"How's it going, Hagrid?" Charlie panted, sidling up to Hagrid as they both gazed at the four slumbering dragons. "Getting these four beasts to Hogwarts wasn't exactly a walk in the park. The Ministry originally planned for just two... that Welsh Green and the Swedish Short-Snout. Those are easier to manage. Plus, the one at Hogwarts' dragon reserve—what do you call her again?"
"I was gonna name her Norbert," Hagrid said with a shrug, "but she only answers to the name Harry gave her—Dragonette. So, she's Dragonette Norbert Retained…"
"Dragonette, right," Charlie said, glancing toward the enclosure where Dragonette was kept. "I still can't wrap my head around Harry naming a dragon Dragonette…"
"She was only this big when she hatched!" Hagrid's eyes glimmered with nostalgia. "Blink of an eye, and it's been nearly three years. Dragonette's taller than me now."
Charlie wiped the sweat from his brow and continued, "The Ministry's plan was to cut costs—rent two dragons from foreign reserves, add Hogwarts' one, and call it a day with three. But then the fourth champion showed up, and it's Hermione Granger, who's practically best mates with Hogwarts' dragon. So, the Ministry had to scramble and rent two more. If Hermione accidentally drew Hogwarts' dragon… well, it wouldn't be a champion versus a fearsome beast. It'd be a witch and her overgrown pet. The Ministry bigwigs weren't thrilled about that scenario."
"What kinds do you have here, Charlie?" Hagrid's eyes were fixed adoringly on the nearest black dragon, his gaze practically worshipful.
"That's a Hungarian Horntail," Charlie said, pointing. "The smaller one over there's a Common Welsh Green. The silver-blue one's a Swedish Short-Snout, and the red one's a Chinese Fireball."
While Charlie was explaining the dragons to Hagrid, Madame Maxime was strolling along the enclosure, sizing up the stunned creatures.
"I didn't expect you to bring her along, Hagrid," Charlie said, frowning at Madame Maxime's towering figure. "The champions aren't supposed to know what they're facing. She's bound to tell her students, isn't she?"
"I just thought she'd enjoy seeing them," Hagrid said with another shrug, his eyes still glued dreamily to the dragons.
"Quite the romantic date, Hagrid," Charlie said, shaking his head with a wry smile.
At that moment, Charlie's five dragon-taming colleagues stumbled toward the Horntail, carrying a blanket cradling a clutch of massive, granite-gray dragon eggs. They carefully placed the eggs beside the Horntail.
Hagrid let out a longing groan, unable to contain himself.
"I've counted them, Hagrid," Charlie said sternly. Then, softening, he added, "How's Hermione holding up?"
"She's fine," Hagrid replied absently, still entranced by the dragons.
"I hope she comes through this danger in one piece," Charlie said, his voice heavy as he stared at the dragon pens. "I didn't dare tell Mum what Hermione's facing in the first task. She's been worried sick ever since Hermione was chosen… Oh, and her parents are invited to watch, aren't they? Seeing their daughter fight a dragon… I can't imagine what they'll think."
Charlie sighed, and Harry noticed Hermione's face go pale as a ghost when her parents were mentioned.
"Oh no! I forgot they're coming to watch!" Hermione's hands gripped Harry's arm tightly, her fingers whitening from the pressure. "What am I going to do, Harry? What am I going to do?"
Harry fell silent. He had no immediate solution for Hermione's parents. If Hermione had more magical power, her spellcasting prowess could easily overpower a young adult dragon. He could reassure her parents that the Triwizard Tournament wasn't that dangerous—not if Hermione had enough magic to back her up…
Hagrid was clearly too smitten with both the dragons and Madame Maxime to notice their distress. Harry and Hermione quietly turned and retraced their steps toward the exit. Just as they neared it, they spotted Karkaroff slipping past the two Ministry officials guarding the passage, having handed them something to gain entry.
"Now Krum knows the first task is dragons too," Hermione whispered as she walked beside Harry.
Harry gave a distracted hum, his mind still wrestling with how to help Hermione navigate her parents' concerns.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea struck him. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? Hermione's problem was that her magical reserves couldn't keep up with her spellcasting ability. What if she had a magical artifact to store extra magic? And as it happened, Harry had just the thing!
The next day, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry handed Hermione a belt he'd crafted overnight. It was made from a crystal orb mounted on a wooden base, now repurposed into a wearable accessory.
"Harry, why are you giving me a belt?" Hermione asked, taking the belt with a puzzled look.
"Put it on and try channeling some magic into it," Harry instructed.
(For reference, picture something like Lina's belt from Slayers.)
Hermione followed his instructions, fastening the belt and tentatively feeding magic into it. Her eyes widened in astonishment.
"Well? What do you think of my magic reservoir?" Harry said, grinning despite the dark circles under his eyes. He struck a proud pose, hands on hips. "With this belt, you can store spare magic and unleash it all at once when you need it. High-power spells that were out of reach before? Now you can cast them."
"Harry! Thank you so much!" Hermione squealed, launching herself at him and wrapping her arms around his head, planting a fierce kiss on his cheek.
