A/N: Hey guys, been a while. I didn't manage to write as much as I had hoped, so it took some time to get this one out. As most of you can guess, just as your life is probably as well, due to recent increas in Covid-19 cases, my country's government went apeshit crazy. My school is closed for the rest of the month and as of now, I am not even sure I'll finish my education when I had previously planed it. In addition to that I am currently down with the flu, so yeah thats happening. But it gave my some time to write a little, so I guess it isn't that bad.

I'll try to stick to my word as best as possible, but I can't guarantee anything right now. I don't think I'll manage to get out another chapter before easter holidays, but you never know.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, its slightly longer than my others and has more action in it.

Chapter Seven

The First Task

The door of the defence against the dark arts classroom flew open, causing the fourth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins to flinch. The old man, who had been introduced as their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, walked in. His whole appearance basically screamed soldier, as he purposefully strode to the front of the class.

Even in his rather advanced age, Miroslav Aaronovitch presented himself as a tall man, who wouldn't cower before anything. His gaze shifted from student to student, silently evaluating each of his new pupils at face value. He rid himself of his grey robe, still wearing his burgundy suit vest, together with a black shirt, from the evening in the great hall.

Clearing his throat, only swiftly acknowledging the four Durmstrang students who had joined him in his class not really needing to, before turning his attention back to the Hogwarts pupil.

"Well, -" the professor started "- I have taken the liberty to look into your past years of education in this subject. None of you should be surprised to hear me say that it has been a rather… insufficient selection of teachers so far." he paused, watching the reactions on the students faces play out, before continuing, "A stuttering fool, caught trying to steal from Hogwarts, a self-centred moron, who stole the achievements of many witches and wizards and lastly a Werewolf, likely the worst of the bunch."

At the mentioning of the latter of the three teachers, the reactions which had been partly passive or slightly interested changed drastically. The Slytherins, namely a group of about five fourth years, seemingly found the characteristic amusing, while nearly the entirety of the assembled Gryffindors seemed to take offence at his summary of said teacher.

It came even down to a student, a bushy-haired brunette, getting up and openly defending the mentioned former teacher. "He was the best we had so far, it is completely unfair to have forced him to leave-" said student exclaimed. While still being in upheaval, noticing who had stood up to the teacher caused them to calm down a bit, which in turn seemingly led to said witch losing some of her confidence. That or the fact that now the eyes of everyone, including those of the teacher and the four Durmstrang students, of which one was Bulgarian, world-cup-losing, star seeker Victor Krum and one the Durmstrang champion Adrian Aaronovitch.

"If that is the case miss -?" the professor asked with the slightest touch of his accent seeping through onto his otherwise surprisingly clear English. "Granger... Sir," she answered, still keeping the pretence of defiance up, having not sat down onto her bench again.

"Vell, Miss Granger." the professor began again. "If it is so unfair, that school didn't wish to see their students mauled to death by an uncontrollable beast, I am sure you are capable to not only use spells so adeptly that you would be able to easily defeat one of my own students in a simple duel.".

While saying that, he waved for the group of students, who had been standing near the entrance of the room, to join him.

Hadrian stepped forward, his self-control hindering his features to show his true emotions, largely amusement, causing him to appear rather emotionless and calm.

"Surely it isn't fair to let a seventeen-year-old duel against a fourth year." one of the Gryffindor girls called out, trying to reason with the professor. "That is the point, Miss -" "Brown." "-Miss Brown, it is a completely unfair match-up judged by pure power alone, not to mention skill and experience." Professor Aaronovitch continued, before turning back to the by now pale, Miss Granger, a smile crept onto his face. "If you, by any chance what so ever, manage to land a hit on my student here, -" he pointed at Hadrian before continuing, "I will not only completely retract my statements about said teacher but also will grant you and your house a hundred points."

Before she could even answer, the professor turned back towards the class and gestured them to create space enough for the two students to cast their spells. While the Gryffindors didn't seem to be happy with the situation, the Slytherins looked rather satisfied, even though the Gryffindors could potentially walk away with a hundred house points.

Space was cleared and the students stood behind a simple protection charm, which had been drawn by the teacher to make sure no ricocheting spell would accidentally hit one of the students. Hadrian stood opposite to the young, brown-haired girl, who spotted a set of rather prominent rabbitesque teeth. Hadrian seemingly not even paying any real attention, twirling his yew wand between the fingers of his right hand.

Only the signal of the teacher for her to start firing spells at him pulled him back into the real world, even caught off guard by the speed of the first spell, only for a split second though, a simple sidestep did the trick, causing the disarming jinx to slam into the shield charm behind him. A set of stunners followed suit, again at remarkable speed, yet nothing compared to those of any of his mentors or even his companions. He simply battered them away, out of reflex into her general direction, yet never actually aiming to hit her with her own spell.

The girl definitely possessed some potential together with a rather versatile selection of jinxes and other spells, yet it was painfully apparent how outmatched she truly was, even without him ever casting a single actual spell. He always used one of two defences: either a sidestep or a simple deflection, which he achieved by battering the incoming spell at the shield at either of his sides. Beyond that, the spells became repetitive and lacked the creativity of one of Grindelwald's curse-chains.

It took about twenty seconds for him to grow bored, three minutes for him to lose his patience and only three seconds for the girl to be sent sprawling across the floor, after being hit by one of her own knockback jinxes, which he had finally decided to reflect back at her. It was then when the teacher finally lifted the shields and announced the end of the 'duel'.

"Well? Anyone wish to guess why I had Miss Granger go through with this little… presentation?" Aaronovitch finally asked as the students returned to their seats. "Yes, miss -?" he pointed at a Slytherin girl, who had raised her hand, "Lestrange, professor. You asked of her to attack a- an object she couldn't possibly damage, same goes for Werewolfs, who are completely immune to magical influence, and only to be killed or even harmed with physical items like - fire and silver." the girl answered quickly, one hand playfully toying with a lock of black hair, her gaze focused on the blond Durmstrang champion.

"Correct, Miss Lestrange, ten points for answering both the question I asked and the one I was going to ask." the professor stated, before turning around to the chalkboard behind him. While charming a piece of chalk to write down a selection of pages, he turned to the class, noting that the Gryffindor Girl seemed to be slightly ill-looking.

"Read and copy the following pages, regarding the combat and containment of a Werewolf, onto your paper, until the end of the lesson. Next lesson we will begin with actual defensive magic." he paused, "Miss Brown, if you would, please escort miss Granger to the school nurse.", waving them both out of the classroom. "I would also like, from every single one of you, a five-foot essay on the use of defensive magic as an offensive tool by Friday.", earning the groans of most students in the classroom.

The people in the castle would have seen the Durmstrang champion cross the grounds towards the forbidden forest. The animals in the forest, however, saw a large bear trot through the woods, a bear with slightly brighter fur near his head and two uniquely coloured green and blue eyes.

