The clearing they had chosen was far beyond the castle grounds, nestled between the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake. The grass was damp from the morning dew, the crisp autumn air biting at Harry's skin. Despite the chill, his blood thrummed with excitement.
Petar stood before him, arms crossed, his golden-hazel eyes glinting with amusement as he assessed Harry.
"You are fast," Petar said, tilting his head slightly, his accent curling around the words. "But you move… vrong."
Harry arched a brow, already feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Wrong how?"
Petar grinned. "Ve find out. Stand."
Harry shifted into a loose stance, knees slightly bent, feet apart just enough for balance. Ready. He had always been quick to move, quick to dodge—instinct over precision.
Petar hummed in approval, circling him like a predator studying prey.
"Good. You do not stand stiff like an Englishman."
Harry snorted. "I am English."
Petar grinned, unbothered, stepping behind Harry without warning.
"But you fight like someone who has had to run more than he has had to strike."
Before Harry could question that, Petar's foot swept his leg out from under him.
Harry yelped as he tumbled forward, but before he could brace himself for the fall, Petar caught him, his body pressing against Harry's back as he twisted them both. The next thing Harry knew, he was flat on the ground, Petar pinning him effortlessly, his weight holding him still.
"See?" Petar murmured, amusement thick in his voice. "You are too open."
Harry blinked up at him, thoroughly caught off guard.
"That was unfair," Harry muttered, struggling slightly before realising it was useless. Petar was stronger, his grip firm but not uncomfortable.
Petar chuckled, low and pleased, before leaning closer. "You think your enemy vill fight fair?"
Harry huffed, face heating slightly at how obnoxiously smug Petar sounded.
"Alright, alright. You made your point. Let me up."
Petar tilted his head, smirking.
"Say please."
Harry glared.
Petar just laughed, finally rolling off him and standing in one fluid motion, before offering Harry a hand.
"Again," Petar said as he pulled Harry to his feet, watching him with keen interest. "You must learn balance, control, strength. You are fast, but speed is nothing if you cannot use it."
Harry dusted himself off, grumbling under his breath. "You could have just told me instead of dropping me on my arse."
"Yes," Petar said cheerfully. "But then it vould not be funny."
Harry grumbled louder, but there was a spark of excitement in his chest.
The next hour consisted of Petar breaking down Harry's movements—from the way he held himself, to the way his feet shifted when he prepared to dodge.
"You are loose, vich is good," Petar said, stepping behind him again. This time, he adjusted Harry's shoulders, pressing against his spine slightly. "But here—you must stay straight, not too bent forward."
Harry stiffened slightly, feeling the heat of Petar's body against his back, but quickly shook it off. He focused on the adjustments, the small corrections Petar made.
"Your legs are strong, yes?"
Harry shrugged. "I guess?"
Petar grinned, stepping in front of him again. "Ve find out."
Harry didn't like the sound of that.
Petar demonstrated first, lifting his leg high into the air in a perfect arc, his foot extending in a controlled, flexible kick.
"Your hips must open," Petar explained. "If you are too stiff, you vill not have range."
Harry watched, impressed. "You make it look easy."
Petar grinned, stepping back. "Now, you try."
Harry hesitated, trying to mimic the stance, shifting his weight onto one foot. He lifted his leg high, but his balance wobbled, and he had to lower it quickly before he fell.
Petar snickered.
"Do not laugh!" Harry scowled.
"I am laughing because you move like an old man."
Harry glared, but Petar simply tapped his ankle lightly with his foot.
"Again. Vith control this time."
Harry tried again, more careful.
Petar moved closer, guiding his knee slightly. "Do not just throw your leg—you control it. Feel the movement."
Harry followed the motion, this time managing to hold it a little longer before bringing his foot back down gracefully.
Petar grinned. "Better."
Harry grinned back, triumphant. "Told you I learn fast."
Petar chuckled, stepping back, arms crossing. "Fast is good. But I vill make you better."
Harry had no doubt about that.
~
The crisp November air filled the Hogwarts courtyard as Harry and his friends sat together at their usual spot, away from the prying eyes of gossiping students. It had been a few weeks since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, and they were still no closer to figuring out what the first task was.
The champions had been given no hints, no clues, just the looming knowledge that the task was coming fast.
Harry tapped his fingers against the wooden bench, eyes narrowing in thought. "It has to be something dangerous," he muttered. "Something that tests courage and survival skills."
Theo, lounging with his arms crossed, snorted. "That's a given, Harry. But what kind of danger? There are a lot of ways the tournament could try to kill you."
"That's comforting," Harry deadpanned.
Blaise leaned forward, looking thoughtful. "Historically, the first task is meant to be a spectacle. Something grand, thrilling. It's supposed to test how well the champions handle pressure and the unknown."
Neville frowned. "So, something big."
At that moment, Luna, who had been staring up at the sky dreamily, let out a soft hum.
"It will be fine," she said airily.
Harry arched a brow, used to Luna's cryptic statements but still expecting more. "What will be fine?"
"You," she replied simply, turning to him with that knowing look she got when she had one of her visions.
Harry exhaled sharply. "Luna—"
"You won't have any trouble," she interrupted. "After all, you're a mother."
Silence.
Blaise, Theo, and Neville all turned to stare at her.
Harry, feeling a cold dread creep up his spine, slowly sat up. "Luna… what do you mean by that?"
She smiled. "You'll win. One mother to another."
A long pause.
Harry's stomach dropped.
"Wait, no," he said suddenly, feeling his pulse spike. "You're not saying—"
Luna tilted her head, her bright blue eyes twinkling.
"You're not saying dragons, are you? Mother dragons?"
His friends all froze.
Theo's eyes widened. "That—no. That would be insane."
Blaise leaned back against the bench, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You have got to be kidding me."
Neville gulped. "That's—not okay. That's insane! Dragons, Harry!"
Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Mother dragons are the most dangerous kind! Luna, how is that okay?"
Luna simply shrugged. "You're a mother. You'll be fine. As long as you do the right thing."
