5/6

As the back gate was just about closed, a wand poked through the gap and shot a bright spell straight at the dragon. It landed and, with a full-body jerk, the dragon shot up, being revived in a foul mood. It took one glance around the stadium that surrounded it on all sides. It breathed deep and, with a great bellow, it shot a ball of fire straight into the stands.

The guests in that general direction screamed, as did many others that watched, but before the fireball could incinerate the spectators, it impacted on the invisible warding that had been set up to protect them. Draco imagined, as spectacular as the sight of the fireball exploding had looked to him from the other side of the stadium, it must have been completely dazzling to witness it up close.

Needless to say, Draco wouldn't be sticking his hand out of the box during the Task. He couldn't tell how far out the protections went and only a crazy person would allow any part of themselves to be within a mile of an uncaged dragon without some kind of magical protection.

And then Fleur Delacour stepped through the human-sized gate at the opposite end to the raging dragon and the Task had officially begun.

Even in his prime seat, Draco thought Fleur Delacour looked rather small from this distance. Stunning but also very far away. How anyone in the highest rows might see anything without visual aids was a mystery. Nonetheless, the reverence following the dragon's initial outburst ceased and the crowd's roaring soon overtook the dragon's.

Draco, meanwhile, was transfixed. He knew that knights and wizards used to fight dragons from time to time, centuries ago, but seeing a lone witch standing across the barren land from a fully grown dragon seemed utterly futile.

The dragon soon spotted the only other living being in the arena and didn't take a liking to her. The Chinese Fireball was a fierce breed dragon, but any reputable handler would warn you that the greatest danger it presented was ranged attacks. Unlike the average dragon that could only incinerate twenty or thirty metres, a Chinese Fireball could send of its namesake blast over several fields.

Spitting a fireball across the arena was easy and almost too fast to process for the spectators that watched it hurtle towards the young witch carrying only her wand. Capable as she was, even Fleur could not counter the attack that was coming straight towards her at the speed of a cannonball without preparation.

Fleur threw herself to the ground and barely managed to avoid immolation. The spectators collectively gasped at the near miss. Several more fireballs followed and Fleur had to roll into a crevice to escape being singed as they passed by and broke against the reinforced perimeter wall of the arena.

"She looked her in the eye." Luna said, having stashed her book and started watching properly.

"What?" Draco barely spared her a glance, wanting to capture every second of the action in front of him.

"Never make eye contact with a brooding dragon. She'll attack."

"I think it was probably going to attack anyway when she tried to steal an egg."

"Oh, I suppose you're right."

In the arena, Fleur had managed to position herself backed against a rocky outcropping where the dragon's flames couldn't reach her. Her wand was raised and she was waiting for the opportunity to start towards her goal in between balls of fire that would char her to the bone if they landed. Not the most auspicious of starts but Fleur was confident the judges would forgive her initial lapse when they saw what she had planned.

When the latest volley ended, Fleur didn't wait more than a second after the last of the flames had burst against her hiding rock before she jumped out and swiftly circled around it to start her run at the angry dragon.

It would later be remarked by a great many that were watching (and a fair few who hadn't actually been watching) that the sight of Fleur Delacour running straight towards a thrashing dragon was nothing short of a enrapturing.

The dragon didn't suffer from that same amazement and as soon as it had regained its breath, it reared back and started shooting off fireballs again, one after another. However, unlike before, Fleur was well prepared this time and her wand was brought level to her eyes, pointed directly forwards, steady even as she leapt over crevices and rocks. When the first ball of fire was only a few feet in front of her, Fleur not breaking pace, her wand burst into light even brighter than the fire, and she was able to run right through the fireball without a singed hair.

She continued running, having to climb over several boulders, and all throughout she seemed to never break her pace. It made Draco feel sore just watching her athleticism.

Fleur, on the other hand, didn't look like she was feeling anything but triumph as she neared the dragon, having either run straight through or deflected every blast of fire that had been sent her way. She certainly didn't look like someone suffering from fear or doubt.

