The Dragon King Bloodline of Hogwarts

Chapter 21 Dragon Flame Establishes Authority

The dragon flames dissipated, leaving a scorched trench in the ground, with the grass still smoldering.

No one speaks.

A phoenix cry pierced the night sky as Fawkes landed on Daenerys's shoulder, its tail feathers scattering golden sparks that landed on her little robe.

Lester lay on his back on the ground, his robes burned with more than a dozen charred holes, and his arms and neck were covered in large burns, but he was still alive.

"...Fox saved him," someone whispered.

Snape's black robes stopped at the edge of the scorched earth. He glanced down to confirm: not fatal, unconscious. Then he straightened up.

"Your actions just now were extremely dangerous. The burns have been controlled by the Phoenix. Viserys Targaryen wins."

No one applauded. A first-year student burned through a fifth-year student's Ironclad Curse with Dragonfire. This was not a victory; it was something they hadn't yet learned to name.

McGonagall parted the crowd, bent down, and pressed her wand against Lester's chest, the tip of the wand glowing with a pale blue diagnostic light.

"Extensive burns, carbonization of the right forearm. No life-threatening injuries."

She waved her wand, and Lester levitated. Then she stood up and glanced at the scorch marks and the dagger in Viserys's hand.

"You used Dragonfire on your classmate during the duel. Even when you had the advantage, you still used Dragonfire on him."

McGonagall took a step forward. "I've seen that kind of fire in Gringotts. I've seen you use it to burn through priests' bodies, to burn through stone walls. That time you did it to protect; tonight, you do it to hurt."

"Fox is here," Snape interrupted her.

McGonagall turned to him, her lips pressed into a thin white line.

"Fox perched on Daenerys's shoulder the entire time, from the dinner party to the duel," Snape said. "I don't know what Albus was thinking, but the phoenix didn't just happen to be passing by."

McGonagall stared at Snape, then turned to Viserys.

"You might get expelled if Professor Snape hadn't told me that dragons weren't forbidden in the dueling rules."

"He didn't break the rules," Snape said. "Leicester used borderline dark magic, an unknown spell with a long charge and a dark purple energy form. I warned him beforehand not to use dark magic on his classmates. As for dragonfire, the rules prohibit the Unforgivable Curse, but dragonfire is not among them."

McGonagall's lips moved, and she took a deep breath.

"Every weekend night at eight o'clock, Hagrid's cabin. Forbidden Forest patrol, all semester. If you make the same mistake again," she paused, "you won't have a dragon to roar with."

I accept.

He paused. McGonagall didn't turn around, but he knew she was listening.

"Professor McGonagall, you just said that last time it was for protection, and this time it's for harm. You're right."

McGonagall's shoulders tensed slightly, but she didn't turn around.

"When I burned the priest through Gringotts with dragonfire, I wasn't thinking about protecting anyone. At that time, I was only thinking about stopping them from getting the Philosopher's Stone. But tonight, I really did think about it. I thought about how Lester's armor wouldn't hold up, and how the dragonfire would burn his skin. These images went through my mind when I made the dragon breathe dragonfire."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word was steady.

"So I accept the punishment you gave me. Not because I think I was wrong—I would have made the same choice in that situation. It's because you drew a line. In my world, no one has ever drawn lines for me. My father only told me who should be killed, not who shouldn't. You taught me the latter. It might take me a semester to learn that. But what you taught me, I've remembered."

McGonagall stood at the edge of the field for a long time, the night wind ruffling the hem of her robe, but she never turned around. Then she continued walking towards the side gate of the castle. Her back was straighter than when she came, but her steps were slower.

Viserys watched her retreating figure. When he said, "My father only told me who deserved to die," McGonagall didn't turn around to argue or press him. She simply stood there. The words didn't strike her directly, but they struck something she had been worrying about for a long time.

What was she worried about? He remembered the first time he met McGonagall, the way she said, "We'll take care of Daenerys." It wasn't an order, not a deal, but a promise. McGonagall was the kind of person who took every student's life as her own responsibility.