Later that evening, after an exhausting day of classes and constant whispering from other students, Harry was half-asleep at his desk in the Ravenclaw dorms when a small owl tapped against his window.
Frowning, he got up and let it in, untying the parchment from its leg.
As soon as he saw the signature, his heart skipped a beat.
Charlie Weasley.
Harry,
Meet me in the Forbidden Forest near Hagrid's hut. Don't be seen.
—Charlie
Harry didn't hesitate. Knowing Charlie is a dragon keeper, he couldn't waste this opportunity.
He cast his veil, shrouding himself in darkness before slipping out of the castle unseen.
Charlie was leaning against a tree, arms crossed, when Harry found him.
Before Harry could announce himself, he dropped his veil and stepped forward silently.
Charlie must have sensed something, because he whipped around, reaching for his wand—
"BOO."
Charlie let out an embarrassing squeak, stumbling back before rounding on Harry with an indignant glare.
"Merlin's bloody—Harry!" Charlie hissed. "What the hell?!"
Harry grinned smugly, crossing his arms. "Constant vigilance, Weasley!"
Charlie huffed, running a hand through his hair. "Damn near gave me a heart attack," he muttered. "Right. Listen, I don't have much time."
Harry nodded, his amusement fading. "It's dragons, isn't it?"
Charlie's face fell. "...How did you know?"
Harry sighed. "Luna has a way of finding things out."
Charlie winced. "Yeah. That sounds about right."
Harry crossed his arms. "What the hell was Romania thinking, agreeing to this? Nesting mothers? Anything could happen!"
Charlie looked just as furious. "They weren't going to at first. But the British Ministry made a deal—they agreed to pay the reserve to loan them. The majority shareholder agreed to it, even knowing the dragons or eggs could be hurt or killed."
"...What?"
Charlie's jaw clenched. "The sanctuary is supposed to protect dragons, but the majority owner? He only cares about money. He figures they could replace them easily."
Harry's stomach turned. "That's disgusting."
Charlie exhaled heavily. "Some of us tried to fight it, but the contract was signed. We can't stop them from using the dragons for the tournament."
Harry clenched his fists. "And the eggs? Are they going to be used too? Can't you put fake ones in?"
Charlie shook his head. "It's too dangerous to separate a mother from her eggs. The ministry seemed to think that would be more exciting."
Harry's anger simmered, his magic crackling under his skin.
"This is beyond cruel," he muttered.
Charlie watched him carefully. "...I tried everything." He said, voice hoarse.
Harry took a slow breath, forcing himself to focus. "Do you know which dragon I'm getting?"
Charlie shook his head. "No idea. They're keeping it random."
Harry nodded. "Alright. Then I need to be ready for anything."
Charlie gave him a considering look, before sighing. "I'll do what I can to protect them during the task, but be careful, Harry."
Harry gave him a determined look. "I will. And Charlie?"
Charlie paused.
"Thanks. For the warning."
Charlie gave him a small, wry smile, shaking his head. "Try not to die Harry."
~
Harry had just finished explaining what Charlie told him to everyone when Blaise cleared his throat. "Alright, but we need to focus. What's the plan for not dying during this task?"
Harry let out a tired chuckle. "I figured I'd just—wing it."
Theo groaned. "We're doomed."
After lunch, Harry caught up with Viktor Krum outside the Great Hall.
"Viktor!"
Krum turned, his thick brows drawing together in confusion before relaxing when he saw Harry. "Ah, Potter," he greeted, shifting his bag over his shoulder.
Harry didn't waste time. "Listen, I know what the first task is."
Krum's brows lifted slightly. "You do?"
Harry nodded. "Dragons. Nesting mothers. We're going to be put in a pit with them."
Viktor stared at him for a long moment before muttering something in Bulgarian that sounded suspiciously like a curse.
Harry continued quickly, lowering his voice. "The eggs in the enclosure? They're the real ones."
Viktor's eyes snapped to his, sharp with realisation. "And if ve use spells recklessly… ve might damage them, enraging ze mother."
Harry nodded.
Viktor was silent for a moment, before he sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "That is… very bad," he muttered. Then, to Harry's surprise, he extended a hand. "Thank you for telling me. I vill be careful."
Harry shook his hand. "Good. Let the others know too, if you can. I don't think Fleur would hurt them on purpose, but I don't trust her to be careful."
Krum nodded. "She is… proud."
Before Harry could respond, a gruff voice interrupted them.
"Potter. A word."
Harry turned sharply, coming face to face with Mad-Eye Moody, his magical eye spinning wildly before locking onto him.
Krum gave Harry a knowing look before muttering, "I vill see you at dinner," and walking away.
Harry turned to Moody. "Professor?"
Moody grinned, sharp and unsettling. "Come with me, lad."
Moody led Harry into an empty classroom, waving a hand to shut the door behind them.
"You're in a bind, Potter," he said gruffly.
Harry folded his arms, resisting the urge to glare. "I never put my name in the Goblet. Someone else did this to me."
Moody let out a rough chuckle, his magical eye spinning wildly. "Aye, I believe ya." He leaned in slightly, his scarred face intense. "That's why you need to use your strengths."
Harry's eyes narrowed.
Moody tilted his head. "Yer a good flyer, aye?"
Harry nodded slowly.
"Then use that. Summon your broom."
Harry blinked. "You want me to fly against a dragon?"
Moody gave a feral grin. "It's what yer best at, isn't it?"
"I already know the Summoning Charm, Professor."
Moody's grin froze for a second, before he let out a low chuckle. "Of course you do. Smart lad."
Something about his tone made Harry's skin prickle, but he forced himself to nod politely.
"I appreciate the advice," Harry said coolly.
Moody clapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to hurt. "I'll be watchin', Potter."
Harry resisted the urge to shudder as he left.
~
The night before the task, Harry slipped out of the castle under his Veil and apparated to the Cove.
As soon as he landed on the warm sands, a shadow passed overhead, followed by a deafening roar.
"Nox!"