Draco watched as she came upon the dragon several orders of magnitude larger than her and he marvelled as she stayed just far enough away to avoid its claws, each of which were the size of her forearm. The dragon tried to reach her with its claws and even its tail, which she had to duck behind the closest rocky outcropping to avoid, and then tried to burn her even after all previous attempts had failed.

Fleur maintained the distance and started to chant a long and elaborate spell that Draco couldn't hear clearly enough to discern. She started to dodge the fireballs rather than protecting herself magically as she chanted. After a few near misses, Fleur finally stopped in her tracks and shot bright purple sparks right into the dragon's open and smoking maw.

The dragon seems quite surprised and its mouth snapped shut after the spell hit the back of its throat. It paused for a moment and then started to look a little woozy, its head lulling a bit. The fierce sneeze that erupted from the dragon, which seemed to snap it out of its stupor, was apparently not what Delacour had been hoping to see as she immediately went back on the defensive and started chanting again.

"Oh dear! What a shame. Fleur Delacour was using the Robistark Sleeping spell, a high-level enchantment capable of putting a hundred muggles to sleep in an instant. Unlucky for her, she's not facing muggles." Bagman's void rang out.

Draco had tried to tune out the commentator as much as he could but that was a genuinely interesting fact. "Have you heard of it?" He asked without looking away from what Delacour was doing now.

"Yes. It theoretically could work on a dragon when cast on an area not protected by its scales, like inside of its mouth. I'm not sure why it didn't work…"

The dragon seemed more upset after the attempt to put it to sleep and was taking it out on the little witch bothering it, shooting off volleys of fireballs in even quicker succession and trying all the harder to reach her with its talons.

Fleur stumbled once or twice, clearly starting to struggle with the continuous extreme exertion of keeping up with a dragon. If she had been wearing robes, Draco was convinced that she would have caught fire already. Fleur again came to the end of her chant and blasted off her spell into the dragon's gaping mouth, this time just as it had been about to send out a fireball.

The dragon coughed out a few bursts of fire but didn't seem focussed on summoning another full fireball. It shook its head and blinked sleepily. Bagman's ongoing commentary was building the tension amongst the hundreds of spectators and everyone listening around the world.

The dragon finally looked back down to Fleur.

"It doesn't look like it's worked this time either. The dragon has focussed its sights back on Miss Delacour and it is looking even angrier. Let's hope she has another trick up her sleeve. The dragon is now rearing back, it looks like it might be another fireball, and Miss Delacour is readying her wand again. We might be in for more of her wonderful spellwork yet. And now- oh, no, look what we have here! The Chinese Fireball is shaking its head. It isn't paying any attention to Miss Delacour anymore. It looks sleepy! It's dipping to its side, and now to the other. It's trying to steady itself now, it can't stand up straight!

"It's trying swipe at Miss Delacour now but it can't see straight, its missing her entirely. And now it's on the ground, its eyelids are struggling to stay open. It's opened its mouth, its aiming at Miss Delacour. I think we might see one more fireball… but… no, it's closing its mouth again. I think it might be over. The dragon is down for the count!"

Draco joined everyone else watching in feeling impressed that a teenager had managed to cast a sleeping charm on a dragon and get it to stick. Most adult witches and wizards couldn't claim to be able to do that alone, much less being able to boast that they actually had done it.

Then again, it was surely a lot to go through to claim bragging rights.

It almost seemed like a formality, once the dragon had been rendered unconscious, for Fleur to climb over its comatose body to collect the golden egg. Once she had taken possession of it and climbed back away to relative safety, beyond the dragon's immediate reach (if it had been conscious to make use of that reach), a deafening claxon sounded and the Task was officially over for Fleur.

People cheered and Fleur continued walking away from the dragon, struggling to carry the substantial weight of the egg now that the adrenalin had worn off. The large back gate opened again to admit the dragon wranglers, carefully approaching the slumbering dragon with their wands already raised in case it was not as subdued as it appeared.

The wrangler with the bag carefully climbed into the nest again, this time moving even slower while he was carefully guarded by his comrades. After the real egg replaced the stolen fake, the wranglers reformed the cage around the dragon and began levitating the enormous construct back out of the stadium just as the dragon was beginning to awaken and make grouchy noises.