It was a liberating feeling to take a stroll, alone without anyone around to disturb his thinking. The wind rustled through the leaves which hung high above the ground, decorating the treetops. They slowly took on more of a yellowish-orange colour, contrasting the still green leaves rather nicely. Fall had come and was slowly but surely retreating to make way for winter. The first task of the Triwizard tournament would soon take place. And while all three champions truly had no clue of what they had to expect, as it was the nature of the said task to confront the champions with the unknown, he felt greatly confident.

That, at least, lasted until he stumbled upon a rather unique view. Three cages, three dragons and three problems. If he hadn't been in his Animagus form, this would have been one of the rather rare occurrences where he would have lost his cool. The emotions, the thoughts, that were currently dancing around in his head made the whole situation not less of a threat.

The questions in his head started to grow in numbers and complexity. Would he and the other champions have to face off against all three dragons at the same time? Unlikely, it looked more like a task of fighting alone against a dragon, possibly even kill said beast. But the odds of the ministry actually believing that by having three witches and wizards face off against a prehistoric lizard with wings, was supposed to be safer than three hundred years ago were astronomical.

Yet why else would there be exactly three dragons hidden away, deep in a forest from any spying eye, around the same time that three schools, each with a champion tasked with fighting against the unknown?

At closer inspection, Hadrian was even able to spot enough of two of the dragons to identify them as a Chinese Fireball and a Swedish Short-snout. And while the last one was hidden behind a small row of trees, he was certain that the last, and biggest of the three, was a Hebridean Black or at least something very similar. Not that he truly was keen on finding out, at least not without being aware of exploitable weaknesses, something he surely would be looking up in the Hogwarts library once he returned to the castle.

Still remaining in his Animagus form, he cleared the border of the glade, walking deeper into the forest again. He still needed to clear his head, which he could do so easily in the forest, while the library would be filled with students, but the dragons sure hadn't helped.

And so he walked for a good part of an hour, simply taking a breather and enjoying the peace and quiet of the surrounding vegetation. He felt the sticks and leaves break under his steps, felt the gentle breeze blow through his fur and the scent of the forest stick to his nose. But it wasn't just the scent of the woods and trees, no, he could distinctively smell meat. Fresh and raw, even though it lacked the iron like scent of blood.

Hadrian let his animal instincts take over, simply following the path of the scent, which promptly lead him to another occupied clearing in the forest. 'I thought this forest was supposed to be forbidden.' was the only thought which circled around in his head, as he spotted a familiar-looking blonde Ravenclaw girl who appeared to be feeding a selection of Thestrals. Winged horses with a reptile-like head, bat-like wings and a skeletal body, giving them a rather unnatural and, for some unknown reason, even unnerving appearance.

Finally leaving his Animagus form, Hadrian decided to talk to the girl. If only to find out, if she already knew about the dragons, she seemed like an interesting enough person.

It amazed him how the girl managed to survive in the rather hostile environment of the forest. The fact that he had been roaming around in his Animagus form had been his only real protective measurement. And while he may have been instructed by some of the most skilled wizards of their generation, and in the case of his father, among the most skilled of all time, the girl didn't have privy to such training. Yet the cup had chosen her to be a champion for her school. Not wishing to underestimate his opponents, he decided it would be best to assume that she would have an adequate skill set.

"You can see them." while a question, sounding more like a statement, she didn't flinch. His voice penetrated the silence, smooth as silk, dangerous as a serpent, yet lacking the venom. "I think that's rather obvious, isn't it?" Luna softly answered, not even sparing him a glance, while gently stroking the head of a small Thestral foal, which was currently chewing on a piece of meat, the very same that had lured him onto the clearing.

"You aren't as innocent as you appear, Miss Lovegood." Hadrian continued, an intrigued smirk danced over his features, his eyes solely focused on her. "No innocent witch or wizard is able to spot a Thestral, no one who hasn't come face to face with death itself, manifested in its most primal form. Human, as -" he stopped, catching himself, he was treading dangerous waters.

For the first time, since he had appeared, she turned around, looking straight at him. Her dreamy grey eyes, an unnerving yet harmless gaze, framed by her dirty-blonde locks. "- as the loss of a loved one corrupts." she continued, a weary smile appeared on her face, not one that reached her eyes. "I have read the book you are quoting, we have a copy here at Hogwarts."

Raising one of his eyebrows, surprised, as he had once again underestimated the girl. "You truly are a unique witch, miss Lovegood. Reading books filled with darkest of magic, found in a schools library, around such corruptible minds? One would think the headmaster would have you expelled." Hadrian, while speaking, gently walked towards the Ravenclaw, his gaze never leaving her face, treading carefully.
"You claimed I am not what I appear to be, -" Luna answered, her voice unwavering, her glare resolute but her posture remained relaxed. "- yet it is quite clear, that neither are you." This caused Hadrian to stop, his gaze filled with amazement, his hand lightly twitched in the direction of his wand. "Am I now?" he asked, aware of the rather grim situation he found himself in.

As he had stumbled upon this little glade, he had been on his way back to the caste, having cleared most of the path back already. Even before smelling the traitorous scent of the meat, he had felt the wards of the school passing, he had re-entered the school grounds. This, in it of itself not being the problem at hand, it made it rather difficult for him to even remotely dip into his magical power. Each of his spells was so soaked with the immense magical force behind them, they would have made the headmaster instantly aware of the happenings in the forest.

While he couldn't kill the girl, if she truly knew his secret, he could still inflict great pain. Such pain, leaving her to beg for mercy before begging for death. It was the small nagging fear, not present in the forefront of his mind, that led him to pull out his wand. 'if she could know, others could find out' he knew that. The thought of that didn't hold a pleasant after-taste. He didn't wish to fail his father's plan, he didn't wish to be the cause of unneeded troubles nor did he wish to be the reason for unwanted attention drawn to Durmstrang.

But it was his, while only swift, indecisiveness that allowed the girl to meet his wand before he was able to regain his cool. "You call me a fraud, yet you are not who you claim to be." the voice of the Lovegood girl rang in his head. "And when I share my observation, I am met with the tip of a wand." Luna only smiled absent-mindedly, giving her the appearance of an airhead, a dreamy girl only focused on the world within her head. Yet her posture seemed so determined, purposeful even, as if she was in control of the situation, the wand only served to underline her presence of mind. It wasn't magical power or spellcraft that allowed her the appearance of control. There were few people matching Hadrian in either, one was his father, one the headmaster and one Tom Riddle himself, his duelling skill was unmatched by any he encountered so far, his power unreachable for any who even dared dream of it.

But the Lovegood girl still seemed, for some reason, in control of the situation he now found himself in. Hadrian knew, of course, that neither pure magical power or duelling capabilities were what made a wizard or witch truly dangerous. Anywho though so were fools.

