That all-too-familiar sense of déjà vu washed over the students, and they had no choice but to reluctantly pull out their notebooks.
Those who had genuinely forgotten theirs hurried to borrow a few sheets of parchment and a quill from their classmates.
Whenever Professor Fawley declared that class was in session, it meant one thing: even if the material didn't show up on an exam, there would absolutely be homework afterward.
So despite having come purely to watch the spectacle, they could only clutch their quills in quiet despair and obediently follow along.
Otherwise, when the assignments came, this kind of knowledge wouldn't be easy to dig up from a textbook...
Honestly, how had watching a tournament turned into attending class?
Tver swept his gaze around the arena, completely ignoring the nearly five-story-tall Hebridean Black glaring at him, as well as the students' resentful looks.
As expected, Sirius had quietly made it back. He had even brought Lupin along. Surrounded by an enthusiastic crowd of Gryffindors, they were seated beside Hermione and Ron.
Sirius was holding up an enormous banner painted with the Gryffindor lion, waving it excitedly.
The contrast between him and the nearby students dutifully preparing to take notes could not have been sharper.
"Roar—!"
The black dragon let out an angry bellow, thoroughly confused by Tver's behavior.
The wizards it had encountered before had either been as gentle and friendly as the MacFusty Clan, or as cautious as the dragon handlers earlier.
But this tiny human in front of it was outright ignoring her.
"Everyone, pay attention. The Hebridean Black is looking a bit agitated. Why do you think that is?"
Tver finally addressed the dragon's mood. He took two steps forward, lecturing as he carefully observed every detail of the dragon's body.
"Is it because our presence is making it nervous?" a Durmstrang boy shouted.
"…Poliakoff, I don't think you lot have what it takes to make a Dragon nervous," Tver replied with a sideways glance.
"Alright then. It's because the space available here is far smaller than its natural habitat!"
"Just look at its size," he continued, pointing his wand at the black dragon's enormous frame. "They require significantly more territory than other Dragons. And the Hebridean Black is an especially combative breed."
"So under normal circumstances, each one occupies around one hundred square miles—about twenty-six thousand hectares. For reference, one hectare is slightly larger than a football field."
A collective gasp rippled through the students.
That much territory was already nearly a fifth of London.
"On the bright side, if you're unlucky enough to run into one of these Dragons in the Hebrides, you won't need to worry about a second one ambushing you anytime soon~"
Assuming you survive the first one's claws, of course.
Ignoring the speechless looks from the students, Tver beamed cheerfully.
"Ahem. Back to the point."
"There's no need to be overly concerned. Hebridean Blacks usually feed on deer, and occasionally cattle for variety. As long as you don't provoke them, they're actually quite friendly."
With that, Tver stepped forward again—this time boldly crossing into the black dragon's attack range. He walked right up to her massive foot and then…
Gave it a light pat.
The dragon didn't react at all. She continued to glare furiously at the humanoid statue that had suddenly appeared where Tver had originally been standing.
As though that statue were the real Tver.
"Of course, I'm not saying you can just stroll up and touch a Dragon whenever you like."
"This is a common trait among Dragons. They rely heavily on vision to track prey and perceive what's happening around them."
"In fact, because they breathe fire, their nasal passages are in terrible shape. Their sense of smell is extremely dull. Hearing is the only sense that's even remotely reliable."
"So as long as you give them a target to fixate on, then reduce your own presence, you can touch them safely."
"Now, as for the magic involved in 'reducing your presence'… forgive my bluntness, but you haven't learned anything like that yet. I can cast it for you, though. So, is any student willing to come up and touch the black dragon's toes?"
The students all shook their heads in perfect unison, so vigorously it looked like they were about to fling their necks right off.
The Weasley twins were clearly tempted, but Charlie was standing behind them with an iron grip, hauling them back so they couldn't get anywhere near the front.
Seeing that, Tver pouted in faint displeasure.
It was just a Dragon. What was there to be scared of?
"Fine. Everyone, focus on the Black Dragon. Let's take a look at what sets it apart from other fire dragons."
He pushed off lightly with both feet, and his whole body rose as if a Levitation Charm had been cast on him, drifting upward at an easy pace.
"The most obvious feature is the spine. It has a row of ridges that aren't very tall, but they're extremely sharp. That gives it a real advantage in close-quarters combat between Dragons."
