Disclaimer: Not the owner of Harry Potter. JK Rowling is and probably always will be.
Vukk: I can't tell anything for obvious reasons... Though if you really want to spoil yourself, you might want to check the french version. It has a lot of advance. Look at the latests chapters. You'll have your answer. Anyway, thanks for reading, take care of yourself !
kageknuser2710: Yeah, I was a bit brutal I know. But I needed a way to remind her and all the characters in the story that Hadrian is not almighty powerful. To know what Hadrian did... Well, you'll have to follow Harry and Daphne's quest to learn the truth. Who knows what happened ? About Harry, yes, he is still learning. Of course, as I said before, he is weaker than Hadrian. The difference is that Hadrian has almost reached his peak power, while Harry is far from it. But in the end, he'll grow, and maybe he'll be as strong... or even stronger. We'll see ! Anyway, thanks for reviewing, take care and have a wonderful day !
CaskettFan5: Don't worry, you'll slowly have answers. Just give it some time hahaha. And about Daphne's father... Well, let's say that things are as fishy as Hadrian's death. We'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading, take care !
11/17/1994, 15H32, Hogwarts, Scotland:
In the hushed darkness of the library, Harry and Daphne found themselves in a secluded corner, far from prying eyes. Piles of books and parchments surrounded their bent figures, evidence of their diligent research.
A weary sigh escaped Daphne's lips as she placed two sheets of paper in front of Harry. "Unfortunately, our efforts haven't yielded much more information," she declared, her voice tinged with frustration. Since forming their secret alliance, they had joined forces to unravel the mysteries of the Triwizard Tournament and the night surrounding her father's death.
However, their regular meetings had only provided them with fragments of knowledge, leaving them wanting more. Faced with this lack of concrete results, they had decided to gather their scattered notes and write them down clearly and concisely on two separate sheets. The first one concerned the information about the Tournament.
"The unpredictable nature of the tasks makes any truly accurate anticipation difficult," Daphne explained, settling into a chair. "However, I've noticed a certain recurring pattern. It's therefore likely that during the first task, you'll face a powerful magical creature."
Harry nodded, his own gaze fixed on the crackling fire of the fireplace. "According to the books my uncle gave me, the creatures used for the Tournament are rarely docile," he remarked.
"So I could be facing a Sphinx, a Nundu, or even a Dragon." A wry smile appeared on his lips as he voiced this thought aloud. "But hey, whatever happens, it couldn't be worse than facing a thousand-year-old Basilisk possessed by Voldemort, could it?"
Daphne gave him a withering look, her sharp voice cutting short his jokes. "Stay focused, Potter. I have no intention of seeing you die in such a foolish manner. Whether the danger is greater or lesser, the important thing is for you to be ready on the big day."
She slid the second sheet in front of him, drawing his attention to the information about the party. Harry, a mischievous grin distorting his features, leaned over the parchment. "You care about me, Daphne?" he asked in a falsely innocent tone, a sly wink punctuating his words. Without deigning to answer him, she took out her wand and cast a cooling spell on his crotch.
The shrill cry Harry let out that day made him inwardly thank the inventor of the sound-blocking spell. Besides, he would deny until the end of his days that the latter had passed his lips. A few moments of silence followed, then calm returned to their clandestine refuge.
"Next time you make such a stupid comment, I'll use them to make an omelette," she threatened him, a cryptic smile on her lips. Although she hadn't explained what she was talking about, her expression made it as clear as the Sun.
Harry nodded resolutely, eager to protect his ability to conceive. His gaze then hardened, reflecting an unwavering determination. "I've made my arrangements and trained to face magical creatures with nearly impenetrable skin. Don't worry about that," he assured her in a firm and reassuring voice.
The young girl examined his face carefully, searching for any sign that might betray a lie. But, to her great relief, she detected no trace of deception. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. "I have faith in you, Potter. You'll come back safe and sound, I'm sure of it," she declared with conviction before putting away the sheet she had given him.
