The Tenth Weasley - CH - 91

The next morning at Durmstrang began like any other—until the first copy of the Oslo Magical Times floated through the enchanted notice board in the Dragon Common Hall.

Sonja, still tying her bootlaces, looked up as Ingrid squealed, “It’s out! It’s really out!”

The group of seven rushed forward, jostling through the small crowd of curious Dragons gathering near the enchanted parchment. The headline glowed in bold black script:

"Young Heroes Save Endangered Hatchlings!"

Just beneath the title, a large animated photograph showed Harry, Sonja, and Victor standing in the middle with the three dragon hatchlings curled affectionately at their feet. Behind them, the bound poachers lay unconscious while the rest of the Dragon Class stood proudly beside them. One of the baby dragons gave Harry a nudge in the frame, causing the younger students in the hall to gasp and murmur.

“Merlin’s beard,” Marek whispered, eyes wide as he read. “We’re famous.”

Louis Cartier puffed his chest out. “Tres magnifique! I told you this would be a story worth publishing!”

“Don’t let your head grow too big,” Sonja said with a smirk, giving Louis a playful shove. “Although... I must say, the camera did capture my good side.”

Victor, looking somewhat embarrassed and still with a bandage across his shoulder, cleared his throat. “I didn’t think it would go this far.”

“You’re Victor Krum, the flying prodigy,” Eryk said with a grin. “Of course it was going to go far. Half of Europe reads about you already. Now they’ll know you’re not just a Seeker, but a dragon-saver too.”

“And they’ll know the rest of us as well,” Ingrid added. “Look at this section!” She pointed at a column titled ‘Profiles in Bravery’, which listed each of the seven by name with brief descriptions.

Victor Krum – Quidditch star turned dragon savior.

Harry Weasley – The strategist and dueling champion of the Dragon Class.

Sonja Vilkova – The top Dragon duelist, and Charms prodigy.

Louis Cartier, Ingrid Halvorsen, Eryk Stoilov, Marek Jansen – The creature care experts who risked life and limb to protect the wounded dragon and her hatchlings.

Sonja whistled. “Strategist and dueling champion? You’re going to need a bigger cloak, Harry, your ego’s not going to fit in the old one.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “That’s not even remotely accurate. We were just lucky the poachers didn’t expect us.”

Victor patted his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter, mate. Luck favors the prepared. And you were more prepared than any of us.”

“Guys,” Louis called from a corner of the room where more floating pages were arriving. “It’s not just the news paper. The Magisk Dagblad, The Scandinavian Seer, and even Witch Weekly are publishing articles about it. We’re all over Europe.”

“Witch Weekly?” Marek groaned. “My sisters read that. I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

“Look at this one,” Sonja laughed, holding up a moving article cover. “‘Victor Krum’s Secret Team of Dragon Warriors: The Next Generation of Magical Heroes!’”

Victor turned beet red.

Harry blinked. “Wait, how did they even get that title?”

Louis smirked. “I might have... embellished slightly when the Auror asked for interview quotes.”

“Louis!” the others said in unison.

“What? I said you were all very brave,” he replied innocently. “And it worked!”

Before any more teasing could continue, Professor Navarro strode into the common hall. The room fell silent immediately.

“Ah,” Navarro said, raising an eyebrow as he took in the floating newspapers. “So it’s true. You lot are celebrities now.”

No one responded, unsure whether the professor was proud or angry.

But then Navarro broke into a rare smile. “Don’t let it get to your heads. You did well. All of you.”

Ingrid relaxed. “Thank you, Professor.”

“But—” Navarro added sharply, “—you still disobeyed every regulation regarding student exploration. Had anything gone worse, you could have gotten yourselves, and that dragon, killed.”

The air turned tense again.

“However,” he continued, “because your actions led to the arrest of a dangerous poaching group and the rescue of endangered creatures, the Headmaster has decided not to issue punishment.”

A collective sigh of relief passed through the group.

“But you will give a presentation to the rest of the school on magical creature ethics and protocol. Understood?”

“Yes, Professor,” they all said in chorus.

Navarro turned, robes sweeping behind him. “The rest of Durmstrang deserves to learn from your recklessness... and your bravery.”

As he left, Sonja let out a loud sigh. “Well... could’ve been worse.”

“Actually,” Ingrid said thoughtfully, “it might be fun to give a presentation. And this means we can set the record straight—tell everyone the real story.”