Draco watched it go, his heart still pounding from the close calls a virtual stranger had experienced, and didn't know how he was going to withstand watching his closest friend (and two others) undergo similar dangers. Sirius might have looked like he was enjoying himself as much as the braying crowds all around them as he joined in on the cheering, but Draco could see how pale he was, how his plush armrest was already starting to fray from the grip he'd exerted on it.

All through the dragon removal, and while several more witches and wizards entered the through the back gate to help Fleur on her way out, the judges had been writing or reviewing their notes. When the arena was empty, Bagman started his announcements again.

"The time has come to see what our esteemed panel thought of Miss Delacour's performance just now. I certainly couldn't fault her bravery, but let's see what the experts think." He paused as Dumbledore slowly climbed to his feet. Draco thought it was just as well that Bagman was announcing everything as most of the stadium's spectators, who weren't sitting directly across from the judges' box, wouldn't be able to see a thing.

Dumbledore looked around and then bent down to pick up his parchment. On it, a beautifully calligraphied number was written, but even Draco couldn't read it from where he was sitting.

"A nine from Headmaster Dumbledore!" Bagman helpfully announced, eliciting further howls and hollers of support. Fudge got to his feet more swiftly and held up his parchment without any of the suspense that Dumbledore had generated, perhaps knowing how pointless holding up the number was. "And an eight from Minister Fudge!"

Even the spectators at the top of the stadium might have seen Madame Maxine stand, nearly bumping her head on the top of the judges' box. "A ten from Miss Delacour's own Headmistress Maxine!"

"No bias happening there, then." Draco mumbled.

"And finally a… rather critical five from Durmstrang's Headmaster Karakoff!" A few boos rang out at the clearly unfair score but Draco couldn't imagine anyone was particularly surprised that the crooked man would cheat like this. Even Draco's father had nothing but bad things to say about the man.

Still, despite the harsh final score, thirty-two out of forty was a very respectable result.

Bagman collected the parchments from the judges and addressed the crowds once more. "The judges' comments almost all seem to agree that after a bit of a shaky start, directly spelling a dragon and managing to put it to sleep after it was so riled up demonstrates a remarkable aptitude for charms."

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara dearly wished he had thought to bring his earmuffs from Herbology with him. The cheering coming from the stadium beyond the tightly locked gate was deafening and it was making his bad mood worse. He'd considered whether to ask someone else in the tent to transfigure some ear protection for him but ultimately decided against it. The other two were supposed to be his competition, after all; he couldn't go about asking them for favours.

The others also didn't seem like they would appreciate the distraction either; they had been attentively listening to the announcements filtering through the stadium walls.

Gaara supposed it didn't matter about the ear muffs now. He was up next and he couldn't take anything with him except his Champion's uniform and his mangled wand. He looked down to the black wand in his hand and ran his thumb over its even further diminished state. Maybe Draco had been right and it wasn't a good idea…

A few minutes after the scores had been announced, there was another claxon, drawing people back into their seats and causing Crouch to push off of the wall he had been leaning against since Fleur disappear into the arena. He approached and Gaara nodded, ready to leave.

It came as something of a surprise when Potter jumped up to his feet when he noticed Gaara was leaving. He sped over to Gaara's side and the redhead honestly had no clue what had motivated the approach. Some last minute taunt? Gaara believed that was more Draco's style. A silent nod of respect? Gaara would appreciate the silent part.

"Good luck." Potter said, looking as bashful as Gaara assumed was appropriate when wishing your sometimes-enemy luck before they risked their life.

Surprised or not, Gaara assumed he should say something back to the boy he disliked. "Be careful." Were the only words that came to mind. They were probably appropriate, or at least they were the least likely to start an argument.

After a moment of Potter's face not turning into a snarl, Gaara was sure he had picked the right words. He should start a notebook of correct things to say in different situations. Temari had suggested it once but he'd not managed to say anything without upsetting anyone for days afterwards so he didn't think he would be capable of writing such a book. And then, later, he never had a pen handy.