This document wouldn't be of any further use to him, as it only contained a summary of their conversation and a list of creatures he could expect. If Harry had already taken steps to fight them, any further discussion on the subject would be pointless. "Well, now that that's cleared up, let's address the question of my father," she suggested, placing the last sheet of notes in front of her.
With a flick of her wand, she ensured that the protections around them were still active, then delved into reading their writings. Once she had finished reading, she tried to retrace her father's steps aloud, Harry adding his reflections as they went along.
"According to Susan Bones' aunt, she had a professional conversation with your father in the dining room, shortly after he separated from you," Harry recalled, pulling his wand from his pocket. He performed a complex movement that the Slytherin didn't recognize, before murmuring an incantation. Before her astonished eyes, the complete plan of Potter Manor was projected onto the table, the starting point of her father marked by a blue light.
The duo remained silent for a few moments, carefully observing the plan, before Daphne spoke again. "I remember," she murmured, lost in her memories. "My mother saw him talking to another woman, although she didn't know it was Mrs. Bones. She was... rather jealous, let's say," she confessed, shaking her head, relieved that her mother's crisis had been for nothing.
"After their conversation, he left the room. Why? Well, that's a very good question," she sighed as she retraced her father's path with her wand.
"I have no idea how much time passed afterwards, but I then came across him with that scarred man in the basement. I have no idea what they were doing there, but if I had to guess, I'd say they were looking for a secluded place," Harry explained, scratching his chin nervously.
In turn, he drew Alexander's path to the basement, marking it in front of the training room where he was at the time. Their silence intensified, their minds carefully analysing every detail, every clue. The mystery thickened, and the tension mounted, palpable in the confined air of their secret refuge. They looked at each other, their determined eyes reflecting a shared will to unravel the secrets surrounding Alexander Greengrass's disappearance.
Their alliance, born of tragic circumstances, was transforming into a quest for truth, a collaboration where their intelligence and talents complemented each other perfectly.
"Where did you go in the end, Dad?!" the young girl whispered, perplexed by the plan unfolding before her. The uncertainty about the exact location of her father's body gnawed at her. Knowing this place was now crucial to the advancement of their investigation. She had to conduct in-depth research.
Harry, observing Daphne's gaze, both ardent and tinged with a certain madness, began to feel a deep unease. "Daphne, maybe you should take a step back from all this, take some time to recover from your father's disappearance. I don't want you to..."
"If you found a trace of your uncle's current location, would you walk away from the investigation?" she interrupted him, her magic vibrating subtly around her. This stinging remark hit the young boy hard. Indeed, the investigation conducted by his aun- by Fortuna Moon, had only added new questions to the situation of his uncle
He had learned of his disappearance, and the discovery at the scene of his last moments of a cape, a knife, a leg belonging to him, and a large pool of his blood. He witnessed his uncle's power. That's why he had previously refused to consider the possibility of such a tragedy. But faced with irrefutable evidence, he could no longer deny what was obvious. Misfortune had befallen the man who had been his first true family.
According to the latest information, Remus and Fortuna had gone in search of his missing uncle, holding out hope that he was still alive somewhere. Harry didn't know what to think of this possibility, but he clung to this thin thread of hope to avoid sinking. He had promised this man to fight until the end, whether he was still in this world or waiting for him in a better afterlife.
It didn't matter to him. He would keep his promise, no matter the cost. Daphne, Neville, Hermione, Ron and all his family, Remus, Sirius and Fortuna... None of them deserved to live the horrors that his parents went through during the First War. He wouldn't allow it.
Daphne, realising the significance of her words, apologised. "I'm sorry, Harry. But I think you can understand. Just as you would do anything to find your uncle, I want to know what happened to my father. I know vengeance is a foolish purpose, but I'm not a Ravenclaw. Wisdom is not my strong suit. I want the perpetrator of this crime to pay. No matter what it costs me," she declared in a sombre voice, sinking deeper into her chair.