Victor grinned. “You mean leave out the part where Louis tripped over his own wand?”

“I told you I slipped on dragon dung!” Louis cried.

Harry laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll make you look heroic, Louis.”

They all laughed, the tension lifting into something more celebratory. For the rest of the day, other students kept approaching them—asking for autographs, spell advice, or simply to hear what it was like to stand in front of a chained dragon.

And as Harry sat down that evening beside the fire, a soft smile touched his lips. The journey hadn’t been expected, and neither had the fame. But in a school known for power, fear, and competition... maybe stories like these could change a few things.

At least, for now, they were more than students. They were the Dragons who faced fire—and lived to tell the tale.



The morning after their heroic deeds were splashed across every major wizarding paper in Europe, Harry Weasley found himself swamped—though not by danger or dueling practice this time, but by a mountain of letters.

He blinked sleepily as a dozen enchanted owls flew into the Dragon Class common room, circling his head with urgent screeches and flapping wings. Several parchment scrolls and letter-stuffed envelopes dropped into his lap, others bouncing onto the floor.

Victor peeked up from his book and chuckled. “You’ve become a one-man post office.”

“I think your family loves you,” Sonja said, raising an eyebrow as a rosy pink envelope fluttered into Harry’s hand with elegant floral writing. “And this one definitely smells like roses.”

“That's from my sister, Ginny,” Harry muttered with a sheepish grin as he grabbed another scroll. “Mum must’ve made her write it. She hates using quills.”

He opened the topmost letter first—the one bearing the familiar scrawl of his mother, Molly Weasley.

My dearest Harry,

We are all so proud of you, dear. When we read about what you and your friends did, your father nearly dropped his teacup! George is already trying to recreate the scene using fireworks. And Ginny keeps reading your article out loud to anyone who will listen. You're a hero, Harry, and no one in this family ever doubted that.

Love you dearly, Mum.

Harry smiled at the warmth radiating off the parchment.

Next was a quick scribble from Ron:

Bloody brilliant, Harry. You and dragons. Again. Should’ve known. Everyone’s talking about you. Even the Slytherins look confused whether to be impressed or terrified. George says we should make “Dragon Slayer” t-shirts.


Following that was a heavier letter, sealed with the mark of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Charlie's neat script covered the front.

Harry,

Saw the article. Couldn't believe my eyes. Poachers caught red-handed, dragon hatchlings saved, and a chained mother healed? You're doing half my job for me and you're not even out of school yet. Proud of you, kid. Proud doesn't even cover it. If you send me the coordinates, I can get the Reserve to designate the area a protected nesting zone. Also, if you’ve got photos—send them. Especially with the hatchlings. I want to show my team what real fieldwork looks like.


Harry laughed. “Charlie wants copies of the pictures. That’s about the fifth person.”

Sonja grinned. “Of course. Everyone wants proof you’re not just good at dueling.”

“Louis!” Harry called across the room. “Can I trouble you for a dozen copies of the dragon photos? The ones with the hatchlings, the one with me petting the mother, and that full group shot?”

Louis, already organizing stacks of glossy photographs on a table, nodded proudly. “Mais oui! I anticipated this, mon ami. Already printing duplicates.”

Harry moved on to Hermione’s letter, which was thicker than the rest, as expected. He took a slow breath before opening it.

Dear Harry,

I’m both amazed and frustrated. Amazed at what you accomplished. Rescuing dragon hatchlings, outsmarting poachers, and leading a team? That’s no small feat, Harry. But frustrated because... no one here knows the truth. Dumbledore never explained anything after you left. He kept quiet, and the rumors only grew worse.

Half the school thinks you fled to Durmstrang to learn dark magic. Some believe you’re the Heir of Slytherin and that this “heroism” is a cover for something darker. The Prophet hasn’t printed any clarification either. Honestly, it’s appalling.

But I know better. I know who you are, Harry. I wish people could see you the way we do. Send me the pictures. I’ll pin them in the Gryffindor common room if I have to. And don’t let the world define you. You never played by their rules before, don’t start now.

Still your friend,
Hermione


Harry’s jaw tightened slightly. “So they still think I’m some dark wizard...”

Victor looked up from his corner. “You knew they would, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Harry said softly. “But I guess part of me hoped... maybe with all this... they’d start to understand.”

