He paused, then added, "I had no idea what Lee was saying at the time. Fred and George were just slapping their knees, yelling 'Spot-on impression!' and insisting Lee wasn't making it up. Ron, though? He swore the three of them cooked up some fake African language as a prank."
The group was still chuckling when a bright, clear voice cut in from the side: "Mr. Dylan Hockwood, got a minute to chat?"
Dylan turned. Fleur Delacour stood under the shade of a nearby tree, with Adèle Lefèvre and Claudia Laroche right behind her—the three Beauxbatons champions. They were all looking at him with open curiosity.
Dylan had a pretty good guess what this was about.
They probably wanted the breakdown on how he'd locked down those dragons with magic in the first task.
He smiled and nodded. "Sure, we can talk right here."
Cedric clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll head back to the castle, then. Catch you later."
"See ya."
Dylan waved as Harry, Ron, and Cedric walked off. Then he turned and joined the Beauxbatons trio under the tree.
The second he stepped into the shade, Fleur got straight to it—no small talk, just pure curiosity. "Mr. Hockwood, we came to ask about the spell you used in the arena—the one that pulled tons of water out of thin air and blocked two dragon-fire blasts at once. We're dying to know how it works."
She hesitated, choosing her words carefully, then added, "Is it some kind of secret technique? If it's not classified, we'd like to make a trade. We'll teach you signature Beauxbatons spells in exchange—just the mechanics, like energy flow and focus allocation during casting."
"A trade?" Dylan raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. He hadn't expected the Beauxbatons champs to come in with a deal.
Fleur explained right away. "It's kind of a Beauxbatons thing. We're big on alchemy, and alchemy's all about 'equivalent exchange.' So we just… default to that mindset. We don't want to take your knowledge for free. We want our sharing to be respected too."
Dylan's grin widened. "Using alchemical principles for magical exchange? That's actually really cool. Fair and it sparks cross-school spellcraft. I like it."
Fleur's eyes lit up, a proud little smile tugging at her lips. Beauxbatons' alchemy tradition was her baby—getting props from a wizard like Dylan? Huge win.
But before she could lay out the specifics, Dylan cut in gently. "About that spell, though—no trade needed."
He caught their stunned looks and kept going. "Keep an eye on the next issue of Hogwarts Voice. I already submitted a full paper—spell theory, step-by-step casting, even the tweaks I made mid-fight. It'll all be in there. Just read it."
"Hogwarts Voice?!" Adèle's voice shot up. "You're putting combat-grade spell details in the school paper?!"
Claudia nodded. "We've been here a while—we know the paper. But we've been slammed prepping for the first task. Ritual practice, dragon weak points… even Fleur paused her alchemy experiments. No time for casual reading."
"It's real," Dylan said, totally casual, like it was no big deal. "Dumbledore's always telling us: any thought about magic—deep or simple—deserves to be written down and shared. Doesn't have to be a stuffy thesis. Could be a journal entry, a spell tweak, whatever. He says, 'If it's honest effort, the format doesn't matter.'"
Fleur went quiet for a second, then pushed back. "But I said we'd trade. I don't want you giving it away. We want to give something back—even if it's not equal, we don't want it one-sided."
Dylan thought for a beat, then lit up. "Tell you what—write up your ritual magic techniques and submit those to Hogwarts Voice. Hogwarts kids learn Beauxbatons style, you refine your own ideas through writing. Win-win. Sound fair?"
Fleur nodded instantly. "Very fair."
She hesitated, though. "I'll need to clear it with Madame Maxime first. Some ritual arrays are traditional—if she says no to publishing, we can't."
She added sincerely, "If she vetoes it, we'll pull out just the core principles and give them to you personally. But please—keep it private. A secret between us."
Dylan stuck out his hand with a smile. "Deal. I'll wait to hear from you. Published or private—I'm pumped to learn Beauxbatons ritual magic. Different systems colliding? That's where the fun is."