Yet it wasn't power that put the Ravenclaw girl in charge, it was manipulation. The primal instincts of an animal, the simple-mindedness of his Animagus form dimming his sense of caution, leading him into the trap. The gab of an idiot, sealing the trap shut.

Yet it wasn't the trap that nagged on his conscious. He could fight or even flee if he wished. In that aspect, he was still far superior. She couldn't physically attack him, without endangering herself, no matter her training, he was a duellist, could be a killer and most importantly fought like a warrior.

It was the knowledge, the wish for information, that had led him here. It was the knowledge on her that had lured him, it was the information she posed about him that put her in control. Every information, every rumour, every whisper and moan had a source. He needed her source, sealing the leak, putting all in order. For the greater good.

"You tread dangerously, Miss Lovegood, the path you've chosen could lead to consequences that neither of us wishes to endure." his voice calm as ever, the hint of danger ever so present in his words. "What do you know about me?"

Now it was Luna's time to smile, so innocent yet dangerous, vicious even, "I know nothing more than you yourself told me. Actions speak louder than words." she paused, seemingly intensely focused on something on his forehead, "remarkable." nothing more than a gentle whisper. Seemingly disregarding every sense of caution she possessed, she stored her wand behind her ear, pulling out a small booklet and an enchanted quill. She didn't seem fazed by the fact that the tip of his wand was still resting inches away from her head, scribbling notes onto a page, looking up at him once or twice, before closing said booklet and storing it, and the quill, back in her bag. It was only, once he met his gaze that time, that he noticed something remarkable. "You're a natural Legilimence." a stunningly rare ability, seemingly perfected to the best of her ability. The Occlumency barriers surrounding his mind, having finally picked up the gentle breeze of magic which had invaded his mind palace, leaving him slightly baffled.

It wasn't that he had not been able to defend his mind at all, otherwise his father, or any other one of his enforcers, would have picked up on the importance that Hadrian put on the young French witch that had been plaguing his mind recently again. It was more the fact that she was a natural in Legilimency, allowing her to bypass non-perfect mind wards, as his own were, with relative ease. The infestation of his mind, discovered by his father many years back, far before he had even enrolled in Durmstrang, disallowed him to perfect his Occlumency training. Legilimency, on the other hand, was far easier to learn, allowing him to actively, or somewhat passively, look into the mind of those surrounding him.

It was the active aspect of Legilimency, the only his father and his teachers possessed, that wasn't able to penetrate his defences, at least not without him knowing. Lovegood, on the other hand, was simply slipping past the walls surrounding his mind, with relative ease, while he wasn't paying attention to his barriers, accessing information that should not fall into the wrong hands.

"So I was told -" Luna simply answered, not wavering under the inquisitive stare of her opponent, gently smiling. "- not only by my mother." her smile faded into nothing, her features taking on a slight sour tint. "She is also the reason why I am able to see them." nodding slightly into the general direction of the Thestral herd. "She died many years ago, I was very young back then. I don't remember much. Not of her, at least." her gaze slowly sunk, seemingly lost in her thoughts, still paying no singular thought towards the yew wand pointed at her chest.

This girl was a conundrum to him. One that his father would see as a valuable ally, yet on that could just as easily turn out to be a thorn in his side. Disposing of the girl was, and would be, virtually impossible while the two of them remained on the school grounds. Not to mention the fact that she was the current Hogwarts champion, representing said school in the Triwizard tournament.

No, he couldn't get rid of her. But if she would willingly join him and his father at the end of the year, then maybe he could be lenient with the possible threat. Maybe, just maybe, the tournament itself would prove fatal to the Hogwarts student, in which case the problem would have solved itself, leaving both him and his father without risk.

"Ravenclaws are supposed to be the smart ones, aren't they?" the rhetorical question hung in the air, having left his lips, expecting no answer. "Well, tell me, what do you think I should do with you now?"

She hesitantly took a gentle step backwards. The balance had changed, their encounter slipped out of her control, and she felt the switch. "What would you do in my place, Luna Lovegood?" he asked, the menacing undertone didn't escape the Ravenclaw girl.

It took a few seconds for her to regain her wits, a gentle smile, one that didn't reach her eyes, spread on her features. "I would bind you, Harry Potter!"

"Now as you three know, -" the old headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, spoke cheerfully "- the first task of the Triwizard tournament will be taking place tomorrow."

The three champions stood still, listening closely to the words of the ancient wizard. Hadrian found himself in a small, by the looks of it almost abandoned, classroom that was filled with way to many people. On one hand, the three headmasters and their champions, at the head of the room. An old-looking, somewhat pale and glassy-eyed man with just as pale skin and unkempt silvery hair stood by a small table, possibly where the teacher's podium used to be.

Then there was a selection of press people, constantly taking notes and photos, being a general annoyance to anyone in said classroom. A couple of teachers, ones who either had arrived with the other schools, like Aaronovitch senior, or those who currently didn't have a class to teach, namely the bat-like potions master Severus Snape and the charms and duelling master, one who Hadrian was most anxious to get the chance to duel against, Filius Flitwick. Who also happened to be the headteacher of Ravenclaw, and thus Luna Lovegood possibly more than just indirect mentor.

But, by far, the most annoying person in the entire room, a woman seemingly entirely dressed in the most obnoxious colours a witch could hope to acquire without leaving for an actual muggle clothing store. Her name was Rita Skeeter, a scandal-mongering, venomous, trash-piece newspaper author. It was probably less the fact of her presence that annoyed him so much, but much rather her constant chiming in, trying to question the three champions.

He had little time to review the newspaper here in England, only a quick skim at the breakfast table of the Daily Prophet for information on his father's actions on the continent. Not that he didn't know what his father was up to, he was constantly kept in the loop by either his father himself or one of the many advisers and lieutenants he surrounded himself with. No, he looked for information that the newspapers thought they possessed. 'The less the better' he thought to himself, knowing all to well that they couldn't hide forever. But every second counted when moving against, without discussion, two of the greatest and most powerful wizards of the past few centuries.

But it was during that time, while searching for scraps of misinformation in said paper, that he found multiple articles written by the very same Rita Skeeter who currently found herself in the classroom. Only having read a few, he came to the conclusion that she not only was a horrifyingly well-informed journalist, but she also loved to publish glorious misinformation and sell them as news and sometimes even as facts.

It was only that, after having a chat with local boot liker and slimeball Draco Malfoy, he realised that this woman seemingly had a dedicated readership, who in turn scooped up the things she published and regarded them as gospel, believing every single word she said. The worst part of it though, like the cherry on the icing of the cake, said readership did not only increase by the day, it was also horrifyingly large, including some rather well known and even some highly influential people.