Harry watched Gaara go with a frown. That had been unusually nice of the redhead. Maybe he was as worried as Harry and just better at hiding it.

Harry's concern was now not just based on his own upcoming Task but because he had a terrible feeling about what was about to happen in Gaara's. It was probably just a feeling but he couldn't dismiss it easily.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"I'll admit it was impressive."

"I'm glad you're able to admit that." Luna said with a soft smile.

"No, what I mean is that the final spell wasn't the most impressive part. Deflecting dragon fire is much more difficult, and to do it while moving!" Draco said, still looking forward so father couldn't see he was talking to someone.

"Oh, yes, I suppose you're right." Luna looked contemplative, presumably considering the logistical issues of shielding against dragon fire.

"That said, giving her ten out of ten was still outrageous. Of course her headmistress would be biased. I expect Karkaroff will give Krum a ten as well. I can only hope Maxine gives him a low score in return and they balance each other out."

"It certainly does seem like a waste."

Draco had elected not to go for a snack during the intermission between Champions. The idea of eating during what was to come was unappealing to say the least.

"I'm worried." Luna said quietly. Draco almost didn't hear her say it.

"He'll be fine." Draco wouldn't say it, but he felt the same way as Luna.

"Damn right he will." Sirius said, full of good cheer. Draco would have believed him if he didn't think he could see a little blood caked under the man's nails where he had been gripping his fists too tightly. He imagined the man's palms would bear a few more marks with the way his knuckles had turned white when Ludo Bagman announced the next Champion would be beginning soon.

Then again, when the time came, Sirius cheered all the louder as Gaara emerged, regardless of any negative feelings he had.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara stepped out into the light of the arena and realised how small the field of the Quidditch pitch had seemed during the World Cup compared to when he was standing in it.

The rocks and crevices would give him some cover from the dragon's fire if needed, but first he had to test whether there was an easier way.

He could see the full-sized black dragon at the other end of the arena, already roaring and snarling at the crowds it had awakened to find itself surrounded by. He could sympathise.

Gaara started running across the arena towards the dragon, staying out of its sight as he went. When he was over halfway across, he settled against a rock to clam himself before he tried Plan A.

Most dragons could not project their fire more than twice the length of their bodies, so Gaara would be perfectly safe this far away. He moved slowly, stepping up onto the nearest rocky outcropping and climbing to the top so that he would be visible. His distinctive and 'poorly-suited-to-stealth' red hair would ensure his opponent would spot him quickly.

If this worked, he wouldn't need to rely on his Plan B.

As predicted, the Hebridean Black noticed him almost immediately. Gaara made eye contact with the brooding dragon and hoped his animal magnetism would finally serve some useful purpose, one way or another. Plan A was so simple that to the casual observer, Gaara would look quite mad, staring down a dragon weighing at least twenty tons.

And Bagman's announcing could readily be described as based on casual observation. "Now Gaara is attempting to stare the dragon into submission. I must admit, I've never heard of a wizard managing to overcome a dragon with just a look, even amongst the great Anglo-Saxon dragon slayers."

Gaara took no notice, instead he was trying to gauge whether his peculiar way with this world's animals would stretch not only to a fully grown dragon, but one that was already enraged and jealously guarding its eggs. Reptilian faces were much harder to judge than canine of equestrian but something about the slight relaxation of its jaw was all the indication that Gaara needed. It had worked.

He would never understand what it was about his influence on this world's animals, or the peculiar nature of those animals to be influenced by him, but whatever caused it had finally benefited him.

Gaara hopped down from the tall rock on which he had stationed himself and started jumping across the space between him and the dragon. He wondered briefly whether he would be able to keep the dragon alongside the three-headed dog in the forest. The groundskeeper with the illegitimate claim on Gaara's dog was widely known to be enamoured with dragons, so he might just be able to manage it if the dragon's temperament was suitable. On the bright side, he knew an overgrown lizard like a dragon would not be prone to the same unpleasant displays of affection as Gaara's mammalian acquaintances.

