Though Adrian had no ability to speak the draconic language, after several minutes of communicating with Torch through body language, he gradually understood his intentions.

However, the result left him somewhat amused and exasperated.

The reason Torch had pursued Fleur so relentlessly was that it felt it had been affected by Fleur's Veela charm during the Triwizard Tournament, losing face in front of its dragon companions. Now it wanted to prove its strength again, which was why it had attacked the moment it saw Fleur.

Of course, the chase had gone awry when he'd lost Fleur's trail in the dense forest. Rather than return empty-handed and face further humiliation, he'd taken out his frustrations on the first available targets: Aragog's colony.

The spiders had paid the price for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Poor Aragog had suffered an undeserved misfortune for no reason at all.

When Fleur heard Adrian's speculation, she said incredulously, "Just because of such a trivial reason? That dragon pursued me through miles of dangerous forest, breathing fire and trying to roast me alive, all because he felt embarrassed during the tournament task?"

Her accent made the words sound almost musical, but there was frustration and exhaustion in her voice. Hours of desperate run through the Forbidden Forest had left her physically and emotionally drained, and learning that her suffering had been due to a dragon's hurt pride clearly didn't improve her mood.

"Dragons have a different psychological thinking than humans," Adrian explained thoughtfully, his eyes studying both Fleur and the now-docile Torch with equal interest. "Their entire social structure revolves around dominance, reputation, and the demonstration of superior power. What seems trivial to us can represent a great loss of face to them."

He paused, his mind seizing upon an important inconsistency in her account. "However, your magic showed the ability to influence the dragon during the tournament. Why didn't you use—?"

"That concerns my private affairs, Professor," Fleur interjected quickly, her expression shifting from frustrated confusion to guarded defensiveness.

"I must apologize for being evasive," She continued, showing an apologetic expression. "There are personal circumstances involved that I cannot discuss with others. What I can reveal is that my abilities in that particular area have become... unreliable. I can no longer depend upon those aspects as I once could."

Adrian's eyebrows rose with surprise and growing concern. Veela magic was typically as natural and instinctive as breathing, for it to become "unreliable"....

His gaze sharpened as he observed Fleur more keenly. Except for being paler than usual, she appeared normal.

'Wait!'

"Eldra."

Adrian's gaze sharpened as he communicated with the Tree of Wisdom.

Sure enough, the information transmitted by the Tree of Wisdom confirmed his suspicion.

[Status: Unstable Magic Power]

'Unstable?'

Adrian's eyes widened slightly as he processed this diagnosis. Magical instability was a serious condition, potentially life-threatening if left untreated. It could manifest in numerous ways like uncontrolled spell effects, magical exhaustion, or in severe cases, complete magical core collapse.

As if to highlight the Tree of Wisdom's warning, Adrian noticed something occurring at Fleur's feet. From the earth of the forest floor, a small red rose flower had begun to bloom. Its petals unfurled in defiance of the late autumn season, creating a splash of vibrant color against the brown and grey of the winter forest.

The flower was undoubtedly a manifestation of Fleur's unstable Veela magic, blooming spontaneously in response to her emotional state and magical fluctuations. It was beautiful, certainly, but also a clear sign that her magical control was seriously compromised.

However, since Fleur had explicitly declined to discuss her personal circumstances, Adrian respected her boundaries. Pressing for information about magical medical conditions was both inappropriate and potentially counterproductive, such matters required trust and professional medical supervision.

"We should return to the castle, Miss Delacour," He said gently, inclining his head. "I imagine Gabrielle must be quite worried about your long absence."

When Adrian and Fleur emerged from the depths of the Forbidden Forest, happened to confront an anxious group. Professor Dumbledore stood at the forest's edge alongside Charlie Weasley, both men wearing expressions of worry that transformed into visible relief at the sight of the returning party.

The other dragon handlers were nowhere to be seen, presumably still searching for Torch elsewhere.

Charlie's haggard face relaxed vividly when he spotted Torch being led docilely behind Adrian. His shoulders sagged with the release of tension that had been building for hours as losing a dragon was the kind of career-ending mistake that haunted handlers for the rest of their lives.

"You actually found him," Charlie breathed, his voice dense with gratitude and disbelief. "Professor Westeros, I cannot possibly express how much this means to me—to all of us. When a dragon goes missing, especially one as intelligent as Torch..."

He trailed off, apparently unable to voice the full scope of potential disasters they had narrowly avoided. A rogue dragon could have decimated nearby villages, exposed the wizarding world to Muggle attention, or caused diplomatic incidents that would have repercussions for decades.

Adrian stepped forward and carefully transferred the magical rope to Charlie's hands.

"This restraint will lose its effectiveness in approximately one hour," Adrian warned. "I strongly recommend having more permanent containment measures in place well before then. Torch has already showed considerable ingenuity in escaping conventional restraints."

Charlie nodded vigorously, his relief obvious in every gesture. "Absolutely. We've already requisitioned military-grade binding equipment from the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Triple-redundant containment spells, emergency tracking charms, and backup transportation protocols. This won't happen again—I guarantee it."

With Torch's safe recovery, the immediate crisis had passed. The dragon stood calmly beside his handler, apparently content now that his quest for vindication had concluded. Occasionally he would glance toward Fleur with mild interest, but the lethal intent of earlier had completely vanished.

"Since the matter appears to be resolved satisfactorily," Dumbledore said with his typical gentle smile, "it seems my presence here is no longer required."

However, his blue eyes, magnified behind his half-moon spectacles, shifted to study Fleur with obvious curiosity.

