Time flowed like water. Though the first task passed swiftly, its impact extended far beyond the competition itself. What defines a champion? Before the tournament began, this concept was vague for many. To accept destiny, uphold honor, fight for one's school, and establish oneself—each individual harbored their interpretation of the warrior's path.
However, it must be said that the methods employed by Fleur and others left their supporters disappointed. Enchantment, broomsticks, bait transfiguration—all were clever tricks that bypassed the dragons to secure the golden egg. While effective, these tactics were not what the audience sought in a true champion.
Then came the black-robed youth with his great sword. The memory lingered—an arena so vast, a lone figure with a blade, humming a haunting tune. The fiercest dragon among the four was forced to bow. A single flame, a glimmering light, burned into the hearts of countless spectators. What is a champion? This is a champion! No matter the dragon, no matter the challenge, it could be crushed by sheer will. For wizards accustomed to the peace of modern times, it had been ages since such fiery passion was ignited.
Who among them had not dreamed of wielding a blade, standing tall amidst the world's challenges? Who hadn't imagined themselves as the lone warrior slaying the dragon with boundless courage? Wizards might pride themselves on logic and strategy, but when true battle beckons and real threats arise, even they yearn to meet challenges head-on with fearless resolve. The path of a warrior requires unyielding courage, unmatched strength, and a relentless fighting spirit.
Augustus, through his actions, rekindled the dormant fervor in the audience. That night, countless sleepless young wizards dreamed of standing in the spotlight, battling dragons like him, their blood boiling with ambition.
The power of idols is undeniable. After that day, many young wizards took to wearing black robes and carrying mock great swords. Their strides were confident, their demeanor lofty.
"Mr. Augustus," Lilian remarked, watching another young boy in black robes bowing to her brother, "you've truly led a generation astray. Are wizards destined to abandon their wands and rush into battle with swords?"
Draco sneered, glancing at the retreating figures. "These pretenders are all bark and no bite. They'd be scorched in an instant if they dared face a dragon for real." Yet his envious gaze betrayed his disdain. Trends were hard to resist, and were it not for his status as Augustus' disciple, he might have joined the craze himself.
"Ah, the art of true battle cannot be imitated," Loki interjected, smirking at Thor, who was clearly awed despite his best efforts to appear stoic.
Thor's facade crumbled under Augustus' amused glance. "Master Augustus, your fight showed me how crude my own methods are. How can I grasp such mastery?"
Augustus waved him off lightly. "It's just two words: domination. From the moment battle begins, make the tempo yours. Every move forces your opponent to follow your lead. Control the rhythm of the fight, and victory is assured."
Thor nodded thoughtfully, his deep blue eyes reflecting a newfound determination.
On Thursday, during Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall appeared unusually contemplative. Near the end of the lesson, she addressed the students.
"I have an announcement to make."
"The Yule Ball is approaching—a longstanding tradition of the Triwizard Tournament and a wonderful opportunity for us to foster relations with our foreign guests. It's open to students in their fourth year and above, though you may invite younger students if you wish."
Lavender Brown let out a high-pitched giggle, prompting Parvati Patil to jab her sharply in the ribs. Still, both girls couldn't help but steal glances at Augustus, their eyes filled with dreamy anticipation.
Wealth, strength, looks—he seemed to embody every ideal. For ordinary girls like them, he was a perfect fantasy come to life. Though Augustus had shown no interest in anyone for four years, the ball would require him to have a partner. Even a one-in-a-million chance of being chosen was worth the risk. To be the girl on his arm wouldn't just bring prestige but could also transform their lives, turning them from sparrows into swans.
"You'll need to wear dress robes," McGonagall continued, "and the ball will begin at 8 PM on Christmas night, ending at midnight. Now—"
She paused, noticing the classroom's attention had shifted. Every girl seemed to be staring at Augustus, their thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Beauty adores heroes, a truth as universal as it is enduring. Augustus, with his noble lineage and dazzling presence, was a magnetic force. McGonagall sighed quietly. If I were their age, he'd probably be my dream too. Oh, let them be.
"The Yule Ball is a chance for us to—how should I put it—let our hair down and relax," she added in a slightly dismissive tone.
Lavender's giggles grew louder, muffled by her hand.
Nearby, Lilian's crimson eyes glimmered with unease. She rested her chin on her hand, studying Augustus, as calm and composed as ever. Who would he choose as his partner? She scorned the starry-eyed girls around her. None had dared approach him, save Hermione, who treated him with the respect and ease born of intellect. If the choice wasn't her, it certainly wouldn't be these girls.
Still, an unfamiliar bitterness crept into her thoughts. True threats? Faces flashed through her mind: Cho Chang's charming smile and Fleur Delacour's radiant beauty.
Would the perfect champion also have the perfect match?
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