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[Hogwarts] Ch 93: Slay the Dragon!
🕑 Added 2025-07-15 00:21:50 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
The moment Tom got the news, he didn't waste a single second. He thanked Polana, then immediately Apparated out of the village.
"W-Wait, To—!" Fleur barely got a word out before he vanished completely, not even leaving behind a shadow. Fuming, the girl smacked the ground hard with both fists.
"Was that really necessary? At least take the time to prepare before running off like that!"
Polana watched her granddaughter with a soft sigh. The girl looked so anxious and worried, you'd think she was the one off to fight a fire-breathing monster. It was painfully obvious—Fleur had strong feelings for Tom.
But that wasn't so unusual, honestly. A life-saving debt was one of the hardest kinds of gratitude to repay, and among their Veela bloodline... well, it wasn't exactly uncommon.
Back in her day, Polana had ended up with that old guy for the same reason.
Looking at Fleur now, it was almost the same story—only this time, the guy wasn't some wrinkly old creep. Tom and Fleur actually looked good together.
"Fleur," Polana called softly.
"Yes, Grandma?"
"You have to trust Tom," she said gently, brushing a hand through Fleur's silver hair. "If you want a lasting relationship, the most important thing is trust. If Tom dares to go after a fire dragon, it means he's confident. Men don't like being doubted—even if it's out of concern. Too much worry, and it starts to feel like mistrust. Understand?"
Fleur nodded, a little unsure, but she took the words to heart.
...
Meanwhile, Tom had already Apparated multiple times, crossing the Rhine River and entering the edge of the Black Forest. He stopped to steady himself—the dizziness from repeated Apparition was no joke.
There were two main ways to Apparate. The first: you already knew the destination and focused on it clearly in your mind, willing yourself to break through space to arrive. The second: you didn't know the exact place but directed yourself a set distance in a certain direction—like aiming twenty kilometers east.
Tom was using the second method now, since he'd never been to this region before. He was navigating based on the instructions Polana had given him.
The urgency? That came from something else she'd mentioned—the goblins had spotted the dragon while on their way to make a deal with some wizards. Meaning the dragon's lair couldn't be far from human activity—possibly near a city on Germany's border.
And if word got out and others showed up first? That would complicate things fast.
Still, Tom didn't just charge in. After locating the two mountain peaks Polana described, he sat down, calmly ate a whole roasted chicken, scarfed down a dozen strips of bacon, then took a walk around the area to make sure no wizards were nearby.
Only then did he head into the valley between the twin peaks.
Finally—finally—Grindelwald's so-called "trash trace charm" proved useful again. It led him to one place with a strong scent of blood. Following the trail, Tom laid eyes on it at last: The Hungarian Horntail.
Its black scales glinted like medieval plate armor, covering a fifty-foot-long body. Jagged spines shimmered along its back, running all the way from tail to skull like the blades of a living war machine.
The Horntail wasn't the largest breed of dragon—but it was without question the most dangerous. Raw strength, deadly claws, an entire arsenal of natural weapons—it was basically a flying fortress.
Tom took a deep breath and, when he was about a hundred meters away, he canceled his Disillusionment Charm.
He didn't dare get closer in stealth. At that range, the dragon could probably smell him.
He had considered ambushing it outright—but worried the Trial wouldn't count it as a proper challenge if he did. Better to go in clean.
The Horntail, dozing lazily, suddenly opened its reptilian eyes. Golden irises, vertical slits.
Then came the roar.
"ROAAAARRR!!"
It echoed across the mountains—but Tom's face lit up with excitement.
Inside his mind, a glowing golden rune appeared—one that clearly symbolized "Dragon." It pulsed with wild, crude energy.
[The First Trial... had begun.]
With confirmation from the system, Tom relaxed slightly and raised his wand.
His first spell? A completely harmless one. Maximum provocation, zero damage.
"ROAR!!"
The Horntail roared again—this time, not a warning. That human had dared mock him.
And it was furious.
The beast opened its jaws wide and unleashed a torrent of dragonfire.
Tom stood calmly. At this distance—one hundred meters—it would take about two seconds to reach him. Plenty of time.
He sidestepped the flaming blast with ease and fired back a curse of his own.
The Horntail banked sharply and dodged midair, then took off, wings spreading wide. But it didn't climb high—just ten meters off the ground—before it dove, mouth spewing flame again.
This time, not a single fireball.
A stream of flames, like a flaming whip, ten meters long.
"Protego Maxima!"
Tom shouted.
A shimmering barrier appeared in front of him. He didn't counterattack—yet. Just cautiously backed away. As the dragon got closer, the air grew scorching hot, and the magic shield glowed brighter, struggling to block the intense heat.
Fifty meters. Forty. Thirty. Twenty.
"Now!"
Tom's eyes lit up. His wand whipped upward.
"Hell's Grasp!"
With a thunderous crack, the ground beneath the dragon split open, and two massive hands of living blue flame erupted—one under each wing.
The Horntail was flying so low, almost skimming the ground. It had no room to react.
The hellfire hands clamped down on its wings like a vice.
"ROOOAAAARR!!"
This time, the dragon's cry wasn't rage—it was pain.
Tom didn't waste time. He let go of the spell and immediately Apparated again—vanishing in a flash and reappearing behind the Horntail.
The dragon, heavier than ten tons and moving at full speed, slammed straight into the mountainside.
The mountain trembled from the impact. Massive rocks came crashing down from the cliffside.
Everything was going exactly according to the plan Tom and Grindelwald had set up.
Dragons like the Hungarian Horntail usually kept their wings folded, making the skin in that area tougher and more resistant. The only way to cripple its flight with a single strike was to make it take off and fully spread its wings—then hit.