Hadrian knew, not wanting to cast a negative light on himself, that he would have to tread carefully around the tabloid reporter. Especially with her talents in knowing things that she seemingly shouldn't know or twisting words in peoples mouths to fit her narrative. Of course, a person with her talent could help them definitely, but he suspected that a reporter of her calibre, be that good or bad, have no true loyalties.

The old man at the table, Garrick Olivander as he had learned, being not the first time having heard of him, remembering Gregorovitch talking about him once before, one of the most famous wandmakers in the entirety of the wizarding world, having a reputation matching that of late Gregorovitch to a tee, had been solely fixated on the three champions. He wore a rather unsettling glare, one that could pierce one's very soul, which gave him, additionally to his already strange make-up, a completely new dimension of an ominous appearance.

"We will now begin the wand weighing." Dumbledore loudly announced, letting the gaze of the room shift to the old wandmaker, who, for the first time since arriving, finally took his eyes of the champions and seemingly only now noticed the other occupants of the room. Namely the present teachers and headmasters, gracefully ignoring the assembled press.

"Right, -" he began, "- please miss Lovegood, do step forward." a strange smile appearing on his face. Luna did as she was told, stepping forward, seemingly not intimidated by the air of the old man, which was only explainable by her having purchased the very same wand the old wandmaker was currently holding from him. "Acacia, elven and three-quarter inches, unicorn hair core, remarkably springy and most importantly, in perfect condition." The wandmaker concluded, turning a nearby chair into a vase and transfiguring it back, before returning it to Luna. "A wand for a lifetime miss Lovegood, as I said to you all those years ago, take good care of it, as you did already, and it will allow you to perform magic, that some will only dream of while remaining loyal to the bitter end."

Having read a few books on wand lore himself, a few even published by the Olivander family, Hadrian knew all too well about the properties of an Acacia wand, loyal to their first owner, allowing to cast powerful spells with grace and force. The Unicorn hair core reflected the exact same traits, a rather unique match.

"Miss Delacour now please, your wand if you would be so kind." Olivander turned his attention to the French witch, who had been blissfully ignorant of his very existence since Hadrian had entered the room. After all, there were three of Grindelwald's most trusted lieutenants present, as well as a selection of press people and… other people with dubious loyalties.

A slender piece of wood was produced and carefully placed in the old hand of the wandmaker, allowing him to inspect the wand for himself. "hm… Interesting, Yes, nine and a half inches... inflexible.. rosewood... and containing... dear me -" Fleur, confirming the wizard's inquiry with a gentle nod, seemingly hyper-aware of every movement made with her wand, as if the old man would break it into two any second now. "An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela. One of my grandmuzzer's." her accent especially thick, only underlining her nervousness.
With a gentle flick of the wrist, Olivander caused the tip of the wand to turn into a set of conjured flowers, testing, as he had before, if it could produce magic without problems, and placing it back into Fleur's waiting hand. "Unique, miss Delacour, and temperamental. Difficult to control and rarely produces consistent magic to those who do not." he said, before dismissing her with a simple swish of his hand, turning his attention now to the last remaining champion. Hadrian himself.

Without waiting to be called up, he confidently stepped up, pulling his wand from his sleeve and holding its handle towards the wandmaker. Olivander hesitated for a second, looking straight into the eyes of the seventeen-year-old wizard, before reaching out to take the wand. But before his hands could close around the handle, Hadrian pulled the wand back, not entirely out of reach, yet far enough to stop the wandmaker from gripping said wand, leading him to hold in. "Careful, It's quite hot."

This caused Olivander to retract his hand and carefully assess the properties of the wand from eyes measure without touching it. It wasn't the first wand that bounded so strongly with its owner that touching it would lead to severe burns or other magically inflicted harm, not rarely permanent. "Quite so, -" Olivander spoke slowly, carefully measuring up the young wizard's wand, "- Yew wood! Fourteen and a quarter inches. I'm guessing rigid?" only receiving a nod of confirmation. "And the core, my boy?" Olivander asked, slight excitement in his voice. He had already recognized the work of Gregorovitch, but the core he didn't recognize. "Chimera scale."

The tent placed near the arena was decorated to make the inhabitants feel slightly more comfortable. A small table at the centre of the small room with a plate of snacks for those who felt peckish, yet somehow, faced with a near-death experience, the hunger didn't quite set in for either of the three champions.

Fleur felt sick to her stomach, an uneasy feeling was a constant companion since the wand weighing ceremony, she nervously held her wand close to her chest while her other hand toyed with a lock of hair that had fallen over her pale face.

Hadrian paced up and down the tent, for the first time in a long while actually showing nervousness. He knew he was a superior duellist, not for nothing, as he had been one of the students send to represent Durmstrang in the upcoming duelling competition held as part of the Triwizard tournament. Yet, he was still unsure of what to expect exactly of this tournament task. Would they have to fight all three dragons at the same time? Would they be competing against both each other and the dragons at the same time? He couldn't be sure.

Luna Lovegood was completely at peace and, just like the other two, she already knew what was about to unfold, but, again as the other two as well, she had no idea at what their task possibly could entail. And while that did manage to make her nervous, she, in contrast to her two competing counterparts, did well to hide her true feelings behind a barrier of stone-faced impassiveness that would even make Hadrian's old man proud.

At closer inspection of her two co-champions, Hadrian definitely seemed to be the more dangerous out of the two. A highly skilled and completely intransparent wizard with an intimidating aura that oozed and dripped of dark and powerful magic. Similar to her, he masked his features quite perfectly, yet the pacing around did little to actually hide his insecurity. It was rare for a wizard to be forced to come face to face with a dragon nowadays and those who did rarely survived to tell the tale.

It wasn't that what made either of the champions unsure of themselves. All three were more than capable wizards and witches, all in capacities unknown to the others, leaving all three of them slightly confident to have an edge on their competition. But none of them knew the true extent of the power of the others. Fleur probably had a good guess of the leagues of magic that Harry surpassed her by, but the Lovegood girl was an unknown variable in a possible match-up of the three wizards to her.

Same went for Hadrian, while he had no real pointers to judge Fleur by, he could fairly well guess the proficiency of the young witch. Luna, on the other hand, was a wild card, but he was able to deduce a bit about her magical prowess by her way of preparation and knowledge of subjects a seventeen-year-old Hogwarts student shouldn't, and rarely ever could, know about.

The tent flap brushed open, letting in, together with a selection of different teachers, officials and headmasters, the thunderous sounds of the crowd that had assembled itself on the ranks of the arena. Albus Dumbledore, who stood next to Barty Crouch Sr, was flanked on his right side by a greasy looking, crook nosed, oily haired man who wore dark robes that seemed to accentuate his every move. Along with him, Hadrian spotted both Aaronovitch and Karkaroff, who stood opposite to the man introduced as Bagman at the first feast the school had shared at Hogwarts. As always, in the corner lurking with her magical feather drawn, stood Rita Skeeter, waiting for a beautiful scandalmonger article to write itself for her, which she then could feed to her audience of lapdogs.

