Note - I clearly own none of the below. Playing in JK's playground. Reviews would be hugely appreciated, thanks.
Chapter Seven: A Dance with Fire
The arena unfolded before Harry like a vast and treacherous battlefield, the scorched earth littered with remnants of the previous champions' encounters. The shockwave of Viktor Krum's death still clung to the air, an oppressive silence settling over the crowd as they stared down at him, their collective breath held in an eerie stillness. Harry could feel the weight of their eyes pressing down on him as he stepped forward, the blazing sunlight overhead making the stone walls of the amphitheatre shimmer with heat.
His heart hammered against his ribs as he surveyed the scene. Jagged boulders and uneven terrain surrounded him, offering little in the way of safety. The Hungarian Horntail was already waiting at the far end of the arena, its enormous black form blending with the dark shadows of the walls. Every inch of the creature screamed danger: from the razor-sharp spikes running along its spine to the lethal flames it held in its throat, just waiting to be unleashed.
Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his robes, trying to calm his trembling hands. His pulse quickened as he caught sight of the Horntail's dark, menacing eyes glaring at him, fiery pits of hatred that seemed to bore into his soul. The sight of Viktor Krum's lifeless body being carried out of the arena was still fresh in his mind. The weight of what he was about to face pressed heavily on his chest, the danger more real than ever. If Victor could fail, so could he.
The murmur of the crowd swelled slightly, and Harry could hear Sirius shouting words of encouragement from the stands, but they felt distant, muffled. His focus was solely on the dragon. Its hulking body shifted, wings flexing, and the sound of scraping scales filled the air as it prepared for the next battle. There was no going back now.
A deep, guttural growl rumbled from the Horntail's throat, cutting through the silence and snapping Harry back into the moment. His breath hitched as he raised his wand, every muscle in his body tensed in preparation. The dragon's nostrils flared as it caught his scent, its gaze narrowing in predatory focus.
With a thunderous roar, the Horntail reared back on its hind legs, its massive wings unfurling with a crack that reverberated through the arena. The air around Harry felt thick and stifling, each breath a struggle as the beast's enormous shadow engulfed him. The dragon's wings beat furiously, sending gusts of hot wind whipping across the arena, dust and debris swirling around Harry as he braced himself for the attack.
And then, with a deafening bellow, the Horntail unleashed a torrent of fire, a blazing inferno that roared across the battlefield, turning the very air to molten heat. The orange and red flames surged toward Harry like a tidal wave of destruction, the sheer force of the firestorm threatening to consume everything in its path.
"Protego!" Harry shouted, thrusting his wand forward just as the flames reached him. A shimmering shield of magic flared to life around him, a thin barrier between him and the dragon's deadly fire. The force of the flames slammed into the shield with such intensity that Harry staggered backward, his knees buckling under the weight of the spell. The heat was unbearable, the air around him crackling with energy as the dragon's fire raged against his defenses.
Sweat poured down Harry's face as he clenched his jaw, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding the shield in place. The flames licked hungrily at the edges of his protection, sizzling against the magical barrier, and Harry could feel the raw heat seeping through. His muscles screamed in protest as he poured every ounce of his magic into the shield, refusing to let the flames overwhelm him.
But the fire was relentless, a continuous stream of scorching heat that threatened to break through at any moment. Harry's vision blurred as exhaustion tugged at the edges of his consciousness. He couldn't keep this up for much longer. The sheer force of the dragon's attack was unlike anything he had ever faced before. It felt as though the flames were alive, pressing in on him from all sides, seeking any weakness in his shield.
Gritting his teeth, Harry let out a defiant roar and pushed back with everything he had, the magic surging through him in a sudden, powerful burst. The shield flared brighter, and for a moment, it became a wall of brilliant light, pulsating with raw energy. Then, with a twist of his wrist and a sharp flick of his wand, Harry sent the magic surging forward.
The shield exploded outward, shattering into fragments of light that ricocheted through the air like shards of glass, reflecting the dragon's flames back toward it. The Horntail let out a guttural snarl as the fire twisted, spiraling upward before curving around and slamming back toward the creature.
For a split second, time seemed to freeze. The dragon's glowing eyes widened in shock as its own fire surged toward it, a searing wave of heat and fury. The flames struck the Horntail's chest with a deafening crack, the impact sending a shockwave through the arena. The dragon let out a roar of pain, its wings flapping wildly as it staggered back, smoke rising from its scorched scales.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the dragon reel from the blow. The sight of the massive creature momentarily disoriented, its dark scales smoking from the rebounded flames, sent a surge of adrenaline rushing through him. He had done it. He had turned the dragon's own fire against it.
