The crowd surged like waves, as Augustus stood amidst the arena, clad in a black robe. The sunlight illuminated his figure, casting him as if he were on the grand stage of an ancient Roman coliseum.
"What am I witnessing?!" exclaimed Bagman, his doll-like face frozen in astonishment. "A wizard, wielding only a massive sword, completely suppressing a Hungarian Horntail? What is this madness?"
The dragon soared into the sky, its golden eyes glinting coldly. Hovering momentarily mid-air, its mighty presence filled the arena with an oppressive aura. The next moment, its massive body roared down toward Augustus like a tempest, driven by a single thought: to crush this insignificant insect.
The audience collectively gasped. The Hungarian Horntail, known to be the most aggressive of the four dragons, was now unleashing its full fury, revealing the true terror and majesty of its kind.
The air cracked under the pressure. The sheer force caused many spectators to squint, as if they were beholding a vivid, living oil painting: the vast arena, a lone figure in a black robe wielding a dark flaming sword, and above him, the colossal dragon blotting out the sun like an unstoppable war machine.
Fleur covered her mouth in shock. Against a fully enraged Hungarian Horntail, even her esteemed mentor would likely choose to retreat. But here was a wizard, forsaking his wand, standing defiant with only a sword. What kind of madness was this?
The black robe billowed as Augustus stood firm, his composed face unchanging. In his pupils, the dragon loomed larger, its enormous body filling the sky. In an instant, the dragon's wings swept down like a thunderous strike, aiming to crush him as if swatting a fly.
With a calm motion, Augustus raised his black flaming sword, meeting the descending wing. Time seemed to freeze: a lone wizard, a monstrous dragon, and a single sword locked in collision. Dumbledore, seated among the judges, rose abruptly, his expression grave as he gripped his wand.
In the next moment, a torrent of explosive force erupted where the sword and wing met. The arena trembled as the earth beneath them shattered. Dust and rubble flew in all directions, only to be blocked by a pale white protective barrier.
The dragon's wing bent grotesquely, twisted at an unnatural angle. The Horntail let out a guttural, anguished roar, retreating to the far side of the arena.
Augustus stood unmoved, not having taken a single step back, as if the monumental clash was nothing more than a warm-up.
A faint smile curved his lips. The warm sunlight gleamed on his dark robe as he rested the massive sword on his shoulder. Suddenly, he began to hum a strange, lilting tune. The melody was haunting, sung in an unfamiliar language. Though the words were incomprehensible, the audience felt as if the song carried a profound, almost sacred power. Listening to it felt akin to a prayer.
Humming the peculiar song, Augustus strode leisurely toward the retreating dragon.
The dragon roared in terror, as if sensing that the figure approaching it was no mere human but a demon cloaked in mortal flesh.
Bagman sighed audibly. "I just realized that my forty years of life have been utterly wasted."
The arena echoed with the low, foreign dirge as the boy with the massive sword walked unhurriedly toward the dragon. The Horntail, as though aware of its fate, retreated step by step until it reached the very edge of the arena. Still, the black-robed figure advanced steadily.
As the song reached its final, mournful note, Augustus stood before the dragon. The golden eyes of the beast reflected a rare trace of pleading. Yet, the melody continued. Augustus leaped with fluid grace, his silhouette a striking streak against the sky.
The massive sword descended.
The arena erupted into cheers and screams of disbelief as the dragon's colossal head fell to the ground, severed cleanly. The song ended with this final, decisive act.
For a moment, the arena fell silent, then burst into deafening applause. The crowd roared with exhilaration, their voices a thunderous chorus of awe and admiration. Only Dumbledore, seated among the judges, furrowed his brow slightly.
Augustus picked up the golden egg from the dragon's nest and bowed gracefully to the audience.
"What a magnificent and decisive display!" Bagman shouted. "This is a victory for Hogwarts! The fastest champion to retrieve the golden egg! The slayer of a dragon! Without a doubt, Augustus has redefined what it means to be a true champion!"
Hogwarts students erupted in renewed cheers, joined by even some spectators from the other schools, swept up in the moment.
Next came the scoring.
Madame Maxime waved her wand, conjuring a shimmering silver ribbon in the air that twisted into a bold "9."
Next, Mr. Crouch waved his wand, producing a "10." Applause rippled through the crowd.
Dumbledore, after a moment's thought, awarded a "9."
Ludo Bagman beamed and declared a "10," eliciting another round of wild cheering.
Finally, Karkaroff paused briefly before casting his vote: another "10."
Thus, the competition concluded. Augustus' score stood far ahead of the rest. Though Harry later showcased a commendable performance, using the Summoning Charm to call his Firebolt and retrieve the egg, it paled in comparison. The image of Augustus slaying the dragon with a single stroke was etched indelibly in everyone's minds. The title of "champion" now belonged solely to him.
As Augustus left the tent, a soft, melodic voice called out from behind him.
"Mr. Augustus," said Fleur, her expression adorned with a radiant smile.
"Your performance today was truly remarkable. By the way, what was that melody you hummed at the end? I've never heard it before, but it was hauntingly beautiful."
Augustus chuckled softly, glancing at the golden sun in the distance. "It's indeed a beautiful song. It's called Dragon's Requiem, a tune quite popular in my homeland."
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09