The enormous black dragon swooped down, landing before him with a thunderous impact, sand spraying everywhere.
She sniffed him deeply, her golden eyes narrowing. "You smell of another."
Harry sighed. "Ah. I met with someone who cares for dragons. They are using mothers and their clutches in a dangerous game."
Nox's spiked tail flicked dangerously. "Who dares?"
Harry exhaled. "The ministry and bad men."
Nox's wings flared, her golden eyes blazing. "They would dare separate a mother and her hatchlings?"
Harry winced.
Nox reared back with a furious screech, fire blazing from her jaws. "FLY WITH ME NOW, MOTHER! WE WILL BURN THEM ALL!"
Harry caught her snout as much as he could, pressing his forehead against it. "No, no, no, vicious little hatchling. We can't do that."
Nox growled lowly, vibrating beneath him. "Why not?"
"Because we're going to help them another way."
Nox pulled back slightly, staring at him.
Harry's expression hardened. "I will try to set them free, Nox."
Nox huffed, then crooned softly, rubbing her snout against his chest. "You are too soft, Mother."
Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around her snout. "And you are too vicious."
Especially since nearing her second hatch day, he thought.
She purred, warmth spreading between them. "I would burn the world for you."
Harry's throat tightened, and he closed his eyes, pressing his fingers against her scales. "If anything ever happened to you… I'd burn everything too."
Nox let out a pleased rumble, her wings wrapping around him protectively.
~
The morning of the First Task was tense.
The castle was buzzing with excitement, students speculating wildly about what awaited the champions. Harry sat in Slytherin's library with his friends, trying to block out the murmurs echoing through his mind. Dragons. Nesting mothers. He had promised Nox that he'd find a way to free them, but first, he had to survive.
He was pulled from his thoughts by Blaise's dramatic entrance, a smug smirk plastered across his face. He carried an ornate black box, trimmed in silver and embossed with a goblin seal.
"Potter." Blaise practically purred, placing the box before him. "I have a gift for you, courtesy of Grimbok and myself—though Luna was the one who pushed for it."
Harry eyed him warily. "What did you do?"
Blaise's grin widened as he gestured toward the box. "Open it."
Harry flicked open the silver clasps, lifting the lid. The moment he did, his breath hitched.
Inside, neatly folded, was an outfit unlike anything he had ever seen.
It was made entirely from basilisk hide, deep black with a faint sheen of emerald when the light hit it just right. The tunic-style top fit snugly yet comfortably, the material flexible but undeniably strong. The sleeves were reinforced at the elbows, and the high collar protected his throat. The trousers matched, form-fitting yet easy to move in. A belt, adorned with goblin-wrought silver buckles, was embedded with protective runes. Even the boots were reinforced with dragon-hide soles.
Harry ran his fingers over the material, feeling the magic thrumming beneath his fingertips.
"Blaise… this is… incredible," Harry murmured, stunned.
Blaise preened at the praise. "I had Grimbok personally oversee its creation. We used your own basilisk hide for the material, and the goblins enhanced it further."
Theo whistled lowly. "This must have cost a fortune."
Blaise waved him off. "The goblins were happy to do it. Apparently, Harry has made them a lot of gold from the basilisk."
Harry shook his head, touched beyond words. "What enchantments are on it?"
Blaise ticked off his fingers. "It's fireproof, damage-resistant, and already naturally magic-resistant due to the basilisk hide. But the goblins added a few extras—it grows with you, self-repairs minor damage, and offers temperature regulation. Oh, and the boots will never wear out."
Harry let out a low whistle, unable to contain his admiration.
"Try it on," Theo prompted.
With a nod, Harry stood, going into the bed chamber and slipped into the outfit, adjusting the belt as it seemed to mould itself to his frame perfectly.
Blaise leaned back, smirking as he murmured in Italian, "Sei assolutamente sexy."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "That better not mean what I think it does."
Blaise grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
The others laughed, but Harry ignored them, still overwhelmed. "Thank you. All of you."
Luna tilted her head. "You'll need all the protection you can get." Harry shivered at her words.
Harry arrived at the champions' tent, where Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric were already gathered.
He barely had time to exchange nods before Ludo Bagman entered, his round face flushed with excitement.
"Alright, champions! Who's ready to be a champion!" Only receiving silence in return.
Before they could relax, the tent flap burst open.
"Rita Skeeter."
Dressed in garish green robes and clutching a Quick-Quotes Quill, she practically purred as she set her sights on Harry.
"Mr. Potter! A quick interview?"
Harry scowled. "No thank you. Have a nice day, Ms. Skeeter."
Skeeter's smile tightened, but before she could press further, she was escorted out so the task could begin.
Harry stood in the tent, his heartbeat pounding as the roars of dragons filled the air.
Bagman grinned widely, his voice booming. "Alright, champions! Time to pick your dragons!"
One by one, they each reached into the velvet bag, withdrawing a miniature dragon that represented their opponent.
Fleur went first—Welsh Green.
Cedric—Swedish Short-Snout.
Viktor—Chinese Fireball.
Harry reached into the bag, his fingers closing around a tiny figure. He pulled it out…
Hungarian Horntail.
The most vicious of the dragons.
Harry's jaw clenched as he turned to the others. His emerald eyes darkened as he muttered, "If any of you harm the eggs, it won't be the dragons you'll have to worry about."
The others stiffened, but Krum gave a curt nod, understanding the unspoken message.
Outside, the crowd erupted into cheers as the first champion took the field.
Harry exhaled deeply, his muscles coiling with anticipation.
Then, his name was called.
Taking a steadying breath, Harry stepped into the arena.
The moment Harry stepped into the arena; the world fell away.
The roar of the crowd was a distant hum in the back of his mind, his focus solely on the massive Hungarian Horntail in front of him.
The ground beneath him was scorched and cracked, evidence of the beast's previous outbursts of fire. At the far end of the enclosure, nestled between jagged rocks, was a clutch of three large eggs—their surfaces gleaming a deep onyx black, crisscrossed with golden veins. Beside them sat the golden egg, the very thing he was supposed to retrieve.