But there was no time to celebrate. The Horntail shook off the blow with a furious roar, its eyes blazing with fury as it regained its footing. The creature lunged forward, its jaws snapping, and Harry knew he had only seconds to act. Without hesitation, he flicked his wand and shouted, "Accio golden egg!"
The golden egg glimmered in the distance, perched on top of the rocky pedestal, but it didn't move. Harry's heart sank as the Summoning Charm failed, the egg seemingly immune to his magic. Panic flared in his chest. He needed a new plan, and fast.
The dragon was already preparing for its next strike, smoke billowing from its nostrils as it stalked toward him. Harry could feel the ground trembling beneath his feet with each step the Horntail took. Thinking quickly, he ducked behind a large boulder and cast a disillusionment charm on himself, feeling the familiar tingle of magic as his form blended into the rocky terrain.
The crowd gasped as Harry vanished from sight, and for a moment, the arena fell deathly quiet. Harry held his breath, listening intently as the dragon's heavy footsteps drew closer. He knew he couldn't stay hidden for long. Peering out from behind the boulder, he spotted the other dragon eggs scattered around the arena, shimmering in the sunlight.
An idea sparked in his mind. Harry pointed his wand at one of the eggs and whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa." The egg lifted into the air, floating gently above the ground, and Harry guided it toward the far end of the arena, away from the golden egg.
The Horntail's attention shifted immediately as Harry levitated two more eggs, sending them floating in the same direction. The dragon's instincts kicked in, and it abandoned its search for him, now fixated on protecting its eggs. With a furious roar, the Horntail charged after the decoy eggs, its massive wings beating against the air as it lunged, desperate to protect.
As the Horntail thrashed about, distracted, Harry finally spotted his prize. With a determined shout, he ran towards his goal. Finally, he lunged forward, grasping the golden egg in his hands. The cool metal was a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him. Victory was so close, yet it felt precarious, like balancing on a tightrope strung over an abyss.
But the moment was fleeting; the dragon was regaining its focus. With a roar, it turned toward him, fury blazing in its eyes.
Time resumed its relentless pace as Harry sprinted back toward the boulders, egg in hand, the crowd erupting into a chorus of cheers and gasps. Their voices surged like a wave, a tidal force of encouragement pushing him forward.
Harry tried to disillusion the egg and felt the familiar tug of magic, but nothing happened; the egg remained untouched, its radiant glow almost laughing at his efforts. Frustration surged within him, mingling with the tension in the air. Breathing deeply, he dropped the disillusionment charm on himself, feeling the weight lift from his mind.
"Go, Harry! You can do it!" Neville's voice rang out from the stands, and those words ignited something deep within him, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this battle.
The ground trembled beneath Harry's feet as the dragon closed in, its massive wings beating with terrifying power. He could feel the heat from its breath as it drew closer, a growing threat that pressed him to act faster.
"Harry, move!" Hermione's sharp voice cut through the chaos, her finger pointing toward a narrow crevice between two towering boulders. Without hesitation, he lunged for the gap just as a blast of scorching fire surged behind him, the edges of his robes curling under the intense heat.
The dragon's enraged roar echoed through the arena, a bone-rattling cry of frustration as it thrashed its tail and lunged after him, unable to reach him. The temperature around him soared, the air thick with heat, and Harry could feel the sting of the flames prickling against his skin. But he pressed on, pushing his body to its limits, heart hammering in his chest as he scrambled through the jagged crevice. The rough stone scraped his palms as he squeezed through, every muscle in his body aching with the effort.
He emerged on the other side, breathless and exhilarated, only to find the dragon's blazing eyes already locked on him. It bared its teeth, flames flickering at the corners of its open jaws, ready to unleash another torrent of fire.
This time, Harry was prepared. "Protego!" he yelled, thrusting his wand forward. A shimmering shield of magic flared to life, glowing brightly in the face of the oncoming flames.
The dragon's fire met the barrier with a force that rattled the air, but the shield held firm. Harry felt a surge of energy within him—fear and determination woven together in a single, raw burst of magic. The flames once again rebounded off it, spiralling back toward the beast. Caught off guard, the dragon recoiled, its own fire singeing the ground beneath it.
Seizing the moment, he sprinted toward the edge of the arena, every step driven by adrenaline. Sweat trickled down his brow, but he refused to slow down, the tension of the battle still thrumming through his veins. The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, their voices crashing like waves around him, urging him forward.
