticipated.

In that solitary moment, Harry embraced the transformation within him. The Boy-Who-Lived was shedding the skin of predictability, emerging as a force to be reckoned with. The arena became a battleground, not for the approval of the masses, but for survival and the assertion of a newfound identity—one that rejected the narratives imposed upon him. The dragon's roar became a battle cry, and with a steely resolve, Harry stepped forward, ready to face the creature with the prowess of a wizard who had been preparing for this very moment.


The dragon's roar shattered the cocoon of Harry's thoughts, bringing him back to the present moment. The arena, the looming creature before him, and the distant hum of the crowd engulfed him once more. Bagman's voice, boisterous and almost comically loud, muttered something unintelligible that no doubt the portly wizard considered clever. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil within Harry's mind.

Shaking off the echoes of the past, he focused on the task at hand. With a subtle flick of his wand, Harry initiated the summoning charm, the incantation dancing on his lips, "Accio Golden Egg". The golden egg responded to his command, lifting off its precarious perch within the dragon's nest. The crowd, held captive by the unfolding spectacle, watched as the coveted prize began its journey toward him.

'Of course, the idiots didn't even charm it against being summoned!' Yet, the dragon, vigilant and protective, thwarted the egg's escape. With a thunderous beat of its wings, it positioned itself between Harry and the precious object. The serpent's eyes glinted with primal intelligence, recognizing the threat posed by the audacious wizard attempting to steal her young.

'Damn it! That could have gone better. No point in redoing the same, that overgrown serpent is not going to let me win this so easily'

The crowd erupted in a symphony of oohs and ahhs, their reactions orchestrated by the unfolding drama in the arena. Bagman's mindless commentary, a cacophony of words that barely scratched the surface of the true stakes, echoed through the air. It dawned on Harry—the Triwizard Tournament, in the eyes of the spectators, was nothing more than a glorified blood sport, made only to satiate the insatiable blood thirst of the magical folk. The wizarding world's appetite for spectacle knew no bounds.

'Alright, time for Plan B' As Harry tried to start his next move, the dragon, its maternal instincts triggered by the perceived threat to its clutch, unleashed a torrent of fiery rage. The air crackled with searing heat as the creature lunged forward, wings beating with a thunderous force.

'Shit' In the face of the impending assault, Harry's mind raced, searching for the most effective defense. 'Well, no more hiding, I guess' With a swift yet decisive motion, Harry's wand traced a familiar path, one he had perfected countless times in front of Sir Cadogan. The words that came out of his mouth, and the resultant action left everyone in the crowd spellbound.

"Imprimis Patrocinor" he shouted. The very fabric of the magical atmosphere seemed to shift. Two ancient ethereal runes, dormant until summoned by Harry's sheer will, flickered into existence. The runes interlocked, releasing a shockwave of magical energy, leaving behind a magical shield with a golden metallic sheen to it. The mage shield, forgotten by the majority of the Wizarding World had been manifested on the grounds of Hogwarts by one desperate teenage wizard, fighting to stay alive.

The golden shield, born from the union of those ancient runes, shimmered with an ethereal radiance. It stood as a manifestation of Harry's indomitable will, rumored to be capable of withstanding even the catastrophic blaze of even fiendfyre. The dragon, momentarily halted in its onslaught, stared at the impervious barrier with an almost sentient recognition of a power that surpassed its own.

Ludo Bagman, perched high in the commentator's box, found himself momentarily at a loss for words. The exuberant wizard, known for his animated commentary, stared wide-eyed at the spectacle unfolding in the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen, I... I can't believe my eyes! The young Hogwarts champion has conjured a Mage Shield; a spell lost to time! This is unprecedented!"

As the golden shield shimmered in the arena, successfully repelling the dragon fire being breathed at it, Igor Karkaroff, Durmstrang's formidable headmaster, scowled in disbelief. Bartemius Crouch Sr., the stoic and imposing figure from the Ministry of Magic, surveyed the scene with an icy detachment. His features remained impassive, but a flicker of concern betrayed the unexpected turn of events.

Albus Dumbledore, the venerable headmaster of Hogwarts, observed the golden shield with a measured expression. "Where did you learn of these spells, Harry? And how long have you been using them?", he murmured quietly.

