"this is a wild game of survival."
Makayla
We're in a circle in a tent, learning what the first task is. Harry is beside me. I manage to make a smile appear on my face when I remember seeing Draco get turned into a Ferret by Professor Moody a day or two ago, but then I notice Harry looks a little angry.
"What's wrong?" I ask in a soft whisper so I don't disrupt the instructions.
"That dumb old reporter, Rita Skeeter, took a picture of Hermione and I hugging," he whispers back sternly. "Now, she's going to say we have a love triangle with Viktor Krum."
"She isn't supposed to be back here—" I whisper, getting cut off by Dumbledore.
"Place your hand in the hat and grab one," he says.
Barty Crouch walks around the inside of the circle, each player pulling out a mini version of the dragons they'll be fighting. I don't pay attention to who gets what until it gets to Harry. I find myself holding my breath while watching his hand slide out of the hat, holding a tiny Hungarian Horntail. Shit.
Barty Crouch walks over to me, extending his hands out for me to put my hand in the hat. When I do, I feel around. Only one dragon is left...
I pull my hand out, holding the mini version of the Hebridean Black. The exact one I was worried about. Great
If I got the Hungarian Horntail, I was planning to just use the same spell that everyone else would probably use: The Conjunctivitis Curse.
Sure, I could still use it on the Hebridean Black, but it would cost a few, if not all of the eggs, including the one I need to win—since the Hebridean Black is way too large for the arena in the first place.
"Shit..." I whisper under my breath.
"What's that, miss?" Barty Crouch asks, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at my face.
I clear my throat, saying, "Nothing."
It's obvious that Dumbledore, who's standing right behind Harry and I, is worried. He knows that we got the worst ones. There's nothing he can do now. Isn't that convenient?
This is bad. I'm going to freaking die.
Harry just got his egg. Now it's my turn to get my egg—against a fucking Hebridean Black dragon.
"Now, give it up," the person doing commentary says through the speakers enthusiastically, "for Makayla Malfoy!"
I walk to the opening of the cave-like hallway and am greeted with a somewhat immense lack of cheers. I look up at the crowd as my eyes adjust to the newly found pain of sunlight. The most of the Slytherin house is clapping in hopes that I fail immensely, same which every other house. A few people are cheering for me to win, though. And a few really is a few.
My eyes immediately land on the egg in the middle of the arena once they adjust to the light. Its gold shell glistens in the sunlight as I look around.
When I look around, I notice that the dragon is nowhere to be seen. What the hell? The dragon was huge when I first saw it, so where is it now? Nowhere. I can't even spot this scale.
Taking my chance at the possibility that it escaped somehow, I jump down to the ground and run up to the egg. I stop in my tracks when I watch the large head of the dragon emerge from the shadows right in front of me. Its razor sharp teeth are only a few feet away from my face and its breathing blows the hair off my shoulders.
YOU ARE READING
𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 (OC x OC)
أدب الهواةMakayla Malfoy, daughter of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, is just a girl trying to get through her eight years of education at Hogwarts, until some crummy first years make that impossible. Now she must help them through their journey, so they don't do...
