The Tenth Weasley - CH - 129

The iron door groaned as it swung open, its weight echoing across the stadium. Harry stepped through, and the noise of the crowd slammed into him like a tidal wave. Shouts, cheers, and clapping filled the air, amplified by charms so that every sound reverberated around the stone arena.

He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes. The arena itself had been crafted with brutal efficiency—massive stone boulders scattered across the ground like fallen giants, each large enough to provide cover. The ground was scorched black in places, the marks of test burns left by the beast within.

And there it was.

A Norwegian Ridgeback.

The dragon towered above everything in the arena, scales black as midnight, wings folded tightly against its body. Its eyes glowed like burning coals as they tracked every movement. A heavy chain was clasped around its left leg, hammered into the stone floor by a massive iron spike. The chain glimmered faintly with runes, magic woven into its very links to prevent escape.

Yet even bound, the Ridgeback was terrifying. Its chest expanded with a low growl, smoke curling from its nostrils. Its tail lashed violently, smashing against the stones with earth-shaking force. Before it lay a nest of eggs—three real dragon eggs, glistening with their natural luster, and one false one: the golden egg, gleaming like sunlight in the nest.

The crowd roared again, but Harry barely heard them. His focus was fixed entirely on the dragon. He could feel its fury radiating like heat off its body.

Of course it’s angry, Harry thought grimly. Dragons lay their eggs in secret. In mountains, caves, cliffs—places no one dares intrude. And now it’s chained, its nest paraded in front of thousands of screaming spectators. It doesn’t just want to protect its eggs… it wants to tear this whole stadium down.

For a brief moment, Harry’s mind flicked back to the Basilisk, to the thrum of danger he had felt then, the weight of certain death pressing down on him. The Ridgeback was different—wilder, angrier, and more cornered.

He tightened his grip on his wand.

“I will get the egg,” he whispered under his breath, “without harming the dragon.”

It was a vow, silent but absolute.


As though it had heard his words, the Ridgeback reared its head and let out a deafening roar. Fire burst from its jaws, an inferno of orange and red that bathed the stones in blazing heat. Harry dove behind the nearest boulder, the flames washing over the rock and searing the ground where he had just been standing.

From the stands, the crowd gasped, then erupted into cheers.

“Blimey, he almost got roasted alive!” someone shouted.

But Harry ignored them. He pressed his back against the stone, breathing hard, sweat already slicking his forehead. The jacket of basilisk hide under his robes gave him confidence—it would resist dragon fire—but that didn’t mean he wanted to test it directly.

The dragon’s claws raked against the stone floor, sparks flying. Its tail whipped back and forth, smashing a smaller boulder into fragments. The chain clinked and strained but held firm, giving the Ridgeback full control of the nest’s perimeter.

Harry muttered to himself, “Cover, distraction, speed… that’s plan one.”

He peeked around the stone, wand ready. The dragon’s eyes snapped to him instantly. A hiss rumbled deep in its throat.

Harry darted sideways, sprinting toward another boulder. Fire blasted after him, the heat so intense it singed his eyebrows as he dived behind cover again.

“Alright,” he muttered under his breath, “so much for subtle.”


The Ridgeback shifted, lowering its head toward the nest as though to shield the eggs. Its wings flared out halfway, casting a massive shadow across the arena. The crowd ooohed at the display, but Harry’s eyes sharpened.

It won’t move far from the nest. That chain isn’t just to stop it from escaping—it keeps it anchored to defend in all directions. If I try to attack head-on, it’ll burn me down before I get close.

He clenched his wand tighter. The vow echoed again in his chest. No harm to the dragon.

“Alright then,” Harry whispered. “Let’s do this smart.”

He raised his wand and shouted, “Confringo!”

A boulder across the arena exploded in a shower of rock and dust. The dragon’s head whipped toward the blast, roaring in rage. Seizing the chance, Harry bolted forward, slipping behind another stone closer to the nest.

