The Lost Champion
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Chapter 3: The Lost Champion
The Great Hall buzzed with uneasy whispers. The murmurs were small at first, almost hesitant, as if no one truly believed what had just happened. Aster Black’s name—spoken by Dumbledore and etched onto that slip of parchment—lingered in the air, raising a storm of confusion and disbelief.
“How is that possible?” one Ravenclaw girl whispered sharply to her friend.
“I thought he was dead!” another Hufflepuff muttered, her eyes wide with shock.
Across the hall, the Hogwarts professors exchanged tense glances. Even McGonagall, usually so composed, looked shaken. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the Goblet as though it might burst into flame again and offer another impossible proclamation.
Harry’s heart hammered in his chest. His eyes darted between his parents and Sirius, the latter of whom seemed barely able to contain himself. The tension between them was palpable, as if they were on the edge of some terrible revelation.
Sirius’s face had drained of all color, his eyes wild with disbelief, and before anyone could stop him, he surged to his feet. “This is madness!” His voice cracked with the weight of his emotions. “My son is dead! He has been dead for years!” His fists slammed down onto the table, rattling the plates and goblets.
“Sirius, please!” Lily called out from across the room, though her voice was taut with her own barely-contained emotions. She too had gone pale, but her eyes were filled with a different kind of shock—one laced with hope and fear. She exchanged a frantic glance with James, who looked equally shaken.
James, always the calm one under pressure, was visibly struggling to keep his emotions in check. He stood quickly, his hand reaching out to grip Sirius’s shoulder firmly. “Sirius, mate, you need to calm down. We don’t know anything yet. Let Dumbledore explain.”
But Sirius wasn’t hearing it. His entire frame shook with barely suppressed fury and grief. “Explain? Explain what, James?” he spat, his voice rising in pitch. “How someone could desecrate my son’s name like this?! Who in their right mind would pull a stunt like this?!”
There was a dangerous edge to his words, and Harry could see the strain it was taking for his father to hold Sirius back. Harry had never seen his godfather like this before—not since the few rare times his parents spoke about the night Aster disappeared.
The hall watched, breathless. No one dared move or interrupt.
“Sirius, stop!” Lily’s voice was more firm now, cutting through the tension. “This isn’t helping. We don’t know that this is a prank.”
Sirius whirled on her, his face contorted with rage and anguish. “What else could it be, Lily?! He’s dead! He’s—”
“The Goblet doesn’t lie.” Barty Crouch’s authoritative voice broke through the chaos like a cold wind, cutting through Sirius’s accusations. He had risen to his feet, his cold, calculating eyes scanning the hall. His words landed heavily, sending a ripple of unease through the room. “It cannot call upon the name of someone who is dead.”
Sirius’s mouth opened as if to argue, but no words came out. The weight of Crouch’s statement seemed to hit him like a physical blow, and for a moment, the defiant anger drained from his face, replaced with a flicker of something Harry could only describe as hope—terrified, desperate hope.
James slowly let go of Sirius’s arm, his eyes locking onto Dumbledore. “Then what does this mean, Albus? If the Goblet called Aster’s name... does that mean he’s...?”
Dumbledore’s expression was grave, his blue eyes shadowed with concern. He looked around the hall slowly, as if weighing his words carefully before he spoke. “It means,” he said, his voice soft yet firm, “that Aster Black is alive.”
The hall erupted.
Students began whispering furiously, theories flying across tables. Some were convinced it was a hoax; others looked deeply shaken by the implication. The professors exchanged looks of disbelief, and even Minister Fudge, who had been quietly observing from his place at the head table, looked as though he had swallowed something sour.
Harry could barely breathe. His mind was racing, and he couldn’t keep up with the onslaught of emotions crashing through him. Aster, his godbrother, alive? The thought made his heart race with both hope and confusion. But where had Aster been all these years? Why hadn’t they found him?
Sirius stood frozen, his eyes locked onto Dumbledore, waiting for something—anything—that would give him the answers he so desperately needed.
