The Tenth Weasley - CH - 88

The morning mist had barely lifted from the edges of the Durmstrang fortress when Harry heard the now-familiar knock on his door.

Thump-thump-thump.

“Wake up, dueling champion,” Sonja’s voice called, sharp and amused. “I hope you haven’t gotten soft overnight.”

Harry groaned softly from his bed, blinking at the enchanted ceiling above, which mimicked the gloomy gray sky outside. He threw off his blanket and waved his wand toward the door.

The door clicked open and Harry stepped out, arms crossed, wand already tucked behind his ear. He leaned against the wall with his usual confident posture.

“You were slower today,” she teased.

“I was dreaming of you letting me sleep peacefully,” Harry replied dryly, smirking as he tied his boots.

“You wish,” she shot back with a grin.

They walked in comfortable silence through the winding stone corridors toward the sparring chamber set aside for Dragon-class duels. Since Harry’s arrival, the room had practically become their private arena. Every morning, Sonja met him at his door, determined to reclaim the pride she'd lost in their first duel. And every morning, Harry beat her again—barely.

But the gap was closing.

“You’ve improved,” Harry said as they faced off, wands raised. “But your spell chains are still too predictable.”

Sonja narrowed her eyes. “Predictable? I nearly had you yesterday.”

“Exactly. Nearly,” he said, flicking his wand to disarm her before she even cast the first spell. “You open with a flame hex, shield, binding charm, and then try to trap me with Tempus Hold. You’ve done it four days in a row.”

She scowled, summoning her wand back. “Fine. I’ll change it today.”

Harry grinned. “Good. Keep me guessing.”

After a solid hour of dueling, hexes, and spell deflections, both were dripping with sweat, breathing hard, and grinning like maniacs. Harry offered her a hand as she sat on the floor, catching her breath.

“Come on. I’ve got something to show you,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Something better than you knocking me flat? This I need to see.”

Back at his room, Sonja stepped inside and halted in her tracks.

“What in the name of Baba Yaga…”

The small Durmstrang room had been completely transformed. What was once a cramped cell-like chamber now resembled a full magical apartment: tall ceilings, glowing rune-lamps, soft carpets, a roaring fireplace, a personal kitchen area, a deep claw-footed bathtub visible through an arched door, and most impressively, a sprawling study filled with enchanted bookshelves.

“You did all this?” she asked in awe.

Harry nodded, pulling out two mugs of spiced hot chocolate and handing her one. “Magical expansion charms. Wards. Salvaged furniture from abandoned rooms. Some help from the Room Expansion guide in the family library.”

She looked around, astonished. “This is better than the Headmaster’s quarters.”

He shrugged modestly. “I like to feel at home.”

She noticed a framed moving portrait above the mantelpiece. A happy, bustling group: Arthur and Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny—and Harry standing tall at the center.

“That’s your family?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Yeah. That’s the Weasleys,” he said, a smile on his face. “That’s my dad, Arthur. Mum, Molly. Bill’s the oldest—Gringotts curse-breaker. Charlie works with dragons. Percy’s at Hogwarts. Fred and George are twins, complete troublemakers. Ron’s my age. And Ginny’s the youngest.”

She tilted her head. “So many siblings…”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah. Loud, chaotic, and amazing.”

Her eyes drifted to a long object in the background of the portrait—resting on a massive pillar behind the family.

“Is that… a skeleton?”

Harry smirked. “Yep. Basilisk skeleton.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Killed it myself,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Last year at Hogwarts.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You killed a Basilisk in second year?”

He nodded. “Want to see?”

Five minutes later, they stood in the Dragon common room. Word had already spread, and several Dragon-class students gathered as Sonja explained what was about to happen. Harry drew a silver thread from his temple and dropped it into the Pensieve in the center of the room.

“Ready?” he asked.

They nodded and leaned in.