A heavy silence fell between them, laden with shared pain and a common determination. They understood each other, united by loss and a desire for justice. Their feelings, though concealed behind masks of stoicism, were of palpable intensity. Harry got up from his chair and stood in front of Daphne, holding out his hand. "I'm here for you, Daphne. We'll do this together. We'll find the truth and face those who have wronged us. But promise me you won't let yourself be consumed by anger. Vengeance won't bring your father back, and it will only make things worse."
Daphne looked into his eyes, her own green irises reflecting a glimmer of gratitude and sadness. She took his hand firmly. "I promise you, Harry. I won't let myself be consumed by hate. But I want justice to be done. And I sincerely count on you to help me get it."
Harry released his grip on her hand and walked around the chair to stand just behind her. His hands rested gently on her shoulders, massaging them softly. The young girl didn't resist, letting out a murmur of thanks towards the Gryffindor before asking one last question. "Don't you really have any other information about what he did after that?"
The massage intensified slightly, then subsided again. A few seconds of silence passed before Harry spoke again. "Well..." he began, hesitating.
"Harry! There you are! Good heavens, is there really a need to hide behind such powerful protections? I'm lucky I came with him, otherwise Ron would never have found you!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice echoing in the silent library. The duo didn't even bother to blush, understanding that if the serious and calm Hermione was shouting so loudly in her precious library, it was because the situation was serious.
Ron stepped forward beside the young girl, giving the Slytherin a polite nod before turning to Harry. "I saw my brother today," he said urgently. "I wasn't supposed to tell you, but oh well. The other contestants apparently already know, so you might as well know too. For the first task, you're going to have to face a dragon!"
Harry couldn't help but frown. There were many breeds of dragons in the world, and knowing they were going to have to face one could be both good or bad news, depending on the type of dragon in question.
Ron, probably understanding Harry's reaction, added: "And they haven't brought the most docile ones. There's even a Hungarian Horntail!
11/17/1994, 22H14, Uglich, Russia:
A woman's silhouette slowly crossed the threshold of the Uglich Kremlin, closely followed by a man whose face bore the scars of many battles.
"Remus, are you sure this is the place?" the woman asked, pointing her wand at the wall opposite to the entrance. "Yes, Fortuna, I can smell them. They went through this wall. They must have concealed it with spells. Which ones? Mystery... It's not a Fidelius charm, that's the only certainty I have," the man explained, passing her by.
Since Hadrian's disappearance, the duo had been pursuing Alexei, hoping that the dark wizard would have answers about Hadrian Potter's fate. Thus, retracing the towns the former Lord Potter hadn't searched, they had managed to restart their research and had finally hit the jackpot in the Russian city of Uglitch.
Remus had eliminated all the dark wizards in the city and managed to trace their route to the Kremlin. Once this was done, he contacted Fortuna and they prepared a plan to penetrate the fortress. In the end, their plan proved itself unnecessary, as no other henchmen had come to take over from those Remus had eliminated. This left Fortuna and Remus perplexed.
Indeed, if Uglich was really the main entrance to Alexei's base, there should be better security. For a moment, they even considered the possibility of a trap, before dismissing this idea. Fortuna had understood it during the confrontation alongside Hadrian against the Russian: as powerful as he was, Alexei was a coward. He was incapable of engaging in a fight without having the advantage. Leaving his own base defenceless was therefore unthinkable. Trap or not, he would have gathered at least a dozen men. However, there was no one.
"Revelio," the woman murmured in an icy tone, passing her wand in front of the wall that Remus had sniffed. The latter glowed with a strange orange light before collapsing on itself, revealing an empty corridor leading to a large, ancient wooden door. A thrill of excitement ran through the duo.
They were finally about to discover the secrets held within the Uglich Kremlin. Their quest for truth and justice was reaching its climax, and they were determined not to falter in the face of the dangers that awaited them.