"Good day champions -" Dumbledore drew the attention of the present people on him, "- gather 'round, please. Now you've waited, you've wondered and at last, the moment has arrived. The moment only the three of you could fully appreciate."

The old man held in, as if to say something else, but shrugged and turned to the head of international magical cooperation. "Barty, the bag!"

And with that, the grey-haired man took a step forward and ordered the three champions the form a half-circle before him. A thick leather bag, roughly the size of a Quaffle and a half, rested in his left hand, tightly pressed to his body. Little screeches could be heard emanating from the bag as if there were some rather angry mice crossed with mandrakes trapped in there.

Pulling, pushing and shoving the champions into a position that seemed to fit the old man well enough, the headmasters took their places behind their respective champions and waited for the continuation. Without explaining anything further, Crouch held the bag in front of Fleur, gesturing for her to reach into it.

With a small yelp and some angry hissing, Fleur produced a miniature version of a Chinese Fireball, or more particularly, the very same Hadrian had seen in the forbidden forest. "The Chinese fireball. Ouch" Bagman commented over the shoulder of Crouch, who completely ignored him. Turning to Luna, the procedure was repeated, a yelp, a hiss and a miniature fire-spitting beast, representing a Swedish short snout, rested on the palm of the Hogwarts champion.

"And that only leaves -" Crouch turned to Hadrian, stone-cold features and dead eyes, the bag opening presenting itself to the Durmstrang champion. "- the Hebridean Black." Crouch announced as Hadrian produced the four-legged dragon. All three of the dragons Hadrian had already seen in the forest, making that part of the task rather unsurprising to any of the three champions.

"These represent four very real dragons -" Crouch began explaining "- each of which has been given a golden egg to protect." he paused, letting his words sink in. "Your objective is simple. Collect the egg!" he again paused, which only seemed to serve dramatical effect as well as elongating the whole matter needlessly. "This you must do, for each of the eggs contains a clue, without which you cannot hope to proceed to the next task."

"Any questions?" Bagman asked, his seemingly frivolous nature taken down a few notches, appearing slightly more serious than usual. "Very well. Good luck champions." Dumbledore finished off to the round, turning to Luna with a stern look, "Miss Lovegood, once the cannon sounds, pro-" a loud bang tore through his sentence and the first task of the Triwizard tournament had begun.

Thunderous Applause rolled over the Hogwarts champion, as she stepped out of the tent. Luna's gaze wandered over the area, looking for both the dragon and the egg, which spread before her. The rocky ground, a few larger boulders allowing her to seek cover, was limited by the high stands on which the combined student body of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons found a seat.

It took a few seconds for her to locate the gigantic lizard, who seemingly had found a niche between a couple of the larger boulders, and was adamant in protecting the eggs that had been bestowed upon it. Some of which actually may have been theirs, which would make the whole ordeal a lot less pleasant for her.

With a vice-like grip around her wand, her knuckles had long since turned white, and the beating of her racing heart in her ears she slowly made her way from the entrance of the tent, trying to avoid the lizard's attention, to one of the boulders that rested near the exit.

It took about five minutes to cover half of the distance to the dragon, who was yet to spot or smell her, in which she sneaked from boulder to boulder as quietly as possible. Her wand constantly at the ready, at least two or three routes planned out in her head. Over the past few days and weeks, she had spent almost all her free time working on her knowledge of the beasts that she had spotted in the forest. The three dragons all had their decisive weaknesses, most of them though far less well documented then who they appear from afar. It isn't difficult to guess why. Most of them weren't easily exploitable in combination with the sheer rarity of dragons being found out in the wilderness. And those who managed to spot said dragons rarely were both lucky enough to survive said encounter and then publish in a book.

Her dragon, the Swedish short snout, could, for example, produce a flame hot enough to reduce anything to molten remains short of steel or stone. On the upside, it wasn't as lethal as any other dragon, which, to be fair, was due to it being nothing short of a recluse, living deep in the wilderness and uninhabitable territory, and it also wasn't the brightest of dragons.

Luna planed to sneak as closely as possible, a scent masking charm, not a good one by any marks, applied to her, before she would transfigure a few of the boulders into something, preferably an animal, which would lure the Dragon out of its nest and allow her to slip in and snatch up the golden egg. It was the way back, with the golden egg, she was fearing. No matter how dull the Dragon may be, it would sooner or later retreat to its nest to continue protecting its eggs, at which point it would notice that one of them was missing, sending it into a fierce rage. Should she, by that point, not have fled the scene, the dragon would most likely make her way to the exit of the pit to some of the most unpleasant minutes of her life, to put it lightly.

This, of course, meant that there was a noticeable uncertainty in the way she moved. Her wand movements lacked the usual grace she led them with and thus the charms and transfigurations that escaped the piece of Acacia wood calmed in her hand lacked greatly in not only efficiency but also strength. The scent masking charm, which she had applied as soon as she had set foot onto the rocky arena floor, was on the brink of utter collapse. So, to no real surprise, it took seconds for the gigantic beast to become aware of an imminent threat, thus forcing Luna to slightly change her plans.

Pointing her wand at a bolder on the opposite side of the arena, Luna tried to transfigure it into a sheep, but due to her uncertainty, she only managed to shape the rock into a near-perfect statue of a sheep. Repeating the process, this time with a different rock slightly closer to her and a different animal, Luna began to panic slightly. This time the rock, which she tried to transfigure into a cow, managed to both take the form of her chosen animal and become animate, yet it neither moved beyond standing around idle and it didn't emit the needed scent to throw off the dragon, who, by now, had become riled up and had become fully aware of the young Ravenclaw witch that was in close proximity to its eggs.

A deafening roar boomed across the arena floor, the surrounding student body, hidden behind a nose cancelling charm as not to agitate or irritate any of the dragons or champions within the arena grounds, slowly became more and more aware of the situation that was unfolding before themselves. The wind whirled up and catapulted into all directions, that was created by the mighty wings of the dragon, flung tiny rocks and pebbles into the air, a fair few striking the young Hogwarts champion with more and some with a good bit less force than others.

Desperately almost, Luna clung to her wand, going in for her third, and judging by the raucous that the dragon caused last, an attempt at transfiguring a near boulder into an animal, by now simply survive as long as possible. Her desperation, her almost helplessness and fearfulness had made her intent and, surprisingly, focus reach new levels. This time, the transfiguration succeeded, changing the nearest boulder into a large, animate horse, which managed to give off, together with its rather striking appearance which strongly contrasted the rocky floor it stood on, an intense enough scent to draw the attention of the dragon. Sensing the danger the former-boulder-horse was in, it quickly turned and speed of into the opposite direction, giving Luna enough time to reapply a better scent masking charm, as well as an opening to make a run for the egg nest.