Perhaps it was because she had witnessed another student resort to violence to solve problems. Voldemort had once sat in this Great Hall listening to the Sorting Hat sing, and McGonagall had taught him Transfiguration. No one starts out wanting to be the Dark Lord. Tonight, as she watched Viserys burn a classmate with dragonfire, would she wonder if, ten years later, this boy became the second Viserys?

She punished him not because she hated him, but because she was doing everything she could to avoid losing yet another student. Not his life, but his humanity.

Viserys looked away. This wasn't a lesson; it was a defensive line. McGonagall had drawn a line in his world because she had once witnessed what a person without lines ultimately became.

Snape turned to Farley. "Take them back to the common room." Then he headed toward the castle. He slowed his pace for a very brief moment as he passed the shallow pit where the dragon lay, then continued on.

Daenerys slid down from Daphne's arms and walked toward the Ironbelly Dragon. Fawkes perched steadily on her shoulder. The dragon lowered its head, its pale pupils reflecting her small silhouette. She tiptoed and touched its nose.

"You can go back now, your brother is alright."

A deep, resonant sound echoed from the dragon's throat, then it spread its wings, the membranes of which obscured half the starry sky. With its next pounce, its entire body soared into the night.

A hand was extended toward Daenerys. Snape. He held a small vial, dark glass, with a label bearing messy yet precise handwriting.

"This is for your brother. The scrapes on his wrist are from when the dagger was knocked away. He won't tell you, but you will."

Daenerys took the bottle.

"Slytherin doesn't need injured freshmen wandering the corridors. The infirmary is busy enough tonight."

"Thanks."

Snape's lips twitched. He turned and walked away, stopping after a few steps without looking back.

"Don't expect a next time."

Daenerys walked back to Viserys and placed the vial in his hand. "Brother, the medicine. That dark-haired professor said he wasn't concerned about you."

Viserys put the medicine into his inner bag. "Of course not."

He glanced at Snape's retreating figure as he disappeared into the depths of the corridor.

Fox represents Dumbledore's tacit approval. Then what does Snape represent?

All night, Snape showed no surprise at the phoenix's appearance. From the dinner party to the duel, he didn't ask a single question, "Why is this phoenix here?" It was as if he had known all along that Fawkes would make his move that night. The bottle of white styrax wasn't something he'd found on the spur of the moment—the bottle was clean, the liquid was full, and it had been prepared in advance. His defense, his warnings, his administration of the drug—every step was not a spur-of-the-moment reaction, but the execution of a pre-ordained plan.

But Dumbledore hadn't told him that the two men didn't need to speak. All Dumbledore needed to do was have Fawkes perch on Daenerys's shoulder, and the moment Snape saw the phoenix, he'd already calculated the bottom line for the night—dragonfire could burn, but no one could die. The rest was up to him to carry out.

This isn't your average professor and principal relationship; it's an unspoken understanding that doesn't require trust. Or perhaps it's a bond deeper than trust itself.

Viserys withdrew his gaze. Dumbledore tacitly approved of his use of dragonfire to establish authority. Snape tacitly approved of the authority-establishing act not getting out of control. They hadn't discussed a single word, but their cooperation was seamless.

Farley walked in front, stopping before the empty stone wall and reciting the command. The wall slid open silently. A few older students glanced up from the fireplace, then continued their chess game. They didn't watch; fifth graders against freshmen didn't need to. But they would listen.

Draco continued talking until he reached the sofa, then stopped. "When it swooped down, I thought the entire Forbidden Forest was echoing. Is this the dragon beneath Gringotts?"

"It's this one."

"So it will listen to you from now on?"

"It decides for itself."

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again. He remembered that the wound wasn't from an exchange or a spell, it was blood. He swallowed his words, but his eyes still shone. "The Forbidden Forest punishment is nothing to you. It's right next to the Forbidden Forest, and your weekly patrols are like seeing dragons on the way—dragons! My father said dragon scales change color under different light, and their breath can heat up an Ironclad Charm into glass. Merlin, you must take me with you."

"McGirl thought of that." Daphne sat down on the sofa and straightened her robe. "She said 'You don't have a dragon to roar with,' which meant you shouldn't repeat the mistake. It's not that she didn't consider it, it's that she had no other choice."