"Go, Harry! You've got this!" Lupin's shout rose above the noise, filling Harry with a fresh wave of resolve. He could feel the dragon recovering behind him, its angry growls vibrating through the stone walls, but he didn't dare look back. All that mattered was the exit.
With a final burst of speed, Harry threw himself past the edge of the arena, tumbling into the safety of the tent just beyond. He hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop, chest heaving with exertion, but a fierce sense of triumph pulsed through him.
As he pushed himself to his feet, the cheers from the crowd washed over him, a tidal wave of victory. He had faced a dragon and survived—no, more than that. He had thrived. The haunting memory of Victors's fate flickered in his mind for a moment, but Harry pushed it aside, letting the weight of his victory settle. He wasn't just the Boy Who Lived anymore. He was a wizard who had risen to the challenge, stronger, and ready for whatever came next.
As Harry stepped into the tent, a heavy silence enveloped him, thick with tension and fear. The stark reality of the day's events weighed heavily on his shoulders, particularly the fate of Viktor Krum. His heart raced as he scanned the room, his gaze landing on Fleur, who was sitting anxiously beside Cedric's makeshift hospital bed.
"Fleur!" Harry called, urgency threading through his voice as he rushed over. "How is he? Have you heard anything about Victor?"
Fleur looked up, her eyes glistening with a mix of worry and relief. Without a word, she rose from her seat and stepped into Harry's arms, enveloping him in a tight embrace. The warmth of their connection offered a fleeting reprieve from the fear gnawing at his gut.
"I'm so scared, 'Arry," she murmured against his shoulder, her voice trembling. "It was terrible out there. I've never seen anything like it."
Harry tightened his hold on her, feeling her body shake against him. "I know, I know. It's a miracle any of us got out at all."
Fleur suppressed a quiet sob, her shoulders quivering. "Have they said anything else about Viktor?"
Harry felt her tremble anew, and his heart sank. "Non. I've been here with Cedric the whole time."
He gently moved out of her embrace to look Fleur in the eyes, his expression earnest. "I can't believe this is real."
Fleur pulled back slightly, her gaze searching his. "The way he was carried in… it was horrific."
"He' tough. He won't give up," Harry replied, striving to inject a note of optimism into the conversation, even as doubt tugged at his heart. "We all know that."
The moment hung between them, filled with unspoken fears and shared memories of the battle they had just endured. Despite the uncertainty, Harry felt a flicker of hope ignite within him, determined to believe in Victor's strength as he gripped Fleur's hands, reassuring her with his gaze.
Just then, Cedric stirred in the bed, his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked several times before focusing on the two of them. "What's going on?" His voice was raspy, but the concern was clear in his eyes.
"Cedric! You're awake!" Fleur exclaimed, rushing back to his side, her hand resting on his forehead. "You had us worried."
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little… well, very sore," he said, attempting a weak smile that faded quickly. "What happened? I remember the dragon, and then… nothing."
Harry inhaled deeply, seeking reassurance in Fleur's steady gaze. "You went first, obviously, and you came back with the egg. You had a few burns and lost consciousness, but nothing too serious. Then Fleur went after you and made it back unscathed. Viktor… well, he went next, and things didn't go as planned. He was carried back into the tent, unconscious, and taken away by Madam Pomfrey."
Fleur nodded slowly, her voice trembling as she spoke, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. "He was hurt badly, Cedric. Burned all over, and not just minor burns—severe, deep ones. They took him straight to the Hospital Wing. We haven't heard much yet, but…" She swallowed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It didn't look good."
Cedric's face tightened, a grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth as guilt flickered across his features. His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white. "I can't believe it," he muttered, shaking his head. "They told us it would be safer. They promised—there were supposed to be precautions. How could this happen?" His voice was low, thick with frustration and disbelief, as if he were grappling with something that refused to make sense.
Harry remained quiet, nodding faintly, his mind racing. The words from the Ministry about the improved safety measures now felt hollow, and the image of Victor, so confident before the task, clung to him like a shadow. He stared at the ground, jaw clenched, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing on him like never before. This wasn't just a game; it never had been.
Fleur leaned in closer to Cedric, her hand resting gently on his arm. Her expression softened, though the worry still etched lines into her face. "We will be there for him, for Viktor," she said softly, her voice steady but fragile, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as Cedric. "No matter what happens, he won't be alone. None of us will let that happen."