The near gut-busting scream of the slaughtered horse, drowned in an ear-shattering roar from the dragon as it spat its flames, killing the horse in seconds, didn't hinder Luna in her sprint for the egg. She was, maybe a good twenty meters away, as she felt the little hairs on her neck stand up suddenly. Taking this as her instincts giving her a signal, Luna flung herself behind the nearest boulder, just in time for a wave of flames to roll over the spot she had been on mere seconds before. The air was hot and the bolder she was sitting behind was on the brink of being straight-up melted by the fire-spitting lizard on the opposite side. She was sweating, strings of her blond hair had fallen out of her ponytail and clung to the side of her face, her uniform that was crested by the school's insignia clung to her tightly. She had stones in her boots and scratches all over her body, the smell of burned clothes hinted at the fact that she hadn't been as successful in avoiding the fire blast as she had thought.

'One last deep breath', Luna thought to herself, bracing for the last few meters of her sprint. Something along those lines seemingly had gotten through the head of the dragon, who had taken it upon himself to dispose of the failed cow transfiguration while she had gathered her wits, as it flew directly above her once she had started running from her hiding spot. Another wave of fire washed passed her, only missing her by hairs width, and only because she had managed to spot the dragon and had flung a curse up at the flying beast before it had the chance to annihilate the latest Hogwarts champion.
It took Luna seconds to cover the remaining few meters, almost jumping the last few to touch the golden egg. Yet the task wasn't over. Clinging close to her new possession, Luna got up and turned to look over to the exit of the arena. The second she had taken her first step towards the exit, the large lizard landed right in-between Luna and her way out of the pit with a deafening roar.

In a last-ditch effort to finish the task, Luna began a mad dash towards the dragon, flinging some of the smaller stones at the dragon, all the while dodging the fire bursts by flinging herself behind the larger rocks, before, again, dashing towards the exit and flinging tocks at the dragon. At one point she even began transfiguring some of the smaller rocks into arrows, yet it seemingly had little to no effect.

Almost by sheer luck, the dragon took flight again, allowing Luna to cross the last few dozen meters to the entry of the arena. The second she stepped out of the pit, a tall red-haired wizard stormed past her onto the rocky floor with his wand drawn. She would later find out that it had been a dragon tamer, who was supposed to, together with others who had seemingly entered from other entry points to the pit, calm down the dragon.

For the first time, since entering the arena and passing through the silencing ward, she heard the crowd cheer. A memory, even if only a tainted one due to her passing out only seconds later, to which she would think back years after with a gentle smile on her face. For the first time in her seven years of school, it wasn't just one or two people who truly looked at her, but the whole school and then some, who cheered her name, chanted the school hymn and laughed with her, not at her.

The second cannon blast pulled Fleur out of her musings. It signalled the French witch that it was her time to step into the pit. With hesitation and even some reluctance, she tore her gaze from the miniature dragon. Harry waited at the entry of the tent, holding the flap open for her, a sad smile graced his features. Before stepping out, she quickly rested her head on his chest in a warm embrace. "Good luck!" he whispered into her ear, and before she knew what had happened, her feet had carried her out into the open, her wand tightly pressed into her palm.

The arena pit was slightly different from the first one. While still being filled with large rocks and boulders, there were also a few dead trees and even a few puddles of water here and there. The formerly rocky ground now spotted a dried and dead meadow, yellow grass and dead bushes, reminding the onlookers of a savannah floor. In the very centre of the arena, surrounded by massive almost wall of boulders, creating a circle like a sanctuary. It somehow had a close resemblance to Stonehenge, allowing Fleur to spot the mighty dragon protecting its eggs. The Chinese Fireball had scarlet coloured smooth scales and a fringe of golden spikes around its head. Bright yellow eyes roamed the area, having yet to pick out the Beauxbatons Champion from the boulders. It was about ten meters long and had, seemingly only two legs.

Fleur remembered reading that the Chinese Lion dragon was extremely dangerous, not only because of its aggressive nature but also because, unlike the other two dragons, this sub-species of dragon specialized in hunting down humans for food. It was, by far, the worst dragon she could have picked.

Yet, the young French Champion had a good idea of how to deal with said lizard problem. And while she may not be the master duellist Harry was, she was fairly usable with enchanting and charming. Her strength in potions wasn't going to help her here.

Her plan was simple: she would sneak close to the dragon, without gaining its attention for as long as possible, which was the reason why she currently was hiding behind a massive boulder, and she would try to bind it before charming it to sleep. Alternatives would be: trying to keep it grounded and flinging rocks at it while also grabbing the egg and fleeing with as much grace as possible. Or she could try to kill it, which she doubted she could pull off.

So, for the second time that day, the crowd witnessed a slow and steady approach to the goal. Sneaking from boulder to boulder, a scent masking charm applied, though a far superior one to that of the Hogwarts champion, and a notice-me-not charm, as to not garner the attention of the beast. All of the judges, as well as the crowd, was unaffected by the charm, another tweak in the protective barrier around the stands. All of her expertly applied charms and enchantments meant that she was far quicker in crossing the distance to the dragons den than her Hogwarts competitor. Once she was about twenty meters away from the nest, she dropped all of her charms, making herself ready to be spotted at any moment. It took the dragon only a few seconds before it realized what had so readily found its way directly to him. With a loud roar, the beast pushed multiple of the boulders to the side, as if they were little more than branches half-heartedly stuck into wet soil. Slowly making its way towards the Beauxbatons Champion, the dragon seemingly gently pulled his head back, getting himself ready to spew one of its mushroom-shaped flame bursts. Seizing the moment, Fleur began to sing.

It was a rather strange sight to behold to any of the people in the crowd, but it showed an effect. Fleur had drained a bit of her magic into her voice, a transfer which gave her quite the headache along with the first signs of magical exhaustion, managed to cause sings of hesitation in the aggressive Liondragon. It didn't last quite as long as she had hoped, yet she had managed to achieve a good bit of progress. Noticing that the dragon still planed on burning her into what could only be considered a pile of ashes, she summoned one of the near boulders as a shield, flinging it back at the scarlet beast. But it was to no avail, the dragon had already taken flight and was far to quick to be simply hit by a flying boulder.

Beginning again, Fleur sang the dragon a sweet lullaby, her voice magically enchanted and magnified. Her head was hammering like a horde of centaurs rummaging through her very brain, trying out tap dancing and jumping on the spot.