Alastor Moody, the grizzled Auror with a vigilant eye, scowled from his position. The magical eye whirred as it focused on Harry's display of power. "Where does a kid like him get the power to cast a fully formed Mage Shield? Something's not right about this. I must inform My Lord about this development."

In a brief respite amidst the fiery chaos, Harry's hand moved swiftly to summon the Sorting Hat. With a determined gaze, he placed the weathered hat upon his head, engaging in a silent conversation, unmindful of the roar of the dragon and the gasps of the audience.

"And what is this this time, Mr. Potter?", questioned the Sorting Hat, its voice tinged with a hint of boredom.

"Can't you see what's going on?" Harry retorted.

The Sorting Hat lifted its eyes above its flap, feigning mild interest. "DRAGON! DRAGON! Mr. Potter! I am made of cloth, and entirely susceptible by Dragon Fire! Why would you summon me into this perilous situation?"

"I need the sword of Gryffindor", Harry declared, his tone carrying a blend of urgency and conviction that echoed through the mystical confines of the arena.

"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it," intoned the Sorting Hat, its ancient wisdom resonating through the air.

In response, Harry lifted the hat from his head, revealing the glint of determination in his eyes. With a swift and practiced motion, he drew Gryffindor's sword from the depths of the hat. The blade emerged, catching the ambient light with a shimmering brilliance that underscored its legendary significance.

He was worthy of it! He would not besmirch the honor of Godric Gryffindor, the Founder of his house, and the ideals upon which all Gryffindors exemplified.

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry banished the Sorting Hat in the general direction of Dumbledore. A silent assurance hung in the air, a tacit understanding that the venerable wizard would safeguard this priceless artifact from the imminent perils of the fiery duel. The Sorting Hat soared through the arena, complaining loudly over his misuse.

Harry stood, a juxtaposition of wizarding prowess and martial valor. In one hand, his wand, a conduit to the arcane energies that defined the wizarding world; in the other, Gryffindor's sword, a symbol of courage and heritage. His face and clothes might be slightly singed, but he was ready for round two.

He took a step proudly. That great black-scaled lizard now had its gaze fixed firmly upon the slender resplendent blade that had slain a basilisk.

Stone cracked from its tail, slamming down. Now it noticed him; now it took his measure cautiously. Its vision fixed firmly upon that blade.

Face him and bleed or give up that golden egg, entirely upon the sudden aggressive dragon. It drew itself up to its full height, and the next couple of heartbeats would determine how this would end!

Harry ignored the sudden silence as he focused all his attention on the duel at hand. A tale as old as humanity itself. Man versus Beast.

With wand and sword in hand, and a face marked by the scars of battle, Harry's resolute voice cut through the chaos. "Come at me, you overgrown lizard!" he bellowed, a challenge hurled at the dragon with a fervor that echoed through the arena. Like a man possessed by a singular determination, he charged towards the dragon's nest, a force of nature converging with a mythical beast in a clash that would etch its mark on the annals of magical history.

The dragon, momentarily spellbound by the audacious act unfolding before it, watched as the seemingly reckless wizard charged straight into its domain.

Its draconic jaws opened wide. "Imprimis Patrocinor" he recited again. Dragon fire splashed over the bubble surrounding him as the rock all around him grew red hot and began to melt. His shield charm weathered the onrushing onslaught of dragon flame. He waited for the first sign of its weakening.

He spun backward as he allowed the shield to collapse, and the sound of the audience resounded suddenly in his ears. Screaming and shrieks of horror.

"Malleus Pugno Primus!" Harry sliced forward, and the stream diverted to either side of him as the most powerful bludgeoner sailed and struck the snout of the Horntail. The black dragon met the unstoppable force head on, and was rewarded with being pushed back a couple of meters.

Harry was already moving as he aimed the sword with one hand. "Depulso!"

The banishing charm blasted the sword into a shining, glittering missile.

A sudden metallic twang as the Horntail's tail deflected it. As the sword sailed out of sight and with it, any hope for a quick victory.

"Goddamnit. Stand aside, you overgrown lizard", he muttered, summoning the sword back in his hand.

