𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚¹- hp.

𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐢. it starts with you and ends with us.

Now concentrated and with an ache in his heart, Harry stares at the dragon, and says, "Accio Firebolt!"

He waited, every fibre of him hoping, praying, every doubt that it hadn't worked and wasn't coming slamming him in the gut. So much to do, so little time. He seemed to be looking at everything around him through some sort of shimmering, transparent barrier, like a heat haze, which made the enclosure and the hundreds of faces around him swim strangely...

And then he heard it, speeding through the air behind him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling towards him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in mid-air beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making even more noise, Bagman was shouting, but Harry's ears weren't working properly anymore, listening wasn't all that important anyways, not when his only thought was, thank you, thank you, thank you.

He swung his leg over the broom, kicked off from the ground, and not even a second later something miraculous happened; he felt alive. There were no doubts on if he deserved all that he was given, no thoughts of missing Lavinia, no worries that he may die. There was nothing but that rush of adrenaline that rushed through his blood and sparked it hot, the way his heart speed up with some excitement he wasn't all that familiar with, the need to laugh because he didn't know what else to do with this sudden energy. If this was what it meant to be alive, then he would have done it everyday for the rest of his life. As he soared upwards the wind wildly rushed through his hair, and the crowds faces became mere flesh-coloured pinpricks below, the Horntail nothing more than the size of a dog, he realized that he had not only left his fear behind, but this was where he belonged. Suffocated with such adrenaline and flying high above in the sky, this was where he belonged, this was what he needed to feel alive.

He looked down at the clutch of eggs and immediately spotted the golden one, gleaming against its cement-coloured fellows, residing safely between the dragons front legs.

"Okay..." Harry tells himself, excitement coursing through his bones. "Diversionary tactics... let's go..."

And then he dived. The Horntail's head followed his movements; he knew what it was going to do, and pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away, but he didn't care. In his mind, that was no more that dodging a Bludger, and this was no more than a Quidditch match.

"Great Scott, he can fly." Bagman yelled as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr Krum?"

Harry soared higher in a circle. The Horntail was still following his progress, its head revolving on it's long neck — if he kept this up he was certain it would get nice and dizzy — but better not push it too long or, or it would start breathing fire again — Harry plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth but this time he was less lucky; he had missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead. As he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulders and ripped his robes. He could feel it stinging, and he could hear screaming and groaning from the crowd but the cut didn't seem too deep, and quickly decided it wasn't all that much of a problem.

Now, he zoomed back around the Horntail and a possibility occurred to him. The Horntail didn't seem to want to take off, she was too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings to keep those fearsome yellow eyes on him, she was afraid to move too far from them. He knew he had to persuade her to do it, or he'd never get near them. The trick, however, was to do it carefully, gradually enough until she left them on her own freewill.