Just as Tom was starting to feel victorious, a sudden wave of danger surged through him. He instantly reinforced his Shield Charm.
The pile of rocks that had buried the Horntail exploded upward. Several boulders hurtled straight toward him.
"Reducto! Reducto!"
Tom cast rapidly, blasting the stones into dust. As the debris cleared, the Horntail's battered form came back into view.
Its wings had been completely burned through—and in a brutal act of self-preservation, the dragon had ripped them off entirely, leaving behind nothing but raw, muscular forelimbs. Its yellow-brown eyes were bloodshot, and with a furious roar, it swung its thick tail like a whip toward Tom.
Tom conjured a massive shield between him and the tail just in time. The impact left the half-meter-thick plate badly dented, but it slowed the strike enough for Tom to dodge. As he sidestepped, he fired two Obscuro curses straight at the dragon's eyes.
The eyes were a dragon's weakest spot.
The Horntail shrieked in agony and thrashed wildly, now blind. It lashed out with fire and brute force in every direction, completely losing control.
Tom took a few steps back and calmly raised his wand.
"Pluvia Corrosiva" (Acid Rain.)
A hissing stream of caustic acid sprayed into the sky from his wand tip, condensing into storm clouds. A downpour of corrosive rain began to fall.
Hellfire. Acid rain.
Even a dragon with skin as tough as stone couldn't endure this kind of torment forever.
For nearly two minutes, the Hungarian Horntail howled in pain. Its roars hit a crescendo—but its movements were getting slower, its aura weaker.
Tom waved his wand again, dispersing the acid rain and canceling the hellfire (Hand's Grasp).
He didn't want to ruin the body. The dragon's flesh and hide would be useless if too damaged.
The battle was basically over now. It might've looked easy—Tom hadn't even been scratched—but that was only because of how devastating his dark spells were.
Without hellfire and acid rain, even scratching a dragon through its scales would've been difficult, let alone killing it.
Tom waited. As the dragon's belly turned upward, he struck.
"Diffindo Maxima!"
RIIIP!
A massive gash tore open along the Horntail's underside. Blood burst out in a wave. Guts, organs, and muscle spilled onto the rocky ground, sizzling as they hit the dirt.
Tom grimaced.
"Damn… So this is the hard part, huh? Bathing in its blood."
Dragon blood was notoriously poisonous in its raw state. But this was part of the trial.
The Hungarian Horntail writhed feebly, its life fading fast. Tom didn't attack again—just stood there quietly, collecting the blood in specially-prepared containers while the beast's bronze scales faded into a dull gray.
Five minutes later, it was dead.
The system pinged: [Dragon Slain. Proceed to blood immersion.]
Tom took a deep breath, then stripped off his clothes. The winter wind bit into his skin as he stood there bare in the cold, holding a vat of steaming dragon blood.
Then he tipped it onto himself.
Thick, scarlet blood poured over his body like molten lava. The moment it touched his skin, it felt like he'd been set on fire. He almost screamed.
In his mind, the golden dragon rune blazed—then exploded into radiant light.
His magic surged wildly, spinning out of control as the raw power in the dragon's blood invaded him. The clash began: his own magical core versus the dragon's essence, locked in a brutal battle, using his body as the battlefield.
At first, it was evenly matched. The pain was excruciating.
But the tide turned quickly.
Tom's magic, empowered by the trial's dragon rune, grew stronger and stronger, until it began devouring the dragon energy within the blood.
His magical reserves skyrocketed, so dense now they almost had physical weight. A crushing aura rippled outward from his body, cracking the earth beneath him.
His bones popped and snapped like fireworks, and in a matter of seconds, he'd grown taller—passing 1.6 meters. Faint outlines of dragon-scale patterns shimmered on his skin… and then faded just as fast.
But he didn't become a half-dragon or gain dragon blood. That wasn't the point.
This wasn't about turning into a dragon. It was about absorbing the best traits—refining them into his own body.
After about a minute, the chaos inside him calmed. Everything went still.
Tom opened his eyes—and the world felt different.
Sharper. Clearer.
His vision had improved. His body brimmed with strength. His magic no longer felt distant and formless—it was real, flowing through him like molten gold, just out of reach but very much there.
He'd grown taller, leaner, stronger. Every muscle more defined.
Right now, he had to clean himself—and the battlefield.
Dragon blood had dried on his skin and scabbed into thick crusts. He used a cleansing charm to summon clear water and rinse himself off, then got dressed again.
Time to harvest the spoils.
Unfortunately, much of the Horntail's hide was too burned and corroded to salvage—it reeked of dark magic and was already ruined. Tom carefully cut those parts away to avoid contaminating the usable bits.
The heart, liver, and other valuable organs needed to be stored in special preservation fluids to stay potent. Tom had those ready.
After a lot of careful work, he packed up everything worth keeping.
Then, without lingering, he Apparated out of the valley.
---
Two days later, others finally found the scene. They stared at the discarded hide and pools of dried blood in despair.
Someone had beaten them to it.
---
Back to the present—
Tom's return trip was much faster. Before the trial, the farthest he could safely Apparate blindly was about twenty kilometers. Now? That distance had doubled.
He made several jumps in a row and returned to the Veela village without any nausea or fatigue. He was feeling great.
Fleur, meanwhile, hadn't left his house since he left. She'd been pacing nonstop, eyes filled with worry.
The moment she heard the distinctive pop of Apparition, she whipped around and ran to the door. She threw herself into Tom's arms.
"You're finally back!"
Tom was caught off guard by how worried she'd been—but quickly smiled and gently patted her back.
"Come on, have a little faith in me. Not only am I back—I killed the dragon."
.
.
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