The Horntail stood atop a raised stone formation, her massive wings half-unfurled, her lethal tail lashing behind her, spiked and deadly.
Her piercing yellow eyes locked onto him, and the air grew suffocatingly tense.
Harry exhaled deeply, steeling himself.
His fingers twitched toward his wand, but he hesitated. No. This wasn't a fight.
Instead, he cast a sonorus, amplifying his voice, before he did something no one expected.
He hissed.
The reaction was instantaneous.
A stunned silence fell over the arena.
Even the Horntail froze mid-step, her nostrils flaring.
"Great Mother," Harry spoke in Parseltongue, his tone steady, unwavering. "I mean you no harm."
The dragon's massive head lowered, her slitted pupils narrowing in shock. "You… speak the sacred tongue?"
"I do," Harry confirmed, standing tall despite the weight of a thousand eyes upon him. "I seek only to speak with you."
Murmurs began rippling through the stands, the audience in complete disbelief. The officials scrambled, whispering urgently, as even Dumbledore sat forward, his sharp eyes gleaming with interest.
The Horntail let out a low, deep rumble, circling her nest protectively. "They have taken from me before. They will not take from me again!"
Harry's brow furrowed. "Taken?"
The Horntail snarled, her forked tongue flicking out in rage. "The two-legs, the false masters! One came in the dead of night and stole one of my young! My mate is gone, my nest torn apart—and now they place a false egg among my children! I will not allow it!"
Harry's heart plummeted.
"The two-legs think I don't understand their tongue, but I know they plan to steal again! I won't let them!"
He clenched his fists, bile rising in his throat at the thought of what they had already done to her.
But before he could speak, she reared her massive head back—her throat glowing red-hot, a telltale sign of incoming fire.
"Great Mother, wait—!"
Too late.
The Horntail released a massive stream of fire, a wave of burning orange and gold engulfing Harry's position.
Gasps and screams echoed through the stands.
For a single moment, Harry's world was nothing but fire.
Instinct took over.
He didn't reach for his wand. He didn't think.
He lifted both hands—and commanded the flames.
The fire split around him, curling away from his skin like an ocean wave crashing against a rock.
The flames danced around him, spiralling in a massive arc before he redirected them skyward, the heat licking at his fingertips but never burning.
A hush fell over the arena.
The Horntail stopped breathing fire, her massive chest heaving as she stared at him in utter shock.
Harry lowered his hands slowly, the flames fading into embers around his feet.
"You…what are you…you are not a dragon," the dragon murmured, taking a step forward, nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air, taking deeper breaths the closer she got. "You smell of a hatchling."
Harry tensed. "Yes, my hatchling."
She exhaled sharply. "A hatchling. Yours. How do you have one?"
His eyes widened. "She was sold as an egg to those who would harm her. I was there on her hatching day and took her to keep her safe and she named me Mother."
The Horntail's massive golden eyes narrowed. "Your hatchling calls you 'Mother.'""She does," Harry admitted. "And she would have burned this place to the ground if I had let her come."
The dragon let out a deep, almost… amused growl. "A fierce one, then."
Harry exhaled. "She is. And I swear to you—I do not wish to harm you or your eggs. I was forced into this competition."
The Horntail let out a slow, rumbling growl, her snout close to his face. "Then take what is false. But do not let them take my children again."
"I won't," Harry vowed.
His magic surged as he pressed a palm against her snout, sending a pulse of his magical signature into her that would guide her to the cove. The Horntail shuddered, unused to such magic.
"I will set you free and allow you safety in my home, follow the magic if you wish." Harry whispered, his magic latching onto her scales. "But you must promise me—no harm will come to my hatchling, or any being under my protection. If you do, you will not survive."
The Horntail's golden eyes gleamed with something like respect. "I swear it, Fire-Mother."
Harry took a steady breath.
"Open your mouth," he instructed. "I will place your eggs inside."
The dragon hesitated for only a moment before parting her enormous jaws.
Carefully, Harry levitated the three real eggs and placed them securely in her mouth.
And then, to the absolute horror of the watching crowd, he turned his wand on the dragon's chains—and blasted them apart.
The heavy iron links shattered, clattering to the ground with an earth-shaking clang.
Panic erupted.
The officials scrambled, dragon keepers screaming in terror.
But before they could react, the Horntail unfurled her massive wings, her mighty body lifting off the ground.
With a final glance at Harry, she launched into the sky.
The force of her take off sent a powerful gust of wind through the arena, nearly knocking over several stunned spectators.
Chaos exploded through the stands as people screamed in terror, wizards and witches fumbling for their wands—
Harry stood tall and unmoving, watching as the Horntail soared toward freedom.
With a flick of his wand, he summoned the golden egg into his grasp.
Then, with a final glance at the horrified tournament officials, Harry turned on his heel and walked out of the arena.
~
Harry barely made it out of the arena before he was surrounded.
The dragon keepers descended upon him, some red-faced with anger, others with wary suspicion or awe. Their green-scaled dragonhide uniforms marked them as handlers, but their furious expressions made it clear they weren't here to congratulate him.
"Are you completely out of your mind, Potter?!" one of them roared, stepping in front of him, his entire bulky frame blocking the exit. "You just released a Hungarian Horntail!"
Several of the others echoed their outrage.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
"You'll have to answer for this!"
"That dragon was property of the reserve!"
Harry's anger flared, his fingers clenching around the golden egg in his grasp.
"The task was to retrieve the egg," he said, his voice dangerously even. "By any means necessary. That was the rule, wasn't it?"
A heavy silence fell over them, several of the keepers exchanging glances.
Charlie Weasley stood toward the back of the group, his arms crossed. Unlike the others, his face wasn't furious—it was thoughtful. His sharp blue eyes studied Harry, but he remained silent for now, listening.
"You've cost the Ministry a fortune, boy," another keeper spat. "That dragon was imported. You think you can just set it loose and there won't be consequences?!"
Harry's gaze darkened.