Sonja rested a hand on his shoulder. “They don’t matter. You saved a dragon. You led us all. You chose to do the right thing, not for attention, not for fame. That’s more than most wizards can say.”

Harry gave a small smile, pocketing the letters carefully. “I just don’t want Rose or Ginny or any of the kids to grow up thinking I ran off to be some villain.”

Louis handed him the stack of photographs. “Then show them the truth.”

That evening, Harry sat by the fireplace with ink-stained hands and a dozen open letters. Each envelope he sealed carried a photo, a few words of warmth, and his firm belief that one day, the truth would matter.

But until then, he had dragons to meet, friends to protect, and magic to master. Let the world believe what it wanted. He knew who he was.

And so did those who mattered.



The school had mostly gone back to its usual rhythm. Students filed through cold stone corridors with their cloaks swaying behind them, and the ever-present chill of the mountain wind whispered through the open windows of the fortress-like institution.

Harry sat at his desk in one of the upper towers, sunlight slanting through the narrow, arched windows. The room was large and circular, reinforced with runes carved into every stone. This was the classroom of Advanced Magical Warding, a subject taught only to Dragon Class students. The professor, a stern and silver-haired witch named Magda Vortan, was pacing slowly in front of an intricate diagram drawn with glowing chalk.

"Now, observe this ward here," she said in her thick accent. "It bends magical interference through a deflection loop. A powerful tool in areas of wild energy, such as a dragon's nesting ground."

Harry was scribbling notes and occasionally glancing at the rune circle glowing on the blackboard when he heard it.

A distant screech.

At first, it was faint, but it was unmistakable. A dragon's cry.

Heads turned in the classroom. Even Professor Vortan paused.

"Was that—?"

Then it came again, much closer and louder, echoing through the open window like a herald of chaos.

Everyone leapt to their feet as shadows swooped overhead. Harry darted to the window, heart pounding.

Three shapes appeared against the sky—glinting scales, curved wings, and sharp talons. The dragon hatchlings.

They spiraled downward with incredible agility, weaving through Durmstrang's towers. One let out a sharp whistle, and the other two responded in kind. The entire class rushed to the windows.

"They’re coming here!" Sonja gasped.

"But how?" Marek shouted. "How did they find us?"

Before anyone could speculate, the dragons swooped low and made a beeline for the arched classroom door, which was still ajar.

CRASH!

All three hatchlings barreled into the classroom, knocking over two desks and a stack of rune-etched stones. Students scattered with surprised yells.

"Morgana's tits!" Professor Vortan snapped, wand raised. "What is the meaning of this?!"

But she didn't cast a spell. She stood frozen in a mixture of alarm and awe as the dragons tumbled in with playful energy.

The green-scaled hatchling—the smallest and quickest—made a straight line for Harry, bumping into his legs and letting out a chuffing sound that sounded suspiciously like a purr.

The silver-scaled one glided over to Sonja and nudged her side, causing her to laugh uncontrollably.

"They remembered us," Sonja whispered. "They really remembered."

Louis, already digging for his camera, was practically glowing with excitement. The blue-scaled hatchling leapt and landed beside him, sniffing his robes curiously.

"Non, non, stay still! You will ruin the lens!" Louis protested.

Professor Vortan finally regained her voice. "They must have imprinted on you three. Hatchlings form magical bonds during trauma. You rescued them—and now they see you as..."

"Family," Harry finished, kneeling beside the green one. It rested its head on his knee.

"This is unprecedented," the professor muttered, her academic mind already spinning. "Dragons rarely bond with humans. And never multiple dragons with multiple students!"

The classroom had dissolved into chaos. Desks were overturned. Magical ward diagrams were smeared under clawed feet. One student was shrieking as the blue hatchling tried to eat their rune textbook.

"Should we... do something?" Marek asked.

"Let them be for now," Professor Vortan said, still watching with astonishment. "Class dismissed. Go. Before they eat me next."

As the students fled in laughter and shock, Harry remained, surrounded by the hatchlings. One nibbled gently at his boot.

Sonja sat beside the silver dragon, petting it behind the horns. "They really came all this way. Just to see us."

Louis finally managed a photo. "This is going in every magical journal I know."

Harry looked at the three hatchlings, remembering the day they saved them from cages and cruelty.

"We saved them," he said quietly. "And now... they came to find us."

Whatever happened next, Harry knew this wasn’t the end of the adventure. It had only just begun.