The corridor was dark and damp, and a musty smell hung in the air. Remus and Fortuna advanced cautiously, their wands illuminating their path. They didn't know what they would find on the other side of the wooden door, but they were ready to face whatever fate had in store for them.
It was truly unique. Leaning against a wall of greystone, the door stood proud and solitary, like a faithful guardian of bygone times. Its massive wood, patinated by centuries of history, bore the marks of time. Deep grooves, carved by countless hands, ran across its surface, the last marks of the many passages through it. Two wrought iron knockers, worn by time, adorned its leaves, like metallic eyes scrutinising visitors. Heavy, creaking hinges, rusted by humidity, allowed the door to open and close with a dull, solemn groan. A stone semicircle, finely carved, surmounted the whole, engraved with coats of arms and enigmatic symbols.
On either side of it stood one of Alexei's henchmen, his face marked by fatigue. It seemed that sleep wasn't a daily part of their lives, if the lack of reaction to the noise they had made was any indication.
Signalling for Remus to follow her, Fortuna approached quietly, using the enchantments of her cloak to conceal her presence. The werewolf, for his part, used an old invisibility cloak obtained from Knockturn Alley. The werewolf was so skilled at using it that Fortuna almost felt jealous. He knew how to place it to leave the fewest possible clues to his presence, and had even managed to use it in combat. She didn't know what Remus had experienced in his childhood to be so skilled, but she had to recognize his expertise in the matter.
Arriving in front of the half-asleep wizard, she gently raised her wand, hoping that Remus would manage to neutralise the second sorcerer. She counted a few more seconds in her head to give him time to get into position. Once that was done, she took a deep breath and brought down her wand, a flash of lightning striking the wizard in front of her violently. He died instantly.
The other wizard woke up abruptly, but before he could make any attempt to retaliate, Remus violently pinned him to the ground, a knife to his throat. "Where's Alexei?" Remus growled, pressing the blade against the man's neck. The man, however, wasn't intimidated and spat in his face.
"Well, we'll do it another way," Fortuna declared, small sparks crackling at her fingertips. "I have a weakness for strong men. Let's see how long you stay that way," she said before bursting into maniacal laughter, secretly frightening the werewolf with her behaviour.
'If you're still alive somewhere Hadrian, then stay hidden forever. This woman is terrifying,' Remus thought as he watched her slowly fry every organ and body part of the dark wizard's body.
Finally, after nearly an hour of particularly intense torture, the man, no doubt wishing the hell he was in would end, decided to talk: "I don't know where your Hadrian Potter is, you bitch. All I know is that my master has been in his workshop for several months, and he doesn't want to be bothered. By now, his great project should be finished. And besides, with the mess you've made, you can be sure he's waiting for you on the other side. Now kill me, and go through that door. I'll be waiting for you in hell when he kills you and your guy," he spat before Remus decided to end his suffering.
The woman, still consumed by anger, growled at the lack of information obtained from the man, but lowered her wand.
"Well, it's clear we're missing some pieces. We don't know if there are any traps on the door, or even what awaits us on the other side. Maybe we should turn back..."
Remus, however, didn't have time to finish his suggestion before Fortuna blew the door open, reducing sections of the wall to dust and entering the room with a determined step.
Sighing and silently mourning the loss of Hadrian, which meant he was the last occupant of the Manor with functioning neurons - Sirius and Fortuna not being exactly among the brightest wizards he knew - he immediately set off in pursuit of the woman.
He entered the room, wand in hand, ready to charge, when he noticed that Fortuna was still motionless in the doorway, staring at a specific point in front of her. A corpse. She was contemplating a corpse. There was nothing special about it, except for the knife plunged into its heart.
However, Remus, a man of great intelligence, quickly gathered the clues he had accumulated so far. "I suppose that's Alexei?" he asked, approaching the body. Fortuna nodded distractedly, her body still refusing to move.