The sudden attack left Harry stunned, and Hermione, realizing what she'd done in her excitement, froze as well.
"Er… I mean, Harry, I was just… really excited. That's all," Hermione stammered, her face flaming red as she fumbled for words.
Harry recovered first, deciding to steer things along before Hermione's flustered explanations woke the entire Gryffindor dormitory. He suggested they test the belt's effects.
The results were staggering. With her magical reserves nearly doubled, Hermione's power surged dramatically. Previously, her full effort could Transfigure a ten-foot-tall construct of earth and stone. Now, with the belt, she conjured a colossal mud giant standing fifty to sixty feet tall—without even factoring in material conversion.
The giant collapsed into a small mound of earth after six minutes, as Hermione's magic ran dry, but for those six minutes, she was unstoppable. She could have pummeled a young adult dragon into submission. Their test subject, Dragonette Norbert Retained, could attest to that. During those six minutes, the poor dragon had been repeatedly hoisted into the air by the mud giant, leaving her eyeing Hermione warily, as if terrified the witch might summon another invincible titan to chase her around.
After returning a thoroughly spooked Dragonette to the dragon reserve, Harry and Hermione tried sneaking into the sealed passage but were turned away. They headed to the Great Hall for breakfast instead.
On their way to the Research Institute for class, they ran into Cedric, who was hurrying in the same direction. Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance and nodded in unison.
Hermione darted forward to intercept Cedric. Harry watched as Cedric's face paled, his usually unflappable gray eyes flickering with fear. Cedric spoke gravely to Hermione for a moment, and she nodded. His expression grew even grimmer.
With only two days until the first task, Harry and Hermione spent hours in the library. Though Hermione's mud giant could now trounce Dragonette, no one could predict what might happen on the day of the task. They needed to be fully prepared, and poring over dragon-related books was a solid start.
"Hey, Hermione, look at this," Harry called from behind a towering stack of books, gesturing for Hermione—who was skimming The Butcher's Craft: Making the Most of a Dragon—to come over. "It says here that while normal fire rarely harms a dragon, the author found that if you shoot flames into a dragon's mouth the instant it breathes fire, there's a high chance of triggering an explosion in its oral cavity powerful enough to—oh, wait, this isn't useful for us…" Realizing the information didn't suit Hermione's needs, Harry scratched his head awkwardly.
After the brief interruption, they dove back into their research. Then, Harry heard Hermione's irritated grumble.
"Oh, great, he's back again. Why can't he just read on that ridiculous ship of his?" Hermione muttered.
Without looking up, Harry knew she meant Viktor Krum. The dark-skinned Durmstrang champion slouched into the library, casting a sullen glance at them before settling in a far corner with a stack of books.
"Let's go, Harry," Hermione said, gathering her books and notes. "We'll head back to the common room. His fan club will show up soon, chattering away, and it's so annoying…"
Sure enough, as they left the library, a gaggle of girls tiptoed past, one sporting a Bulgarian scarf tied around her waist.
The next day, Hermione's worst fear came to pass—not the first task of the Triwizard Tournament (with Harry's belt, she was confident she could hold her own against a dragon in a short bout). No, what truly terrified her was the reaction of her weary, travel-worn parents, who had journeyed from London, when they learned their precious daughter was about to face a dragon.
Her father had never fully supported her attending Hogwarts, a school that wouldn't get her into Oxford or Harvard. If Professor McGonagall hadn't warned her parents that an untrained witch could face life-threatening dangers, Hermione might never have set foot in Hogwarts, never met her friends of three years, never met Harry…
The thought sent a pang of anguish through her.
As expected, after morning classes, Professor McGonagall summoned Hermione to her office. There, for the first time in the wizarding world, Hermione saw her parents.
Mr. Granger wore a black overcoat, the epitome of a middle-aged Englishman, with neatly trimmed black hair and a short beard. His youthful features made him look younger than his years.
Beside him sat Mrs. Granger. Nearing forty, she could pass for a vibrant, confident woman in her early thirties. Her brown hair, identical to Hermione's, was pinned up elegantly. Were it not for the faint crow's feet at her eyes, no one would guess she was a mother.
The moment Hermione met their gazes, she saw deep love—and profound worry.
Her heart sank. Under the weight of their concerned stares, Hermione looked down at her shoes and quietly took a seat between them.
"Now, Professor McGonagall, let's continue our discussion," Mr. Granger said, shifting his gaze from his daughter to the professor across from them, his eyes stern. "This Triwizard Tournament—from the perspective of, as you call us, Muggles—is it safe? Has anyone ever been injured, disabled, or… killed?"
McGonagall glanced at Hermione, who pleaded silently with her eyes. The professor shook her head slowly. "While we do everything in our power to ensure the champions' safety, yes, Mr. Granger, there have been instances of injury and even death in the tournament's history."
Mr. Granger took a deep breath. "Then, as Hermione Granger's guardian, I declare that she will withdraw from the tournament—even if it means leaving Hogwarts!"
Hermione felt her world collapse.
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon:
pat reon .com/yuuwand