Down at the edge of the arena, the dragon-handling team heard the Norwegian Ridgeback's agonized roar loud and clear.
A young wizard in fireproof robes frowned, rubbing his throbbing temples. He turned to Charlie Weasley beside him, voice thick with worry but still hesitant. "Charlie, you think… something bad's about to happen? That kid's magic is way stronger than we figured. What if the dragon gets hurt too badly…"
Charlie let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, arms crossed tight as he stared at Dylan—still ice-calm in the middle of the chaos. He shook his head. "I can't promise anything anymore. I thought Dylan would be the one in trouble, needing us on standby to pull him out. Now? I'm starting to worry about the dragon."
He paused, then added uncertainly, "But knowing Dylan, he'll keep it under control. He's not the type to go overboard. At least, not enough to leave us scrambling to patch up a dragon for months."
"Let's hope so," the handler muttered. He glanced at the other two dragons still tangled in vines nearby, a flicker of relief in his voice. "Those Hogwarts kids used those poisonous tentacles earlier—deadly to wizards, sure, but barely more than a sting to dragons. They'll be sore, but they'll heal."
"Now this? Rock spears punching clean through? If the scales get too shredded, healing's gonna be a nightmare. Once dragon scales fall off in big patches, infection sets in fast. Defense drops. Recovery takes at least six months."
While the handlers talked, the fight shifted again.
The Ridgeback's pained howling seemed to rile up the Hungarian Horntail nearby.
The dragon, which had been watching and waiting, suddenly reared its head, jaws yawning wide. A blast of deep-blue dragon fire—hotter than before—erupted straight at Dylan in midair.
Dylan reacted in a flash, flicking his wand at the scattered rocks on the ground.
The stones swelled instantly, morphing into a man-sized boulder that floated up in front of him like a shield.
But the Horntail's fire was way hotter than expected.
BOOM.
The boulder didn't even last half a second. Flames swallowed it whole, melting the surface in a heartbeat. The fire punched right through and kept coming.
The heat wave hit first—Dylan's black robes whipped wildly, the hem singed and curling from stray embers.
But he didn't flinch. With a smooth twist of his wrist, he turned the wand on himself.
To most of the crowd, it looked like the fire swallowed him whole. Gasps ripped through the stands.
Ludo Bagman—former Quidditch star and current commentator—had sharper eyes. He zeroed in on the edge of the flames and spotted a blurry shape.
"LOOK! DYLAN HOCKWOOD'S IN MID-AIR! HE WASN'T HIT!"
He swallowed hard, voice shaking with disbelief. "Merlin's beard, he's just… standing up there! Ten meters off the ground, no broom, no nothing—like he's on solid floor! How?!"
The crowd craned their necks. Sure enough, Dylan stood perfectly still in the sky, not even wobbling.
Whispers exploded across the stands. What spell was that?
From the judges' table, Dumbledore smiled warmly, his voice calm but carrying across the whole arena. "A modified Impedimenta charm, fused with transfiguration principles. The invisible barrier becomes a solid platform—strong enough to hold a person's weight. As for how he got up there so fast? Simple. He cast a Repello on himself, using the push to rocket out of the fire's path."
Ludo jumped right in, relaying Dumbledore's explanation to the crowd.
Even still, the chatter didn't die down. Students from all three schools were buzzing.
"Impedimenta and Repello? That's it?" A Durmstrang kid frowned. "We learned those in fifth-year prep. They're basic."
"Yeah, but using them like that?" another shot back. "Could you turn a barrier into a platform and use a push spell like a jetpack to dodge dragon fire? His timing was perfect—no gaps, no hesitation."
"Still not as cool as the rock spears," someone muttered. "At least those actually hurt the dragon."
"But this combo takes insane reflexes and control," a Ravenclaw piped up, puffing with pride. "Ravenclaw stands for brains—even if Dylan's not in our house, he is from Hogwarts! And don't forget—he found Rowena's lost diadem!"
"Facing two dragons alone? That's Gryffindor courage right there," another added. "The guy's a genius."
