No matter how lifelike it looked, the Dragon silently roaring at the Thunderbird was still a non-living construct made of Fiendfyre.
Because of that, it had no real ability to fly, nor could it truly launch long-range attacks like hurling fireballs.
Maybe it could, but that would require an enormous amount of magic to sustain...
“So that’s it… the farther it moves and the more complex the actions, the more magic it consus?”
Draco could feel the drain with every movent the Fiendfyre Dragon made, and alongside that depletion ca a steady rise in his own proficiency.
Others might not have realized it yet, but as ti passed, the Fiendfyre that had started out stiff and sluggish was now moving far more smoothly under Draco’s wand.
That discovery lifted the corner of his mouth.
Actual combat was the fastest way to grow stronger.
“But I need to finish this quickly...”
He narrowed his eyes at the Thunderbird, now forced entirely onto the defensive.
He might look like the villain here, but Draco had no intention of letting this turn against him...
...
Roar!
“Is he about to win?”
“Look! The Thunderbird can’t find a single opening!”
“Yeah, it’s been running from Draco’s attacks nonstop.”
The surrounding exclamations made the Weasley twins’ expressions grow darker by the second. Deep in their eyes flickered the unmistakable mix of unease and wariness toward Draco.
Their relationship with him was far worse than most, and not just because of earlier conflicts.
During the last holiday, they had co into contact with a certain organization—one that naturally put them on the opposite side of Draco’s family.
Simply put, their beliefs and allegiances lay in different camps, and conflict was inevitable soday.
So the stronger Draco beca, the more nervous they felt...
“Hmph. Haven’t you noticed? His attacks aren’t doing anything.”
“Exactly. Aside from ripping up the field, have you seen the Thunderbird take even one hit?”
“And seriously, how long do you think an underage wizard who hasn’t even graduated can keep a Dark Magic like that going?”
“.....”
“....”
The young lions exchanged silent looks, and the cheers around them abruptly died down.
The Weasley twins’ blunt, far-too-loud comnts had snapped them out of their excitent.
Only now did they notice what was happening on the field. Just as the twins had said, the Thunderbird was dodging nonstop, but it hadn’t actually been struck once.
And that didn’t seem likely to change anyti soon.
Seeing the dawning realization on everyone’s faces, the Weasley twins puffed up smugly, amusent gleaming in their eyes as they watched Draco.
They were eagerly waiting for the mont he’d fall from that impressive height...
If even the Weasley twins had noticed, then Pansy and Hermione—who were watching Draco with nothing but worry—had of course seen it too.
Unlike the Weasleys’ delight, they were tense and anxious...
“Close in! We were just one step away!”
“What is he thinking? Draco can’t possibly have overlooked sothing this obvious.”
“If we can’t take away the Thunderbird’s ability to fly, then it’s practically untouchable. The aerial advantage is just too overwhelming.”
“Granger, do you think Draco has so kind of plan?”
“...How would I know what he’s thinking? I was about to ask you the sa thing.”
At so point, Pansy’s hand had slipped into Hermione’s, as if holding on was the only thing keeping them calm.
The more they watched that Fiendfyre Curse fail again and again, the more worry clouded their faces.
anwhile, Goyle and Crabbe had been shouting excitedly ever since the Fiendfyre Dragon appeared, far too hyped to settle down.
Maybe, in their hearts, Draco was simply invincible.
Just as Pansy raised an eyebrow, ready to scold Goyle and Crabbe into silence, Hermione suddenly noticed sothing and shot up from her seat.
“What did you see?”
“Didn’t you notice?”
“Notice what?”
“Look at the Thunderbird. Isn’t it slowing down?”
Following Hermione’s finger, Pansy finally sensed sothing off as well. The Thunderbird, once swift and nimble, now moved as if bound by invisible chains.
Heavy… and agitated…
“And not just that—the barrier looks reinforced. Was it Dumbledore, when he left earlier? I can’t feel any heat coming through it now… I get it!”
“Granger?”
“Don’t you think this arena, sealed in by magical barriers, feels like… an oven?”
“An oven?”
Pansy blinked, completely unfamiliar with the concept.
But Hermione, swept up in excitent, had no ti to explain a Muggle cooking appliance to a pure-blood witch.
Even without an explanation, Pansy could tell from Hermione’s expression that things were shifting in a better direction.
Hopefully…
...
Wherever the Fiendfyre passed, destruction followed.
Though Draco kept it contained, ti had already reduced the trial arena to sothing unrecognizable.
The rain had dwindled into near nothing, the trees were beginning to ignite from the blistering heat, and flas were spreading across the field—ordinary flas this ti, but terrifying all the sa.
The whole scene looked like…a hellscape of fire.
“It’s over.”
Draco’s quiet murmur made Fleur, still cheering behind him, freeze for a mont.
He hadn’t even hit the Thunderbird. Why would it be over?
“Over? But the Thunderbird—what!? It wasn’t even hit!”
Before Fleur could finish, her eyes widened in shock.
“Screech!?”
The Thunderbird—at so point—had begun to emit white smoke.
And in the very next heartbeat, its golden feathers erupted into flas.
With a confused cry, the creature that had been soaring gracefully just monts ago turned into a blazing fireball in the blink of an eye.
Every wizard watching froze, mouths open, staring blankly at the unbelievable sight.
Aside from a few who seed to be piecing things together, most couldn’t form a single explanation.
They had no idea what Draco had done to the Thunderbird.
But from a modern perspective—this was nothing more than the lethal effect of heat transfer...
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