Stanislav Ivaneski vs. Swedish Short-Snout
With deep dark circles under his eyes, the long-named, massive, and remarkably dim-witted Stanislav Ivaneski stepped onto the field.
Previously, Regulus Black had dealt with the Swedish Short-Snout by creating a hot spring for the dragon. With the contrast between the surrounding cold and the spring's warmth, the dragon would fall into a deep sleep that lasted for quite some time.
However, conjuring such a hot spring was beyond the capabilities of this big oaf. As a student of Durmstrang Institute, he was far more proficient in dark magic—or rather, he could only study dark magic.
Dark magic differs from the Unforgivable Curses. While it can cause harm, much of it is not incurable and can be countered with counter-spells.
Take Krum's earlier Blinding Curse on the Ukrainian Ironbelly, for example. The blindness caused by the spell could be reversed once the curse was lifted.
Similarly, Professor Snape's invented spell Sectumsempra could also be nullified by its counter-curse to heal the wounds.
After a full night of strategizing, Durmstrang's think tank finally devised a detailed plan for their foolish giant.
"If you lose, Stanislav Ivaneski, you'll be expelled the moment you return!"Headmaster Igor Karkaroff's voice overpowered the crowd, and the giant was so terrified he nearly twisted his ankle.
Stanislav Ivaneski reached the arena's entrance. The dragon would attack if he advanced about five more steps. That five-step mark was its alert zone. Although not all dragons shared the exact same range, the variance wasn't significant.
This meant the champion had to observe the dragon's reactions carefully on the spot.
Ivaneski's strides were too long. When he took his fourth step and his foot hit the ground, the dragon already reacted, its scales rippling as it stood upright.
He quickly stepped back—this distance marked the dragon's threshold. It wasn't the range of its attack but rather its psychological safety zone.
Ivaneski raised his wand to the sky.
"Grease Spell! Grease Spell! Grease Spell! Grease Spell! Grease Spell! Grease Spell! Grease Spell! Grease Spell! Grease Spell! Grease Spell!"
With what seemed like a hysterical barrage of Grease Spells, his magic produced a stream of black, greasy blobs in the sky, each the size of a human buttock.
Yes—each blob was about the same size as Ivaneski's own rear end.
These oily black orbs formed in the air before plummeting straight down, crashing into the center of the arena and splattering across the Swedish Short-Snout.
Since Ivaneski hadn't launched the spells directly at the dragon, it didn't seem to associate the greasy mess raining from the sky with the burly wizard standing nearby.
However, the Swedish Short-Snout clearly despised the filth. It was absolutely disgusted.
Durmstrang's research team had discovered that the dragon's fondness for hot springs wasn't about warmth. These dragons lived deep in Sweden's mountains—high altitude, cold climate.
If they preferred warmth, they would migrate south or descend to lower altitudes. And anyone who's taken a hot bath knows how cold it feels afterward.
So, the real reason the Swedish Short-Snout enjoyed hot springs wasn't the heat—it was cleanliness. Which raised the question: what would happen if it were made dirty?
Besides, Krum had retrieved the dragon egg using nothing more than a simple Accio spell. Perhaps overly complex strategies were more trouble than they were worth. A simpler plan might be the smarter approach.
So far, it was working—brilliantly.
The Swedish Short-Snout was busy dodging the falling grease blobs, even rearing its head to breathe dragonfire skyward in an attempt to incinerate the mess. The dragon egg it had been guarding so diligently? Now completely forgotten, it rolled off to the side.
"That's it! Good job—keep going! Don't stop the Grease Spell!"
Dozens of bald-headed Durmstrang boys cheered from the audience, urging their comrade on. Even Krum joined in the support.
He had just come from the medical tent and had learned the plan from his classmates. He hadn't expected Headmaster Igor Karkaroff to reflect on the previous failures and, because of that, turn what had seemed like a long shot for Stanislav Ivaneski into a real chance at victory.
"Come on! Keep going! Stanislav Ivaneski, you can do it! You're going to be the next winner!"
Viktor Krum was shouting too, waving his arms excitedly.
The entire yard was now covered in a slick layer of grease from the Lubrication Charm, and the Swedish Short-Snout had no place to stand without slipping.
Earlier, the dragon had tried to move but slipped and fell due to the greasy ground.
"That's it! Next spell! Hurry, the next spell!"
Headmaster Igor Karkaroff was shouting frantically. Now that the dragon had fallen once, it might retaliate at any moment. Once it unleashed its fire breath, the flames would sweep across the ground and burn away all traces of the grease.
"Devil's Snare!"
Stanislav Ivaneski immediately cast the spell—not to catch corpses, but to remotely retrieve the dragon egg.
Fueled by magic, the plant rapidly grew. A black vine, thick as a giant python, extended toward the dragon egg.
The Devil's Snare was entirely black—both stem and leaves—and it slithered across the oily black ground without drawing the attention of the Swedish Short-Snout.
It reached the dragon egg, wrapped itself tightly around it, and began pulling it back.
But just then, something unexpected happened. The Swedish Short-Snout, which had been repeatedly slipping and rising, fell once more—only this time, its claw landed squarely on the dragon egg. And to make matters worse, it regained its footing.
The dragon lifted its head and inhaled deeply. As expected, it was about to clear the area with fire. Once it breathed dragonfire across the yard, all that grease—and their strategy—would be rendered useless.
"What now? We've come so far—are we really going to lose everything now?"
"Don't panic! We have a backup plan, but we have to wait until the dragonfire clears the area before we can use it."
"To finally reach the egg and now just stand here watching it get pinned down… What a waste."
The students from Durmstrang Institute were deeply disappointed. Even the spectators were disheartened. They'd gotten that close to the egg—only to have it trapped under a dragon's claw.
Was it just bad luck for the big guy? People had been cheering for him—but his name was so long, what was it again?
"Looks like Durmstrang is going to lose this round."
Rita Skeeter leaned against Regulus Black, surveying the scene. Given how things had turned out, that seemed to be the only reasonable conclusion.
"What if I told you there's still a chance—would you believe me?"
Regulus Black turned to her, a teasing smile on his face.
"How could there be? I don't believe it. But I'm not betting with you again."
Rita Skeeter was truly exhausted. After everything that happened last night—even with all the potions she'd taken to recover—she still hadn't completely shaken that lingering sensation. The echoes of pleasure from the previous night still pulsed faintly inside her.
Just as Regulus had joked, they'd done enough in one night to last the entire year. That alone should be enough to tide her over until next year.
"Why not bet again? You could enjoy another whole year."
Regulus Black teased her in a way only the two of them would understand.
"No! I don't want to rest like that again. I'd rather work for a while, then take a proper break."
In such a public setting, Rita Skeeter and Regulus were exchanging words so intimate that no one else could decipher their meaning. They simply waited for this round to come to an end.
And just as Regulus had said, there was still a chance—if the contestant could just think of the right solution.
Just like when Krum had once thought of "Accio this, Accio that." With just a bit more persistence, he could've grabbed the dragon egg.
"Tell me—are you holding on tight enough, Stanislav Ivaneski?"
Viktor Krum suddenly thought of something and immediately shouted the question.
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