On the far side of the arena, Kyle soon spotted a golden blur darting between the Bludgers. The Firebolt's superior agility and speed made tracking it far easier than it would have been otherwise. The Golden Snidget was hovering near the stands, its small, shiny black eyes fixed intently on Kyle. Its head tilted slightly, as though curious about the approaching figure.
When the Snidget finally realized Kyle was closing in, it flapped its wings in a panic and tried to flee—but it was too late.
The Firebolt's ability to rapidly accelerate for short bursts gave Kyle a decisive edge. Even with the ever-present interference of the Bludgers, he managed to position himself directly behind the Snidget before it could vanish again. With a swift, precise motion, he gently caught the delicate creature in his hands.
The Golden Snidget felt soft, like a warm, fluffy dandelion resting in his palm. It didn't resist being caught; instead, it lay still, gazing up at Kyle with an inquisitive tilt of its tiny head.
"Puff... puff..."
As if on cue, the mont Kyle captured the Snidget, the Bludgers pursuing him disintegrated one by one, dissolving into fine dust that scattered into the air. When one of the Bludgers disappeared, it revealed a glimring red gemstone within, suspended montarily before beginning to fall. Kyle acted quickly, darting toward the stone and catching it in his other hand.
The gemstone was roughly the size of an egg, its dark red hue strikingly reminiscent of the Philosopher's Stone that had once been hidden at Hogwarts. Its purpose, however, remained a mystery for the ti being.
Kyle's curiosity about the gemstone was cut short as the scene around him shifted once more.
The remaining platform vanished into thin air, and the entire Quidditch Pitch began to spin wildly. The crowd in the stands seed to shrink as if the entire space was expanding outward, growing larger by the second. The ground beneath him reford into a different terrain, but Kyle didn't land. He gripped the Firebolt tightly, staying airborne as the transformation continued.
A low, rumbling sound filled his ears. In the blink of an eye, a towering mountain erupted from the ground, dominating the entire pitch. Its jagged peaks pierced the sky, and the air around it crackled with an ominous energy.
Then ca the roars.
Kyle's breath caught as two massive dragons ca into view atop the mountain—the Swedish Short-Snout and the Hungarian Horntail. These were the sa Dragons he had encountered before, and now they lood before him once more, their scales glinting in the changing light.
"What is going on?" Kyle muttered, disbelief evident in his voice.
Both dragons in the sa arena? Could this be the final challenge? Did it an whoever reached the third level first had to face both of them alone? And what about Fleur and Krum—did they even have a chance to compete now?
Kyle's thoughts raced, his mind spinning as he tried to comprehend the situation. Around him, the stands erupted into a cacophony of cheers and gasps, the energy in the stadium reaching a fever pitch.
The Hungarian Horntail, seemingly startled by the noise, roared fiercely. Without warning, it unleashed a forty-foot torrent of flas aid toward the stands.
"Ah!" The crowd's cheers turned to screams as spectators scrambled to escape.
For a brief mont, panic gripped the arena. But then it beca clear—the flas did not reach the stands. Whether due to distance or protective enchantnts, the spectators were safe.
"Don't worry, don't worry!" Bagman's voice rang out, attempting to calm the crowd. "The bleachers are completely secure! Please remain seated. Now, I must admit, this is unexpected! The Hogwarts Champion has utterly dominated the first two levels, and now we're onto the final test."
Bagman continued, his voice rising in excitent. "Let explain—this third level is shared by all the Champions! That ans the other two competitors will join this arena shortly. The task is straightforward: find all three red stones to pass the level. So... good luck!"
A level shared by all the Champions?
Kyle suddenly understood. No wonder—if he really had to deal with two Dragons on his own, it would be a bit too difficult.
He jumped off the Firebolt, landing softly on the ground, and looked up at the two Dragons towering over the mountain before Fleur and Krum had arrived.
He finally realized what had been in the suitcase he had seen that day: Firestone.
A stone with dark red streaks, it was originally a highly dense ore, ford after being baked in a Dragon's flas over a long period. It could continue to emit high temperatures, making it a favorite of Dragons. They often collected Firestones and placed them in their nests. Most dragon eggs were even hatched on these stones, their heat providing the ideal conditions.
It was worth ntioning that the na of the Ashwinder, a Magical Creature familiar to most wizards, originated from this very type of stone.
Now, these Firestones were piled atop the mountain, lying directly under the Dragons' bodies. Among the Firestones, the kind of red stone Kyle needed to pass the level was also mixed in.
The condition for passing this level was to collect three red stones. There had been none in the first level, and only one in the second... Perhaps there had been one in the first level too, but he simply hadn't noticed it.
In any case, Kyle now needed two more to pass this final level. But how? He frowned, contemplating his options.
Dragons were grumpy creatures by nature. On top of that, being the first Champion to arrive at the third level ant most people would now be paying close attention to his movents. If he tried to pass the level by "trading" with the Dragons, it seed unlikely he could avoid drawing attention.
Kyle pondered for a mont and began to understand the aning behind the third level's design. Three people, two Dragons—this setup clearly encouraged teamwork. If two people actively distracted the Dragons, the remaining person could collect the necessary stones without much trouble.
But deciding who would distract the Dragons and who would retrieve the stones was up to the Champions themselves. They could cooperate harmoniously, allowing one person to gather all the stones and then divide them equally, or they could take turns distracting the Dragons. In short, passing this level depended on each person's abilities and their ability to find the right thod. If they worked together, it could be relatively simple.
However, all of this was predicated on all three Champions being present. Kyle alone would never be able to handle it.
"Should I wait for them?" Kyle hesitated. If he waited for Fleur and Krum, he would lose the ti advantage he had built up in the previous two levels. But if he didn't wait, he would have to face both Dragons alone.
Caught in indecision, Kyle subconsciously took a step forward.
"Clatter..."
A few stones rolled down under his feet. Although the sound wasn't loud, the Swedish Short-Snout heard it. It stood up, its dark golden vertical pupils swiveling slightly as it looked in Kyle's direction.
Great. Now there was no need to think about it anymore.
Kyle didn't hesitate. He jumped onto the Firebolt and leapt into the air. A roar erupted behind him, and he could feel his back growing hotter and hotter. He instinctively bent down to avoid a blazing jet of flas.
Glancing back, Kyle saw the Swedish Short-Snout chasing him. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—the Hungarian Horntail hadn't moved. It kept its head low, as though on guard.
This reduced so of the pressure Kyle was under, but it also ant he couldn't use the Firebolt's speed to loop back and grab the stone. His attempt to test the situation had been far from successful.
Shaking his head, Kyle soared higher into the air, preparing to shake off the Short-Snout. As they crossed paths mid-flight, sothing caught Kyle's eye. The Swedish Short-Snout had a long scar near its wing, one that even extended across its scales.
Such scars were rare. Very few creatures could leave permanent marks on a Dragon—unless the opponent was another Dragon. And the placent of the scar... it looked familiar.
Could it be...
Kyle's mory snapped into focus. Back at the Dragon Reserve, he had seen this Swedish Short-Snout before. At the ti, it had been badly beaten, and he and Newt had worked together to heal its wounds. One of those wounds had been near its wing—a wound he rembered vividly because he had discreetly collected half a bottle of Dragon's blood during the process.
It had left a deep impression on him.
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