"Absolutely," Cedric replied, determination flashing in his eyes. "He's not facing this alone."
As they spoke, the atmosphere in the tent remained tense, the gravity of Victor's condition hanging over them. Harry glanced at Fleur, her expression a mixture of fear and hope. The exhaustion from the task hung heavy in the air, but the weight of their friend's suffering eclipsed everything. The idea of celebrating, or even talking about their own success, seemed almost absurd now.
Just then, the flap of the tent opened, and Ludo Bagman strode in, his usual exuberance noticeably dampened. The cheerful swagger that usually accompanied him was nowhere to be seen. "Champions!" he greeted them, his voice carrying an edge of seriousness. "Good to see you all awake. Congratulations on completing the first task," he added, but his tone lacked the jovial flair they had come to expect. "But I must remind you that we need to prepare for the press conference."
Harry exchanged a glance with Fleur and Cedric, the weight of Bagman's words settling uncomfortably between them. The idea of facing reporters now, after everything that had happened, seemed ridiculous. "Press conference?" Harry blurted, the disbelief clear in his voice. "What about Viktor?" His anxiety and anger simmered beneath the surface, unable to fathom why a press conference mattered more than their friend's condition.
Bagman's smile faltered, and he shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his thinning hair. "No updates yet, I'm afraid," he said, his tone grave. "The mediwizards are working as fast as they can. It's a delicate situation. We can only hope for the best right now."
Fleur's eyes shimmered with tears that hadn't yet fallen. "Surely, we can cancel the press conference until we know something," she implored, her voice tight with emotion.
Bagman sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "I understand, I do. But it's contractual, I'm afraid," he said, with a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. "I'll push it back until tomorrow morning, though. The press will understand, given the circumstances."
Harry clenched his fists, frustration gnawing at him. It wasn't right that they had to think about something as trivial as answering reporters' questions when Viktor was fighting for his life. "What if he—" Harry stopped himself, not wanting to finish the thought, but the fear was there, unspoken and looming over them all.
"I know," Bagman said softly, almost as if he could sense what Harry was about to say. "But we have to move forward. That's how these things work. It's cruel, but we can't change the system. Still," he added, glancing at the three of them, "I'll do what I can to keep the pressure off. Just... focus on yourselves for now. We'll handle the rest."
With that, Bagman gave them a small, apologetic nod before leaving the tent, the heavy canvas flap falling shut behind him with a soft thud.
The three of them sat in silence for a few moments, the reality of the situation sinking in. The task had been dangerous—everyone had known that—but seeing someone they cared about so gravely injured made it all the more real. Victor Krum wasn't just a competitor now; he was a friend, and they were powerless to help him at the moment.
Finally, Harry broke the silence. "Do you think they'll let us go see him?" he asked, his voice low. "He'll want to know we're there. He shouldn't have to go through this alone."
Fleur, wiping at her eyes, nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice more steady now. "He needs us. We'll find a way to be there."
Cedric, who had been sitting with his head in his hands, sat up a little straighter, his eyes hardening with resolve. "Agreed. As soon as they let us, we'll be there for him," he said firmly. "He would do the same for any of us."
Harry felt a surge of gratitude for the strength and loyalty he saw in Cedric and Fleur. In that moment, it was clear that the tournament wasn't just about personal glory anymore—it was about supporting each other through the worst of it. They weren't competitors right now. They were allies, friends united by something far more significant than a trophy.
The tent felt heavy with their shared emotions, but there was a new sense of solidarity that hadn't been there before. Harry could see it in the way Cedric's jaw tightened with determination, in the quiet resilience in Fleur's eyes. They would face whatever came next together.
As the silence stretched between them, they shared a quiet, unspoken vow: Viktor would not be alone, not as long as they had a say in it. They had each other, and that would have to be enough, no matter what the tournament threw at them next.
As the initial wave of tension began to dissipate in the tent, Harry leaned back against the canvas wall, grateful for the brief moment of calm. He cast a glance across the room, watching Fleur and Cedric surrounded by their families, their faces etched with relief. Fleur's sister clung to her arm, whispering excitedly, while Cedric's father, Amos, stood tall, pride gleaming in his eyes. Despite the anxiety over Viktor Krum's condition, there was still a palpable sense of camaraderie between the champions, their shared ordeal creating an unspoken bond.