Fleur took his hand, smiling back. And just like that—a magic-sharing pact was sealed in the most unexpected way.
After saying goodbye, Dylan didn't head straight back to the castle.
He hit the library instead.
Hogwarts had endless books. Even with his nonstop studying, he'd never run out.
Later, back in the Gryffindor common room…
The second he stepped through the portrait hole—
A dozen Gryffindors camped by the entrance exploded into cheers and swarmed him, herding him straight to the center of the room.
Harry and the others were already there.
The place had been transformed.
Tables and armchairs shoved to the walls, a few dragged into the middle to form one long banquet table.
It was loaded: golden-crusted pumpkin pasties dripping with honey-ginger glaze, silver pitchers of fresh juice, sizzling roast chicken—basically a mini feast.
"Everyone! Give it up for Gryffindor's champion—DYLAN HOCKWOOD, SAFE AND SOUND!"
"CHAMPION DYLAN!"
"HERO DYLAN!"
"DRAGON-SLAYER DYLAN!"
The nicknames got wilder. Some kids waved little flags that read GRYFFINDOR RULES. Others flicked their wands—colorful streamers burst into the air, twisting like living rainbows. Someone set off mini magical fireworks that zipped in loops with soft pops.
The common room went nuts. Food smells mixed with sparkler smoke. Kids cheered, grabbed plates, and dug in.
Dylan and Harry got mobbed in the middle, grinning like idiots.
The party rolled on until everyone was stuffed and slumped in chairs.
Then someone pointed to the corner. "Hey! Dylan, Harry—where's the golden egg? Barty Crouch said the second task clue's inside. Can we see it?"
Instant silence. Every eye locked on the egg.
Ron frowned. "I figured the Ministry would take them back after the task. They're just… letting us keep them?"
George was already across the room, scooping it up. He pressed his nose to the shell, fingers tracing. "Check it—tiny seam. It opens. Should we crack it?"
Neville looked nervous. "Are we sure? Crouch said the second task is solo. Studying it together… feels cheaty."
George's eyes darted. "The task hasn't started. Just a peek. Not breaking rules… right?"
All eyes turned to Dylan.
Fred spoke first. "Dylan? Your call. Open it now?"
Dylan took in the hopeful faces and chuckled. "Sure, why not? You guys can look—just don't tell me the clue. Wait till I figure it out myself. That way it's still 'independent.'"
"Deal!"
"Sworn to secrecy!"
"Cross my heart!"
They nodded like bobbleheads.
Dylan had noticed the egg's trick back at the arena: faint magical aura, immune to unlocking charms. Only way in? Pry it open by hand.
Probably dragon-proofing. Magical locks could backfire under dragon fire. Poor Viktor—his egg got torched when the dragon blasted it.
Dylan took the egg from George, placed his hands on either side of the seam, and looked up. "Here we go. Stay sharp—might be a surprise."
Everyone held their breath.
"Three… two… one!"
Click.
The egg popped open.
Nothing inside.
Just a blood-curdling, glass-shattering SCREAM.
Like a thousand saws on chalkboard, or a trapped beast howling in agony. Hair-standing, teeth-gritting awful.
Dylan had heard something like it leaving the medical tent earlier—just fainter.
Mouths dropped. Hands flew to ears. Faces scrunched in pain. A few stepped back.
Hermione whipped out her wand. "Muffliato!"
Soft blue light washed over the room. The scream vanished—replaced by a distant, harmless buzz, like far-off bees.
Everyone lowered their hands, exhaling like they'd survived a curse.
Fred rubbed his ringing ears. "Bloody hell—that was a banshee in my skull. Thought I'd go deaf."
George frowned, tapping his chin. "And it's from a dragon egg? Doesn't sound draconic at all. Creepy as hell."
Harry's brow creased. "We heard something like that from the medical tent earlier. You think the other champions opened theirs too? Hope they're okay…"