"You mean the same Ministry that used her and her eggs for sport? And the reserve that's been stealing her eggs?"
Several of them stiffened.
"That's nonsense," one snapped.
"Is it?" Harry's eyes burned as he took a slow step forward, his magic rolling off him in controlled waves. "Because she overheard some of you discussing it. She knew one of you stole her egg. And she was right, wasn't she?"
Murmurs erupted among the keepers, and Charlie visibly paled.
Harry's attention zeroed in on two men standing near the back, their faces a shade paler than the rest. One of them—a shorter, wiry wizard with greying hair—refused to meet his eyes. The other, a broad-shouldered man with a scar down his cheek, swallowed thickly.
Harry focused his magic, the weight of it pressing down on them.
The air grew heavy, as if the very magic around them bent to his will.
The two men tensed, sweat forming on their brows.
"Where is her stolen egg?" Harry's voice was low and cold, a quiet threat in itself.
The scarred man shuddered, his mouth opening and closing as if struggling to breathe. The smaller man took a shaky step back, his fingers twitching.
Charlie's face twisted in horror as he turned to them. "Is it true?"
Neither of them answered.
But their silence was answer enough.
"You're supposed to be protecting them," Charlie growled, stepping forward. His usual easygoing demeanour vanished, replaced with furious betrayal. "Instead, you're stealing from them?! Do you have any idea what this could mean for the Reserve?! We have laws! The Reserve Master will have you both in chains before sundown!"
The two men visibly flinched.
Harry's gaze didn't waver, his presence pressing harder on them like a suffocating force.
"You're lucky I didn't tell her to point you out before she left," he said coolly. "Otherwise, she wouldn't have left you in one piece."
Charlie turned back to Harry, his expression still torn between fury and disbelief.
"Where did she go?" he asked, his voice softer.
Harry hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Hypothetically, if I knew where she was going, she would be somewhere safe," he said at last. "She and her eggs won't be harmed where she is."
Charlie exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're asking me to trust that."
Harry met his gaze. "Yeah, I am. Like I'm trusting you to look after those other dragons and their eggs."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, slowly, Charlie nodded.
"Fine," he said. "You do your part, I'll do mine. They won't be harmed while I'm there, not again."
Before Harry could respond, a voice called out behind them.
"Potter!"
Turning, he saw Ludo Bagman striding toward him, followed by the other judges. Dumbledore was at the back, his sharp blue eyes twinkling with something unreadable.
Harry kept his face carefully blank, his Occlumency shields firmly in place as they approached.
Bagman clapped his hands together, grinning broadly. "Well, well! That was—unexpected!"
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Yes. Seeing a dragon in chains was unexpected. Or were you talking about the parselgtongue?"
"Indeed! But also your fire manipulation, wandless might I add," Dumbledore cut in smoothly, stepping forward. His gaze flickered with excitment, lingering on Harry far too long. "Fire elemental control like that hasn't been seen in a wizard for decades, my boy. A most remarkable display."
Harry fought the urge to shudder at the gleam in Dumbledore's eyes.
"Yes, yes," Bagman continued, "but now—we must award scores!"
Madame Maxime stepped forward first.
"For graceful handling of the creature and ensuring no injuries, I award you—" she lifted her wand, and nine silver stars shot into the air.
Harry nodded in appreciation.
Karkaroff stepped forward next, his lips curling in distaste. "For relying on Parseltongue and your unnatural abilities, I give you—" he flicked his wand, and four stars appeared.
He opened his mouth to retort, but Theo beat him to it.
"Are you seriously docking points for a language?" Theo called out from the stands, outraged.
"You sound jealous," Blaise added lazily, smirking.
The Slytherin section snickered, while Karkaroff's expression darkened.
Bagman hurriedly stepped in. "Well! I, for one, thought it was brilliant! Full marks!"
Ten stars.
Crouch was next. "For completing the task successfully but recklessly endangering the event, I give you—" six stars.
And finally, Dumbledore stepped forward.
"For your great show of wandless magic," he said lightly, "I award you—nine stars."
The final tally put Harry just ahead of Viktor, placing him in first place.
Harry barely acknowledged it, still bristling.
"I don't care about the scores," he muttered, turning his back on them.
And then—
"FIRE-MOTHER WINS!"
Before he could react, Luna tackled him into a hug.
"You did it, just like I said!" she beamed, her silver eyes sparkling. "One mother to another."
Neville, Theo, and Blaise rushed down from the stands, their faces split with grins.
"She actually listened to you?!" Neville gasped.
Theo clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "Not bad, fire-breath."
"How does it feel to be a dragon tamer?" Blaise smirked.
Harry groaned, shaking his head as they laughed.
But in the back of his mind, one thought remained.
Dumbledore had watched everything. Seen his abilities.
~
The weeks following the First Task had been a whirlwind. He still hadn't felt the Horntail pass his wards, and he was worried that something had happened.
Between his studies, keeping an eye on Dumbledore, and writing letters to Grimbok to finalise his emancipation reveal plans, Harry found himself spending more and more time training with Petar.
Petar was relentless.
Each session left Harry aching, but he couldn't deny the results.
At first, Petar had simply worked on his balance and flexibility, testing Harry's reactions and stances with little warning. It was embarrassing how often he ended up flat on his back—sometimes because Petar had tripped him, other times because the Bulgarian was simply distracting.
Harry had no idea how someone could be so flexible, let alone move like water in firelight, but Petar had a grace Harry wanted to learn.
And he was learning.
"Your magic is natural, like breathing," Petar had said one evening, watching Harry bend a stream of flame to his will, making it spiral in smooth arcs around his wrists. "I haff to use a conduit," he had gestured to his ring, "but you… you dance vith fire."
That had led to incorporating fire into hand-to-hand combat, blending dance, martial arts, and elemental control.
"Move vith it, not against, Harry," Petar had said, adjusting Harry's stance before—once again—sweeping his legs out from under him.
Harry landed with a thud, groaning. "Bloody hell, Petar."
Petar grinned down at him, not looking remotely apologetic. "Your reaction time is improving, at least."