A part of him wanted to vomit at the smell emanating from the dark wizard, but he had to use his sense of smell to get one last piece of information. Analysing the corpse more closely, and using his wolf senses as well as various diagnostic spells, he came to an undeniable conclusion. "He's been dead for several weeks. Maybe even months. I have no idea what happened to Hadrian, but it can't be Alexei who killed him. He died... long before his attack on Hadrian."
Fortuna stepped forward, staring at the corpse of the cowardly man with hatred. Making the same observation as her new temporary colleague, she couldn't help but let out: "Damn it! What have you done, Hadrian?!"
11/24/1994, 10H21, Hogwarts, Scotland:
Harry watched the other Tournament contestants, each grouped in a corner of the large tent that served as their refuge. Judging by their reactions, except for Cedric Diggory, they were all already aware of the upcoming task and the presence of the dragons. This reminded him to thank Ron again at the end of the trial.
Despite everything, knowing what was going to happen had clearly done nothing to ease the other two participants' anxiety.
His gaze first fell on the Hufflepuff. The boy clearly held a grudge against him. Indeed, after the revelation of the task, he had come to ask him if he already knew, which the Gryffindor hadn't denied.
Moreover, he seemed to have not appreciated Harry's explanation either. "Why should I help you? Whether it's you, or the rest of the school, you spend your free time ridiculing me, and claiming that I used ploys to enter the tournament in order to make my grand return to Hogwarts," he had launched at the boy, emphasising the last words of his sentence.
Cedric had been unable to answer that, knowing full well that his younger classmate's words were founded. He had then withdrawn, and was pacing back and forth in his corner, trying to figure out how he was going to face this situation. Harry, if he were to be honest, didn't care at all about the mockery and childish reaction of the other students at the school. It hadn't affected him in the least.
All his friends believed him, even Ron, which had been a surprise to him. So why should he care about the opinion of strangers? Anyway, as his uncle used to say, everyone who despised him today would end up crawling at his feet the day Voldemort made his reappearance.
Returning to the upcoming task, the young hero of the wizarding world showed no apparent concern. He felt some, that was obvious. Who wouldn't after learning that he would have to face one of the most dangerous dragons in the world: a Hungarian Horntail?
Nevertheless, his mind was already too preoccupied by his uncle's disappearance to be discouraged by so little. According to what Sirius had told him, Fortuna and Remus had found the trail of the man his uncle was looking for, and who was supposed to have caused his disappearance. But, to their great surprise, and to his own when he learned the whole story, the dark wizard was dead, and had been for a long time.
Slowly, the disappearance of both Lord Potter and Greengrass were beginning to be felt at the Ministry of Magic. At least, Sirius and Lady Greengrass, who had taken her husband's place, managed to prevent the dark faction from doing what it wanted, but they had lost two major assets in the debates.
For, as sharp as it was, Hadrian Potter's tongue was gifted at countering all the extreme ideas of Lucius Malfoy's faction.
He himself was chaining theories, desperately trying to understand what could have happened. But, like Fortuna, Remus and Sirius, all his hypotheses ended up collapsing. The only lead that still held up... Well, he hadn't shared it with anyone. He had too much trust in his uncle for it to be conceivable, and he didn't want to tarnish his image by revealing it.
For the moment, he was therefore at a dead end. Shaking his head to dispel these dark thoughts, he turned his attention to another candidate: Fleur Delacour. He wasn't fooled. The half-Veela's eyes seemed perpetually fixed on him, following his every move, much to Daphne's dismay.
He knew that Veelas were attracted to magic, but what could he do? His heart was already taken, whether he wanted it or not, and there was no way he was going to give up his magic and become a Muggle any time soon.
'Once this pathetic task is over, I'll have a little chat with her. I don't want any misunderstandings, and I already have enough girls fawning over me, I certainly don't need any more,' he muttered inwardly.
