Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Applause erupted from the audience.

Bagman nodded and held up his sign: "Ten out of ten!"

Karkaroff hesitated for a moment, glanced at Dumbledore, then at Mrs. Maxim, before reluctantly raising his sign: "Eight points."

Dumbledore raised his sign without hesitation: "Ten out of ten."

Furong scored a total of 38 points.

Hibiscus stood at the edge of the arena, the golden egg still clutched in her hand. She glanced at Kane, a smile playing on her lips. "Wait until I'm finished bandaging."

Kane remained silent.

Furong smiled and turned to walk towards the first aid tent.

Her back was straight, her steps were steady, and her light blue tattered robe fluttered in the wind.

The cheers from the stands continued, as if they would never stop.

Kane stood still, with Igor perched on his shoulder, his silver eyes gleaming slightly in the sunlight.

The tips of his ears were no longer red. But his hands, hidden beneath his robe, clenched and unclenched briefly before releasing.

Dobby, in a corner of the castle, hugged his filthy tea towel, laughing through his tears.

It seems my young master is about to get a girlfriend.

And then it was Harry's turn!

When Harry entered the area, the sunlight was even stronger than before.

He squinted and looked at the center of the field.

A Norwegian Spinosaurus coiled on its nest, its scales gleaming metallically in the sunlight. A row of serrated protrusions ran along its back, and its tail swayed slowly from side to side, like a giant whip gathering power.

Harry's heart started racing.

Norbert is much more impressive now than it was two years ago!

He gripped his wand tightly, walked to the marked line in the center of the arena, and took a deep breath.

Kane taught him—summon the broom first, then deal with the dragon.

The Flying Broom Mantra: Focus, imagine the feeling of the broom in your hand.

"Nihiluma 2001 is coming!"

He chanted the incantation, his voice steady, more steady than he had expected.

A beam of light shot from the tip of the wand toward the castle.

One second, two seconds, three seconds—he felt a gust of air rushing from behind him. He turned around.

The broom flew in. It passed through the wind, through the sunlight, through everyone's sight, and landed steadily in his outstretched palm. The broom handle felt warm and familiar, like a handshake with an old friend.

Harry gripped the broom, feeling a sense of calm settle in. Some people in the audience were applauding.

He took a deep breath, hopped on his broom, and with a push of his feet, his body rose into the air. The wind whistled past his ears, and the ground beneath his feet rapidly shrank.

This was a feeling he knew best. High in the air. The sound of the wind. Speed.

The audience on the sidelines were stunned!

Can you do this?

At this moment, Harry could see the outline of the dragon's nest and clearly see every movement of the Norwegian Spinosaurus.

But the dragon didn't look at him. It was looking in one direction.

The audience seating area. Slytherin area.

Harry was stunned.

He followed the dragon's gaze. Kane was sitting there, with Igor perched on his shoulder.

Kane's expression remained unchanged.

The Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon stared at Kane, its yellow, vertical pupils slightly contracting. It didn't chase Harry, didn't breathe fire, didn't flick its tail—it just stared at Kane.

Like a soldier waiting for the general's orders.

Harry hovered in mid-air, broom in hand, blinking in confusion.

What happened?

People in the audience also started to notice.

The whispers spread out like ripples.

"Why isn't the dragon moving?"

"What is it looking at?"

"That's... Kane Malfoy?"

On the referee's stand, Bagman stood up, looking at the field in confusion. "What's going on?"

Dumbledore didn't answer, but the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

Moody's fake eye stopped spinning, and his real eye glanced back and forth between Kane and the dragon before letting out a snort.

In the center of the arena, the Norwegian Ridgeback is still watching Kane.

Its nostrils twitched slightly, as if it were sniffing something. Then it did something that no one expected.

It lowered its head.

It's not submission, not weariness; it's a kind of retreat—a retreat after recognizing the other party. Like a dog seeing its former master.

Harry hung high in the air, looking down at the scene, his mind blank.

Could it be that Norbert still knows them?

But he knew now was the best opportunity.

He gripped the broom tightly and swooped down. The wind whistled in his ears, the ground loomed larger before him, and the golden eggs in the dragon's nest drew ever closer—the dragon did not stop him.

It even took a step back to the side.

Harry swept past the dragon's nest, reached out and grabbed the golden egg, then pulled on his broom and soared into the air again. The whole process took less than five seconds. The golden egg was warm and heavy in his hand.

Harry flew back to the ground, staggering as he landed, but the golden egg was still in his hand.

He looked up at the audience—everyone was looking at him.

Some people were clapping, some were whispering to each other in confusion, and some were laughing.

Bagman stood up, his voice slightly unsteady: "Harry Potter—successfully retrieved the golden egg! In—uh—less than two minutes? Now, judges, please score!"

Mrs. Maxim raised her sign first.

She looked at the dragon, then at Kane, then at Harry, her expression shifting between confusion and amusement several times before finally writing down a number: "Nine points".

Karkarov holds up a sign.

He glanced at Kane, then at the dragon, his expression as if he had just discovered a bug in his lunch.

"Six points."

Bagman scratched his head and held up a sign: "...Ten out of ten! After all, he barely exerted any effort."

Dumbledore raises a sign.

He glanced at Harry, his blue eyes holding a kind, almost smiling light. Then he held up his sign: "Ten points."

Harry stood there, staring at the scores on the scoreboard, his mind a complete mess.

Thirty-five points.

Second place.

But the point isn't the score. The point is that he didn't even fight the dragon.

Dragon was watching Kane the whole time.

In the stands, the Gryffindor crowd cheered. Seamus clapped loudly, Dean whistled, and Neville shouted, "Harry, you're amazing!" But Harry knew it wasn't his doing.

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor area, and her expression changed.

She was initially happy to see that the dragon was afraid of Kane, but then she remembered something and her smile faded.

Draco sat in the Slytherin area, looking up at the dragons on the field, then down at his brother.

"Does he still remember the time you slapped him?"

Kane looked at the Norwegian Spinosaurus in the center of the arena; it was still retreating.

His lips twitched slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.

Harry was still in the center of the arena, holding the golden egg, looking at the cheering faces in the stands.

He wanted to laugh, but a strange feeling lingered in his heart—as if someone was secretly helping him without even telling him.

Fleur sat on a folding chair in the tent, her arm wrapped in bandages. She smiled when she saw Harry come in.

"You're not hurt?"

Harry paused, stunned. "...No. The dragon didn't attack me."

"What do you mean?"

"Dragon knows Kane."

Furong was silent for a moment, then laughed. "He's really... getting more and more interesting."

Harry gripped the golden egg tightly in his hand and looked down at it. He felt like the most relaxed person he had been all day.