"Great," Harry grumbled. "Next time, I might actually dodge."
"Maybe."
The Bulgarian winked, before helping Harry up.
Now, a couple of weeks into December, Harry sat lounging in the Chamber of Secrets with his friends. The enchanted warmth of Slytherin's library kept the ancient chamber comfortable, and Harry had lost track of time between discussing the First Task and preparing for the next one.
That was, until Neville groaned dramatically, dropping his quill onto the table.
"I swear, if I have to hear one more Gryffindor girl complain about how she's waiting for the right invitation to the Yule Ball, I'm hexing something."
Blaise smirked, stretching lazily on the couch. "Haven't found a date yet, Longbottom?"
"I have now," Neville said quickly, looking at Luna and grabbing her hand before anyone else could speak. "Luna, want to go with me? As friends of course!"
Luna's silver eyes blinked owlishly, then she giggled. "Of course, Neville!"
Harry groaned dramatically, slumping back into the chair. "That's so unfair."
Luna laughed, her bell-like voice chiming in amusement.
Harry turned to Theo and opened his mouth, about to ask—
"I already asked Daphne Greengrass," Theo said before Harry could even ask the question.
Embarrassment filled in Harry's chest.
"Oh," he said, forcing his voice to be light. "Can't say I've ever spoken to her."
Blaise—who had been watching the interaction closely—rolled his eyes.
"You're a bloody idiot, Nott." He whispered.
Theo shot him a dark glare, but Blaise just grinned knowingly.
Shaking his head, Blaise stretched and said, "I was thinking of asking Tracey Davis."
Harry hummed, considering his options. "I might ask Petar then."
Theo snapped his head up so fast Harry was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash.
"You can't ask a man."
The room went silent.
Harry blinked, suddenly wary.
"…Why not? Is it taboo in the wizarding world as well?" he asked cautiously.
Theo hesitated, but it was Blaise who answered first, his tone annoyed.
"Because the pureblood community has a ridiculous expectation that heirs must marry women for the sake of 'true bloodlines.'" He gave Theo a look, then turned back to Harry. "It's not that being gay is 'taboo,' it's just that tradition matters more. That's why a lot of noble wizards have arranged marriages for heirs and lovers on the side."
Harry felt sick.
Theo sighed, rubbing his temple. "It's just… how it is."
"But it shouldn't be," Harry said, voice quiet but firm. "Why shouldn't people marry for love? Blood adoption exists, right? So why not have heirs that way?"
"Because," Theo murmured, "to most purebloods, blood adoption doesn't make a true heir." He hesitated, looking at Harry. "I will marry a woman one day. But I'll… probably have my love on the side."
Harry wasn't looking at them though, his head looking down at his hands.
Luna, who had been quietly watching, reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.
"Harry," she said, "you don't have to follow their rules. You're the last of your line. No one can force you into tradition."
Neville nodded. "Yeah. And not all purebloods believe that nonsense."
"I sure as hell don't," Blaise muttered. "Neither does my mother."
Harry let out a slow breath, processing.
Luna smiled at him, tilting her head. "I think you should ask Petar."
Harry flushed.
Blaise smirked. "He's definitely into you."
Neville nodded sagely, his face completely serious. "He touches you a lot."
Harry gaped at them, turning red. "Does not!"
"He trips you every lesson," Blaise pointed out.
"I'm sure he does that to all his students!"
Neville arched an eyebrow. "Harry. I'm sure he doesn't hold all his other students so sweetly afterwards."
Luna giggled.
Harry groaned, covering his face.
Blaise grinned. "Ask him."
Harry peeked through his fingers, uncertainly. "…You think he'd say yes?"
"Oh, without a doubt," Blaise said smoothly.
Harry bit his lip, considering.
Then he sighed.
"Alright. I'll ask him. As friend though, just in case."
Neville, Luna, and Blaise cheered.
Theo looked like he wanted to hex something.
~
The weeks leading up to the Yule Ball were utter hell.
Harry had never considered himself popular, but ever since the First Task, the attention on him had multiplied tenfold.
Unfortunately, that included dozens of giggling girls—many of whom had never spoken to him before—attempting to corner him in the corridors and drop ridiculous hints about how they were so available for the ball.
Some were bold enough to just outright ask him.
A few were downright aggressive.
Ginny Weasley, unfortunately, was among them.
At first, Harry had tried to be polite, turning down her obvious advances with a forced smile and quick excuses.
But she wouldn't take the hint.
Everywhere he turned, she was there, cooing, giggling, and flipping her hair dramatically whenever he walked past.
She even lingered around the Ravenclaw table, pretending to be there for something else while watching him like a hawk.
It was exhausting.
The final straw came when she physically grabbed his arm one evening after dinner, batting her lashes up at him.
"Harry," she practically purred, "you still haven't asked anyone to the ball. You know we'd make the perfect couple, right?"
Harry's eye twitched.
He yanked his arm away.
"No, Ginny, we really wouldn't," he said flatly.
Ginny's smile didn't even falter.
"Oh, but Harry, you just haven't realised it yet!" She giggled, reaching for him again. "You just need to—"
"I'm already taking someone," Harry snapped, completely fed up. Luckily, Petar had said yes the day before.
Ginny froze.
She blinked rapidly, looking startled, before her face lit up in an horrid flush.
"Who?" she demanded, looking around as if expecting to see a girl waiting nearby.
Harry exhaled sharply and turned on his heel, marching towards the Durmstrang students.
Ginny followed.
Harry ignored her.
Petar was just finishing his meal, his dark eyes lighting up when Harry stopped in front of him.
"Petar," Harry said, his tone decisive. "Would you like to discuss what we should wear to the ball?"
The Bulgarian froze, his fork mid-air.
Then his face broke into a grin so bright it could have rivalled the sun.
"Da! Yes, Harry!"
Before Harry could react, Petar was already up, gripping his shoulders excitedly.
"We should match!" Petar said in his thick accent, beaming down at him.
Behind them, Ginny screeched.
