(Gilderoy Lockhart)
The crystal sphere showed Fleur backing away another careful step.
Her breathing had become noticeably heavier.
Meanwhile, the manticore prowled after her with the lazy confidence of a housecat tormenting a mouse.
Its human face wore an amused smile.
"My, my..." it purred. "You've certainly got spirit."
Its tail swished lazily behind it. "I do adore spirited prey."
Fleur's blue eyes narrowed and she suddenly slashed her wand sideways.
"Diffindo!"
A razor-thin blade of magic shot straight toward the creature's neck.
But the manticore merely tilted its head.
The Cutting Curse scraped harmlessly across its tawny hide, leaving nothing more than a few loose hairs drifting through the air.
"Oh."
The creature looked almost disappointed. "I expected better."
Fleur didn't bother to answer and kept waving her wand.
"Confringo!"
The corridor erupted in flames.
The explosion shook the surrounding hedges, causing leaves to rain from above.
Smoke filled the passage, covering the view.
Several spectators applauded.
But when the smoke cleared… The manticore was still standing.
It lazily brushed soot from one shoulder. "...Warmer."
I frowned. "Spell-resistant hide."
Aurora nodded grimly. "As expected."
Fleur refused to slow down. "Aguamenti!"
A torrent of water burst from her wand, striking the creature with enough force to knock an ordinary wizard off his feet.
But the manticore simply blinked. "...Refreshing."
It licked a few droplets from its lips. "I've always enjoyed a cool drink during exercise."
The audience groaned.
Fleur's jaw clenched and shouted, "Fulgur!"
Lightning burst from her wand.
Brilliant blue-white bolts danced across the manticore's body, causing its mane to stand slightly on end.
For a brief moment, the creature resembled an unusually offended lion that had rubbed itself against an oversized balloon.
"...That tickled."
It scratched behind one ear. "I rather liked that feeling, how about you throw another?"
Several spectators buried their faces in their hands.
"Poor Fleur..."
"She's throwing everything she has..."
"And none of it's working."
The manticore smiled wider. "Not going to continue? Is it my turn then?"
…
In the judges' platform, Igor Karkaroff frowned.
"Hm."
He folded his arms. "Can she not simply transform and fly over it?"
Madame Maxime slowly shook her head. "Non. Fleur cannot."
Several judges looked toward her. "She iz only one-quarter Veela."
She spoke calmly, though concern was evident in her voice.
"When Veela reproduce wiz wizards, zeir bloodline becomes diluted. They do not inherit every ability."
She watched Fleur narrowly avoid another swipe of the creature's claws.
"Full Veela possess many gifts. Flight, more powerful allure, stronger fire, and several... ozzer talents."
Bagman blinked. "I thought Fleur could fly."
Madame Maxime shook her head again.
"Non. Her grandmother was a Veela. But her mother inherited only part of ze bloodline. And Fleur inherited even less."
She sighed quietly. "It iz why Veela almost always choose Muggle partners."
A murmur spread through the audience.
One of the Ministry officials frowned. "...Muggles?"
Madame Maxime nodded. "A child born between a Veela and a Muggle iz considered a full Veela."
"The magic remains pure. But when wizarding blood enters ze family..."
She spread her hands. "Each generation loses a little more."
"A fascinating bit of magical genetics," Dumbledore observed.
"Quite."
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "I suppose that explains why there are so few Veela living permanently in magical communities."
Madame Maxime nodded. "Exactly."
…
Inside the maze, Fleur suddenly stopped as something flickered across her face.
She slowly lowered her wand, and instead of assuming a duelling stance, she closed her eyes.
Then...
She began to sing.
A soft melody drifted through the maze.
The notes carried an unmistakable enchantment.
Even through the crystal sphere, the audience grew quieter.
Several students unconsciously leaned forward.
The melody wrapped around the corridor like invisible silk.
The manticore stopped in place, its ears twitched, and then...
It smiled.
"My..." It sat down elegantly. "What a lovely voice."
Fleur continued singing.
The spell wove itself naturally into every note.
The manticore lowered itself onto the ground, its eyelids growing heavier.
"I daresay..." It yawned enormously. "...you're almost as good as I am."
Several more notes echoed softly as the creature rested its chin upon its paws.
Its eyes finally drifted shut.
The audience collectively held its breath.
And then, they erupted into thunderous applause.
"She's done it!"
"Brilliant!"
"She actually put it to sleep!"
I couldn't help smiling. "Excellent adaptation. Very clever."
Fleur slowly released the breath she'd been holding and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
"...Merci..."
Keeping her movements slow and careful, she began edging around the sleeping beast.
One step.
Two.
Three.
She was almost past it.
But then… One golden eye snapped open.
"...Just kidding."
Before Fleur could even gasp, the manticore exploded upward.
Its massive forelegs slammed down around her, shaking the ground.
Fleur cried out as she hit the earth, her wand flying several feet away.
