Hagrid really did love dragons.
When Vaughn carried Norberta away, Hagrid cried so hard he could barely breathe, standing at the door and waving a handkerchief frantically for ages before he was finally willing to go back inside.
"He's completely lost it," Ron muttered after they'd crested the hill and glanced back one last time at Hagrid's burly figure, still waving that handkerchief. "He's crying like we've kidnapped his child. That dragon's what—ten hours old? And he treats it better than Fang."
"Well… it is a dragon," Hermione said reasonably.
"I'm never liking dragons again," Ron sniffed. He glanced at Norberta curled up in Vaughn's arms and poked her with a finger.
Norberta bared a mouthful of fine, needle-like teeth, slit pupils locking onto Ron.
"What're you looking at?"
Imitating Vaughn, Ron curled his fingers and flicked the dragon's forehead.
Norberta toppled over with a squeak. Oddly enough, the hatchling that had been terrified by a single flick from Vaughn showed no fear of Ron at all. She quickly lifted her long, thin neck again, red eyes bulging as she fixed on Ron and let out a snake-like hiss of warning.
Ron blinked. "Why isn't she scared of me?"
"Dragons are magical creatures, not puppies," Hermione said. "If you want her to fear you, your magic has to be stronger than hers."
"You're saying I'm bigger than her, but my magic's weaker?"
"Obviously."
"That's rubbish!"
Harry snorted with laughter. Ron flushed crimson and tried to discipline Norberta again.
In a rare moment of kindness, Vaughn spoke up, "Dragons are intelligent—and they have excellent memories. If you keep bullying her, she'll remember you."
Ron shrugged. "So what? You're taking her away anyway. What's she going to do—fly back to Hogwarts and bite me?"
Watching Ron gleefully torment the hatchling, Harry couldn't resist joining in. The little monster had driven him mad all day—biting people, being picky about food. Hagrid had even fed her brandy, claiming a book said it would strengthen her fire-breath.
Whether it really helped, Harry had no idea.
He only knew that once she drank alcohol, she set fire to everything in sight. Several patches of his hair had already been singed.
"…Ah—have your fun," Vaughn said with a smile, no longer stopping them. He found himself oddly looking forward to two months later.
As they spoke, they reached the castle's side entrance. Just as they were about to go in, a familiar voice drifted over:
"…Professor, we weren't causing trouble—we were investigating rule-breakers! You probably don't know this, but Potter and Weasley and that filthy Hagrid—they're actually keeping—"
Professor?
The trio went pale, ready to bolt—when Vaughn calmly carried Norberta straight inside.
We're done for.
Harry and Ron despaired. Hermione, however, trusted Vaughn's judgment. If he walked in like that, he must have already—cast a spell on Norberta?
She hurried after him. Harry and Ron followed, heads hanging.
Inside, Draco Malfoy and his two cronies were anxiously—yet slyly—explaining themselves to Minerva McGonagall.
The Deputy Headmistress listened with a stern expression, clearly waiting to hear how Mr Malfoy planned to wriggle out of this.
Then Malfoy saw Vaughn.
His pale face turned snow-white. In a moment of panic—and dubious quick thinking—the word he'd half-spoken, "Dragon," was forcibly twisted into—
"Draco!"
"…"
"…"
The silence was painful.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared. Crabbe and Goyle looked utterly lost. Professor McGonagall frowned deeply.
"Mr Malfoy," she said coolly, "perhaps I misheard. Are you saying that Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, and Hagrid are keeping… Draco? You?"
Malfoy's face went from white to beet-red. He stammered, unable to form a sentence.
In truth, he felt horribly unlucky. When he learned that Potter and Hagrid were secretly raising a dragon at Hogwarts, he'd planned to keep it to himself.
Malfoy had learned young that a secret lost all value once exposed. Kept as leverage, it was far more enjoyable—allowing him to savor Potter's anxiety and helplessness.
Unfortunately, Crabbe and Goyle—those two idiots—insisted they'd never seen a fire dragon and wanted to go have a look.
They'd been sneaking toward Hagrid's hut when they ran straight into Professor McGonagall. Normally, that wouldn't have mattered—after all, it was after class.
The problem was that Crabbe and Goyle tried to run.
Suspicion was inevitable.
Left with no choice, Malfoy attempted to sell Potter out to save himself—only to have Vaughn Weasley, the terrifying dark overlord of his nightmares, appear at exactly the wrong moment.
Under Vaughn's smiling stare, Malfoy finally forced a laugh. "I was joking, Professor! Potter and I—we're as close as brothers from different mothers. I meant he often brings me treats from Hagrid's, like he's… raising me. Yes!"
Professor McGonagall's frown deepened. After a moment, she said delicately, "Mr Malfoy, I suggest you visit Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. You may be suffering from a curse."
How else could a sane person spout such nonsense?