In an instant, they were surrounded by the dark, damp, echoing tunnels of the Chamber of Secrets. The memory-Harry stood firm, facing a towering green-scaled Basilisk. Around him, roosters crowed wildly—magic pulsing from their beaks in waves that shattered the chamber’s walls.

“Merlin’s bones…” someone whispered.

In the background, the versions of Charlie, Neville, and Ron ducked and shouted as feathers and spells flew in all directions.

Memory-Harry leapt forward, blasting open a pillar with a severing hex and sending it crashing onto the Basilisk’s spine. As the creature roared in pain, the roosters crow again. The creature shuddered—and collapsed.

The scene faded.

Back in the common room, silence reigned. The Dragons looked at Harry with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

“I… stand corrected,” Sonja said. “You’re not just good at dueling. You’re insane.”

Harry chuckled. “Thanks. I think.”

Sonja turned to the others. “I suggest we don’t try to mess with his Roosters either.”

The common room burst into laughter. And for the first time in a long while, Harry felt truly at ease—not just as the dueling champion of Durmstrang, but as someone who belonged.



The memory of Harry’s battle against the Basilisk had shaken every student present—not in fear, but in awe. Sonja stood with her arms folded, looking at Harry as if reevaluating everything she had ever assumed about him. Viktor Krum sat nearby on one of the stone benches, his brow furrowed in curiosity as he tapped his fingers against his broomstick absentmindedly.

“So,” Viktor said slowly, his Eastern European accent thick but clear, “you fought a Basilisk in your second year... and survived.”

Harry gave a faint shrug, sitting comfortably in a conjured armchair. “Wasn’t planning on dying.”

“Your Hogwarts,” Sonja said, narrowing her eyes at him, “seems a lot more exciting than we thought. We always heard it was all boring history lessons and tea parties with ghosts.”

The other Dragons chuckled.

Harry smirked. “There were ghosts, and the History of Magic classes were sleep-inducing… but my life at Hogwarts was far from boring.”

Sonja leaned forward eagerly. “Then tell us. What else happened there?”

Viktor chimed in, “Yes. You show us this great battle, but you say nothing about yourself. Why? Afraid we’ll think less of you?”

Harry shook his head, the smile slipping from his face. “No. I just don’t like talking about it. A lot of what happened at Hogwarts wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

The room fell into a brief, thoughtful silence.

Then Harry stood up and stretched. “But I’ll tell you a story. Not about me. About my brother Ron and some friends. It’s one of my favorite memories, actually.”

The mood in the room shifted immediately. Sonja perked up with delight, and Viktor leaned forward with interest. The others gathered closer.

“Well?” Sonja asked. “Don’t stop there. Go on.”

Harry sat back down and conjured a floating wisp of blue light, which hovered above them like a flickering lamp. The room dimmed slightly, setting the stage for his tale.

“So, back in our first year,” Harry began, “we discovered that our school’s gamekeeper, Hagrid—a half-giant with a love for dangerous creatures—had come into possession of a dragon egg. No one knows where he got it, but knowing Hagrid, it was probably through some shady card game with strangers in a pub.”

Sonja snorted with laughter.

“A few days later,” Harry continued, “we were all in his hut, drinking tea, and he casually mentions that the egg is hatching. And we see it—this tiny, scaly, smoking little beast. A Norwegian Ridgeback.”

At this, Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Rare breed.”

“Exactly,” Harry agreed. “And definitely illegal to own in Britain. So naturally, we panicked. There was no way Hagrid could keep it. My brother Ron came up with a plan to smuggle it out.”

Sonja’s grin widened. “How? A Ridgeback? Even a baby one must be the size of a large dog.”

Harry nodded. “Oh, it was chaos. They snuck the dragon up to the tallest tower in Hogwarts—in the middle of the night—and arranged for my older brother’s friends to pick it up with a broom and take it to a sanctuary. All while trying to avoid prefects, teachers, and one of the professors who turned into a cat.”

The room erupted into laughter.