Between his wealth, his physique, and his magical power, he was aware of being one of the most eligible bachelors at Hogwarts. And he hated it. All those who courted him today were the same idiots who had betrayed him a few years ago, or who had been making fun of him behind his back since his name had come out of the Cup. The idea that all these individuals would eventually lead the future of British wizarding society was a truly frightening prospect.
How could such impressionable and greedy humans lead them into a new era without dark wizards like Voldemort? He had no idea. That's why he thought it was necessary to clarify things with the French girl. She wasn't a bad person. And when he wasn't around, she behaved quite normally, if a little haughty.
Moreover, it was the first time he had seen her act naturally with him in his presence, now that he thought about it. She was sitting, eyes closed, alternating between deep breaths and long exhalations. Seeing her so calm, he hoped she would manage to get through this unscathed.
After all, there was a plot underway. His registration couldn't have been a coincidence. Someone was trying to sabotage him, or even sabotage the entire tournament. He couldn't let that happen, no matter what it cost him.
Suddenly, as he was about to turn his gaze to his last target, Victor Krum, he saw the French girl's eyes open and land on his. He then felt a slight mental probe and connected to it, curious about the message the Beauxbatons candidate wanted to convey to him. However, it was certainly not what he expected.
"That young girl is very lucky, Harry Potter. I hope you treat her well," she said, her French accent much more attenuated than when she spoke aloud. "I don't really know what's going on, but if it can help you, I can tell you that the Beauxbatons contingent has nothing to do with your registration in this tournament. Good luck to you, Harry Potter, and… que le meilleur gagne!"
For the first time since his return, the Gryffindor was left speechless. He saw the half-Veela salute him one last time with a wink, before cutting the link and returning to her meditation. It took him almost ten seconds to regain his composure, but when he did, he forced a: "Thank you miss Delacour. Don't hesitate to come to me if you notice anything that could put you or anyone in this school in danger," in the mind of the young witch, impressing her with his mastery of Legilimency, and quickly rebuilt his own barriers.
Good news, he wouldn't need to have a long conversation with her. Apparently, she thought he was already in a relationship with Daphne. 'Meh', if that was enough for her to leave him alone on that aspect, he wouldn't complain. Bad news however, the French school of magic had no information about his registration.
There was still the possibility that she was lying, but her testimony, coupled with the reaction of her headmistress when she learned that there would be another Hogwarts candidate, was enough to exonerate them. That left two possibilities: Durmstrang, or... a traitor within Hogwarts.
Thinking about Durmstrang, he then turned to Victor Krum, Quidditch star and one of the tournament favourites. They had talked very little together, but so far the Durmstrang student had been quite cold, although he hadn't hesitated to offer Harry a Quidditch match when the latter had explained that he was also a seeker. In the end, the boy seemed relatively normal, although gifted in the field of flight.
Back in the tent, he seemed calm, but was tapping his foot repeatedly, showing that he too was worried about what was going to happen to them.
"And so, let the first task of the 1994 Triwizard Tournament begin. The first participant to be called in order to retrieve his golden egg is... CEDRIC DIGGORY!" Ludo Bagman shouted into the microphone from the judges' stand, snapping the boy out of his reverie.
Everyone wished him good luck before he entered the arena, just as the three other contestants prepared themselves for their own turn. 'Why do I have to go last...?' Harry thought, staring intently at the tent exit. Patience wasn't one of his greatest qualities.
One by one, they were called, until finally… his turn came.
"And our last participant of the day, who is also the youngest... I call HARRY POTTER!"
11/24/1994, 11H02, Hogwarts, Scotland:
"There he is, he's coming!" Sirius exclaimed, hearing Harry's name being called.
Even if Daphne would never admit it, out of pride, Harry's godfather was the centrepiece of their little group. Between his mother's grief, Remus' worry, and Fortuna's anger, he was the only one who brought good cheer, despite the gloomy atmosphere that weighed on them.