"Next, the tail. It's distinctive too—like a narrow arrowhead. Of course, it's far more dangerous than any arrow. A lot of Dragons that fight it make the mistake of ignoring that tail, and they end up getting pierced straight through. So if you ever have to fight a Black Dragon, you absolutely have to watch the tail."
"…"
The students watched in silence as Tver flitted up and down along the Dragon's body, occasionally tapping a spine spike or brushing a hand along the long, whip-like tail.
He was certainly dedicated. The problem was, none of them were ever going to be fighting Dragons.
But even the black dragon, slow to react as it was, finally realized there was a tiny speck zipping around right in front of her.
"ROAR—!"
She bellowed again, and this time the fury in her throat came with a torrent of flame.
A wave of searing heat rushed toward Tver. Amid the audience's screams, the fire swallowed him in an instant.
At the judges' table, Madam Maxime sprang to her feet so abruptly her towering frame nearly knocked the long table over.
"Go and save him!" she shouted at Dumbledore.
Yet the other judges—especially Cynthia and Bagman—showed not the slightest worry.
"Tver doesn't do anything unless he's sure of it. All you need to do is sit back and enjoy the show, Madam Maxime," Dumbledore said with an easy smile, lifting a hand to point toward the black dragon in the distance.
There, as the Dragon's breath began to die down, Tver's figure emerged once more.
But the flames on him hadn't gone out. If anything, they were burning hotter.
At that sight, even Dumbledore straightened, leaning forward to study Tver's movements.
The fire was still red and yellow, but what blazed over Tver now was the Gubraithian Fire Dumbledore knew so well.
Unlike the vicious, grotesque Fiendfyre, this fire looked almost gentle to the crowd as it danced around Tver.
Like little spirits woven from flame.
Those spirits gulped down the Dragon's breath until they looked swollen with it, then with a soft little pop split into two or three smaller spirits.
Watching that, Dumbledore finally understood how Tver had managed to produce such a large-scale Gubraithian Fire in only a few days.
The Dragon's breath hadn't harmed him at all. It had become the stepping stone that let him practice and refine his control.
"So that's what talent looks like when you can actually see it…" Dumbledore murmured, leaning back with a quiet laugh as he watched Tver.
Now he truly understood why, back then, so many people had envied—and resented—his own gift for magic.
Tver looked with satisfaction at the flames swirling around him.
All that provocation earlier had been for this exact reason. He'd wanted to practice the Gubraithian Fire~
It was a bit of a shortcut, sure, but his control had undeniably improved.
In that case…
He flicked his right hand toward the black dragon. The little flame spirits around him gathered together, surging upward into a rolling blaze even hotter than the Dragon's breath.
"Thanks, little black dragon~"
"Snap."
He snapped his fingers, and the flames charged forward with a wave of heat, slamming toward the Dragon's face with unstoppable force.
Compared to the Hebridean Black's grotesque head, the fire wasn't even as wide as her mouth.
But in that instant, the black dragon felt something like the end of the world.
She instinctively threw up both claws, trying to block it—only for the flames to dart around her fingertips and smash into her head anyway.
"BOOM—RUMBLE—!"
Not only Tver, but even the spectators at a distance saw the black dragon's features twist.
Her head snapped back, and her enormous body toppled as if it had been struck by a meteor falling at full speed, crashing into the ground and kicking up a towering wall of dust that swept outward.
In their seats, the audience felt as though they'd been hit by an earthquake and a sandstorm at the same time. The thunderous impact even left them briefly deaf.
It took a long moment for the trembling to stop and the dust to settle. Only then could people finally see the massive Dragon sprawled on the ground, looking utterly wronged, and Professor Fawley standing there, quite pleased with how nimble the Gubraithian Fire could be.
For a beat, the arena went so quiet that the only sound was rubble slowly clattering down.
"Ahem." Tver suddenly felt he might have gone a bit overboard and hurried to school his expression.
Fortunately, he hadn't actually strengthened the fire's raw power, and the Hebridean Black's defenses really were impressive. He'd only hurt her. Otherwise, Dumbledore would have had a perfect excuse to come after him for medical expenses.
"That's all for today's lesson. Your homework is to write about how to maximize your chances of survival if you run into a Dragon in the wild~"