"If he came to Beauxbatons, every professor would fight to mentor him," a French student sighed.
Amid the roaring crowd, Ludo suddenly got serious. "Folks, I've gotta warn you—this is insanely dangerous! Do not try this at home! Even if you're a pro Quidditch player with killer balance, never attempt this against a dragon. One tiny mistake and… well, let's just say it won't end well."
Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Well said, Mr. Bagman. I should've mentioned it myself. Magic is for enhancing life, not risking it. Safety first."
While Ludo repeated the warning, Dylan was already moving again.
He kept alternating—Impedimenta to create invisible platforms, Repello to blast himself out of the way of claws and fire.
Every dodge was smooth, every landing solid. It looked like a deadly aerial ballet.
Half the crowd was twitching just watching.
We get it, it's dangerous! Even if you taught us step-by-step, we wouldn't try it!
But a couple of spectators were thrilled.
In the corner of the stands, Fred and George Weasley were practically glowing.
They cackled in unison: "That's our boy! This is brilliant! Why didn't he tell us sooner? Bro, we just solved the moving staircases forever! No more late classes when the stairs vanish—WAHAHAHA!"
They yanked out parchment and quills, scribbling furiously—already plotting how to weaponize "Impedimenta + Repello" for their next prank.
As the fight dragged on, the battlefield spread. Half the arena was now their dance floor.
And then the crowd noticed something weird.
Dylan's dodges got sharper. He was predicting the dragons' moves—like he knew exactly where the next claw or flame would land.
Meanwhile, the dragons' attacks started glitching.
A claw swipe would freeze mid-air. A tail lash would jerk and stop—like they were hitting invisible walls. Their combos broke apart, sloppy and disjointed.
Ludo stared, his commentating wand frozen in his hand. He had no words.
He shot a desperate look at Dumbledore.
The headmaster smiled, voice carrying clearly: "Curious why Dylan's so calm? He's still using Impedimenta—but invisibly this time."
He tapped the air gently, like casting. "Every wand flick places a hidden barrier around the arena. Like a mix of Impedimenta and Protego—subtle, but it blocks and supports. He memorizes every spot. When he blasts himself with Repello, he always lands on solid air. And those same barriers mess with the dragons' attacks—that's why they're stuttering."
No sooner had Dumbledore finished than the fight hit a new peak.
Dylan kept dancing through fire and claws like they were nothing.
The dragons were furious. Flames came faster, roars shook the stands, sparks rained down and lit the grass on fire. The air turned scorching.
Then—both dragons started flapping harder. Wings beat like thunder, kicking up dust and rocks. They were about to take flight.
"LOOK! THE DRAGONS ARE FLYING!" Ludo finally found his voice again. "Can you believe it? The dragons are the ones giving up on the ground game! They're going for air superiority! Is this Dylan's plan? Wear them out down low, force them up, then snag the egg?"
He paused, then added nervously, "But don't forget—the golden egg's guarded by a graphorn! The Hogwarts trio used snarling cabbages to distract it earlier, but staff cleared those out. That graphorn's free now—and mean!"
Still, Ludo's eyes sparkled. He was already picturing it—two fifty-foot dragons blotting out the sky. Epic.
But before they could climb higher, Dylan shut it down.
One quick Repello on himself—he rocketed upward like a Bludger, leveling with the dragons.
Then—three sharp flicks of his wand at their wings.
And just like that… the wings stopped.
Both dragons hung ten meters in the air, wings locked mid-flap. They couldn't rise. They couldn't drop. Just twisted and roared in rage, stuck in limbo.
Ludo's jaw dropped. "Is… is this still Impedimenta?! I—I don't even know how to commentate anymore! I don't get it! Help!"
Dumbledore chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Yes, still Impedimenta. Dylan placed invisible barriers under their wings—locking the range of motion. They can't fly up or down. Perfect stalemate."
He glanced at the frozen dragons, then at Dylan gliding toward the egg. Softly, he added, "And now… the moment's just right."