The crowd gasped again. Some cheered wildly, others booed, but Harry didn’t care. His heart hammered in his chest. His entire world had shrunk to fire, stone, and the glowing gold of the egg.

The dragon’s tail lashed violently, striking sparks against the stone where Harry had been seconds ago. Another burst of flame roared across the arena, and Harry rolled, barely avoiding the searing blast.

Sweat dripped into his eyes. His lungs burned. But he was closer now. Just two more boulders stood between him and the nest.

He whispered to himself, “Plan two. Get it to strike… and use its own strength against it.”

He peeked out again, wand steady, eyes locked on the furious Ridgeback.


Harry steadied his breath behind the boulder. His mind raced — he needed to think faster than the dragon, outsmart it, not overpower it.

The Ridgeback stomped forward, eyes blazing, flames flickering in its throat. It loosed another roar that shook the stadium walls. Chains rattled violently as it strained to reach him.

“Alright,” Harry whispered, “time for plan two.”

He stepped out from cover and flicked his wand upward.
“Ascendio!”

A jet of force launched him skyward, propelling him onto a tall stone pillar. Gasps and cheers erupted from the stands as Harry landed lightly, cloak fluttering in the heat. The Ridgeback’s gaze snapped to him instantly, wings flaring wide.

“Come on, then,” Harry muttered.

The dragon reared back and blasted fire upward. Harry dove sideways, landing hard on a second pillar as the first exploded into molten rubble. The flames crackled against the wards woven into the arena, keeping the spectators safe, though many still flinched back in awe and terror.

The Ridgeback snarled, twisting its head to track him. Harry seized the moment, pointing his wand at a stone near the nest.
“Reducto!”

The blast shattered the rock, sending debris tumbling dangerously close to the eggs. Instinctively, the Ridgeback lunged sideways to shield them, fire spilling from its jaws as it covered the nest.

“Got you,” Harry whispered, already moving.


He sprinted along the ridge of stone, leaping down to the ground behind another boulder. The dragon wheeled back, tail smashing the arena floor and sending up shards of rock. The chain rattled violently, pulling it back just short of where Harry was running.

Harry dived again, rolled, and came up just a few feet from the nest. The golden egg gleamed like a captured sun, nestled among the real ones.

The Ridgeback let out a scream of fury. Its tail swung in a deadly arc.

Harry shouted, “Protego Maxima!”

The shimmering shield wall erupted just in time. The tail smashed into it, the impact jarring him to his bones, but the barrier held. Sparks of magic fizzled where scale met ward.

“Just a second longer…” Harry hissed, dropping to his knees. His wand flashed, levitating the golden egg an inch into the air.

The Ridgeback roared, trying to crush him under its body, but the chain yanked it back, forcing it to rear up instead. Fire burst downward, a torrent of flame that engulfed Harry’s shield.

Sweat poured down his face. The shield absorbed the heat, but the magic strain was immense. His arms trembled, but he grit his teeth.
“Not… today…”

With a final flick, the golden egg soared into his arms. He clutched it tightly, rolling behind the nearest boulder as the shield collapsed.

The fire washed over the stone, shaking it, but Harry emerged unscathed — clutching the gleaming prize to his chest.


The crowd erupted. The stadium thundered with cheers, applause, and stamping feet. “Harry! Harry! Harry!”

But Harry ignored them. He turned once, looking back at the Ridgeback. The dragon still stood over its nest, three real eggs safe and untouched, its chest heaving with fury.

Harry lifted his wand slightly, lowering his head in silent respect. “They’ll never take them from you,” he murmured. “Just this one… and I’ll make sure it’s returned when this madness is done.”

Then he turned and strode toward the far gate, golden egg under his arm. The iron door opened for him, and as he stepped through, the roar of the crowd followed him like a storm.

He had done it. Without harming the dragon.