As Gaara was upon the dragon, he wondered how he should go retrieving the egg. The animals charmed by his presence did not lose their senses, so this black giant would most likely still take offence if he were to just snatch the egg. So, how could he signal his benign intentions, or reveal the deceptive golden egg to a beast too simple to perceive the difference itself?

He was only ten metres away from the great lizard when it opened its mouth. Gaara wondered what sort of sound a dragon made when it displayed affection. It was only the barest luck that Gaara detected the subtle change in temperature from the dragon's breath in time to leap away to safety mere seconds before flames engulfed his previous position.

Gaara had managed to jump high into the air, higher than civilians would ever manage, to avoid the flames, and before he had landed he was already formulating a halfway convincing lie about how he had managed to do it.

"Merlin! Well, whatever Gaara had expected to happen, I doubt it was the dragon sending a torrent of flames after he had gotten close. Nonetheless, Gaara seems to have managed an expertly-timed levitation spell on himself to jump high above the flames just in the nick of time. Any rumours that this young man has had any difficulties casting his spells are clearly mistaken."

Gaara scrapped the clever excuse he had been planning and stored away the levitation lie for later.

Gaara landed and quickly backed away from the clearly enraged dragon. Apparently it had not been stilled by his aura so much as it had been waiting for him to come closer to roast him alive. Clever dragon.

Gaara stayed light on his feet and pulled out his wand so that his continuing acrobatics might more easily be explained away as the result of some spell. Plan A had failed, evidently, so it was onto Plan B. He was, according to Kankuro, one of the least physically able shinobi to ever be on active service for Sunagakure, but Gaara believed he had a reasonable chance of getting past the dragon without any sand or magic.

Gaara tried running under the dragon's legs but as soon as he started towards the opening, the beast opened its mouth and tried to fry him again. Going through the front made him an easy target for the dragon's fire. When he tried to circle around too fast for the lumbering beast to face him head on, the shinobi still found his path blocked. Jaws that bite and claws that catch were accompanied by a tail that whipped by when he tried to attack from behind.

For such a large creature, it was deceptively fast and could defend itself from every angle. Gaara hopped over the Hebridean's talons and tried climbing over the dragon's body. If he stayed close enough, it wouldn't be able to attack as viciously or with as much fire. He heard many people gasp and cheer as he leapt onto the dragon's neck.

It was difficult to hold on, his chakra wasn't adhering to the scales much at all, but Gaara gripped tight and climbed as quickly as he was able. The dragon was wriggling, trying to throw him off or snag him with its claws. Gaara was sure that being caught by either its claws or its teeth would be the end of him. Without his sand armour, he was defenceless.

Shukaku was begging to be let out, as well. Pleading to be allowed to face the dragon and then wipe out the collected witches and wizards all around him. Gaara was used to the noise in his head, but in times like these when his full concentration was required, he did wish the tanuki demon would shut up.

Gaara scrambled out of the way of a claw that rushed at him, leaving shallow cuts in the dragon's own hide. Gaara finally slid over the dragon's back and into the nest, within touching distance of the golden egg, and in a split second he decided to jump straight back out of the nest, over the dragon's flailing tail.

He probably could have laid his hand on the egg, he might have even been able to hold on to it for the full ten seconds in order to conclude the Task, but Gaara was in no doubt that trying to get any closer to the eggs, real and fake, would have resulted in severe bodily harm or death before the dragon handlers could come to his rescue.

Gaara was able to dodge back away from the snarling dragon and outside of its firing range. It seemed even more upset now that he had come so close to its eggs. As the second eldest son of the Weasley clan would warn anyone who asked, never let a dragon think you are an egg thief. Dragons were often aggressive when provoked, but they were rarely as vicious or enraged as when something threatened their eggs.

Hence why there weren't many natural predators of dragon eggs.

And here Gaara was, watching a dragon hiss at him and thrash with all its might to reach him despite the chain around its neck keeping it at a relatively safe distance.

Gaara hopped back onto a tall rock just outside of the range of the Hebridean Black's fire breathing, and reassessed his options, which had dwindled somewhat since the start of his challenge. Trying to tackle the dragon himself again probably wouldn't end well, so that left him with Plan C.

