[POV of Talion Macnair. Yes, him]
Closed eyes. Deep breath.
Saying I was well prepared and didn't fear messing with dragons wasn't empty bravado. I did have solid tactics in mind to deal with any scenario. But it was still a dragon. A beast that commanded respect.
Outside of the enchanted tent I heard the muted cheers.
Carina was second right after Viktor Krum. She was currently completing her first task. It sounded like it was going well. I'd be up next.
Harry was last, but I did not care much about him. Not anymore. He was pacing somewhere in the back, Hermione and Luna had just sneaked him some intel. I declined Luna's help.
I didn't need that.
I needed to focus.
Earlier in the morning, I drew the Swedish Short-Snout. It was among the easiest to deal with from the options. The least aggressive. The least maternal because they grew up in ecosystems without natural predators for their eggs. Nobody dared to mess with their offspring because dragons outclassed every other magical creature up in the nordics in terms of size and might. Top of the footchain.
Dragons were beast royalty anywhere. And they ruled the magical forests of Sweden and Norway nearly unchallenged.
The other dragon races in the running today didn't have that luxury. They had to fight other dragons in their natural habitats. Other demi-dragon races. Other powerful creatures we only read about in Newt Scamander's books and would likely never see unless we sought them out.
Some unlucky dragon races even had to contend with dwarves who stole their caves in mainland Europe.
And in particular, the Chinese Fireball Krum drew for the first match-up had an especially explosive temper. In mainland Asia, the Fireballs had to carve out their territories by fighting Qilin, Zouwu, and other 'auspicious' beasts who commanded enough magical prowess to stand among dragons in power.
So yeah, I got a lucky draw in that regard. Swedish Short-Snouts were almost docile kittens compared to Chinese Fireballs.
My need for focus wasn't because I feared my scaly obstacle. Sure, there was a non-zero chance I'd die because of a stupid chance event, but I didn't really mind. No, I focused because I wanted to absolutely dominate my competition.
I wanted to finish this task so effortlessly that all the judges would look like pouting, immature children if they gave me anything less than full points. A perfect score. Or the closest thing to it since Igor Karkaroff had thick enough skin to make up a reason and live as a pouting child mocked by all.
That was the standard I wanted to set.
A more threatening dragon would have made that easier, but I had a plan to deal with that. A plan that needed focus.
*BOOM!*
A cannon shot got me out of my musings. A ministry worker ushered me to the tent flap.
"And now, champion #3! Talion Macnair is set to deal with a Swedish Short-Snout! These dragons are particularly large. This blue specimen we're seeing weighs almost three times more than the Chinese mother dragon we saw during the first gambit!"
I overlooked the arena with a calm gaze.
The audience ooh'd and ahh'd as the dragon got protective of its recently moved roost. A clutch of eggs was at her hindlegs. One stood out because it was golden. In my special Eagle Vision and in reality.
"As before, the contestant is asked to retrieve the special golden egg! By what magical means is entirely up to the contestant! Will he maul the dragon with vicious dark curses in open confrontation like Viktor Krum? Will he outsmart the majestic beast with illusory decoys like Carina Black? We'll see!"
The tournament officials had dressed me in protective battle robes. I was told it was a safety measure to ensure I was properly guarded. To make sure the casualties remained low.
I shrugged the leather off, letting it pool at my feet.
It was an enchanted item and I couldn't be sure it was tempered with.
The audience once more exclaimed and cheered. My torso was bare. My muscles lined in dense forest-green runes.
I lifted my wand before me and took a step forward.
Silently, the rocks beneath my feet shifted.
"Macnair seems to be using some sort of transfiguration to influence the arena. The sheer range he shows is amazing for a wizard his age!"
"And it's still growing! Wow!"
"I didn't see his lips move, he did all of that silently? What an achievement!"
The ground beneath me formed a hill. A hill that was slowly rolling, carrying me forward. I now stood above the dragon still on the other side of the arena. It was watching me with guarded eyes. It barely regarded the rocks below me.
That would change.
"Ah! Macnair's specialty! What a treat! We all get to see his runic magic!"
"I did not take Ancient Runes during my school years, do you know the symbols lighting up on his shoulder blades?"
"Hmm, I see three runes of Perthro! And the other two seem to be Ansuz and Berkano?"
"And what do they mean?"
