The Hogwarts students were going absolutely wild, waving their house banners and screaming the trio's names at the top of their lungs.
With that, the Hogwarts champions had officially cleared the first task.
"Let's hear it one more time for the Hogwarts champions!" Ludo Bagman's voice boomed with excitement. "They pulled off the impossible in a way nobody saw coming, handling both the dragons and the leopard with sheer brilliance! Today's showdown really drove it home: never, ever underestimate a seemingly ordinary magical plant. Even a humble cabbage, used the right way, can be the key to taking down a monster!"
He paused, raising a hand to quiet the roaring crowd. "That's the end of the show for now. Next up, the judges will score the Hogwarts champs based on strategy, teamwork, and how they handled the risks!"
But before the scoring could even start, the judges' table erupted into argument.
Professor Karkaroff from Durmstrang was the first to scowl, his tone dripping with doubt. "I object! Does that even count as their own skill? From start to finish, they leaned on magical plants—vines, thorns, Snappy Cabbages. Hardly any real combat magic!"
Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons fired back instantly. "Professor Karkaroff, the rules never banned magical plants. By your logic, the Summoning Charm should be illegal too—it's borrowing outside help. Does strength only count if you slug it out face-to-face? Using what's around you is part of magical skill."
She leaned forward, eyes sharp. "And how many times have you protested this tournament? Every round you cry 'not real strength' and demand deductions. If you're so hung up on the rules, let's compile all your complaints and rescore every champion from scratch. Fair's fair, right?"
Karkaroff's face darkened as he glanced at the others.
He'd only meant to drag Hogwarts down and lift Durmstrang up, but now he'd opened the door to a full redo!
If they actually rescored everyone, Durmstrang's already-low marks (thanks to their ruined golden egg) would be stuck in the mud.
Just as the judges' table deadlocked, Barty Crouch Sr. cut in, his voice calm but firm, silencing the bickering. "Headmasters, let's not forget: the Triwizard Tournament is a joint effort by the three schools. The Ministry only handles the venue and safety. We don't touch scoring rules."
He let that sink in, eyes sweeping the table. "Rescoring is a big ask. It's not just about school pride—it's about fairness to every champion. Change the process without rock-solid cause, and you'll spark more trouble."
Beside him, Ludo Bagman quietly lowered his wand and let out a long breath.
He was sick of the arguing. In his book, why waste time nitpicking when Dylan was up next?
The final champion faced the nastiest dragon combo yet, and Ludo couldn't wait to see what wild trick the kid had up his sleeve.
No sooner had Crouch finished than Dumbledore spoke up, all twinkling eyes and easy confidence. "Since the Ministry stays out of scoring details, we'll settle it by school consensus. Right now, two headmasters want a rescore, one doesn't. Majority rules—so, Igor, shall we do a full rescore? Keeps things fair and shuts down future gripes."
Karkaroff's cheek twitched like he'd bitten a lemon.
Pushing back now would just make him look petty.
He opened his mouth, the comeback dying in his throat, and finally muttered a barely audible, "Fine."
He'd been boxed into the rescore whether he liked it or not.
"Brilliant! Judges are in agreement—let's score!" Ludo jumped in, voice booming before anyone could change their minds. "Headmasters, wands up—send out your ribbon scores for the whole crowd to see!"
Harry, Cedric, and Draco had already stepped up near the judges' platform.
Harry's back wound was patched up—no more bleeding, no splitting open.
The three of them craned their necks, dying to see their scores.
Madame Maxime went first. A flick of her wand sent a pale-pink ribbon swirling into the air, twisting into a crisp 9.
The stands exploded—especially the Beauxbatons section.
She clearly loved what Hogwarts had pulled off.
Karkaroff's turn. Still scowling, he raised his wand like it weighed a ton.
A gloomy gray ribbon drifted out, hesitated, then grudgingly formed a 4.
The cheers died down fast. Jaws dropped.
"Four…?" Harry muttered, staring at the number. "We finished the whole task, and the other judges loved it. Is he serious?"
Draco smirked, scanning the crowd's mixed reaction and the judges' faces.
Maxime was frowning.
He got it immediately and let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Wow. Real fair."
He glanced at Harry and Cedric. "Bet he's 'strict' with everyone… except Durmstrang. The rest of us? Special treatment."
Ludo and Dumbledore went next—bright orange and silver ribbons both forming 9s.
Hogwarts' final score put them in the lead—for now.
Cedric broke into a grin. "Hey, most of the judges gave us high marks. That means the majority saw how solid we were."