It took a few minutes of repeating the process over and over again. She would begin singing, always draining herself and the dragon more and more of their energy. The dragon would notice the effect she was having on it and would try to free itself from the trance-like state it was trapped in. The veela blood that pumped through her veins allowed Fleur to put more and more magic into her voice, coaxing the dragon to stop fighting her and rest for a while. Then it would spew flames, she would either avoid the rapidly becoming less and less both accurate and dangerous bursts or simply hide behind a near boulder, deciding that summoning one would only drain her much needed magic more. After minutes, the dragon finally landed again, roaring defiantly one last time, before its body collapsed under its own weight and it would fall into comatose slumber. Fleur almost didn't manage to stand up straight. The signs magical exhaustion becoming more and more apparent by the second. With her last grace, she managed to walk over into the nest and cling tight to the golden egg, the walk out of the arena was accompanied by extreme pain in her legs and head, nearly rendering her unable to walk in a straight line.

The school nurse quickly wrapped her up in a blanket, pulling her into the medical tent which had been stationed near the exit of the pit. The dragon handlers rushed into the arena, accompanied by the applause and voices of the surrounding school populous, a sound she only now had realised had been drowned out by the wards sounding the arena. She was being led to a small bed in one corner of the medical tent, a pain relive potion was pressed into her hand and the words "try to stay awake" were uttered to her. Only minutes later, the third and final canon blast echoed through the Scottish landscape, announcing The Son of Grindelwald to an arena of people, who knew him by a different name.

Hadrian slowly passed through the tent opening. The third canon blast had announced his turn, the yew wand rested loosely in his hand. He radiated of an aura of confidence, the swagger in his walk only accentuating this, but his glowing eyes carefully roamed the rocky surface for his prey.

In contrast to his opposition, Hadrian was a skilled fighter with duelling experience. He had been taken on the hunt once or twice when he was younger by the father of Fleur, who had taken it upon himself to treat him as something of a son. He had, after all, spend quite a long time in his 'childhood' at the Delacour home.

But back then he had hunted with a crossbow and it was deer not dragons, a quality he seemingly shared with his prey. His plan was slightly different than those of his fellow co-champions. With a, what appeared to be, leisurely stroll toward the centre of the pit, he slowly turned more and more of the boulders, that had been presented as an aid in shielding against the dragon fire, into medieval weapons like ballistas and trebuchets. A few enchantments changed a couple of the slightly smaller rocks into a long, thick, heavy steel chain, which he planned to use to tie the dragon down to the floor if the need arose.

His plan was to try to avoid killing the dragon. It wouldn't have been the most difficult task for him, even if he respected the strength of those beasts, a duel against Grindelwald or his enforcers usually was far more daring then against a mere dragon. Killing the dragon would most likely not come across as an intelligent strategy, especially because Dumbledore himself was sitting in the loges along with the other judges.

The medieval siege weapons would keep the dragon more mobile, giving it less time to charge straight at him or spew fire into his general direction.

But, just as with the other two champions before, his plan had a flaw. If the dragon were to simply destroy his weapons, or alternatively avoid taking to the sky, it would force Hadrian into action. The challenge, same with duelling against a master of defensive spells, would be to crack open its defences, its magic absorbent scales and quick reflexes. Its size of roughly 38 ft, making it easily one of the largest ones of its kind, hid the extreme agility of the Hebridean Black. It's sheer aggressive nature and territorial pride made it probably nearly just as dangerous as the Chinese Liondragon. The difference being, besides in its clear optical contrast, thick black scales with brilliant purple eyes and bat-like wings crowned by a ridge along its back down to its tail which was tipped with an arrow-shaped spike, its taste in prey. The Liondragon preferred humans and other mammals, while the Hebridean Black was merely interested in deer and the occasional cattle.

Not having masked his scent as the other champions had done, to lure the dragon out of its nest, the dragon spotted him faster then his peers had done. The deafening roar, accompanied by a thick black stream of fire, blasted from its cave-like nest into Hadrian's general direction. Loud steps announced the movement of the dragon, seconds later accompanied by, not only another roar but also its head peeking out of its hiding spot.

Summoning the nearest boulder, Hadrian banished it against the dragon, which caused it to be reduced to molten rocks harmlessly splashing against the uneven arena ground. Accompanied by the first crack, a large bolt shot from the nearest trebuchet against the dragons scaly neck. With a loud thunk, it connected and cracked into two before falling harmlessly to the ground, doing nothing more than to lightly irritate and largely agitate the winged lizard.

With a flick of his wand, he ordered the transfigured siege weapons to fire onto the dragon, a gentle smile appearing on Hadrian's face. Unlike both Fleur and Luna, his magical core was hardly scraped by the whole theatre, his superior stamina coming not only from the endless duelling sessions with his father or his followers. He, of course, knew that those weapons were not going to be effective against the large dragon, yet it wasn't his plan to kill the lizard. He only needed it to move from the cave before driving it to the opposite side of the pit, allowing him to take the egg and leave.

Though his plan was shattered only seconds later, as the dragon had grown tired of the minor inconvenience that the siege weapons produced. With a tidal wave of black flame, the dragon flooded a great part of the arena with his deadly fire. Hadrian, not having foreseen the dragon to do exactly that, had managed to fling himself behind the nearest boulder, only to realise that he probably should climb up the rock before it was enclosed by the flames in its entirety.

For the crowd, it must have been something of legends. The second the black fire had enclosed the boulders and siege weapons the people had grown quite. For a couple of seconds, nothing had moved, the part of the arena pit that was before crossed by the Durmstrang Champion was flooded in its entirety with no sign of Hadrian. Karkaroff had jumped up, an uncharacteristic look of concern washed over his features, quickly followed by 'Madame Claire De Lune', the headmistress of Beauxbatons, forgetting her position for a couple of seconds. Then a hand had emerged onto one of the few rocks that had still towered out from above the sea of flames, followed by an arm and head before the rest of the body of Hadrian came into view. Trying to dust off his robes as graceful as possible, he shot the large dragon a glance. It had, by now, emerged from the cave in its entirety, a full thirty-eight feet, or roughly eleven-and-a-half meters, long. Its wings were spread as it waded through its own fire, completely unaffected by the magical flames, a threatening growl emerged from its snout as it spotted him.

Just as hid father had told him, Hadrian stood tall, his wand drawn and pointed at the enemy, ready to fling a curse at the winged bastard. He was annoyed, his plan had failed. As usual, his short-sightedness had cost him valuable time and magic, not that he could have easily foreseen that the dragon would simply spew a lake's worth of fire, oddly reminiscent of muggle napalm just in black, destroying nearly every single enchantment and transfiguration he had build up.

It was at that moment, that realised that the enchantments and the transfiguration of the heavy steel chains still drew magic from his core. With another flick of his wand, the summoned the chains from the sea of fire, which emerged from the flames behind the dragon, seemingly burning and dripping with molten rocks. Hesitating only a mere couple seconds, Hadrian remembered reading that the Hebridean Black was protected from its own fire and flame only in the areas its scales covered it, this naturally excluded its wings.