The rocks and earth beneath my feet began to crack. The light on my shoulders, those illuminated runes, intensified. Slowly, the ground began to condense and chip away following an unknown pattern by means unseen.
"I got no clue, but I guess we are about to find out! Still, we should get Professor Babbling for an analysis after the match!"
"It should be another, more intense transfiguration! Look, the rocks are shifting again!"
I crouched down, placing my free hand on the protruding rock. Releasing a breath, I concentrated on the changes I was bringing to the world.
Something so otherworldly enormous in scope and ambition that the full score would be mine.
"I-is that a dragon!?"
"Oh my god! Macnair brought a dragon to life from rock!"
With a final, emerald glow, the ground beneath my feet fully transformed. In place of loose earth and jagged rocks now stood a Swedish Short-Snout with grey-brown scales. Its breath and power were no less intimidating than the dragon before me.
*ROOOOOOOAAAAAAAR!*
I willed the beast to let out a guttural cry echoing through the arena. Immediately, the short-snout that was my opponent shrank. But the defensive reaction was short-lived. Dragons were prideful. It would take more than one battlecry to make her back down.
But a full on battle that would leave behind a bleeding beast would not bring a full score. I wouldn't give them a full score when a champion would need to maul a helpless beast that was only protecting its clutch.
My transformed dragon took a step forward. Its weight, the sheer density of the stones I transfigured, made ground shake. Even the enchanted stands housing the audience trembled. The spell's wings spread wide in a show of domination. It moved on its hindlegs, towering above the female dragon on the other side of the arena.
Now the Swedish Short-Snout wasn't even looking at me anymore. Her focus was entirely on the beast I created out of nothing but magic and dirt. It was too lifelike. Too overpowering in aura and breath.
"More runes are lighting up! Look!"
Two runes on my stomach began to glow. Hagalaz for fire and destruction and Ehwaz for entry and earth.
"By Merlin's robes! His monster is dripping magma!"
Fire breath? Certainly a show of power. But fire was fleeting. If it didn't catch, the heat was gone when the breath stopped.
But magma breath? That had weight. One coating and you'd have to cool it off while encased in it. Slower but much more destructive. Dragons were smart enough to understand the difference.
"Will he make those dragons fight? That would be a spectacle, surely!"
"But can he make sure the remaining eggs survive a battle between those two titans?"
"True. If the entire clutch is destroyed and only the golden egg retrieved, the judges will deduct points. We've seen it with Krum."
I allowed myself to fall backward. I changed into my raven form as I was behind my creation.
"That's right! Macnair is also an animagus!"
"Is his dragon just a distraction? He's circling wide as a raven now!"
"It could be, the mother dragon is still screeching at the magical creation! No attention is paid to the little black bird!"
I swooped down behind my opponent, changing back into human form. I was hidden from view behind a boulder. And I drowned out everything else. My vision was drowned in black and grey. I had one singular objective and I needed no distraction. With a wave of my wand, I vanished from view. This time even for the audience.
"He's gone!"
"What an overpowering invisibility charm! I cannot even see his outline! And still silently cast!"
"What's his next action? His dragon is still not moving. It's only prowling around. Will the attention of the mother dragon remain on the transfigured beast?"
My dragon spell suddenly spewed magma in a show of power. The audience and commentators gasped as the red-hot earth filled the space between the jagged boulders, filling up the space in front of our opponent.
I waved my hand again, unseen by everyone.
"Look, the clutch below the mother! It's sinking into the ground!"
With the cry of the commentators – as if she was smart enough to understand the human language – my opponent looked down between her legs. Her eggs were gone. The mother dragon only saw the last of its shells before the earth swallowed them up.
The creature let out a mournful cry and immediately after she breathed a vast and smouldering flame into the air. Her head snapped to my transfiguration, but her full attention was no longer on it. After all, it only postured around and the eggs were still gone.
Suddenly, her leg twitched. My hand was on her scales. The very first instinct of the beast was to snap her head around and bite whatever was there. But before she could do any of that, a massive wave of drowsiness overcame the beast.
A strangled, pitiful cry escaped her throat with a small stutter of embers. And then she collapsed.
"Macnair put a grown dragon to sleep!? How is that possible?!"
The gasps of the people cheering for me rose an octave. The voice of the commentator dripped in open disbelief.
