Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Outside the tent, the audience was still discussing it.

"That dragon seems a bit off."

Why is it afraid of Malfoy?

"I don't know. But he's definitely stronger than a dragon."

Moody sat on the referee's bench, his fake eye darting around, his real eye glancing in Kane's direction, then at the Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon that was still retreating.

He snorted. "This kid." The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but he held it back.

Bagman was still flipping through the scoring sheet. "Alright, alright, next—the last warrior, Kane Malfoy!"

As the Norwegian Ridgeback was led away by its trainer, it kept turning its head to look at the audience.

Kane remained seated, not moving.

He glanced at the venue, then looked away.

He stood up and walked toward the tent entrance.

Everyone fell silent as he passed through the audience.

It was so quiet you could hear the wind rustling through the grass. He stepped into the tent.

The curtain fell behind him. Outside the arena, only a Hungarian tree peak awaited him.

The wind stopped the moment Kane stepped onto the field.

This isn't a metaphor. The air above the entire arena suddenly stopped. The grass stopped swaying, the flags stopped fluttering, and even the canvas of the dragon trainer's tent in the distance drooped.

In the audience of several thousand people, everyone paused for a moment.

Kane stood at the edge of the arena. His black robes reached his ankles, a phoenix perched on his shoulder, and he held no wand.

Forty feet ahead, the Hungarian Hornet perched atop the dragon's nest. It was the largest dragon of the day, its black scales, like the surface of cooled lava, each as large as a shield, its edges sharp as knives. Its wingspan, when spread, obscured nearly half the sky. Its dark red eyes, like two burning coals, locked onto Kane. There was no roar, no threat. Just a silent gaze. Like watching an insect about to be crushed.

Kane did not back down. He took a step forward.

The Hungarian thorn beetle raised its tail. The spiky tail hovered in the air for a second—then swept down with a piercing shriek, more than three times faster than Cedric's dragon.

Kane did not dodge.

He simply raised his right hand. A silver-white rune appeared in his palm, instantly expanding into a semi-transparent shield.

The dragon's tail slammed into the shield, producing a dull, bell-like thud.

A crack appeared in the ground, stretching from Kane's feet all the way to the edge of the dragon's lair, the grass rolled up, and dirt flew everywhere.

But Kane didn't move. He didn't even blink.

The audience fell into a deathly silence, then erupted in cheers.

"He blocked it—!"

"What kind of spell is that?!"

"That's—a rune shield? Who the hell uses a rune shield in actual combat?"

Kane gave no one time to think. The instant the dragon's tail snapped open, his left hand had already swung out.

A sharp whistle rang out in the air, and a golden arc of light shot out from his fingertips, like a curved knife, slicing towards the dragon's foreleg.

The Hungarian hornet dodged to the side, an arc of light grazing its scales and leaving a white burn mark, like burnt iron. The dragon's roar was deafening, the sound waves crashing down like a physical object, and the students in the front rows covered their ears.

Kane didn't stop.

His right hand traced a complex trajectory in the air, as if drawing an invisible line.

The line left a silver streak in the air, which curved, intertwined, and spread, eventually forming a massive circular array—its diameter exceeding that of the entire dragon's nest. The runes on the array lit up one by one, like a string of lit lamps.

"That's... a large magic circle?!"

From the judges' stand, Bagman's voice changed, "He's constructing a large magic circle all by himself?"

The dragon sensed it.

The Hungarian wood bee suddenly spread its wings, creating a gust of wind, attempting to disperse the array.

But the runes remained unmoved. They shone even brighter in the wind, as if a starry sky had appeared on the ground.

Kane raised his right hand, fingers spread, and pressed down. The array sank into the ground and disappeared.

But the next second, the ground began to shake.

The rocks around the dragon's nest rose up one by one, as if lifted up by an invisible force and suspended in mid-air.

Some of the rocks were the size of a fist, others the size of a calf. They were arranged in a circle above Kane's head, slowly rotating like a broken asteroid belt.

The Hungarian hornet raised its head, looking at the suspended rocks. For the first time, something different appeared in its dark red eyes—not anger, but wariness.

Kane clenched his right fist. The rocky ring suddenly contracted, like a giant pair of pincers, clamping down on the dragon's body from all sides.

The dragon spread its wings in an attempt to dodge, but the rocks were too fast. They struck the dragon's scales with a dense, dull thud, like hail hitting an iron plate.

The dragon was forced back half a step. Its four claws dug deep furrows in the ground, and its back slammed against the rock wall behind it, sending pebbles tumbling down.

Some people in the audience had already stood up.

Some people covered their mouths. Some people shouted, but their voices were drowned out by the roar.

Kane did not stop.

He waved his right hand—the magic wand had appeared in his hand without him even noticing, and a silver-white beam of light shot out from the tip of the wand, shooting straight into the sky.

The beam of light exploded high in the sky, transforming into hundreds of tiny silver lines, each of which shot precisely at a small, bird-like rune.

Those runes were fragments of the array diagram that had just sunk into the ground, now rising again and reassembling into a huge net in the air.

The net descended. A silvery-white net of light covered the entire dragon's nest, like a semi-transparent dome placed on the ground.

The Hungarian hornet struggled in the web, its wings striking the light mesh with a burning hiss, its scales emitting white smoke. The dragon's roar changed.

It's no longer anger, it's pain.

Kane reached the edge of the dragon's lair.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, each step landing on the rune nodes of the net, which emitted a soft light beneath his feet.

He was only ten feet from the dragon's head. The Hungarian wood wasp opened its mouth, and a red light shone from deep within its throat—dragonfire.

Everyone knows what will happen in the next second.

Someone in the audience screamed.

Kane didn't stop. He simply raised his left hand.

Igor flew off his shoulder, spun in the air, and transformed into a golden beam of light that shot towards the dragon's throat.

The golden beam of light and the red dragonfire met in the dragon's mouth. The two forces collided, but instead of exploding, they were strangely distorted—the dragonfire was enveloped in golden light and extinguished as if doused with cold water.

The dragon let out a coughing roar, tilted its head back, and a plume of black smoke billowed from its throat.

Kane did not press his advantage.

He put away his wand, walked to the center of the dragon's nest, and bent down to pick up the golden egg.

The gray eyes, illuminated by the firelight and runes, were as calm as a deep pool.

The Hungarian wood bee lay obediently on the ground, unable to move.

Kane walked back to the center of the field and glanced up at the referee's bench.

Sunlight shone on his face, illuminating a small smile at the corner of his mouth. "I'm done."