He'd really wanted to avoid Plan C…

Gaara gripped his gnarled wand in his hand and took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult.

The dragon took no notice of his changed stance, now lacking the previous battle-readiness. Gaara raised his wand with a flourish, flicking his wrist a little, and then he brought it to his lips without any verbal spell.

"I'm not sure what contestant Gaara is doing right now. It's a spell of some sort but he doesn't appear to have spoken it aloud. Yet another display of nonverbal spellcasting. But what could he be planning now?"

Gaara tuned out the commentary. He pulled the wand away from his lips and he settled into a comfortable stance. It shouldn't take too long to show signs of working and he'd need to be ready when it did.

"Do you think this is it? The big thing he's been planning?" Luna asked.

"I think it's optimistic of you to assume he's planned any of this ahead of time. So far all he's done is stare at the thing and try his acrobatics."

"Don't be so quick to judge. Gaara's always got a back-up plan." Sirius said, leaning over but without taking his eyes off of the stadium.

Draco wondered how Sirius, who had apparently known Gaara longer than anyone else in this world, could be so oblivious about how half-assed Gaara's plans really were. He acted all stoic and cool but that just disguised his overwhelming stupidity.

Gaara was just standing there.

"Any ideas what he might have done?" Draco asked Luna.

Luna seemed ponderous, a strange look on her usually vacant face. "I thought it might be something to make his voice louder, to startle the dragon or command it somehow, but that doesn't seem like something Gaara would do."

Draco kept watching the redhead and the dragon standing across from each other. He could feel his pulse pounding so hard he could almost hear it. And then he could hear it. Draco wanted to rub his ear, to see if it was clogged or something, but he couldn't possibly do that in public. But now he could hear his heartbeat like a beating, thumping drum, it was becoming quite distracting.

And then Draco noticed Luna was also looking distracted, like she could hear the rhythmic thumping.

"Oh dear Merlin, he hasn't, has he?" A moment of dread realisation hit Draco as his eyes darted back to Gaara in the arena, standing there all calm like he wasn't the most ridiculous human to ever live.

"Hasn't what?" Sirius had none of the same compunctions, his finger wriggling in his ear canal to try and clear whatever was making him hear the beating.

Draco wanted to bury his head in his hands but he couldn't afford to miss what was almost certainly about to happen. "You'll… you'll see in a minute."

"Oh my." Luna said quietly, the truth dawning on her as well.

"What?" Sirius exclaimed. "What spell did he use?"

The rumbling was getting louder now, getting closer, and the stadium was all taking notice. The announcer was making wild speculations about what Gaara might have done with his spell.

When the thumping seemed to be nearly upon them, Gaara turned towards the door nearly behind the dragon, which was splitting its attention between whatever the egg thief had done and the egg thief himself.

Then there was a horrendous banging on the door, something impacting against the giant gates through which the dragon's cage had been levitated earlier.

After several more impacts, the gates flew open, and through them flew the enormous form of a three-headed hellhound named Fluffy, barging into the arena with all three of its heads scouting around for… yes, there he was. Fluffy skirted around the dragon, which was hissing at the dog that was slightly bigger than it.

When Fluffy was nearly to him, Gaara straightened and made eye contact with his faithful beast. He stretched out his thin arm and pointed directly at the dragon and clicked his fingers.

Fluffy whirled on the dragon, barked ferociously, and dove right for it, leaping over the distance between them and was upon it before the much skinnier dragon could let out even a spark. Fluffy's three heads latched on to the dragon's neck and its two forelegs and pinned it to the ground with so little effort that Gaara wondered if he might have been better off just calling Fluffy straight away.

Bagman was animatedly detailing the unbelievable spectacle unfolding but Gaara continued to ignore him. He jumped back down from his perch and carefully approached the locked together beasts. He circled around, knowing the dragon would thrash more and more the closer he got, but he was confident that Fluffy had a good grip on the scaly mother.

He noticed, as he went around the back and avoided the dragon's black, scrambling legs, that Fluffy's tail was wagging as rapidly as if he was playing the most invigorating game. Gaara wondered if Fluffy was really enjoying himself or if it was just the adrenalin.