"This might be one for the history books, folk! Someone get Newt Scamander here as soon as possible! Any and all reputable dragon wranglers, really!"
"Look, there he is again! Still bare-chested! He's touching the mother dragon's body and slowly moving around it toward its head!"
"Is the continued touch needed to make the spell hold? That's certainly a steep price, but still not something I have ever heard of!"
I circled to the beast's head, gently stepping over her meaty wings while my free hand remained on its scales. On my wrist, a rune was glowing. Slowly, the dragon I transfigured before to draw attention lost its liveliness. The runes on my back were flaking off as I released the magic. No burn remained because I was prepared well enough. The skin beneath the ink was rosy pink, clearly healthy. A scar would not give me full points.
Standing at her head, I used up a lot of my upper body strength to lift her giant maw with one hand, wrenching it open. Before the dragon handlers could stop me, before the judges could intervene, I dumped a potion vial into the fanged hole before letting it fall shut again. Ignoring any outcry, I gently placed my wand between its eyes and cast two spells in quick succession. Spells so powerful they made my wand heat up uncomfortably so. I didn't let it show on my face.
Noticing that the spells held, the rune on my wrist powered down as well, falling into the wind and leaving behind more unblemished skin.
"Now what has he done to the beast? I see the dragon handlers from Romania looking quite peeved! In fact, many of them tried to enter just now to stop Talion!"
My wand lifted to my throat.
My voice boomed across the arena and the audience as the clutch of dragons emerged from the earth, entirely unharmed.
"No need to worry! That was merely a very powerful Calming Drought in the needed dosage for a dragon this size that I bought from Borough's Gold. Thanks to my spells, she will wake up tomorrow. Well rested and entirely oblivious to the atrocious trauma that was inflicted upon her by placing her in the position of having to defend her eggs from me."
I walked over to the clutch, picked up the golden egg, and further explained, "The transfiguration was a distraction. The invisibility was a way to close the gap before her senses picked up on the intruder. I made the earth swallow the clutch with a charm I picked up in Professor Flitwick's survival club. Usually it is used to make the earth swallow your traces, like poop and other waste. I modified it to make sure the eggs remained unharmed. After all, my last spell was a powerful curse that snapped its consciousness shut."
I turned back to regard the sleeping dragon. "Obviously I don't have a dragon at home to test such a spell. So I had no idea how successful the curse would be. What if the poor mother would use the last of its waking strength to turn around, trampling her own eggs in lacking coordination?"
The curse was something I picked up from the Black library. Nobody was stupid enough to try it in reality, because nobody could just casually touch a dragon. It was much safer to deal with them by other means. And another reason for it being a forgotten spell nobody dared to use was that it also left dragons completely livid once they woke up.
So I splurged on that stupid expensive calming drought, Bernice had needed fifty-seven sets of ingredients before she succeeded, and learned a mind spell to soothe dreams. Dragon dreams in particular. Nobody was bored enough to create such spells anymore.
But the Black library had them anyway. An early Black ancestor derived many nightmare curses from the original spell.
The judges would find no way to deduct any points from me. I left them no avenue to chide me, realistically. The Swedish Short-Snout would wake up as if nothing happened. As if it never met me or that monstrosity I transfigured that dwarfed even her.
"What a tremendous showing! I have no notes! No champion before Lord Gamp has shown such poise! Such overwhelmingly thorough preparedness! At no point was anything out of his control! Out of his calculations!"
The crowd began to cheer for me as I waved my wand. The battle robes with my shirt glided back into my hands. I put the shirt back on with a charm and bowed for the people wildly clapping. Weirdly enough, a few girls began to jeer and boo when I got dressed again.
I looked at them with a lifted brow and a few of them began to catcall me.
Ugh, witches. Hopefully they at least picked up my small advertisement and would order potions from my thriving city's mail order business. A few weeks before I came back from Stati Magia and the last dueling tournament in Brazil, Bernice Derrick, one of the witches rescued from forced prostitution by Patrick, received her potion mistress accreditation. She was now allowed to sell potions to people all over the globe.
We offered her services the same we offered everything else produced or grown in Goldsborough, the town I now owned entirely: owl mail order.
With my help, we began enchanting curiosities, knick-knacks and other useful tools like spyglasses with adjustable magnification. My runic schematics were in a class of their own thanks to the knowledge I gained from Heimdall. To feel useful, almost everyone picked up a craft or labored without me needing to say so.