Turning away from Malfoy, she addressed the others. "Mr Potter, the two Mr Weasleys, Miss Granger—good evening. And Mr Vaughn Weasley… what exactly are you holding?"
Harry went deathly pale, already envisioning their expulsion for carrying a baby dragon through the castle.
Just as he was about to clutch his head in despair, Hermione kicked him sharply. He looked up to see her silently mouthing:
Quiet. Vanishing Spell.
Vanishing Spell?
A long-buried memory surfaced. Harry leaned forward—and sure enough, Vaughn's arms were now empty.
Although Professor McGonagall, with her powerful magic, sensed the spell, Harry knew she couldn't tell what had been vanished. That gave Vaughn room to maneuver.
Sure enough, Vaughn said calmly, "I'm practicing the Vanishing Spell, Professor. I vanished a wild kneazle and am testing how long the spell lasts."
McGonagall examined him—and, to Harry's astonishment, allowed a faint smile.
"Excellent spellwork, Vaughn. I was concerned you might be rusty after missing classes for so long—especially with Transfiguration, which is complex and unforgiving. But it seems your form is impeccable."
She paused. "Unfortunately, with exams approaching, the Transfiguration Club has been suspended. Still—if you have questions during practice, you may come directly to my office."
"Yes, Professor."
Ever precise with etiquette, McGonagall nodded to each of them and departed—reminding Malfoy, as she went, not to forget the hospital wing.
Only when her footsteps faded did Harry breathe again. "Vaughn—when did you cast the spell?"
"Right before we came in."
With a casual flick of his wand, Vaughn silently lifted the counter-charm.
Pop.
Norberta reappeared, eyes unfocused.
Creatures vanished by the spell retained memory throughout the process. The sudden return from nothingness left Norberta trembling. Her small, ugly eyes filled with fear as she froze in Vaughn's arms, not daring to move.
Nearby, Malfoy clapped a hand over his mouth in terror—afraid he might scream and call McGonagall back. His mind screamed his innocence: I'm not stupid—there are just monsters among my classmates!
Vaughn ignored him. After restoring Norberta fully and checking that nothing was missing, he said to Hermione, "I'll take her back first and deal with things later. You should head back too—and make sure Ron visits Poppy Pomfrey. Dragon teeth are venomous."
"Mm. Be careful," Hermione said softly.
Then she rounded on Ron. "Did you hear that? Off to the hospital wing—don't make your brother worry!"
Ron gaped. "Do you realize I'm the one who's injured?"
"If you hadn't stuck your finger in Norberta's mouth, you wouldn't be. Serves you right."
She huffed and marched off—she still had homework to do after wasting half the day.
Ron clutched his chest, seething. Harry quickly changed the subject to keep him from exploding. "Amazing spell, wasn't it? Vanishing a dragon and bringing it back…"
Ron was distracted—though still sulky. "The unfair part is McGonagall letting him off! If I cast that spell, she'd interrogate me until I confessed what I vanished. And—hey, Malfoy, why are you still here?"
Ron turned to the pale boy still hiding with his cronies and jeered, "Dra—co! So your parents named you that in case you slipped up someday and needed a backup excuse?"
"You—you—"
"You what? Look at your face—white as parchment. Scared of Vaughn, you coward!"
Malfoy snapped back, "Yes, I'm afraid of Vaughn—because I respect power. You'd do well to learn that lesson. I saw the dragon."
He sneered. "When Vaughn took it away, the way it looked at you two—clearly you bullied it. If I were you, I'd think hard about how to appease a creature that'll be twenty-eight feet long in two months, nearly immune to ordinary spells, breathes fire, and holds grudges."
Ron laughed. "Ha! Scared of a baby dragon? Typical Malfoy!"
Harry grinned too.
Vaughn would send the dragon away soon. What was there to fear?
Leaving the castle-side bickering behind, Vaughn returned to Slytherin with Norberta. After feeding Guoguo Tea some dried fish, he laid the hatchling flat on his desk.
Earlier, Norberta had been defiant in front of Harry and the others. Now she lay meekly, letting Vaughn handle her.
Before, at Hagrid's hut, she'd only feared Vaughn's magic slightly. After experiencing the Vanishing Spell, that fear had become absolute.
Though newly hatched and very much a beast, fire dragons were highly intelligent.
From birth, Norberta understood what made her strongest—her scales. Dense, tough, and highly resistant to magic, they were why she'd dared to wreak havoc in Hagrid's hut.
When Vaughn arrived, she sensed danger for the first time and tried to intimidate him. But only at the castle entrance did she realize just how utterly outmatched she was.
Magical creatures were still animals. Animals avoided danger.
When faced with overwhelming power, they didn't fight to the death—they submitted.
Just like Norberta now.
While Vaughn searched for tools, she quietly rolled onto her back, exposing her belly, claws curled inward, wings tucked, making a soft, coaxing sound.
"Ying—ying…"
Vaughn barely noticed.
