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TASK ONE CHALLENGE: Victory At The Crossroads by Celtic_Dreamer7
Chapter 1 : Victory at the Crossroads
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 7

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He sat there quietly and as still as possible. If any creature detected his presence, his quest would be blown. The last one, he thought to himself, as the half-moon began to shine through the night's clouds that were finally moving along their way. From the Ukraine to Romania, China and back, he had traveled to many exoctic destinations, his travels took him all over the world. It was an exciting yet terifying line of work: dragon slayor. As gruesome and as dangerous as it was at times, his work was vital. The future of wizards, both young and old, depended on him to slay and retrieve the most sought after prize - the heart.

Many wands were made with the core of dragon heartstring. Since 882 AD, Garrick Ollivander had set up shop in a quaint little village in Scotland and had made a name for himself selling the most sought after wands. Made of the finest materials, Ollivander would accept nothing else. He remembered accompaning his father, Winthrope, when he first journeyed there to purchase a new wand. His old one had been confiscated by the filthy muggles as they raided the Slytherin family home, taking his father and mother, Sloane, in for questioning.

His mother was eventually aquitted. His father, however, was tried and persecuted as an evil devil worshiper. His wand broken, their house burnt to ashes, the Slytherin family were left in destitute. Within nothing to their name, the family quickly left his childhood home and headed for a new beginning. His father knew of others like themselves, so they migrated to the highlands. It was not long before they had a new life. He, along with other children his age, were taught by his father and mother various spells and incantations.

When he was eleven, his father, along with his friend, Godric, traveled to Ollivanders for their first wands. He had only been open for a good 78 years but the shop still had the feeling of being much older. Cobwebs and dust were scattered everywhere. He noticed then just how bare the shelves were beginning to look.

"Stock is beginning to look bleak, Ollivander," his fater stated, half jokingly. "Business going well?"

"Why, yes," the wandmaker admitted. He watched the two boys in his shop with a sense of knowing. "But I must admit, I'm in the need of new supplies. My demand is becoming much greater."

"The past few years have been tough on us all," his father replied, rather bleakly.

Salazar waited and watched with awe as Godric's wand chose him. However, his amazement was short lived when, after several attempts, he failed to aquire one of his own. He could see the disappointment in his father's eyes and turned to the wandmaker for help.

"I'm sorry, lad." The wandmaker admitted, scratching his chin. "There is nothing more I can do, I'm afraid." He gestured to the few hundred boxes remaining. "Your wand isn't here yet, apparently."

Salazar left the shop with Godric and his father leading the way. He vowed then to do all he could to prevent that feeling from ever happening again.

It was a few short years later when he would be shown his true destiny. Late one night, a Welsh Green Dragon stumpled into their small village. With no wand and only a few non-verbal spells mastered, he did what the only thing he could think of. He grabbed the dragon statue his father had purchased him and set out to defeat the dragon head on. With the adults distracting the beast, he quickly placed the statue on the ground and used all is inner strength. "Draconifus!" he shouted at the top of his loungs. Instantly, the statue began to grow and turned into a real fire breathing dragon!

His fellow villagers were shocked. Now there were two dragons to kill. With a wave of his hand, he quickly shouted out another spell from his arsinal. "Imperio!" The former statue turned real Rhodesian Ridgeback was suddenly under the control of this soon to be sixteen year old. With a flick of his hand, he turned one dragon on the other and soon there was a magnificent, fire breathing battle between the two beasts. With all his might, he conjured up spell after spell until the Welsh Green dragon had tired himself out, ran out of oxygen causing his fire to go out.

"Accio sword!" Salazar shouted as the villagers too refuge and hide behind doors and houses. With the Green Welsh down, he acted quickly with another spell. "Crucio!" he shouted out, causing the dragon to screach in agony. He continued with the curse until he could get close enough to chop off his head.

He turned to the former statue turned real dragon, still under his control, and shouted the counter-curse to transform it back to a statue. He bent down to pick it up, only to have it burn his hands. It was still hot.

Shouts were heard from all as everyone rushed out to cheer for their new hero. He met the eyes of his father and smiled as he nodded his head in approval. It was from that very dragon in which Salazar would finally aquire his wand. Yew, 12.5 inches with a dragon heart string core.

