The omnipresent elements did not carry the duel between Hermione and Fleur to his ears.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts deserved the fiercest dragon, so the dragon handlers directly selected the most ferocious of the fire-breathing breeds—the Hungarian Horntail—as Harry's opponent. But for Harry, he was only considering how to defeat this dragon.
Killing it outright was definitely out of the question. Every dragon was a precious asset, the darling of the dragon sanctuary. Slaying one rashly would be a completely unnecessary loss—after all, the sanctuary had gone to great trouble sending eighteen dragons for the competition.
So...
Harry couldn't see the people above, but he knew the audience was focused on his every move.
The Hungarian Horntail seemed to sense some threat from Harry. It bared its teeth and roared at him. Honestly, this dragon covered in spikes from head to tail looked a bit like an oversized lizard. In Harry's eyes, it paled in comparison to his old Ragehorn, let alone the current one.
He raised his right hand. No fancy incantations, no swirling elements—just a tightly clenched fist.
Those with keen senses suddenly felt their eardrums vibrating. More precisely, their entire skulls were trembling, buzzing. But most people could see the scattered fragments of stone—large and small, left uncleaned from previous battles—in the center of the arena rapidly shaking.
"What's happening?!"
Someone couldn't help but stand up from their seat and shout.
"An earthquake?!!"
It wasn't just the arena floor vibrating; the entire coliseum structure was shaking, from the corridors to the walls, making many people anxious enough to want to bolt out immediately.
But soon, they no longer had to worry about that.
The earth twisted and compressed. The entire arena seemed squeezed by countless hands from all directions toward the center. Soil and rock surged upward toward the Hungarian Horntail as the target. In the blink of an eye, it formed a towering peak, hoisting the dragon skyward—BOOM!!!
A volcano erupted.
That was the only thought in the minds of everyone witnessing the scene.
The arena—face it, this was happening in the real world right now—a volcano had emerged from the ground, and it was erupting, with the Hungarian Horntail at its pinnacle.
Even the fiercest dragon couldn't contend with the might of nature.
The spectators in the stands seemed to have lost their voices, even forgetting to breathe. They just stared dumbly at it all, whether wizard or Muggle.
Was this truly power a single person could achieve?
It wasn't until an earth elemental—having protected the nest of dragon eggs amid the volcano's fury and delivered them to Harry—handed the golden egg to him that the stands finally erupted in gasps.
Harry's task was complete.
"Simply—unbelievable!!!!"
"Headmaster Potter actually summoned a volcano!! Merlin's pants! The Hungarian Horntail was like a toy in front of that mountain!!" Ludo Bagman was roaring himself hoarse, nearly breaking his voice. "I never imagined I'd see something like this—a dragon scorched by a volcano! —Sorry! I mean, a dragon getting burned by a volcano is normal— What am I even saying?!!"
"I must immediately explain to our Muggle friends: even among wizards—nay, 99.9% of wizards—cannot wield magic this powerful! This is a miracle only Headmaster Potter can perform! Heavens! I owe Headmaster Potter an apology. I once doubted whether you were fit to be Hogwarts Headmaster, but now I don't— Sorry! And— full marks!! This absolutely deserves full marks!!!"
Ludo was bellowing from the commentary box. He didn't turn around, so he missed the dark scowl on his boss Scrimgeour's face in the judges' seats.
Still wary of Muggles and unwilling to abandon the idea of intimidating them with force, Scrimgeour was particularly displeased with Ludo Bagman's commentary right now—why tell these Muggles that not all wizards could summon volcanoes to attack enemies like Harry?
Why say such a thing?
Scrimgeour withdrew his gaze and looked at the Muggle government officials beside him, satisfied to see they still wore expressions of stunned disbelief.
"H-Humphrey?" As if jolted awake from a dream, Hacker abruptly twisted his head toward his Cabinet Secretary, hands gesturing wildly, mouth babbling incoherently.
But Humphrey understood.
He shook his head gravely.
As the true ruling class of Muggle nations, every leader present was thinking the same thing—how to counter this wizard magic.
Like nuclear weapons.
No one could imagine the consequences if a wizard appeared in a critical area of their capital—be it the White House or Downing Street—and unleashed a volcano-summoning spell.
It was far more convenient than nukes, at least, since nuclear weapons couldn't teleport to their target and detonate in the next second—but wizards could.
Without controversy, the five judges quickly awarded full tens. Karkaroff was speechless, urgently reflecting on his recent attitude toward Harry and sadly realizing he might have already courted death.
Thank goodness Headmaster Potter wasn't like the Dark Lord; otherwise, he'd probably be dead without knowing how, his body reduced to ash.
Headmaster Potter was like Dumbledore. How fortunate.
With that thought, Karkaroff hastily flashed Dumbledore a fawning smile.
Unlike the other champions, Harry couldn't simply leave after defeating the dragon and let other wizards and handlers deal with the arena. He had to dispose of the volcano he'd summoned.