Harry walked off the field with the golden egg tucked firmly under his arm. His clothes were scorched, sweat dripped down his face, but he walked tall and uninjured. The roar of the crowd followed him all the way to the judge’s platform.

“Magnificent performance!” boomed Bagman’s voice. “A daring strategy, skillful execution, and he’s come away with the egg without a single wound! Let’s see how our judges score him!”

The five judges raised their wands, conjuring large floating numbers in the air:

Madame Maxime: 9

Ludo Bagman: 10

Barty Crouch Sr.: 9

Dumbledore: 10

Karkaroff: 10


Gasps and cheers rippled across the stands. A near-perfect score.

Harry gave only a brief nod toward the judges’ table before slipping back through the iron door into the waiting tent.


Inside, the air was thick with anticipation. Fleur sat with her hands folded, Cedric paced like a caged lion, and Charlie leaned against the wall, his face grim. They all looked up as Harry entered, golden egg under his arm.

Madame Pomfrey rushed forward instantly, her wand glowing as she scanned him from head to toe.
“No burns, no fractures, no scorched hair—thank heavens. You’ve given me less work than anyone in years, Mr. Weasley.”

Harry offered a small smile.
“Glad I could save you the trouble.”

Before he could say more, the tent flap burst open and Hermione rushed inside, her face flushed with excitement. She barely slowed before throwing her arms around him.

“Harry!” she gasped, pulling him into a fierce embrace. “I thought—you were so close to the flames—I thought—”

He silenced her with a kiss, full of relief and fire, and she melted against him. The world narrowed to the two of them, their breath mingling, the noise of the crowd fading into nothing.

When they finally pulled apart, Hermione’s cheeks burned red, but her eyes shone with pride.
“You did it,” she whispered. “You actually did it.”

Harry smiled faintly.
“Told you I would.”


The officials called out, “Fleur Delacour—prepare yourself.”

Fleur rose gracefully, though Harry caught the faintest tremor in her hands as she adjusted her robes. She gave him a curt nod before disappearing through the iron door.

Minutes passed, filled with the muffled roars of dragon fire and the gasps of the audience. When Fleur returned, she clutched the golden egg but limped heavily, her robes scorched, one arm bleeding. Pomfrey rushed to her side, clucking disapproval as she healed her burns.

Harry gave Fleur a small nod of respect as she sank into her seat, pale but victorious.


“Cedric Diggory!”

The Hogwarts Champion inhaled deeply, shoulders squaring. He glanced once at Harry, determination in his eyes, before marching out.

This time the crowd’s reactions were even louder—cheers, screams, the crackle of fire. Cedric fought long and hard, his shouts echoing faintly back into the tent. When he finally returned, his robes were shredded, burns covered his arms, and his hair was singed, but he too held a golden egg.

Pomfrey nearly dragged him to a cot, muttering,
“Fools, all of you, thinking bravery is worth roasting yourself alive.”

Cedric winced, managing a weak grin at Harry.
“You make it look too easy.”

Harry only shrugged.
“It wasn’t.”


Finally, the official called:
“Charlie Potter!”

The tent went very quiet. Charlie sat stiffly, face pale, hands trembling around his wand. He looked far more panicked than the others had before their turn, sweat already glistening on his forehead.

Harry knelt in front of him, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Listen to me. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to survive and bring the egg back. Do your best, Charlie. That’s all that matters.”

Charlie swallowed hard, his eyes wide.
“What if I freeze? What if I can’t—”

Harry gripped his shoulder tighter.
“You won’t freeze. You’re smarter than you think. Trust yourself. Trust the jacket. And remember what I told you: three plans. Don’t fight the dragon—outthink it.”

Charlie’s breath came shaky, but he nodded, forcing himself to his feet. With one last glance at Harry, he walked toward the iron door, every step heavy with dread.

The flap closed behind him. The muffled roar of the crowd rose once more.

Harry sat back, jaw tight, fingers clenched around his wand, silently praying that his twin would return alive.