The tent flap rustled, and Harry turned to see Dumbledore step inside. His presence immediately shifted the atmosphere, commanding respect and exuding an air of calm. Sirius and Lupin followed closely, their expressions serious but warm. The sight of them brought a wave of comfort to Harry; his makeshift family always seemed to appear when he needed them most.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice gentle yet authoritative. His bright blue eyes twinkled, but there was a subtle, lingering concern behind them. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay, Professor," Harry replied, his voice steady even as the turmoil of emotions churned inside him. "I just wish we had news about Viktor."
Sirius moved closer, his brow furrowed in concern. "You did incredibly well, Harry. Redirecting a dragon's flames like that? Most wizards wouldn't have thought of it, let alone executed it. You should be proud."
Harry shrugged, the weight of the tournament pressing heavily on his shoulders. "It felt like a blur. I wasn't thinking—I was just trying to survive."
Dumbledore's gaze lingered on him for a moment, studying him carefully. His fingers stroked his long beard as though deep in thought, but he said nothing, observing Harry with quiet intensity.
Lupin smiled softly, sensing Harry's unease. "Survival is important, Harry, especially in a tournament like this. The fact that you were able to think on your feet under such pressure is a sign of your strength. You're more resourceful than you give yourself credit for."
Harry glanced over at Cedric and Fleur, now laughing with their families, a faint frown creasing his brow. "But at what cost?" he murmured. "Cedric got hurt, and Victor... we don't even know if he's going to make it. Maybe none of us should have gone through with it."
Dumbledore stepped closer, his eyes sharp but kind. "The risks are significant, yes. But it's how you face these challenges that reveals the depth of your character. You've shown great bravery today, Harry. And I believe you will continue to do so."
As Dumbledore finished speaking, the tent flap swung open once more, and Hermione and Neville stepped inside, their faces bright with excitement. Following closely behind them were Frank and Alice Longbottom, both radiating pride and warmth as they made their way toward Harry.
"Harry!" Frank exclaimed, his voice brimming with admiration as he reached out to shake Harry's hand. "You were absolutely brilliant out there!"
Harry grasped his uncle's hand, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks, Uncle Frank."
Alice then enveloped Harry in a firm embrace, her expression glowing with maternal pride. "You showed remarkable courage today, Harry. It takes real strength to stand up to a dragon like that and keep your wits about you. But, for the love of all that's magical, if you ever make me worry like that again…" She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with mock exasperation, yet the warmth in her gaze conveyed her deep affection.
Harry chuckled, feeling a rush of affection for the Longbottom's.
Stepping forward, Hermione's eyes sparkled with awe as she took in the adrenaline of the moment. "That was unbelievable, Harry! The way you blocked the flames—it was like something straight out of a textbook. I've never seen anything like it!"
Her excitement was infectious, and for a brief moment, the weight of the tournament and its dangers lifted, allowing Harry to bask in the glow of their admiration and support.
Neville nodded, looking equally impressed. "I don't know how you stayed so calm. If it were me, I'd have probably fainted on the spot."
Harry managed a small laugh, the tension easing slightly as he soaked in the praise from his friends and family. Their words of support lifted his spirits, but the nagging worry about Victor remained at the forefront of his mind.
Sirius, who had been glancing at Cedric and Fleur in the corner, shook his head, a note of frustration in his voice. "I can't believe they're still going ahead with the press conference."
"Agreed," Lupin added, his face thoughtful. "It feels inappropriate, considering everything that's happened."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Ludo Bagman said they would put it off until tomorrow."
Just then, the murmur of voices outside swelled, the distant sounds of reporters and spectators filtering through the tent walls. Harry's stomach knotted with unease as the weight of the situation crashed back down on him.
"I'll take a look," Sirius said, his expression darkening as he moved toward the tent flap. The air was thick with tension, each of them silently holding their breath, waiting for his return.
After what felt like an eternity, Sirius re-entered the tent, his face etched with grim resolve. He took a deep breath, the air heavy with sorrow before he finally spoke. "Victor," he began, his eyes locking onto Harry's with an intensity that pierced through the haze of confusion. "He's dead."
The words landed like a punch to Harry's gut, the shock reverberating through him. The air in the tent seemed to thicken, suffocating in its stillness, and for a moment, no one dared to speak. Fleur's soft laughter echoed in the background, suddenly feeling painfully out of place, and a wave of guilt washed over Harry, tightening his chest. He couldn't shake the feeling that the joy of the moment had been stolen, replaced by an unbearable heaviness that settled over them all.
Thanks all. Harry up next. PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW. It's genuinely so nice to get the reviews and gives me the motivation to write more. Thanks