The audience screamed.
The creature smiled down at her, its enormous paws pinned her effortlessly.
Its tail curled lazily overhead. "Thank you for the concert."
It sounded genuinely appreciative.
"I haven't enjoyed music that much in years."
Its smile widened. "And your voice..."
It lightly tapped one claw against its own throat. "...is going to make a delightful addition to my repertoire."
Fleur's face turned deathly pale.
Around the Quidditch pitch…
Absolute silence fell.
Even Bagman had forgotten how to speak.
My fingers slowly tightened around my staff.
That's enough.
The game had just stopped being amusing.
…
(Third Person POV)
The entire stadium had fallen into stunned silence.
On the crystal sphere, Fleur Delacour lay trapped beneath the manticore's massive forelegs.
Her wand rested on the ground, just beyond her reach.
No spell.
No escape.
Only the monster's smiling human face staring down at her.
At the judges' table, everyone had already risen to their feet.
Normally, the rules of the Triwizard Tournament were perfectly clear.
If a champion wished to withdraw...
They fired red sparks into the air.
The judges would immediately intervene, rescue the champion, and declare them eliminated from the task.
But until those sparks appeared, no one was permitted to interfere.
It prevented outside assistance and kept the competition fair.
But there were exceptions.
If a champion was physically incapable of surrendering...
If they had been rendered unconscious...
Or, as in Fleur's case...
If they no longer possessed their wand...
Then the judges had both the authority and the obligation to step in.
Madame Maxime was already moving, her chair scraped loudly across the wooden platform as she stood.
"Enough." Her voice left no room for argument.
"I'm going to get Fleur."
She had barely taken two steps when Dumbledore calmly raised a hand. "There's no need."
Maxime looked at him sharply. "Albus?"
He smiled gently. "Someone is already there."
He pointed toward the edge of the judges' enclosure.
Several heads turned at once.
Lockhart's seat was empty.
"...When did he leave?" Bagman asked blankly.
No one had an answer.
…
Inside the maze...
The manticore studied the young witch beneath its paws.
"Hmm..." Its tail swayed lazily behind it. "You've stopped struggling."
Fleur remained perfectly still. She knew she couldn't overpower it, couldn't outrun it, couldn't even reach her wand.
So she closed her eyes and resigned herself to her fate.
The creature tilted its head. "...Already giving up?"
Its voice sounded almost disappointed.
"Oh, little mouse..."
"Where's the despair?"
It leaned down until its face was only inches from hers.
"Come now. Aren't you going to scream?"
"No?"
"Beg, perhaps?"
"I do enjoy begging."
But it was met with only silence. Fleur refused to answer.
The manticore sighed theatrically. "...Now you've ruined my appetite."
It straightened. "So boring."
Fleur's eyes opened again. "...Really?"
A small spark of hope appeared.
Finally seeing a reaction, the creature smiled warmly. "...Just kidding."
Its jaw opened impossibly wide.
Rows upon rows of gleaming fangs filled its mouth.
The contrast between those monstrous teeth and its almost beautiful human face made the sight profoundly disturbing.
It lowered its head. "I think I'll start with…"
A deafening roar exploded through the maze, so powerful it made the hedges shake.
Birds burst from the top of the maze in frightened flocks.
The manticore's ears flattened in alarm.
"What…"
Something enormous slammed into its side.
The impact sounded like a runaway carriage crashing into solid stone as the manticore was hurled bodily away from Fleur.
Both beasts tumbled across the grass in a whirlwind of claws, fur, and flying leaves.
The audience erupted.
"What was that?"
"A lion!"
"Where did it come from?"
The crystal sphere struggled to follow the sudden burst of movement.
The manticore regained its footing first, skidding several yards before digging its claws into the earth.
It looked up… and froze.
Standing between it and Fleur… was a lion.
But not an ordinary lion.
This beast stood nearly as tall as the manticore itself.
Its golden mane shimmered in the afternoon sunlight like molten gold.
Every muscle beneath its coat radiated restrained power.
Its blue eyes never left the monster before it.
It took one deliberate step forward.
Then another.
Its lips curled back.
A deep growl rolled through the maze.
The manticore blinked.
"...Well."
A slow smile spread across its face. "I wasn't expecting company."
Behind the lion, Fleur remained exactly where she had fallen, staring in complete disbelief.
The lion flicked one ear toward her.
Then suddenly, golden light rippled across its body.
The massive feline frame shrank.
Paws became hands.
The magnificent mane shortened into familiar blond hair.
A heartbeat later...
Professor Gilderoy Lockhart stood where the lion had been, brushing a few stray leaves from his immaculate robes as though he had merely taken a leisurely stroll through the gardens.
He glanced over one shoulder. "Miss Delacour."
His tone was as calm as ever. "I'm sorry to say that you are disqualified."
Fleur could only stare at him.
For a long moment...
She even forgot how to breathe.
…
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