Harry used a hammerfist on the ground, uplifting himself. 'Sir Cadogan would be either be really proud or really pissed that I am using his signature move'

"HOLY MOTHER OF! Harry Potter has uplifted himself in the air", Bagman shouted into the microphone. "Are you seeing this, people? The youngest champion is hovering in the air!"

Again Harry aimed the sword, and banished it towards the dragon. The sword nicked the dragon's side, but did not draw blood.

"Arresto momentum", he intoned as he gravity started to re-exert its hold over him, simply gliding down and landing on the pitch.

'How the hell did that not work? If Gryffindor's sword cannot pierce its hide at that speed and power, what the hell can? I need time, time for diversion tactics'


"Fumos!" he intoned, conjuring large amounts of smoke, till people couldn't even see what was happening right in front of them. The dragon, too, momentarily paused, trying to locate its prey with other senses.

Suddenly, a shout of 'Ventus' was heard, clearing the arena. Harry was standing at the opposite end of the arena, having seemingly discarded the cloak in the short pause. As the audience started to become noisy, Harry started running towards the dragon, his wand glowing with the sword drawn.

As Harry closed the distance, the dragon, reacting with primal instinct, unleashed a torrent of fire. The flames engulfed the determined wizard in a scorching inferno, prompting a sharp and collective gasp from the onlookers. The arena trembled with the intensity of the moment, the clash of fire and magic etching a scene of daring valor that left an indelible mark on the minds of all who bore witness.

"No" was the collective thought that went through the minds of everyone. As the flames of the dragon's breath engulfed Harry, Hermione and Ginny, overcome with despair, let out cries that echoed through the arena. Tears streamed down their faces, mirroring the anguish etched on their expressions.

Ron and Neville, sensing the desperation of their friends, thankfully stepped forward. With determined strength, they held Hermione and Ginny back, restraining them from leaping into the arena. The raw emotion in the air, a fusion of grief and helplessness, hung thick as the unfolding drama continued to grip the hearts of those witnessing the seemingly tragic fate of the young wizard.

"Well, that went swimmingly", Harry grinned as he remained hidden under his invisibility cloak. The illusion was almost perfect, good enough to even deceive Dumbledore and the judges sitting in their stands. 'Now for the final part'

Harry, still hidden from the naked eye under his invisibility cloak, knelt on the ground, placing the tip of his wand directly on the Earth. As he started the incantation, an unseen breeze ruffled his hair. If someone could see him at the moment, they would see a ghostly smoke surrounding his wand, almost elongating it. A ghost of a ring now sat adorned on his index finger, whispering tales of the dead. His invisibility cloak wrapped tighter around him, cloaking him from the sights of all.

Amidst the collective despair, the very ground beneath the dragon began to tremble. A symphony of elemental forces erupted, each chain forged from a different element. The earth itself responded, colossal chains rising from the ground, winding around the dragon's mighty legs with an otherworldly grace.

The water, drawn from the depths of the lake, surged upward, forming an undulating chain that wrapped itself around the beast's tail. Simultaneously, the fire, a manifestation of pure elemental power, materialized from the school building, coiling around its massive snout. From the heavens above, a chain of air descended, a manifestation of ethereal currents intertwining with the dragon's wings, fully chaining it to the ground.

The four elemental chains, a testament to the convergence of magical forces, held the dragon in a spellbinding dance of restraint. The very earth seemed to rise in response to a power that transcended the ordinary, as if the elements themselves conspired to intervene in the destiny of the young wizard.

The arena, once gripped by sorrow, now bore witness to a scene that etched itself into the collective memory of all who beheld it—a tableau of raw elemental might, interwoven with the indomitable spirit of a wizard whose fate was far from sealed.

As the elemental chains ensnared the dragon, holding it captive in a convergence of magical forces, the air crackled with a newfound tension. Amidst the ethereal spectacle, the invisibility cloak that had once concealed Harry seemed to ripple with a clandestine energy.

'What the hell is happening? I saw, we all saw, young Harry being burnt to a crisp. Who has the power and the nerve to do this?' were the thoughts racing through Dumbledore's mind.

As he fixed his gaze over the arena, trying to decipher the person with the magical strength to conjure such massive elemental chains, he was surprised to see a disturbance on the arena itself.