Then, as if sensing the hall’s rising chaos, Dumbledore raised his hand once more. “We will see the truth for ourselves,” he said gravely. He stepped towards the Goblet of Fire, his long fingers brushing the rim.
The entire hall held its breath.
With a soft incantation, Dumbledore’s hand touched the flames, and they roared to life. The blue and white flames twisted and flickered, growing higher and more intense, until suddenly, an image began to form within the fire.
A murmur of surprise rippled through the room as the students leaned forward, their eyes wide and locked on the magical display before them. The image was clear, as though they were looking through a window into another world. A thick forest came into view, the towering trees casting shadows over the landscape.
Harry watched with bated breath, his heart hammering in his chest as the scene unfolded.
And then came the roar—the thunderous, ground-shaking roar that echoed through the forest, sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. The hall gasped as they watched a figure darting through the trees, a massive beast—a Chimera—giving chase.
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The tension in the forest thickened as the Chimera lunged forward, its lion’s head snapping ferociously. The wizard reacted instantly, raising his wand. “Confringo!” he shouted, the spell exploding against the beast’s flank, staggering it momentarily and forcing it to roar in pain. However, the creature quickly recovered, its serpent tail lashing out. The wizard barely dodged, but the force of the blow knocked him off balance, sending him sprawling to the ground.
As he scrambled back to his feet, his mask slipped, revealing a ruggedly handsome face and deep purple eyes, glowing with determination. He shook off the daze, gritting his teeth as the Chimera roared, its dragon head preparing for another attack.
The wizard felt adrenaline surge through him as he took stock of the situation. The Chimera advanced again, and in a split second, he vanished.
Suddenly, the creature was struck by a rapid trio of blade-tipped chains that appeared out of nowhere, the impact sending it reeling. The chains vanished after striking, only for another set to lash out from a different angle, catching the beast off guard. Again and again, the chains attacked, striking from unexpected positions, whittling down the beast’s strength as it tried to fend off the blistering assault.
The Chimera twisted and snapped at the air where the chains had been just moments before, but it couldn’t anticipate the next assault. With a final surge of energy, the wizard burst through the tree canopy, silhouetted against the moonlight. Black, smoky chains forming from the wizard's back glowed with a dark, smoky appearance, the links flickering with an almost burning intensity.
The crowd at Hogwarts gasped collectively, their eyes riveted on the wizard as he descended, his chains poised to strike. He focused his magic, whispering an incantation under his breath. “Fiendfyre!” he commanded, unleashing the full force of his spell.
The chains surrounded him like a pair of rings as he leapt from above, the bladed ends pointing outwards. With a fierce determination, he plunged downward, delivering a devastating attack against the Chimera, the flames erupting from the tips, wrapping around the creature in an inferno of controlled chaos.
The audience watched in awe as the Chimera's roar turned into a strangled gasp, the flames consuming it. While to the students it appeared as a smoky fire, Dumbledore and the more experienced wizards in the Great Hall recognized the true nature of the magic.
The forest around the fallen Chimera remained eerily quiet as the wizard stood amidst the remnants of the battle, the chains coiling back towards him, fading into his body as he relaxed his stance. He pulled out a runestone from a pocket, holding it up to speak into as a voice came out of it.
“Alpha 1, report,” came the voice on the other end, gruff and steady, like a seasoned veteran assessing a rookie’s performance.
“Alpha 1 reporting,” Aster confirmed, trying to catch his breath. “The target has been neutralized. No injuries, but I had a close call.”
“Status check,” the handler pressed, his tone leaving no room for complacency.
“I’m fine,” Aster replied, brushing aside the fatigue creeping into his muscles. “Just a minor scrape. I’ll be back at base shortly.”
“Are you sure you don’t need medical attention? You’ve been in the field for a long time.” The voice took on a note of concern but was tempered by authority.
“I said I’m fine,” Aster insisted, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “You know how we operate. There’s no time for delays. I’ll debrief on my own. We need to discuss the situation with the Chimera attack.”
“Watch your tone, Hound. You don’t need to push yourself; you’ve got a job to do.” The handler's voice was sharp but softened slightly with concern. “We can’t afford any slip-ups out there.”
