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Magical Marvel: The Rise of Arthur Hayes : Ch. 24
🕑 Added 2025-03-27 20:56:18 +0000 UTCChapter 24: Dragons and Conversations
The next morning's Daily Prophet arrived with the familiar shriek of owl wings and the thud of newspapers landing on breakfast tables throughout the Great Hall. Arthur barely glanced up from his porridge as a copy landed beside his plate, but the bold headline immediately caught his attention:
TRIWIZARD TRAGEDY: THE BOY-WHO-LIVED AND THE MUGGLE-BORN MANIPULATOR
Under the headline was a photo of Harry looking totally bewildered, and a smaller pic of Arthur turning away from the camera like he couldn't care less. The article was Rita Skeeter at her finest—full of hints, lies and straight-up fiction.
Rita's made-up story painted Harry as a "tragic young hero haunted by his parents' deaths" who "often cries at night," while Arthur was a "cold, calculating muggle-born" who "orchestrated his entry to the tournament to extort valuable magical knowledge from tournament officials. He was a cunning thief who would do anything to get what he wants." As if that wasn't enough drama, the article claimed Arthur and Harry were in a "bitter rivalry for Hogwarts glory," with Arthur desperate to beat the Boy Who Lived and grab fame for himself.
Another equally rubbish article on the next page suggested Harry and Hermione Granger were romantically involved, with fake quotes and ridiculous stuff about love potions.
Arthur skimmed both articles with slight amusement. Rita's attempt to trash his reputation was so obvious it was almost funny. But Arthur didn't react—he knew reporters like her thrived on reactions, and not giving her one would drive her barmy.
The real annoyance showed up later, brought by a bunch of agitated school owls. Hate mail. Brilliant.
The first letter he opened started smoking at the edges—obviously a Howler that someone tried to make even nastier with extra hexes. Arthur checked it out quickly before doing a series of fast wand movements. The letter sealed itself back up, and he tied it to one of the waiting owls with a note saying "Return to sender" plus a sneaky Confundus Charm that would make sure the sender opened their own trap without thinking twice.
He did the same with all the hate mail. Some had Bubotuber pus, others had hexes meant to cause embarrassing stuff like boils or temporary blindness. Each one got sent right back to whoever sent it, with subtle spells making sure they'd get a taste of their own medicine.
"Pity I can't watch what happens," Arthur muttered as the last owl flew off. "Nothing teaches a lesson like experiencing your own nasty tricks."
With that distraction dealt with, Arthur went back to his research schedule. Days flew by as he dove into complicated theories about enchantments and alchemical transformation. He only broke his routine when some alert spells he'd set up around the castle grounds triggered—something big and magical had entered the Forbidden Forest.
Arthur knew exactly what it meant: the dragons for the first task had arrived!
For once, Arthur felt genuinely excited. Despite everything he knew from books, he'd never actually seen a real, full-grown dragon. (The baby Norbert that Hagrid hatched a few years ago didn't count—way too small.)
His childhood had been all about speed-learning, staying alive, and mastering magic, with zero time for checking out the cool magical creatures. Now, with the chance to see actual dragons up close, curiosity actually broke through his usual emotional wall. Plus, he needed to confirm some theories for his first task plan.
He didn't even wait for nightfall. He grabbed the Invisibility Cloak from his expanded bag, threw it on, and headed straight for the forest.
Following the magical traces his detection spells picked up, Arthur found himself at the edge of a huge clearing that had been turned into a makeshift dragon pen. Dozens of wizards ran around, yelling instructions and casting spells on massive chains and barriers. The dragons themselves were absolutely incredible.
The first was a silvery-blue beast with short horns and scales that shone like metal in the afternoon light—a Swedish Short-Snout. Arthur watched it shoot bright blue flames when a handler got too close. Those flames looked hot enough to melt bone in seconds! Even for such a massive creature, it moved crazy fast, showing killer reflexes.
Next was a smaller but still deadly dragon with smooth green scales—a Welsh Green. It blended in so well with the forest that Arthur could barely spot it until it moved. Its roar was weirdly musical, almost like a bird's call. It seemed the least aggressive of the bunch, though "least aggressive" for a dragon still meant seriously dangerous.
The third dragon was eye-catching—bright red scales with a fringe of golden spikes around its face like some kind of living crown. The Chinese Fireball moved with surprising grace for something so huge, its body coiling and uncoiling like a giant snake. When some poor handler stepped too close, it released this mushroom-shaped fire cloud that burned a perfect circle in the ground. Yikes.
But the fourth dragon was the one that really grabbed Arthur's attention—the Hungarian Horntail. Covered in black scales with bronze horns sticking out from its head, tail, and all along its spine, it was like something from a nightmare. Its yellow eyes tracked the handlers with a scary intelligence that seemed almost human. When it roared, Arthur could feel the ground shake under his feet. This one was clearly the most aggressive, constantly fighting against its chains and randomly blasting fire everywhere.
Each dragon was super protective of its eggs, which made sense since Arthur knew from his memories that the task would involve stealing a golden egg from their nests.
Moving carefully around the enclosure, Arthur did some subtle magical tests—sending nearly invisible pulses of different magical energies at each dragon and watching how they reacted.
After spending an hour watching and testing, Arthur slipped away with a satisfied smile. The dragons were seriously powerful, no doubt about it, but they definitely had weaknesses he could exploit. His plan for the first task would work perfectly.
—
The next day, as Arthur headed to the library to continue his usual studies and research, someone called out to him from behind.