A rustling up ahead brought him back to the present. His mission clear once more. Of all the dragon slayers in the country, perhaps the world, he was the only one who needed just one more breed to have conqured them all. The Swedish short snout was the second breed, followed by the Hungarian horntail the same season. The Chinese Fireball and the Norwegian Ridgeback took a couple more years but he hunted and killed them both in his early twenties.

He almost lost an arm to the Antipodean Opaleye dragon, one of the ugliest he had encountered. He learned never to attempt it again during breeding season. The Peruvian Vipertooth was almost too fast for him but he killed it in the end. The Romanian Longhorn was one of the most difficult ones to hunt down and kill but after many tries, he finally succeeded.

His last and final breed was one that he held close to his heart - the Rhodesian Ridgeback. The very one he turned from a statue all those years ago. It held sentimental value for him. Without it, he never would have found his true calling. Despite his personal feelings, he knew what he had to do.

He remained as still as possible as he sensed the allusive beast treak ever closer to his position. He could feel his heated breath begin to scorch the surrounding trees and bushes. It was almost unbearable as his own skin began to feel the wrathe of the intense heat. His eyes began to water and slowly leak, his ownly defense against the pain. He dared blink them away but didn't. This wasn't the first time he had been nearly blinded. And he knew, it wouldn't be his last.

He caught his breath as his prey stepped out of the darkness and finally into the moonlight. A combination between dog and a rare dragon, it was a beautiful creature, if he even knew of such a thing. He hated to be the one who ended it's life but he had to do what he set out to. He remained perfectly still, a skill he spent years perfecting, and prepared for the attack.

Without warning he burst out from his unknown position and attacked from behind. He knew what he had to do. Being a low flying dragon, he aimed at its back feet and hit it with a stunning curse. His eyesight still stinging from the heat, his aim was a little off. The dragon fought back with amazing power and agility, turning to face his enemy and attack with its fierce flames. He fell backwards into the surrounding brush as the dragon rushed towards him. With vision impared, he quickly did something he hadn't done in years, transformed into a basilisk.

His sense of hearing took over as the ground around him began to rumble under the weight of the beast. It was getting closer, he could feel it. Thinking quickly, he slithered around to face his opponent. When the moment was right, he shot up and bit the dragon on its back leg. The dragon screached in pain as he reared back and struck again, this time releasing his venom into its other leg. The ground shook as the mighty creature fell to the ground, immobilized by the fast acting poison.

With the immediate danger over, Salazar slythered to a nearby tree and transformed back into himself. His eyes still burning, he reached down for his wand that had fallen from him during his snake attack and carefully walked over to the quickly dying beast. He took out a green vial from his satchel and pointed his wand to the creature. "Accio, venom." With a wave of his wand, the venom from within the creature began to ooze out of its wounds and back into the vial. He had mere seconds to kill it before it became strong enough again to attack.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted as the familiar green light emitted from his wand and killed off the beast. He stood and watched as his last foe took its final breath.

He sighed with releaf. His personal mission was over. He went to the carcus and began to gather the needed materials. Over the years, not only was he retreaving the heart but he was also commissioned to gather as much of its blood as possible. From red ink to potion strengthing, there have been several breakthroughs on the uses of dragon blood and many more to be discovered in the not so distant future, he was sure. He had heard women in the village claim it to be a great spot remover as well as oven cleaner but he had no experience with either and thought of it as mere housewives tales.

One he discovered himself - it cured simple ailments, like cuts and bruises, especially ones received from the dragon itself. He took out several vials as he knealt down before his once allusive foe. He retrieved many pints of it and placed them in a special travel container within his satchel. He retrieved one more pint for himself, mixed it a little with clear water and used this to heal his burnt retineas. He then mixed it with another potion to create a drink. This act, although a bit disgusting, would heal his lungs from the intense heat they had endured.

With the pain subsiding, he went back to his work. He went for the eyes, the claws, the scales and finally - the heart. He held it in his hands and thought back to his own wand, wondering how many more would be made from this one. He cast a spell over it and placed it, too, inside his satchel. It was getting early in the morning, the false dawn already high above his head. He continued towards a small clearing before apparating back home to the highlands, his final foe - defeated.



The prompts I used for this story are as follows:

- Features your house champion
- Mentions at least four specific breeds of dragons
- Features a dragon
- Mentions two of the following types of magic: a transfiguration spell, a sleeping spell, the conjuctivitis curse, the summoning charm (accio)
- Mentions the details of your champions wand
- Features a theme of flourishing in the face of adversity
- Mentions at least five of the twelve uses for dragons blood.

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