"Since the dragon is right there, going every Friday won't hurt," Draco said, sitting down on the other side of the sofa. "There are many rare herbs in the Forbidden Forest. I know the route better than you do; my father donated a batch of samples to Professor Snape, and I've been here a few times. At least for the first few times, you'd better bring someone who knows the way."

"I'll lead the way," Viserys said. "You stay behind and identify the herbs."

Draco paused for a moment, then chuckled. "Alright. I recognize the herbs, you lead the way."

Daphne leaned back on the sofa armrest, not joining in Draco's excitement. She waited until he finished speaking before replying, her tone no longer as light and airy as before.

"Your wrist," she said, referring to the hand Viserys had just had grazed by the spell. "That yellow spell tore more than just his robes when it grazed him."

Viserys glanced down at his right forearm. A light red abrasion was visible beneath the tear in his robe, its edges already beginning to scab over. "Not deep."

"It wasn't deep because your dagger blocked most of the power," Daphne's voice lowered. "You almost got hit in the wrist by that spell. What if he had aimed for your face?"

Draco stopped counting on his fingers, looked at Daphne and then at Viserys, and wisely kept quiet.

"You think I'm talking about your injuries?" Daphne's grey eyes stared directly at him. "I'm talking about how you almost killed him. If you had actually killed Lester in the duel, even if he used some kind of dark magic, even if he struck first, do you know where you'd spend the rest of your life? Azkaban. They wouldn't care if you were a descendant of a dragon king from another world, they wouldn't care if you had a dragon. They would lock you up in that stone prison in the North Sea that even Dementors wouldn't want to stay in."

Viserys met her gaze. "I know."

"You know that, so why did you let the dragon..."

"Fox was there."

Daphne stopped.

"From the dinner party to the dungeon entrance, Fawkes remained perched on Daenerys's shoulder the entire time and didn't fly away," Viserys said. "Dumbledore had his phoenix guard a three-year-old girl throughout the dinner party. I went to duel, Daenerys followed, and Fawkes followed too. It didn't cry out or try to stop me the whole time. That wasn't negligence; it was acquiescence."

He paused.

"He tacitly allowed me to prove myself to Slytherin in my own way, and he also tacitly allowed his way to ensure that no one would die. The moment I made the dragon breathe dragonfire, I knew Fawkes would make a move. I wasn't gambling. I had it all planned out."

Daphne fell silent. Her lips twitched, as if she wanted to say, "How could you be so accurate?" but she didn't ask. Because she was looking at him, she knew he was accurate. He was that kind of person.

"...You still hold a grudge against me for holding a knife to your neck," Viserys said.

"I'll never forget this in my life." Daphne twisted the non-existent thread on her cuff forcefully. "You'd better not die in the Forbidden Forest, because I haven't forgiven you for that."

Draco stood there for a moment, silent ever since Daphne finished speaking. The atmosphere was tense. He waited half a second before speaking, his tone neither too loud nor too soft: "Since Forks will rescue people, there's even less to worry about in the Forbidden Forest. Of course, I'm not saying there will be danger, I'm saying even if there is, it'll be fine, since Ventalis is there too." He paused, then added, "Besides, you'll be going this entire semester. Going alone is like serving time, going with two people is like going on an adventure, and going with three people is—" He glanced at Daphne, "Okay, two and a half."

Daphne ignored him. Draco turned to Viserys, his expression becoming more serious. "But Daphne is right. Everyone saw you use Dragonfire. Now all of Slytherin knows you have dragons, and they all saw Dragonfire burn through a fifth-year's Ironclad Charm. That's a good thing, and a bad thing. The good thing is that you won't need to prove anything here anymore. The bad thing is that people who want to cause you trouble won't use duels anymore."

Viserys' right hand unconsciously touched the hilt of his dagger. He knew what Draco meant. Lester was the first to openly challenge him, but he wouldn't be the last to want to bring down the Targaryens. In the game of thrones, open duels were merely the most respectable means. The less honorable ones wouldn't wait for him to be ready.

"By the way, just now, Farley," Draco lowered his voice and leaned closer to the sofa, "was her movement a little slow when she was treating your wound? I don't mean slow, I mean the pause. Her fingers lingered on your wrist a bit longer than usual when she was looking at your wound. Don't tell me you didn't notice."