"Er... Hayes? Arthur? Got a minute?"
Arthur turned around to find Harry Potter standing awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, looking nervous as hell. The boy was fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. "Potter. What brings you here? Lost your way to Gryffindor Tower?"
Harry's face went a bit red. "No, I... I just wanted to..." He trailed off, obviously intimidated.
Arthur couldn't help laughing at how uncomfortable the boy looked. "Why so frightened? Where's that brave Gryffindor who killed a thousand-year-old basilisk and drove off hundreds of dementors? Am I more terrifying than all that? I'm rather flattered."
Harry's eyes went wide with shock. "You're not frightening. Hang on—how do you know about the basilisk and the dementors? Nobody knows about that except Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore!"
Arthur tapped his temple. "I have my ways, Potter. Bit of a secret, that. So, was there a reason you stopped me, or were you just testing if the rumours about me being terrifying are true?"
"Oh!" Harry seemed to find his courage. "I wanted to thank you for defending me to the professors that night when the Goblet chose us. You said I didn't put my name in. Even when..." He looked at the floor, "...even when some of my mates didn't believe me."
Arthur shrugged like it was nothing. "Didn't take any effort. Saying obvious stuff usually doesn't. As for your friends not believing you," he paused, looking at Harry thoughtfully, "wizards who grew up only in the magical world often don't see the bigger picture. Their whole life is just family, a few friends, and Hogwarts. They don't get exposed to different ideas or learn to think critically like people who've seen the muggle world properly. Their 'common sense' is limited by their narrow experiences. Don't be too hard on them for being... well, kinda simple-minded."
Harry looked like he was really thinking about it. "That... actually makes sense. Thanks." He hesitated again. "But that's not the main reason I came to find you."
"No?"
"No. The first task... it's dragons." Harry blurted out, looking relieved to have said it but also worried about how Arthur would react.
Arthur just said, "Oh."
Harry stared at him. "What? That's it? 'Oh'? You already knew?"
"Since they showed up in the Forest yesterday, yeah," Arthur confirmed casually. "Went to check them out right after. Pretty amazing creatures, aren't they?"
Harry's shoulders dropped. "So... I came all this way for nothing, then. I found out from Hagrid... and I saw Madame Maxime and Karkaroff sneaking to the forest too. I figured they'd tell Fleur and Krum. It didn't seem fair if you were the only one who didn't know."
"Always playing the hero, Potter," Arthur said, though he wasn't being mean about it. "Noble, but unnecessary. Still, I appreciate the thought. Now, you should probably focus on your own problems. You've got a dragon to face in a few hours."
"Yeah," Harry said, his brief confidence disappearing and the usual worry coming back. "I'm totally screwed. How come you're not freaking out about this?"
"Because I have a plan and I'm prepared," Arthur said simply.
"Right. Plan. Preparation." Harry sighed. "I should go. Try to... figure something out." He started to walk away.
"Wait," Arthur said suddenly. Harry turned back, surprised. "Since you tried to do something decent, even if I didn't need it, here's a little reward." He paused, his face giving nothing away. "The dragons are nesting mothers. They're guarding their eggs. The task will definitely involve taking something from their nest."
Harry still looked miserable. "Thanks, but that doesn't really help. I can't think of anything that would let me get past a dragon."
Arthur spotted the fake Moody lurking nearby. He knew the disguised Death Eater would help Harry, but it wouldn't hurt to give the kid an extra push in the right direction.
"I'll show you a spell," Arthur said, pulling out his wand. "Watch the movements carefully. I'll only show you once, and it's up to you to figure out how to use it."
With precise movements, Arthur pointed his wand and said clearly, "Accio cap."
"Got that?" he asked.
"Yeah, but what does this—" Before Harry could finish, a cricket cap zoomed out from an alcove nearby and smacked right into Arthur's waiting hand.
"Bloody hell," Harry said, clearly impressed.
"The summoning charm. Rather useful, that. That's all you get," Arthur said, stuffing the cap in his pocket. "How you use it is your problem."
Harry stared at him, trying to figure out the hint. "You're... really not like what everyone says about you."
"Oh yeah? What fantastic tales are they telling now?" Arthur asked mildly.
"That you're... like, some nutter who loves fighting," Harry mumbled, embarrassed. "That you hex people just for looking at you, that you hate everyone, never talk... rubbish like that. But you're not. You're... different."
Arthur gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Life forces you to adapt, Potter. If the Sorting Hat had put you in Slytherin like it wanted to—" he stopped as Harry's eyes went wide again, "—you probably would've ended up acting like me to survive. Prejudice forces tough choices. Being alone becomes protection. Being underestimated becomes an advantage. For Muggle-borns or outsiders in Slytherin, being nice is a luxury you can't afford."
"How do you know the Hat almost put me in Slytherin?" Harry whispered, totally confused.
"Like I said," Arthur replied, turning to continue toward the library, "I know things. Must dash, Potter. Good luck with your dragon."
As he walked away, Arthur thought about the odd conversation he'd just had. He usually avoided unnecessary interactions, especially with someone as tied up in fate's plans as Harry Potter.
So why had he bothered helping Harry when he knew fake Moody would help him anyway? Maybe it was nostalgia for stories he vaguely remembered from another life. Maybe he felt sorry for a kid whose life was constantly manipulated by fate and powerful wizards, never getting to just be a normal kid. Or maybe, Arthur thought, he was just bored and wanted to do something interesting before he left the wizarding world behind for good.