"Miss Delacour," He said casually, "I confess to some curiosity about your presence in these woods. The Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, strictly off-limits to students—"

Fleur straightened despite her exhaustion. With admirable composure, she recounted her experience.

"I sincerely apologize on behalf of the entire dragon handling team," Charlie said, his voice filled with shame. "Miss Delacour, your quick thinking and athletic ability undoubtedly saved your life. If Torch had actually caught you..."

The unfinished sentence hung in the air. Everyone present understood the implications—dragon attacks on humans rarely left survivors to tell the tale.

Adrian, however, maintained a more positive perspective on the incident. While Torch's pursuit had undoubtedly been frightening for Fleur, he knew the mischievous dragon had been more interested in making a point than committing actual murder.

Torch was intelligent enough to understand consequences, that if it had really killed someone, its good days would be over.

At least it would be confined to the dragon reserve for a long time.

The sun was beginning its descent toward the Scottish horizon, turning the sky in shades of orange and rose, when Adrian finally escorted Fleur back to the Beauxbatons carriage.

Gabrielle upon seeing her sister, flew from the carriage steps like a silver-haired missile, and had her arms wrapping around Fleur.

"Where were you?" Gabrielle demanded, her voice muffled against Fleur's torn robes. "I looked everywhere! Madame Maxime was preparing to organize search parties!"

Adrian left the sisters to their reunion, making his way back toward the castle as twilight settled over the grounds.

He had barely reached the main staircase when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed behind him, accompanied by a voice he recognized immediately.

"Professor!"

Adrian turned to find Harry jogging to catch up, his messy hair even more disheveled than usual from his rapid pace. His eyes had an expression of anxiety, while his hands clutched the golden egg he had obtained in the previous competition.

"Harry," Adrian said with a welcoming smile, noting the late hour. "First, allow me to congratulate you on your exceptional performance in yesterday's task. Your score was truly impressive—well-deserved recognition of your skill and preparation. However, it's rather late for a social visit. Is something troubling you?"

Harry's response came with the awkward earnestness of a teenager facing an embarrassing predicament. "It's about the golden egg, Professor," He said, unconsciously raising the object in question slightly higher.

"Ah, the golden egg," Adrian said, his eyes focusing on the Tournament prize with interest. "The second task is months away, Harry. You have ample time to unravel whatever mysteries it contains. Part of the challenge's appeal lies in the process of discovery—if I simply provided the solution, it would it would be far too boring."

Harry's expression grew aggrieved, and he shifted uncomfortably. "No, Professor, that's not the issue," he said quickly and showed an embarrassed but polite expression. "The problem is... well... the egg appears to be breaking."

Adrian's gaze immediately focused on the golden egg with sharp attention. Harry's words were accurate—a crack of large size spoiled the egg's perfect, extending across roughly one-third of its circumference like a lightning bolt frozen in metal.

"How did this damage occur?" Adrian asked, his tone carrying concern mixed with curiosity.

Harry sighed somewhat helplessly,

"It was Seamus," He said simply, as if that explanation should suffice. "He was practicing the Summoning Charm in our dormitory when the spell went completely out of control. Instead of summoning his textbook, he somehow managed to create an explosion that destroyed his nightstand. The golden egg was sitting nearby when it happened..."

Adrian had been about to inquire how a Summoning Charm, one of the gentlest spells in the standard curriculum could possibly result in furniture destruction. However, the mention of Seamus Finnigan's name made further questions unnecessary.

Seamus Finnigan, the undisputed explosion genius, had an extremely high probability of causing explosions when practicing various spells.

He had once managed to transform the Water-Making Spell into something like a fire hose, flooding half the dormitory while attempting to fill his water goblet.

Whether this pattern was a genuine magical instability or some sort of conscious sabotage remained a subject of debate among the faculty.

"I see," Adrian said with understanding sympathy. "Come then, Harry. Let's adjourn to my office where we can address this situation properly. We should have sufficient time to discuss the golden egg's... complications."

Three minutes later, the two arrived at Adrian's office.

Harry placed the golden egg in a prominent position on the desk.

By now, the crack was even larger, gradually spreading across the entire surface.

"Have you tried to open it yet?" Adrian asked casually, sitting into his chair and looking ar the egg with interest.

"Yes," Harry nodded, his expression growing troubled. "The interior appears to be hollow, but opening it produces the most horrible shrieking sound I've ever heard. It's like someone being tortured—absolutely unbearable."

"They've used sophisticated enchantments to embed specific sounds within the golden egg," Adrian explained. "If the containment fails now, that sound could escape and persist for days. My office would become uninhabitable."

Harry's face paled at his words. "What should I do?"

If he lost the golden egg, he would have one less clue about the next competition than the others.

"Have you tried applying a Repairing Charm?" Adrian suggested. "It's worth attempting, though the results may be unpredictable given the nature of the damage."

Harry nodded eagerly, drawing his wand with a determined expression. "Reparo!"

As he spoke the incantation. Rather than mending the existing crack, the spell seemed to accelerate the damage.

*CRACK*

The crack widened with an ominous cracking sound, and the entire egg began to tremble as if something within was struggling to break free.

"Oh no!" Harry exclaimed with horror and regret turning his gaze to Adrian.

To be honest, he wasn't proficient with the Repairing Charm. He shouldn't have gambled on his spell working!

Just as Harry was about to cover his ears, Adrian calmly waved his wand. A transparent bubble suddenly emerged from his wand tip, enveloping the about-to-burst golden egg like a jellyfish.

Then, clear liquid appeared out of nowhere, filling the entire bubble and submerging the golden egg.

________________

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