Chapter 27: The Dragon's Egg
The champions' tent was a cramped chaos of tattered maps, charred wood, and the acrid scent of sulfur, the air heavy with the weight of impending danger. Leo stood with the Outcasts, his frayed robes snagging on a splintered table, his beast-speaking humming as he watched Harry, pale and fidgeting, absorb the news of the First Task: dragons. Dragons? That's a whole new level of insane. The tent's canvas flapped in the biting wind, grounding his curiosity as Hagrid's voice boomed, his tweed coat reeking of smoke and earth, his grin wide despite the stakes.
"Dragons! Fierce, noble beasts," Hagrid said, patting a map with a calloused hand. "You'll do grand, Harry, with a bit o' cunning."
"Dragons?" Harry gasped, his voice a stunned whisper, his hands trembling as he tugged at his scarf. "Actual fire-breathing, eat-you-for-breakfast dragons?"
Leo smirked, his sarcasm sharp but supportive. "Relax, Potter. Beasts are my thing. I've got this." Let's see if I can talk to a dragon. His confidence, tied to his tamer arc from the hippogriff scouting mission, steadied Harry.
Enid teased, her voice flirtatious, her scarf brushing Leo's arm. "Dragons? You'll charm them, beast-whisperer." Her warmth, tied to their Great Hall kiss, eased the tension, sparking a faint smile from Harry.
[DRAGONS DON'T ACT UP ALONE.]
A claw animation pulsed in Leo's vision, its edge sharp and ominous. He muttered, "Not alone? Of course not." Black Thorn's tampering again. The conspiracy, hinted at in the Goblet's sparks, loomed, tied to Orloff's exposure. A chipped map pin, its point bent, teetered on the table, grounding the moment as the champions prepared, their curiosity sparking resolve to strategize, their eyes on the dragon enclosure, the air alive with danger.
The dragon enclosure was a scorched wasteland, its earth blackened and cracked, the air thick with sulfur, roaring flames, and the metallic tang of dragon scales. Four massive beasts loomed in their nests, their eyes blazing with primal fury, their claws raking the ground. Leo stood with the Outcasts, his heart hammering as Harry faced a Hungarian Horntail, its tail lashing like a whip, its roar shaking the earth. This is madness. The crowd's cheers, muffled by wards, mixed with the acrid sting of smoke, grounding the tension. The dragon lunged, its movements erratic, a faint shimmer of wards on its scales catching Leo's eye. Enchanted. Black Thorn's doing. His beast-speaking surged, a warm thread connecting him to the beast, tied to his tamer skills from the hippogriff mission.
"Easy, friend," Leo whispered, his voice steady, his focus absolute. The dragon paused, its roar softening to a rumble, its eyes locking on Leo's, confusion flickering in their depths. His body ached, the strain of beast-speaking against such a creature draining, sweat beading on his brow.
[NICE SAVE, BUT SOMEONE'S SPIKING THE DRAGONS.]
A flame animation pulsed, urgent and bold. Leo muttered, "Spiking? Red Bull and dark magic, huh?" They're making these beasts feral.
Agnes conjured a tiny dragon illusion, its wings flapping wildly. "Tame that, hero!" Her playful tone, echoing her prank during the Slytherin retaliation, drew laughs, easing the tension as Harry dodged a blast of fire, his broom weaving through the chaos.
"You know, dragon taming's not on my resume yet," Leo quipped, his sarcasm a shield as he steadied the dragon, its claws stilling. Harry grabbed the golden egg, its surface glinting, but a blur of motion—a cloaked figure—snatched it in the fray, vanishing into the smoke. A chipped rock, scorched black, lay at Leo's feet, grounding the chaos as the crowd roared, Harry's escape a fleeting victory overshadowed by the theft.
The champions' tent was a tense huddle, the air heavy with musty parchment, Hagrid's hearth smoke, and the faint hum of residual magic. Leo's beast-speaking caught the dragons' lingering agitation, tied to the Black Thorn tampering from the Goblet's chaos. The egg's theft is no accident. The Outcasts pored over a charred enclosure map, their faces grim as Wednesday's eyes narrowed, her dagger glinting in the firelight, her voice a snarl.
"They're distracting us with the tournament," she said, her investigation arc, tied to her resolve during the Slytherin prank, burning bright. "The egg's theft is a cover for something bigger."
[BLACK THORN'S SPELLWORK. SLOPPY BUT DANGEROUS.]
A hex animation pulsed, confirming sabotage. Leo muttered, "Sloppy? Dangerous is the issue." We'll find that egg and their plan.
Lila quipped, her voice dry, "Enchanted dragons? Overkill, much?" Her redemption arc, tied to her spy work during Orloff's exposure, eased the tension, sparking a grin.
"Overkill's their style," Leo shot back, his sarcasm sharp. "But victory's ours."
Hermione's quill scratched, her voice resolute. "The dragons' wards match Black Thorn's from the forest camp. We'll trace the enchantment." Her strategist's mind, sharpened during the cure's triumph, mapped the next steps, her robes smudged with soot. Hagrid nodded, his voice warm.
"You lot'll sort it," he said, his faith, kindled at the rally, steady. A chipped quill rolled on the table, its feather singed, grounding their resolve as the group's unity, forged in the rally and hardened by the cure, burned bright, ready to thwart Black Thorn's plans at the Yule Ball.
[THEY'RE PLAYING DIRTY. STAY CLEAN, KID.]
Leo's grin was fierce, his voice light but eyes hard. "Dirty? We're spotless." Their resolve, a blade sharpened by the cure's triumph, urged them forward, the tent's smoke curling like a promise of victory as they prepared for the next challenge.
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