“No way,” said a Romanian boy, clutching his side. “This sounds like a fairy tale.”

“Wish it was,” Harry said, chuckling. “They got caught—well, almost. Detention in the forest the next day. But Hagrid’s dragon, Norbert, made it out safely.”

“Norbert?” Sonja repeated.

“Later turned out to be Norberta,” Harry clarified. “Details.”

Everyone laughed again.

Sonja shook her head, still grinning. “Alright, Weasley. That one was good. You have more stories like that?”

“Plenty,” Harry said. “But not all of them are funny. Some are dark. Some are… strange.”

“Good,” Viktor said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We like strange.”

Harry smiled faintly, warmed by the interest—but still guarded. He liked the Dragons, respected them even. But not everything was meant to be shared. Not yet.

“I’ll think about it,” Harry said at last.

“Think faster,” Sonja teased. “Tomorrow, I expect another story.”



The sun had just started to rise over the cold, mist-covered island that cradled the ancient stone fortress of Durmstrang. A soft golden light spilled over the dark forest and jagged cliffs beyond the castle walls. Most of the students were still asleep—except for a particular group of seven.

In the Dragon wing’s common hall, a hushed excitement hung in the air. Viktor Krum stood at the center, tying the leather strap on his enchanted fur cloak.

“Alright,” he said in his low, serious voice, “we head to the western cliffs. There’s a trail that loops behind the old rune pillars. If the stories are true, the dragon’s nest should be just beyond.”

Harry, who was still tugging on his gloves, gave Viktor a raised brow. “And what exactly are we supposed to do if there’s an actual dragon still living there?”

Sonja grinned, slinging her wand holster onto her belt. “We run. Fast. But more likely, it's long gone. These nests are usually abandoned after hatching.”

“You hope it's abandoned,” Harry muttered.

“Don’t be such a spoil-sport,” Sonja said, clapping him on the back. “You fought a Basilisk, for Merlin’s sake. You can handle a little smoke and scales.”

Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Truth was, a part of him was curious too.

The other four students joining them were older Dragons—seventh-years who specialized in Magizoology and Magical Ecology. They were giddy at the opportunity.

“Think about it,” said Eryk, a Polish wizard with deep brown eyes and a forest-green robe. “An untouched nest! We could catalog egg shell residues, claw marks, nest construction. This is the kind of thing that gets you noticed by the Alchemy and Creatures Board.”

“Only if we live to report it,” added Marek, a bulky sixth-year with frost-bitten fingers and the same reckless gleam in his eyes as the others.

Their group moved quickly through the stone halls, whispering spells to unlock the heavy iron gate at the forest edge. As Dragons, they were allowed to leave the castle grounds, and no one questioned them. Still, this wasn’t exactly… sanctioned.

The forest greeted them with silence, its tall, leafless trees casting thin shadows over the snowy earth. The trail Viktor mentioned was marked only by half-buried stone markers carved with Norse runes. The further they went, the steeper the ground became.

After almost four hours of trekking, the forest thinned, revealing a towering mountainside. A series of black rocks jutted out like claws against the sky. Wind howled through the crevices, and a sulfurous scent hung in the air.

“This is it,” whispered Ingrid, one of the creature experts. She held up her wand and muttered a detection charm. “There’s trace magical residue… something big was here.”

Eryk dropped to one knee, inspecting a set of massive indentations in the rocky ground. “Claw marks,” he breathed. “And fresh. No more than a few weeks old.”

“Wait,” Marek said, eyes wide. “Fresh?”

Sonja turned to Harry, who had already pulled his wand and was scanning the cliffside. “You think it’s still here?”

Harry said nothing for a moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Something’s close. Could be a young dragon, maybe hunting on the far side of the island. But this isn’t abandoned.”

There was a pause, then Viktor let out a short laugh. “Well… good. Adventure worth the risk.”

“You’re insane,” Harry said flatly.

“Not just him,” Sonja grinned. “We all are.”