"YOU CAN'T GO WITH A BOY!"
Harry and Petar both turned.
Ginny looked furious, her freckled face red with outrage.
"You're not gay!" she shouted, her hands clenched into fists. "You can't be!"
Harry stared at her blankly, then blinked slowly.
"I—what?"
"We—we're meant to be together!" Ginny continued frantically, her eyes wild. "You're supposed to be with me! Everyone knows that!"
Harry's jaw clenched.
"You're delusional. I would rather date your brother Charlie than you, any day."
"No, I'm not!" Ginny insisted. "You just haven't realised it yet! There's no way you'd rather date Charlie than me—"
"Honestly?" Harry cut in smoothly, tilting his head, "I would."
Ginny gasped, looking devastated.
Petar, meanwhile, laughed so hard he nearly doubled over.
~
Later that night, Luna and Harry sat in the Chamber of Secrets, going over outfit choices for the ball.
Luna hummed thoughtfully. "I think it's finally time to use the outfit I chose for you."
Harry groaned dramatically. "The one from before third year?"
Luna beamed.
"The very same."
Harry sighed, resigning himself to whatever absurdity she had prepared.
Luna clapped her hands excitedly, summoning the outfit with a flick of her wand.
A set of elegant garments floated towards Harry.
The main feature was a deep emerald tunic with flowy, layered sleeves.
An ornate black corset, embroidered with golden filigree, accentuating the slim waist while emphasising his shoulders and frame.
The trousers were form-fitting black leather, sleek and comfortable.
A long, trailing cloak fastened at the shoulders, the fabric a rich black lined with dark green, with gold detailing along the hem, swirling into delicate serpentine patterns.
Luna sighed dreamily.
"You're going to look divine."
Harry ran his fingers over the fabric, impressed despite himself.
"…This is actually really nice," he admitted. Although, he adjusted the sleeves to be less flowy and added some thick cuffs to match the corset pattern.
Luna beamed. "I know."
She then twirled happily, summoning her own outfit next.
Her dress was a flowing masterpiece of silver and periwinkle, shimmering as if made of woven moonlight.
Tiny stardust-like charms floated around the fabric, shifting whenever she moved.
"The constellations will change throughout the night," she said, twirling. "My daddy bought it for me."
Harry smiled. "You'll look amazing, Luna."
"I know," she said simply.
~
After another training session, where Petar once again teased Harry mercilessly, Harry awkwardly cleared his throat.
Petar paused, eyebrow raised.
"Er—I, um—about the Yule Ball," Harry started, shifting on his feet.
Petar's grin widened.
"Da?"
"I—uh—I'll be wearing black and gold," Harry said quickly.
Petar's dark eyes gleamed with interest.
"Hmm," he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping slightly. "I think you vill look beautiful."
Harry's brain short-circuited.
His face went red.
Petar smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Luna had been right.
He was so obviously into Harry.
~
The Great Hall had never looked more stunning.
Harry took a deep breath as he adjusted his sleeves, feeling the eyes of nearly the entire school on him as he walked towards the entrance with Petar.
The Durmstrang wizard looked striking, his gold-trimmed black robes bringing out the warm tones of his olive skin. His strong jawline and confident stride made him look every inch the warrior he was trained to be.
Harry, on the other hand, felt ridiculously overdressed.
The emerald tunic, the corset with gold filigree, the flowing black cloak lined with green—he looked beautiful.
And Petar noticed.
"You are breathtaking," Petar murmured in his thick Bulgarian accent, his dark eyes hungrily tracing Harry's form.
Harry flushed, looking away. "You're not too bad yourself."
Petar smirked, offering his arm. "Shall ve, fire heart?"
Harry took it, swallowing down his nerves.
The opening dance had been mandatory for the champions and their dates.
Harry hadn't been too worried—he had learnt briefly with Luna when Pandora was alive. And he practiced a few times with Petar, making sure he didn't embarrass himself in front of the entire school.
Still, as the music swelled, and the entire hall watched his every move, Harry felt a familiar rush of anxiety.
Then, Petar's warm hand found his waist, the other lacing their fingers together.
"Breathe, krasiv, I have you," Petar whispered, guiding him effortlessly into the fluid steps they had practiced.
Harry exhaled, trusting him.
They moved elegantly across the floor, firelight and magic reflecting off the gold embroidery of their outfits.
He could feel the stares, the whispers of shock.
Harry Potter is dancing with a man?
Did you see them together? They look amazing!
I thought he was dating one of those Slytherins!
Petar, ever the confident one, seemed completely unbothered by it all, his focus entirely on Harry.
"You are far better at this than vhen ve started," Petar teased.
Harry rolled his eyes, "You're just enjoying that I'm letting you lead."
Petar grinned, twirling him dramatically.
Harry laughed, finally starting to relax.
Later in the evening, Harry escaped the attention for a moment, finding himself in the arms of Luna as they swayed to a softer tune.
"You've gotten much better at this since we were children," Luna mused, her dreamy gaze fixed on the twinkling lights above them.
Harry chuckled, "Maybe because I actually have a good teacher now."
Luna giggled. "You mean not my mum?"
Harry smiled softly. "We had fun, though."
They had spent hours twirling around the Lovegood home as Pandora Lovegood had played the violin, teaching them spins, dips, and steps.
Luna's eyes sparkled with memory.
"She would be so happy if she could see you tonight," she whispered.
Harry swallowed thickly, squeezing her hand. "She'd be so proud of you too, Luna."
Luna simply smiled, resting her head on his shoulder.
As the night wound down, Harry found himself on one of the stone balconies, looking over the snow-covered grounds.
Petar joined him, the cool air making their breath visible.
Below, Snape was snarling at a group of students near the carriages, clearly breaking apart some illicit rendezvous.
Harry and Petar watched in amusement.
"Severus Snape," Petar mused, shaking his head. "I do not understand how he is a teacher."
Harry snorted. "No one does."
A comfortable silence settled between them.
Then, Petar sighed.
"I am glad I could give you this experience."