Harry, himself, emerged from the damnable cloak of his. 'But how? I had enchanted it and made sure that I could look through The Invisibility Cloak, always! No, that's not the main concern. A Merlin be-damned illusion. Where the hell did the boy get his hands on the Forbidden Arte? I must interrogate him as soon as the task is over'

In a triumphant reveal, Harry emerged from the cloak's concealment, his presence now unveiled to the astonished onlookers. The illusion, a strategic ploy to lull the dragon into a false sense of security, had worked. The mighty beast, locked down by the elemental chains, found itself immobilized, ensnared in a web of magical mastery that defied its draconic prowess.

With the dragon now restrained, Harry moved with purpose towards the nest. His eyes, fueled by a determination that eclipsed the trials of the Triwizard Tournament, locked onto the coveted golden egg. The arena, once witness to despair, now brimmed with anticipation as the young wizard approached his final objective.

In the hushed atmosphere, the audience held their breath, captivated by the unfolding saga. Harry, a figure of unwavering resolve, reached for the golden egg, ready to bring closure to this harrowing chapter of the competition. The air, heavy with the echoes of elemental forces and the dragon's roars, now awaited the triumphant crescendo that would mark the culmination of an extraordinary duel.

As the crowd held its collective breath, a sudden cry of "Bombara Maxima" echoed through the stands. In an unexpected twist, one of the elemental chains shattered, the resounding explosion signaling the dragon's sudden freedom. The once-restrained beast, now unleashed, swung its massive tail with a vicious ferocity.

Harry, caught off guard, was unable to react in time. The tail struck him with a brutal force, sending him hurtling through the air.

His vision dimly returned as suddenly he was rocketing upwards from the fantastic collision with what he assumed was that deplorable spiked tail.

Half-blind, he shouted "Arresto Momentum" He furiously blinked the afterimages away as his ascent stopped, and he was held above the stadium of his own volition by his quick spellwork.

"Fuck it! All that for nothing! SABOTAGE!", he roared, looking murderously at the crowd.

He needed to be faster! He realized faster, much faster still!

'Time for the last plan. Time to test Moody's terrible idea'

Harry plummeted, "Accio!" He bellowed and held his firebolt firmly in his mind.

The stadium grew larger as his fall picked up speed, and the ground began to, and a dark spot raced towards him. He clutched it at the last second and pulled it between his legs.

Harry pulled up from the arena, jutting up to greet him with broken bones, and he sped right back into the sky, rolling to avoid a line of flame.

Harry felt the chuckle rip from him. He wasn't done! Not by a long shot!

Now he had speed! As the dragon roared in consummate challenging response.

He swerved and swirled, dancing in the sky as he outraced the gouts of flame. Neither the dragon nor its weaponized breath was nowhere as fast as bludgers. Here, in the sky, he was the king. And he was going to prove it to that overgrown lizard, if that was the final thing he did.

Time to do something that everyone had been expressly advised, and in some cases, even forbidden to do. Actively use his wand while flying.

It was time for him to go on the offense. He pursed his lips;his strongest spells had been shrugged off by the dragon. And he was not ready to utilize his array of dark spells that might help in full view of Ministry officials and Hogwarts faculty.

He used the summoning charm, and a silver blur rocketed toward him as he caught it and jumped off his broom.

He flung the sword at his potent foe as he dropped. "Flipendo Maxima!" The strongest variant of the knockback jinx connected as it spun.

With a metallic thrum, the sword of Godric Gryffindor vanished into a resounding chime as it became a blur of shining silver and fiery ruby light.

Harry summoned his broom to him and sped after it. The dragon suddenly yowled as the sword connected suddenly sheared through one of its horns as it stabbed into the ground and embedded itself into solid rock.

"Protego Maxima" Already on his lips as he approached, and the protection spell was already snuggly wrapped around him as his hand outstretched towards the nest.

Harry was suddenly batted away furiously as his broom vanished beneath him. This Hungarian Horntail was proficient with its tail!

He had to procure the egg! It was a distant thought, though, as a dark shadow sped towards him with outstretched jaws. The chains that should've restrained the enraged hadn't...

Sabotaged! He realized with mounting horror as the Horntail had murder in its eyes.