"Sit down Sirius, you're more visible than the dragon," the Slytherin ordered the canine animagus. He stuck his tongue out at her, before saying: "I want to be sure he knows I'm here to see him," Sirius indicated.
Daphne had to stop herself from pointing out that a 6-foot man painted bright red and shouting Harry's name was impossible to miss, and preferred to nod, understanding that with the recent loss her best friend had suffered, it would be good for him to remember that he wasn't alone.
Ophelia Greengrass, squeezing her daughter's hand in a vise, watched the young man who had captured her daughter's heart enter the arena. And she immediately understood what had made her daughter's heart skip a beat. The boy was a perfect blend of his uncle, his godfather, and his biological parents: he possessed the magical strength and aura of the first, the hair and smile of the second, and the physical features of the last two.
Under the encouragement (and mockery) of the spectators, Harry approached the dragon, walking calmly with his wand in hand.
He had initially considered using his broom, but having not practised for nearly a year, had preferred to leave the idea aside in case of a last resort. At first, he would try to go head-on.
"What's his plan?" Remus asked, seeing Harry position himself in front of the dragon which was glaring at him angrily. "If I know Harry as well as I think I know him... He doesn't really have one. He probably just has an idea in case things go wrong, that's all," Daphne guessed, unaware of how close she was to the truth.
Since his return, the young Daphne of eleven, whom she thought she had buried after his departure, had returned from the dead, as if the hell she had lived through during his absence had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare.
That was what made Harry strong, and all his friends could say the same. He drove everyone crazy with his reckless actions, but brought hope wherever he went. In a way similar to his uncle when he managed to stop wars abroad, or to arrest the worst criminals in a matter of days, Harry Potter was a beacon that guided those in the shadows like her.
And for that, she would be forever grateful.
Her heart pounding, Daphne watched Harry raise his wand, ready to face the dragon. She knew he was capable of great things, but she couldn't help but fear for his life.
Why? A particularly disturbing aspect she had noticed since his return was his lack of seriousness. He seemed to take everything lightly, and gave off, in the same way as Hadrian Potter before him, that image of omniscience and omnipotence.
But having done several training duels with him since his return, and having seen him in private, she knew that wasn't the case. The boy was strong, very strong. He might even be unbeatable by anyone in the school outside of the teachers.
But he wasn't his uncle, no matter how much he wanted to be. He wasn't that implacable, unstoppable force yet. He would become it, she had no doubt. But he wasn't there yet, and she had a feeling it would one day cost him dearly.
The other candidates before Harry had all managed to retrieve their egg, even Fleur Delacour. She had hoped that the latter would end up trampled by the dragon, but unfortunately, she had to admit that she was an exceptional witch. Far from her Harry, but a very powerful one. Still, that didn't mean anything.
"If that damn bimbo thinks she can get her claws on Harry after all the time I've waited, then she's dreaming. Let her try and see!" she discreetly voiced, imagining all the atrocities she would inflict on her.
Seeing and hearing her daughter threaten the French girl caused her mother Ophelia's first sincere laugh since her father's death. And for that alone, she didn't regret her outburst for a moment. Suddenly, she saw Harry's face change.
The relaxed expression he had put on until now had been replaced by his serious face, his eyes narrowed in concentration, searching for any weak point in his opponent. It wasn't the first time she had seen this. It was as if he... changed personality when he considered what was in front of him to be important. 'A side effect of his training, I suppose,' she thought.
She didn't know exactly what he had gone through during this "training", but he had suffered, that was obvious. Everything had a price. And she knew his new strength. It was impossible that it had appeared without significant sacrifice. The fact that even on the night her father was killed, he was still training, was proof of all this.