But at his feet, Guoguo Tea's ears shot up. The cat's pupils narrowed into dangerous slits as it stared at the shameless dragon.
Unacceptable.
Stealing Guoguo Tea's signature move was unforgivable.
So when Vaughn turned at the noise, he found the two jealous little creatures already locked in combat.
Guoguo Tea, using sheer size, had the upper paw for the moment, pinning Norberta down. Norberta hadn't come out unscathed either—her scales had chipped one of Guoguo Tea's teeth, and she'd been wheezing smugly.
That is—until Guoguo Tea leapt into Vaughn's arms, mewling pitifully and rubbing against him.
Only then did Norberta truly understand.
This cat… was worth learning from.
Dawn broke over the Scottish Highlands, mist rolling across dark forests toward a sky flushed red by the rising sun. As golden light pierced the clouds and poured onto the land, the Black Lake—silent all night—finally stirred.
Vaughn, who had risen before dawn to continue his research, was jolted by a dull thump against the window.
Looking up, he saw a Ramora fish trying to stick the suction disc on its head to the glass.
Unfortunately, Hogwarts' windows—especially those in Slytherin beneath the Black Lake—were heavily enchanted: reinforced, self-cleaning, and protected against aquatic life attaching themselves.
After several attempts, the fish gave up and swam back into the depths.
"Ramora fish are native to the Indian Ocean…" Vaughn mused. "I wonder who put one in the Black Lake."
His brain, tired from hours of focus, drifted as he watched the water lighten from darkness to a soft glow.
Soon, sunlight streamed through the lake, waves dancing, the view turning crystal clear.
Lowering his gaze, he saw Norberta sprawled on the desk, snoring lightly. With every breath, sparks puffed from her nostrils—stopped by a transparent barrier Vaughn had cast.
It was a simple ward, powerless offensively, but sufficient to contain an infant dragon's unconscious flames.
He opened his notebook and reviewed the night's work:
"…Norberta's flame contains dense magical energy, yet it is neither magical fire nor enchanted fire with special properties. Multiple control groups were established to test for hidden effects…"
Over twenty comparative results followed.
"…The breath of the Norwegian Ridgeback serves only one purpose: combustion. Its peculiar feature is viscosity—it clings to surfaces like magma, allowing the fire to burn longer on targets."
"…Initially, I suspected a napalm-like substance, but tests show the breath remains a pure plasma jet at the moment of emission. The viscosity is magical in origin."
"…Therefore, the magic within the flame exists to sustain this property."
Further pages detailed studies on dragon flight, venom production, and scales—each stalling at the same conclusion: some form of innate magic, but no clear mechanism.
All he knew was that these abilities were instinctive. Dragons didn't learn them—they were born with them.
Closing the notebook, Vaughn pinched the bridge of his nose.
Then he opened the system panel again.
A new message had appeared after completing the flame tests:
[Side Quest ③: Study the magic of all fire dragons and determine their fundamental principles — Activated]
[Progress: 0/10]
[Reward: Magic Capacity +100, Spell Development Module]
He studied it in silence.
"Based on Norberta alone," he thought, "the 'fundamental principle' likely refers not to magic itself—but to the structure and function of dragon magic organs."
"The quest says all fire dragons, but the progress is ten… meaning the system recognizes ten true fire dragon species worldwide."
That aligned with his knowledge. Some books lumped hybrids together, but purists considered them heretical—unstable lines that reverted over generations.
From a biological standpoint, they weren't true species.
"Ten species… a massive, long-term project," Vaughn muttered. "And the real difficulty is live dissection."
Fire dragons weren't werewolves. Between wizard hunts and the International Statute of Secrecy, wild dragons were rare. Those in reserves were heavily protected by Ministries worldwide.
Stealing a few for research was… unrealistic.
"Don't rush," he told himself. "I'll need a very good reason."
In truth, he wasn't nearly as calm as he pretended. More than once that night, he'd considered dissecting Norberta when she cozied up to him.
All because of that reward—the Spell Development Module.
The moment it appeared in the reward pool, Vaughn understood its value.
It would allow him to create new spells.
Since acquiring the system, he'd realized its greatest gift wasn't power—but time.
Both the magical and Muggle worlds suffered the same curse: progress took too long.
The world never lacked geniuses—it lacked time. Time crushed passion, smothered ideas before they could take root.
Even the Time-Turner—an alchemical marvel—only let one move through time. It didn't stop time from consuming you.
Use it too much, and you aged faster.
Lost in thought, Vaughn felt an urge to check on Dumbledore.
After all, over there, they were building a trial of his design—one that involved time itself.
PS : I've been consistently releasing chapters for many days now, and If you want to support my work and read the complete fic (all chapters ), you can check
out my P@treon. -> patreon.com/FinalArcHero789
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 70 chapters ahead on P@treon → patreon.com/FinalArcHero789