With a malicious grin, which he only managed to hide rather poorly, he summoned the burning chains into his general direction, making sure they would penetrate its wings was broadly and painfully as possible, before repeating the same with the other wing by banishing it back towards the dragon. After the last chain link had passed through the leathery wings of the dragon, Hadrian ordered the chain to wrap itself around the dragon's body, like a snake, and pulling it down into the burning sea.

This succeeded at first, the angry roars of the dragon, mixed with the agony and rage of begin maimed by the chain, accompanied it in finally breaking the enchantments of the chain and causing it to fall, separated into its links, which slowly turned back into rocks and boulders as the transfiguration began to wear off, into the burning sea bellow. Unable to take off now, due to the holes in its wings, the dragon angrily turned to Hadrian who, still, stood proudly on top of his boulder.

But he didn't give the beast time to spew its deadly flames against him, a whip-like movement with his wand and a, to Krum and his companions all to familiar spell, left the tip of the yew wood. A dark black lighting, shot with the force of a dozen natural ones, accompanied by a deafening thunder that made the dragons roars seem like sensual bedside whispers, was flung at the lizard, hitting its head, which was just as black.

The force of that spell caused the dragon to be thrown a couple dozen feet back, while a part of the spell had disintegrated a chunk of its snout and cheek, losing an eye and about half a dozen of the horns attached to its head, while also partly being caught by the protective scales of the beast. A third bit of the lightning, having ricocheted from the scales, was flung towards the protective barriers that surrounded the viewing areas, more specifically the part that housed the judges and teachers.

As soon as the spell, now far less powerful then as it had hit the dragon, connected with the barrier, the entire shield collapsed, managing to absorb the blast of the spell completely. The sudden screams and yelps of hundreds of students seemed to not only disorient the dragon but also draw its attention, turning its head towards the nearest podium, filled with sixth and seventh year Hogwarts students, leaving its damaged part of the head open to an attack from the Durmstrang Champion.

As the dragon was about to spew a wave of flame against the body of students, a purple bolt connected with its head, the surrounding neck and head scales having been torn off by the blast of the spell that had hit it before, causing the dragon to roar out in pain, missing the fire podiums and spitting its deadly fire high into the air.

The lizard turned its attention to the lone wizard that defiantly stood on the boulder a few dozen meters away. A nasty roar escaped its crippled snout, gurgling sounds of black blood dripping from its face, disintegrating the second it touched the black flames hissing angrily. Hadrian readied himself to throw another spell, yet the dragon, this time faster, didn't leave him an opportunity. Using its crippled wings, the dragon flung the black fire high into the air, creating a tidal wave half a dozen times higher than the tallest boulder in the arena.

Similar to a storm surge, the fire was drained from the floor of the arena, leaving the already quickly shrunken base of Hadrian's boulder open to the defiled molten wasteland that used to be the arena floor open. The last thing Hadrian saw before he was covered by the black fire, was the last remaining purple eye of the dragon.

He had no time to think, with an attempt to local Apparition, Hadrian raised his wand skyward, only to feel a strongly suppressing presence of a protective ward covering the school grounds, forcing him to remain rooted on the spot. He had mere seconds before the tidal wave would hit his boulder, consuming it and him with it, as if he was a small pebble in the rising waters of the ocean. In a last-ditch effort, Hadrian threw up the first protective ward that came to mind. Closing his eyes, he held his wand with both hands straight forward, just as if it was an umbrella used to protect him from a strong gust of wind, one foot behind the other, steadying himself for impact. The second Hadrian felt the fire connect with his shield, he felt an immense drain on his magic, the likes he had never felt before. The heat was unbearable, while the shield seemed to take the most of it, it still created a temperature quickly nearing the absolute limit of human tolerance. To add to that, the stone under Hadrian's feet grew exponentially hotter by the second. Feeling his skin prick and his blood boil, he was sure that only a couple seconds more of magic could be pumped into his shield before it would collapse and engulf him and flames. He was surely surprised that his very own protective ward managed to withstand dragon fire, even if it wasn't created to do so.
The time went on in slow motion, he felt like he had been holding the shield form minutes, while only actually being exposed to the dragon fire for a couple of seconds. Just as his spell failed, the fire had passed him, leaving him on a boiling rock, his soles on the brink of burning, with merely his reserves of energy and magic remaining. Hadrian didn't care about that though. The dragon still stood tall, with an almost human-like expression of surprise written on its face, only mere meters away from him. Hadrian hadn't noticed that he had gone down onto one of his knees, his teeth gritting at the pain of the burning hot rock being pressed against his leg. He slowly got up, standing slightly unsure on his legs, with a malicious and almost feral look in his eyes.

The arena ranks had gone quiet again, they had ever since the dragon had taken notice of them. Only a few screamed as the tidal wave of black flames had rushed towards them, they had been to transfixed by what was playing out in the pit before them. Few had even recognized that headmaster Dumbledore had summoned a large marble wall before them, protecting them from certain death. Surprised gasps, for the second time in only mere minutes, made rounds as Hadrian had emerged from the Dragon fire unharmed. Even Krum and the other remaining acolytes seemed greatly surprised, just as the headmasters. During the time of Grindelwald's conquest of Europe in the first wizarding war, an event like this would probably have served as propaganda of some kind, yet the kneeling wizard that had been Hadrian had most likely other things to worry about. Like the gigantic lizard, that currently got itself ready to spew another wave of fire at the young wizard, only meters away from him.

In a way that, if they would have heard it, would possibly remind some of the muggle-born children of a cheesy punchline from an American action film, Hadrian muttered "It'll take a lot more then that to make me kneel before you, dragon." moving his wand in a circular motion above his head before snapping the yew wand down in a whip-like fashion. For a couple of seconds nothing happened, the dragon drew his head back ready to spew, as suddenly the sea of dragon fire begun boiling and hissing. The second the beast opened its snout, a stream of black flames rushed passed Hadrian and, almost as if time went backwards, flew directly into the mouth of the dragon. Unable to close its mouth, the flames continued to rush into its body, destroying the dragon from the inside. The fire of life in the eyes of the dragon long since gone, as the last bit of black flames vanished into its mouth. At multiple points of its body, the liquid fire had begun to leak out, the hole in the head, caused by the young Durmstrang Champion, was one of such exits. The corpse of the dragon was burning up from the inside, not few of the scales had caught fire as well.

Using the last bit of magic in him, Hadrian levitated a chunk of the boulder he had stood on for the majority of the task towards the nest, grabbing the golden egg, leaving the dragon's eggs be.

The arena had remained utterly silent, even as the Durmstrang champion had arrived at the exit of the pit, discarding the piece of the boulder with a flick of his wand, before holstering the very same. He followed a perplexed school matron to the medical tent, leaving the crowd to stare in awe and some even in terror at the dragons remains.

Dumbledore removed his half-moon-spectacles, absent-mindedly polishing them, his gaze still fixated on the corpse of the dragon. 'This boy could be our only hope' was the only thought that ran through his mind.