Bringing her mind back to what was happening in front of her, she saw the dragon spew a torrent of flames at Harry, who conjured a huge water shield and rolled behind rocks, narrowly escaping unharmed. The Hungarian Horntail, finding Harry too close to its eggs, took two quick steps in his direction, pulling on the chain that held it back, and struck the rock where Harry was hiding with a violent blow of its claws, making her gasp in fear. Even Fortuna, accustomed to danger, clenched her fists at the sight.
Fortunately, the Gryffindor emerged unharmed from the rock, surrounded by a golden membrane. "The Atlas shield!" Daphne recognized. It was the same shield that her uncle had used against Tom Riddle a year and a half ago.
Harry wasted no time and started running, rolling under the paw blows and deflecting the rocks sent in his direction. Each dodge he made tightened her mother's grip on her hand, making her wince in pain. "Mom, relax, it's Harry, he'll be fine," she reassured her despite her own worries.
The older woman took several deep breaths, and calmed down slightly. Harry, annoyed by the Hungarian Horntail's one hundred and thirty-five murder attempts, sent a powerful explosive spell in its mouth. The spell was so strong that the dragon staggered, narrowly missing crushing its eggs, and the commentator, Ludo Bagman, forced himself to stop talking for several seconds.
That alone was a feat, but the Gryffindor didn't stop there. He took advantage of the powerful magical beast's temporary stupor to cast a spell on the chains. The chains, which were on the verge of breaking, tightened and began to wrap around the dragon. The animal, realising what the little human beneath it wanted to do, took off, beating its wings so hard that the wind forced nearly half the crowd to close their eyes. It couldn't go very high, but that was enough for Harry to carry out the next part of his plan.
He ran, taking advantage of the dragon's desire to escape the chains that wanted to hold it back, and grabbed the golden egg from the ground. There were collective cheers throughout the arena, the loudest coming from Sirius and Remus.
Daphne even saw Fortuna, usually stoic, let out a small smile with a: "Yeah!" However, the moment of joy didn't last long, as the dragon, probably in a last act of desperation, pushed the chains away and dived at him, like a kamikaze plane.
"Watch out!" exclaimed her mother, panicked. But Harry showed no fear. The same mask of concentration was present on his face. In a magnificent demonstration of his skills in Transfiguration, he tore the stone floor of the arena and formed a solid stone slab of a weight that Daphne didn't even want to imagine.
Carrying that magically for a minute would have been enough to drain her reserves. She didn't even want to imagine the strength and size of Harry's core. To maintain such a complex spell, he had to be well above average.
The Hungarian Horntail, seeing the obstacle being built in front of it, still had time to spit a new batch of dragon fire at Harry. Although they caused no serious injuries, they superficially burned his torso and arms.
"It shouldn't be too dangerous, but he's going to lose some points because of that," Remus tried to reassure the group. They all nodded solemnly, still worried nonetheless.
Finally, with a cry of rage, Harry decided to finish it. He threw the huge slab of concrete at the dragon, sending it violently backwards and crashing it into Dumbledore's shield that protected the spectators. Harry didn't stop there, and, with an elaborate wand movement, tightened the chains and conjured new ones to hold the animal to the ground for good.
Then, under the astonished eyes of the spectators, he planted his wand in the ground, creating a powerful gravity field which, together with the chains, completely immobilised the animal until it lost consciousness. Daphne had no idea what spell Harry had just used. But her best guess was that it came from the Potter grimoire, considering that all the spectators, including Dumbledore, seemed genuinely surprised by the young boy's action.
When he was sure the dragon was knocked out, Harry cancelled the spells, and checking that no egg had been destroyed, retrieved the golden one again, and emerged to the cheers of the commentator. He was clearly tired, but pride was visible on his face from miles away.
"That was Hadrian's spell," Fortuna murmured, shocked. Daphne had never seen the woman react that way. "And that ease, that form! He really is his nephew," she declared as if she had just learned this fact.
"Hadrian Potter... What kind of monster did you create?" Daphne asked, looking up at the sky, almost demanding an answer from it.