It wasn't essentially a complex spell—just condensing earth and fire elements. The difficulty lay perhaps only in condensing such vast quantities.
At least to other shaman priests, everything Harry did was indistinguishable from myth. They couldn't fathom how to achieve it.
"How big is this arena—the competition field, exactly?" Périer suddenly asked, gazing at Harry below as he smoothed the erupted volcano back flat. "I know wizards have space-expansion magic. How much did you enlarge this field?"
"About fifteen hundred square meters, I think?" Scrimgeour pondered. "We didn't calculate precisely. To give the champions the widest possible arena and complex terrain, the staff applying the Undetectable Extension Charm expanded it as much as possible while keeping the spell stable."
"So Headmaster Potter effortlessly destroyed an area roughly the size of two football fields," Périer murmured.
"Oh, no need to worry about that," Scrimgeour said casually. "Trust in Headmaster Potter's control. This is just a competition; he wouldn't let the audience come to harm... right, Dumbledore?"
"...Yes," Dumbledore said leisurely after a pause. "As far as I know, Harry is beloved by the elements. This little volcano is far from his full power."
Dumbledore chose to back Scrimgeour—after all, they were both wizards.
Périer nodded and said no more. Silence fell over the judges' box; a few lost interest in watching the rest.
The subsequent professor champions, even unleashing all manner of novel magics beyond students' grasp, couldn't snap the Muggle officials out of their distraction.
Frankly, compared to Harry's tsunami-like overwhelming display, the professors' matches felt... a bit dull.
Not that they lacked power, but after Harry's as a benchmark, their dragon defeats seemed almost playful.
Durmstrang's Transfiguration professor was pretty brutal—he transfigured rock into a stone golem nearly as tall as the dragon, then controlled it for a claw-to-fist brawl with the beast. That earned cheers from the crowd; at least it was thrilling.
Michael Weber ultimately scored 44—a high mark, though normally his performance deserved more. But Harry's match had just ended; judges and audience alike struggled to award decent highs. Even the crowd had no objections.
Beauxbatons' Alchemy professor won extremely easily—at least it looked that way. He simply waved his wand and smashed a few bottles beside the dragon, and it collapsed limply.
He defeated it, but it lacked spectacle, so he got only 39. Both Muggle primes gave low scores, and the audience agreed... except Beauxbatons students.
Professor Jacques' dismal fate instantly made the remaining champions realize a key scoring criterion in this Triwizard Tournament: it had to be spectacular, beautiful. Merely completing the task wouldn't earn high marks.
Thus, in the following matches, nearly every champion unleashed their full instincts and imagination... to add special effects to their fights.
The more magic, the better; the more gorgeous the dragon defeat, the better; the grander the scene, the better.
Durmstrang's Dark Arts professor, Anna Thomas, even used dark magic outright. The dragon's entire body was cloaked in black shadow; it wailed in agony as its flesh visibly withered, growing gaunt until it collapsed limply.
Not dead, but honestly not far off. The moment her victory was announced, the dragon handlers rushing in to save it nearly came to blows with her. Aurors intervened immediately, but the handlers' faces remained sour.
Yet, compared to conventional magic, the sole Dark Arts professor's match was eye-catching.
Especially when the dragon—now skeletal—was levitated away by multiple wizards' Mobilicorpus charms. The audience remembered how robust that Australian Opaleye had been upon entry.
Draining life was somewhat horrifying.
The only pity was dark magic's prevalence only in Durmstrang, so Anna got just 42.
Professor Flitwick's match was entertaining too. Against a massive magical creature like a dragon, he skipped ordinary wizard spells, using charms he and Harry had developed to drive elements.
Countless hailstones condensed in the sky like meteors, smashing down one after another. In that moment, Flitwick was like a legendary cryomancer. The poor dragon barely ran a few steps before accumulating ice elements froze its limbs, then encased the whole beast.
45 points—Flitwick deserved it.
Every professor selected as champion had their strengths; no Gilderoy Lockharts here. Some just lacked flair due to their specialties.
Henry Albert, Beauxbatons' Care of Magical Creatures professor, somehow dispelled the dragon's hostility. He even rode its neck, having his new "friend" fly him around the arena a couple times.
The crowd loved it—dragon riders have appeal—so Henry earned plenty of cheers. Many wished they could take his place.
He got 44.
Even the same spell varied by wizard's understanding and mastery. Professor McGonagall didn't transfigure a giant stone man to slug it out like Michael.
As they say, competition is fiercest among peers. McGonagall took Transfiguration another route: countless thick vines lashed toward the dragon. Flames it breathed couldn't ignite the vines gleaming with metallic sheen.
"...Oh, according to my notes, Professor McGonagall is using an extremely advanced transfiguration technique called Substitution Transfiguration," Ludo read dutifully from Dumbledore's explanation.