Harry turned, brows furrowing at the hint of finality in his tone.
Petar's smile was bittersweet.
"But," Petar continued, running a hand across his short hair, "I must be honest with you, krasiv."
Harry's stomach tightened.
Petar hesitated before speaking. "I have not been honest vith you. If things vere different… If I did not have a contract marriage vaiting for me in Bulgaria, I think I could have…" He exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "I could have adored you, forever."
Harry's breath caught.
"I—" He didn't know what to say.
Petar gave him a small, sad smile.
"I vill not lead you on," he said firmly. "But I do not vant you to regret this night. And I vant you to experience everything everyone else has the chance to."
He hesitated, then reached for Harry's hand, brushing his fingers gently over his knuckles.
"May I?" he asked softly.
Harry understood immediately.
A first kiss.
A single moment of something sweet before it was lost to time.
Harry nodded, closing the space between them.
Petar cupped his face gently, tilting Harry's head just so—before pressing their lips together.
It was soft at first, an exploration, before it deepened into something more, something warm and lingering.
Petar's hands traced down his jaw, his thumb brushing gently along Harry's cheek and then gripping lightly at his neck.
He could taste wine and cinnamon.
Harry let himself fall into it, into the warmth, the touch, the sensation of being wanted, even if only for tonight.
When they parted, Harry exhaled shakily, blinking up at Petar with a soft smile.
"I think we will still be wonderful friends. Thank you, Petar." Harry said.
Petar smiled back, something fond and wistful in his eyes.
"Then I vill always be your friend, krasiv."
With one last lingering touch to Harry's cheek, Petar turned and walked back inside—leaving Harry alone under the stars.
~
The soft flickering light of enchanted candles cast long shadows across the ancient stone walls of Salazar's Library.
Harry sat cross-legged on one of the luxurious green sofas, staring into the fireplace, his mind swirling with emotions he couldn't quite sort through.
Luna lay stretched out beside him, idly braiding strands of her long, golden hair, her wide silver eyes trained on him with a knowing expression.
"You're brooding," she said dreamily, looping another strand through her fingers.
Harry sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm not brooding."
Luna hummed. "Mmm… yes, you are."
Harry groaned, rubbing his face. "Fine. Maybe a little."
She giggled, twirling a loose curl. "Is this about Petar?"
Harry huffed. "It's stupid. I knew it wouldn't lead anywhere, and I'm grateful that we can still be friends. But…"
"But it would have been nice if it could have meant more."
Harry nodded, exhaling deeply.
Luna set her braid down, shifting to sit up properly. "It's okay to want something, Harry. You've spent your whole life starving for affection. But don't mistake longing for love."
Harry tilted his head, considering her words.
Luna's far-off gaze grew distant, as if she were seeing something beyond the room, beyond time itself.
"You'll find your man when the time is right," she murmured. "Someone who will take care of you for once, love you without expectation… without conditions."
Harry swallowed, his chest tightening at the thought. "How will I know?"
Luna smiled softly, her eyes strangely sharp and focused for once.
"He's far, far away right now," she whispered. "But one day…the fawn will guide you."
Harry didn't know why that sent a shiver down his spine—why it felt important.
But he trusted Luna.
And so he nodded, determined.
"I'll wait," he promised, "however long it takes—to have that happiness."
Luna's smile turned soft and knowing, before she reached forward and flicked his forehead playfully. "Good. Because you deserve it, Harry."
They were soon joined by Theo, Blaise, and Neville.
There were only three hours left before the Yule Wizengamot meeting, where Harry would reveal himself and claim his rightful place among the Lords of Britain.
Harry straightened up as the conversation immediately turned serious.
"Alright," Theo started, sitting down across from him, his usual calm façade not quite hiding the edge of nerves in his voice. "Let's go over this one last time. You'll be revealing your lordships, claiming your seats, and…?"
"Presenting Sirius' case," Harry confirmed, tapping the folder of documents on the table. "Grimbok and his lawyers found everything we need. Sirius never received a trial. He was thrown into Azkaban illegally, without any due process. As lord Black I demand a trial."
Blaise smirked. "And the cherry on top?"
Harry gestured to the small, enchanted box sitting beside him.
Inside, still trapped in his animagus form, was Peter Pettigrew.
Neville leaned forward, eyes glinting with barely restrained fury. "Once you present that rat in front of Madame Bones, there's no way she can ignore it."
"She won't," Theo agreed. "But Fudge? He'll do everything he can to suppress this."
Harry clenched his fists. "Then I'll force his hand. This is one of the only open sessions of the year, reporters will be there."
Blaise grinned. "That's the Slytherin in you talking."
Harry rolled his eyes but smirked back.
Theo took the lead, his strategic mind already running through potential scenarios.
"You need to control the narrative from the start," he instructed. "When you claim your lordships, don't let Dumbledore or Fudge interrupt you."
"List out your titles clearly," Blaise added. "The moment you declare them, they become official. They can't take that back."
"Potter. Black. Slytherin. Peverell," Neville recited, the weight of those four ancient houses sinking into the room.
Harry exhaled slowly. "Right."
Theo's eyes hardened. "And when you bring up Sirius' case, push the fact that the Black family has the right to petition for a trial. That's what will force their hand."
Blaise chuckled darkly. "They'll be so busy dealing with the political backlash, they won't know what hit them."
Luna tilted her head. "The phoenix will be watching," she said cryptically.
Neville scowled. "If he tries anything—"
"I'm ready," Harry reassured him.
There was a long moment of silence.
Then, Luna reached out, gently adjusting the family rings on Harry's finger.
Her voice, usually airy and whimsical, was quiet and serious.
"Show no fear."
Harry looked up, meeting her piercing silver gaze.
Luna's lips curved slightly.
"It's time to stop hiding from the phoenix," she murmured. "And start fighting back."
Harry's chest swelled with determination.
She's right.
For years, he had been pushed, manipulated, controlled.
No longer.
Today, he would stand before the Wizengamot as Lord of four powerful houses.
And he would fight back.