We sold herbs, now even potions.
The seamstresses learned to make comfortable and modern lingerie. A huge hit with witches everywhere. Borough's Gold was the new standard in that market.
Because of one of the male rescuees, we even sold books. His short stories sold really well after we added a few free copies along with the first orders that were placed. They gained so much popularity that the first full book he wrote sold quite well.
Now, we were currently buying up the entire market in Magical Britain and several other European magical countries to shore up the key ingredient for what would surely become my biggest money maker: the finished magical phone that the two founders perfected during my stay at Stati Magia.
The reach was global, universal even, according to Lady Ravenclaw. The calls secure enough so that not even I could intercept them. Only the massive computational and magical power of the Forge, an Isu artifact powerful enough to house the consciousness of two of the most acclaimed and powerful witches ever, could do so. And only for as long as the leyline Hogwarts sat on remained.
I did the arithmancy twice to make sure the two founders weren't fooling me. Without revealing what it was, I had Penelope Clearwater doublecheck the magical math in parts. Neither of us found a loophole.
Thankfully I didn't have many classes and could sit out even more of them thanks to my status as a Triwizard champion. Not that I was distrustful when it concerned the two witches. But they themselves advised me to check, so I did.
I walked over to the balcony the judges resided on. The two headmasters and the French headmistress looked bewildered and uncertain. Hagrid in the far back clapped so enthusiastically that it sounded like two massive wooden mallets were hammering each other in a sugar rush. The half-giant was beaming, likely because I didn't scar even a single scale on my opponent. The man really had a big heart for his misunderstood 'critters'.
"Well… that was certainly some performance, my boy," Dumbledore doubtfully praised as his hand was brushing his long beard.
"Magnifique! How do you say… gracefully effortless, mon ami," Madame Maxime praised with a helpless grin that looked a little forced. She was likely thinking of ways to deduct points to make sure Carina would win in the end, but she couldn't think of anything.
"These beasts can take a beating. You could have done it quicker and more efficiently if you put your mind to it. Very wasteful to spend so much magic on that transfiguration. By the power it showed, it could have simply knocked the mother dragon down."
"I object! He outlined his reasons! He didn' wanna harm that poor wee mommy dragon!" Hagrid shouted as his clapping abruptly stopped to scold the Durmstrang headmaster. But the massive man who could fold the Bulgarian asshole like a napkin shrank when all the judges turned back to look at him.
With reddened cheeks, Hagrid began to whistle some tune completely off-key, hoping his gigantic frame could vanish into the shadows.
"In any case. The boy even had enough potion to knock out a dragon in his pockets. I suggest the impartial judges check whether or not Dumbledore told him about the task at hand," Karkaroff loudly scoffed as he turned forward.
"I would gladly swear yet another oath that promises that I have in no way helped or otherwise instructed young Talion in the contents of the tournament or how to face them," Dumbledore accepted with a small chuckle that made Karkaroff look even more like a sore loser.
And why would my headmaster help me? I still believed he would gladly accept my untimely death in one of these tasks. Otherwise I'd keep the battlerobes from today as a memento instead of tricking Malfoy into stealing them later. If it was cursed to kill or maim me somehow, let the little cur deal with it.
"Have you sworn yet that you have not instructed somebody else to do it for you?" Karkaroff off-handedly accused with a sour expression that had the other two school heads shaking their heads. One was deeply offended, the other still amused.
They had all sworn the same oaths with the same loopholes that would ensure they could thoroughly prepare their charges.
"I give full points. Masterfully done, Talion," Dumbledore finally announced.
"Oui, full points," Madame Maxime agreed, though with a bit of reluctance bleeding into her voice as she politely clapped again.
Next was Moody, the real one, who grunted, "Aye, full marks, lad. Perfect understanding of the creature, your spells, your surroundings, and your objective. Good job."
I gave the last two a polite nod before only Karkaroff remained.
"Six points. Too many wasteful spells for my liking. Could have done it in half the time with the spellcraft you expended if you just had the balls."
"I'd like to see you try sometime," I accepted with barely hidden disdain and walked away with the robe in one hand and the golden egg that was my prize clutched with the other.
Karkaroff cursed me under his breath but I didn't care about that at all.