"We earned it," Draco said, chin high and proud.
He'd helped design the plan, after all.
Harry glanced at the tunnel where Dylan would enter. "Let's clear out—don't mess with his focus. He's up next."
Cedric and Draco nodded. The three stepped back, eyes locked on the entrance.
Everyone was buzzing for the final champion.
---
Once Harry, Cedric, and Draco left the arena, the crew swept the field clean.
When the two massive dragons were led back in, the circular stands went dead silent—then erupted.
People leapt to their feet, staring at the walking natural disasters. Some even scooted back in their seats.
One was a Hungarian Horntail—breath hot enough to melt stone, wings that could whip up a gale, claws that shredded boulders like paper.
The other? A Norwegian Ridgeback, even meaner today.
The Horntail lifted its head slowly, scanning the arena, then flicked its tail.
The bronze spikes on the end scraped the ground, sparking bright orange and gouging a shallow line in solid rock.
Just that tiny move screamed: those spikes could punch through steel.
The Ridgeback was worse—pacing, roaring loud enough to rattle teeth, fangs glinting, tail cracking the ground like a whip. Each slam left deep gashes, dust and pebbles flying everywhere.
Seeing the raw destruction—and remembering that even teams from the other schools had failed against two dragons—made the crowd swallow hard for Dylan.
One kid against these monsters? No way.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Ludo's voice echoed via Sonorus, dragging out the tension. "Give it up for our final champion!" He bellowed the name: "From Hogwarts Gryffindor—Dylan Hawkwood!"
Every eye snapped to the far entrance.
Dylan stepped out in standard black Hogwarts robes, walking steady and sure toward the dragons.
No fear. No nerves. Just that usual easy smile—like he was strolling up to pet a couple of kneazles, not face death incarnate.
Hogwarts exploded first—clapping, stomping, the whole place shaking.
Ravenclaws especially lost it, waving "GO DYLAN" signs and screaming like they'd never screamed before.
But to the Ridgeback, the cheers were a taunt.
Already raging, it snapped.
It knew this human was here to steal its egg.
The second Dylan appeared, it lunged—jaws wide, a blazing orange jet of fire roaring straight at him, a solid wall of flame swallowing the ground in front of him.
"Oh, Merlin's beard!" Ludo yelped. "The Ridgeback's ambushing him before he's even ready! This is bad!"
He barely finished the sentence when—
A massive boulder, big as two grown wizards, popped into existence mid-air like a shield, planting itself square in front of Dylan.
BOOM!
The dragonfire slammed into the rock, flames wrapping it in smoke and heat.
The boulder didn't budge. It took the full blast.
Before anyone could blink, the boulder moved—rocketing toward the Ridgeback like a battering ram.
The dragon raised a claw to block—
CRACK!
The boulder shattered on impact, shards exploding everywhere.
"Unbelievable!" Ludo roared. "That's transfiguration! Dylan Hawkwood turned defense into offense in seconds! How fast is this kid? That precision—sweet Merlin, I think he's better than me!"
He wasn't done talking when the broken rocks froze mid-air, hovering like they were glued in place.
Ludo gulped.
Then the shards moved—zipping, clashing, fusing.
In a heartbeat, they formed a dozen jagged rock spears, each thick as an arm, tips glinting like steel, and hurled themselves at the Ridgeback.
The dragon twisted, tail whipping like a flail—BAM BAM BAM—most spears shattered on impact.
But a few slipped through.
THUNK THUNK.
They punched into the softer scales on its underbelly, carving deep gashes. Blood welled up, staining the scales red.
"ROOAAAR!"
The Ridgeback staggered back, howling in pain and fury, glaring at Dylan like it couldn't believe this human had actually hurt it.
Ludo opened his mouth… and closed it. He had no words.
From the fire breath to the shield to the counterattack—it all happened in seconds. Too fast to process.
One minute he was worried for Dylan. The next? The dragon was bleeding.
Maybe it was time to worry for the dragon.
The judges were just as stunned.
Karkaroff pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and muttering, "This is exactly what I was afraid of… How does Hogwarts have a kid this strong? That's not normal fourth-year level!"
Madame Maxime's brows were knotted tight. She stared at calm, collected Dylan and thought: I thought I had him figured out. Clearly, I missed a few chapters.
The crowd? They didn't overthink it.
They saw a scrawny human make a fire-breathing monster bleed with magic.
That was enough.
The stands detonated—louder than ever—people jumping, screaming, waving arms like lunatics.
The arena's energy hit a whole new high.