Aster glanced back at the Chimera, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Life as a Hellhound is never boring. Just another day at work.”
“Just remember: the moment you think it’s over is when it’s really starting. Stay sharp, Hound.”
“Right,” he replied, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him. “I’ll be in touch. Alpha 1 out.”
With that, he flicked his wand, casting a quick Apparition spell, the familiar tug of magic wrapping around him as he vanished from the clearing.
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The Great Hall fell into stunned silence, the only sound the faint crackling of the Goblet of Fire as it flickered with residual flames. All eyes were glued to the now-blank canvas of the magical display, where just moments before a lone wizard had fought and defeated a Chimera, a creature typically requiring the combined might of dozens of powerful wizards to subdue.
Whispers began to ripple through the hall, initially soft and hesitant but gradually growing louder as students and adults alike struggled to process the extraordinary scene they had just witnessed.
“Did you see that?” a Gryffindor first-year exclaimed, his eyes wide with awe. “He took down a Chimera all by himself!”
“I can’t believe it,” another student gasped. “How is that even possible?”
Sirius, his heart racing, moved closer to the Goblet’s flickering flames, desperately searching for any sign of the figure who had just fought so fiercely. For a fleeting moment, hope surged through him, as if he might still catch a glimpse of his lost son. But as the flames dimmed, he turned to Dumbledore, his voice trembling with urgency. “Albus, was that really Aster? Is he alive?”
Dumbledore’s expression was grave as he met Sirius’s gaze. “I cannot say for certain, but I believe it is indeed him. The evidence suggests it, and yet... the circumstances are baffling.”
Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled together, their faces illuminated by a mix of disbelief and curiosity.
“That was insane,” Ron breathed, his eyes still reflecting the remnants of the fight. “How could he take down a Chimera like that? It’s supposed to be impossible!”
Harry's brow furrowed, a different worry evident in his voice. “Where has he been all this time? And how did he learn to fight like that?”
Hermione shook her head, trying to process the sheer improbability of the event. “A single wizard defeating a creature like that... It defies all logic. I can’t even begin to understand how he managed it.”
As the chatter continued to swell around them, Dumbledore rose from his seat, the gravity of the situation weighing on his shoulders. “If you will excuse me, I must speak with the tournament organizers about how to proceed. This matter requires our immediate attention.”
With that, Dumbledore approached Barty Crouch Sr., Ludo Bagman, and Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. He motioned for Sirius, James, and Lily to follow him into a side chamber.
“Wait!” Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian champion, said, his thick accent cutting through the noise. “What was that? Who was fighting?”
Fleur Delacour, her silver hair shimmering even in the dim light of the hall, added, her French accent lilting, “Yes, what is happening? We were not here when the name was called. Who is this wizard?”
Dumbledore turned to them, his expression serious. “I cannot provide all the answers just yet, but we must understand what we are dealing with here.”
Once inside the side chamber, the tension was palpable. Sirius, unable to contain his anxiety, demanded, “If Aster is out there, we need to find him!”
Fudge, oblivious to the weight of the situation, furrowed his brow. “What exactly is a Hellhound, anyway?”
“Hellhounds are an extremely covert magical unit,” Dumbledore began, his tone grave. “They are even more secretive and deadly than Hitwizards, operating under their own authority. Their involvement indicates the most serious of situations.”
James interjected, his expression hardening. “But why wouldn’t we know about them? Why are they so secretive?”
“Because if a government feels the need to request assistance from the Hellhounds, it usually follows a lengthy investigation into dangerous situations,” Dumbledore explained. “Their involvement is reserved for the most dire of threats, much like when a single Hellhound was deployed during the rise of Grindelwald in the 1940s. Their presence signals that conventional methods have failed, and the situation has escalated beyond control.”
Lily’s brow furrowed as she considered the implications. “Where has he been all this time? He’s been out there, and we didn’t even know.”
“Indeed,” Dumbledore said gravely. “We need to find a way to reach him and determine what has transpired. Time is of the essence.”
As the discussion continued, the weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, all of them acutely aware that they were on the precipice of a much larger mystery.
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