It took a heartbeat to commit that the dragon was just straight up going to murder him. He could see it blazing in her hateful slit eyes.

It wasn't even about the egg anymore. He saw clearly in her eyes the same body language of that great serpent.

Malice. The conscious choice of cruelty

Her Jaws loomed wide.

"Glacius Maxima!"

His breath turned white as the temperature around him plummeted painfully cold as a gale of utter cold erupted from his wand.

Freezing air, as if channeled from the bottom of the world, erupted from his wand tip, slamming into the dragon's gaping maw. The unexpected blast caught the creature in shock, even as his shielding spell flickered and died.

The Horntail swerved out and hit the tree line. Harry barely managed to do the motion for the slowing charm as he smacked into a tree solidly.

Harry groaned as the world went blurry. His glasses had been knocked off.

He lay where he smacked into the tree as he summoned his glasses with the summoning charm.

He hurriedly placed them back on as the world returned back into focus. He ached as he found his broom in the boughs nearby and hesitantly got atop it as he flew as quickly as he dared.

Another heavy hit like that would finish him. He sped towards Hogwarts, trying to lose the dragon pursuing him. The aerial game of survival unfolded with a series of heart-stopping near misses. Harry, defying the odds, skillfully evaded the dragon's lunges, each maneuver a testament to his prowess on the broom. The audience, gripped by the tension of the chase, watched in stunned silence as the spectacle played out against the backdrop of Hogwarts.

However, fate took a cruel turn as the dragon, relentless in its pursuit, managed to clip the nimble broom. The sudden impact sent Harry into a tailspin, hurtling through the air in a dizzying descent. The gasps of the crowd mirrored the intensity of the moment, their collective breath suspended as the young wizard plummeted towards the courtyard of Hogwarts.

As Harry landed with a thud on the courtyard, the dragon descended in a controlled descent, perching ominously on one of the towers.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. This can't be happening." Harry said, cradling his arm that now seemed broken along with his shoulder

With gritted teeth, Harry attempted to use his good arm to mount the broom. The broken limb hung limp, but he refused to succumb to the pain. The dragon, sensing the renewed struggle, launched into the air once more, its formidable wings propelling it into a relentless pursuit. The chase resumed, Harry on a battered broom, evading the draconic adversary with a resilience that defied the limits of magical and physical endurance.

"Time to end this, for once and all"

He returned back to the arena, flying at the highest speed he could manage with his broken limb, the dragon having been left far behind. He dismounted, and hobbled towards the nest, finally raising the golden egg.

Harry stepped cautiously closer to his broom. A shadow flitted over him, and his shield charm wrapped around him. Stones bounced off his protective spell.

The arena shuddered as something massive landed, blocking the exit.

Harry dodged, his arm creaking dangerously, as the dragon smashed its tail in the area he had been standing in.

"Persistent aren't you?" Harry asked as the Hungarian Horntail reared up. "Pity then, So am I."

Harry got atop his broom and kicked down as the broom bucked him at the already recovering dragon.

His wand slung in a wide arc as everything seemed to slow to a crawl.

The Hungarian Horntail's jaws began to open.

One last spell.

All of it hinged upon this chance. This one small window of opportunity.

The arena darkened as a ghoulish green glow emanated from his wand's tip.

The curse that murdered his parents.

The curse that marked him by a monster.

DIE!

Harry thought tiredly.

As the world vanished in a blinding emerald glow, the unsettling presence of some vast, incomprehensible thing sped forwards.

A line of green light thundered out of his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry Potter roared loudly to the heavens as the first hints of flame appeared in its throat.

The Killing Curse connected with the back of the dragon's throat with a blinding flash.

Harry suddenly hit the ground harder than he'd ever before.

There was no applause, no screaming in the wake of that killing curse.

Just silence as the world began to fade.


AN: Wow! That was a lot. Well, certain credits do need to be given out for this chapter. A lot of magic, its use or even the type has been inspired by other fanfiction works, particularly from the archives of 'Arcturus Peverell', 'The BlackStaff and NightMarE' and 'InvidiaRed'.

Well, that was Chapter 2 from our side, the true start of the story, after that long monologue in Chapter 1. Do continue reading, and please leave your reviews.

Dragonstaff and Technomage