"She stopped," Viserys said.

Draco leaned back. "I knew it. Wasn't she?"

“No,” Viserys said, “not that kind of looking.”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"She was the one who sparked this provocation," Viserys said. "Leicester caused trouble at the door because of Daenerys, but his real target was me. He's been with Farley for three years, and she's never looked at him the way she looks at anyone else."

Viserys recalled the duel, "And today she smiled at me in front of Lester, and smiled at Daenerys. Twice, once at the dinner party, and once at the door of the lounge. She doesn't necessarily want me to win, but she definitely wants Lester to lose."

Draco frowned. "Wait, you mean she deliberately made Lester jealous?"

"It's better to give her a position with no followers than to give her a position with no followers. Leicester lost more than just the duel tonight. He lost his place with Farley too."

Daphne leaned back on the sofa armrest, her tone returning to its usual indifference. "Her smile to Daenerys tonight was different from her smiles to everyone else, and that's what I'm trying to say. She said similar things to every freshman, 'Come to me if you need anything,' but it was different with Daenerys. Her speech was slower, her voice softer, and her eyes crinkled first when she smiled."

Draco didn't seem to care much. "Isn't it normal for a prefect to smile more at a new, cute girl?"

Daphne didn't look at him. "If she only acted like that towards Daenerys, I would just think she liked children. But at the dinner party, she only nodded at Hermione's long speech, said 'I'll teach you the repair spell later' about Neville Longbottom's torn robes, and told Susan Burns that upperclassmen could borrow her notes—all she touched on was the point. Only with Daenerys did she not only make a paper bird but also leave a message: 'If anyone stops you, tell me.'"

Viserys didn't respond immediately. He was thinking about something else; the Flaming Arrows later split into three, automatically following, something he hadn't had time to consider on the field. If Farley had an ulterior motive, he couldn't immediately discern what she wanted, but one thing he was certain of: she had helped him too much, too quickly, and never made a mistake in the presence of onlookers. This enthusiasm had a strange restraint, as if every act of friendliness was calculated to be shown to whom. And when you hold chips that everyone else wants, the first person to approach you is often not there to help you, but to count your hole cards when you're not looking.

"Remember this rule," Viserys said, turning his gaze back to his two partners in front of him, "when you have chips that nobody else has, the first person to approach you is often not a friend. She's just looking at your cards."

Daphne met his gaze and nodded. Draco's lips curled into a smile, but he quickly suppressed it. He remembered his father's words in the study: "When making friends, look at two things: what they have and what they're willing to risk." Viserys possessed both.

“Alright,” Draco said. “Even if she has ulterior motives, at least she won’t dare to act rashly now. You proved yourself tonight, and all of Slytherin saw it. Whatever she wants to do, she’ll have to think twice. As for the Forbidden Forest, I’m even more looking forward to it.” He tapped the armrest of the sofa. “Are you planning to see the dragons on your first visit, or familiarize yourself with the route first?”

"First, look at the dragons," Viserys said. "Then take the outer route, from the unicorn meadows to the edge of the spider's lair. I need to know every stretch of road McGonagall has described."

“Moonlight moss grows near the nest of the giant eight-eyed spider. It’s a very rare material that only glows around the new moon. If you go in the next two weeks, it will be during the new moon. You’ll be able to recognize its spores,” Daphne said, standing up and smoothing the hem of her robe. “Never mind, I was just mentioning it casually.”

She turned and walked towards the girls' dormitory. After a few steps, she stopped and said, "If anyone gets pricked by a poisonous stinger, remember to bring it back. I need to know what kind it is."

Draco watched her figure disappear around the corner of the corridor, then turned to Viserys.

"She said both of us." Draco's lips curled into a smile.

Viserys watched the direction she had disappeared in. "She won't come with us. But she'll be waiting in the lounge when we get back, pretending she just happened to be awake."

Draco thought for a moment, then chuckled. "You're right."

Viserys stood up. "Rest. Friday's still a long way off."

Draco stood up and dusted off his robes. "Friday night, eight o'clock, Hagrid's Hut. Got it."