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HRA# CHAPTER 106
🕑 Added 2025-04-22 18:59:39 +0000 UTC“So, we can touch it now?” Ron tilted his head, his voice laced with hesitation as he looked at Harry. “You know, Harry, I’ve always trusted you… but, er, Ragehorn looks a bit… uncomfortable right now.”
Not only were the scales near its neck and back completely gone, exposing tender, pink flesh, but several of the spines on its head were broken, and its body was covered in scratches. Harry was busy applying fresh bandages to Ragehorn.
It did look rather pitiful, but neither Harry nor Ragehorn seemed too bothered. In the world of beasts, fighting and getting injured were par for the course. Surviving was what mattered.
“It’s fine. You can touch its body,” Harry reassured them. “You can tell friend from foe now, right, Ragehorn?”
The group was gathered near Harry’s cabin by the cliffside. At Harry’s words, Ragehorn curved its long neck to glance at Ron, Hermione, and Neville. When the three instinctively took a step back under its gaze, a flicker of disdain flashed in the dragon’s eyes. With a long huff of smoke from its nostrils, it lowered its massive head back to the ground.
“…Did we just get scorned?” Ron asked, his body stiff as if struck by lightning. He turned to the others, incredulous. “Scorned by a dragon?”
“I… I think so,” Neville stammered, looking crestfallen. “I really am not a true Gryffindor…”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Neville,” Hermione said, her cheeks flushing as she recalled her own frightened step back. She straightened, addressing Neville firmly. “You’re loads better than Malfoy—er, I mean the old Malfoy, not the one now.”
Neville caught her meaning and even managed a small laugh.
“Don’t mind it. Ragehorn’s at that age where it’s all about proving itself,” Harry said, wincing as the dragon suddenly snapped its head toward him. “Ouch—not that I’m blaming you or anything!”
It wasn’t a real bite, just a playful snap, but Ragehorn’s massive jaws and rows of sharp teeth still made Ron, Hermione, and Neville turn pale.
“Don’t worry. Like Malfoy, Ragehorn isn’t the same as it used to be,” Harry said with a laugh.
Since taming Ragehorn, Harry had been in high spirits lately.
In the end, the trio couldn’t resist the allure of safely touching a dragon. Even Ron, who’d been nipped on the hand by Ragehorn before, eagerly stepped forward, running his fingers carefully over the dragon’s scales.
“Here,” Harry said, hopping down from Ragehorn’s back after finishing the bandaging. He pulled a few items from his pocket and handed them to the trio. “A little gift.”
“Are these… dragon scales?” Hermione asked, comparing the objects in her hand to the scales on Ragehorn’s body. “From the—er, fight a few days ago?”
“Yeah, I collected some while cleaning up the battlefield afterward. Picked out the best-looking ones. You can use them as protective charms,” Harry said, then added, “Just… don’t let Hagrid see them for a while.”
“Obviously. We’re not daft,” Ron said, grinning ear to ear. “Aha, dragon scale charms! This is brilliant—Fred and George are gonna be dead jealous.”
“Thanks for the gift, Harry,” Hermione said, her face glowing with delight. Then she sighed. “But hearing you talk about it, I can’t even imagine how you tamed Ragehorn a few days ago. It must’ve been so dangerous.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not reckless with my life,” Harry reassured her.
“…Alright,” Hermione said, reflecting on everything Harry had accomplished since they’d met. She sighed again. “If it’s you… I suppose it’s fine.”
“So, will Ragehorn have to stay here forever?” Neville asked suddenly. “I read that fire dragons can grow really, really big. Will the space in the suitcase be enough?”
“It should be fine,” Harry said seriously. “Like Newt’s suitcase, the space in here can expand indefinitely. And if I’m lucky enough to get a legal dragon-keeping permit someday, Ragehorn could roam freely outside… without the Ministry chasing us down all the time.”
Harry’s plan was solid, though legal dragon-keeping permits hadn’t been issued to private individuals in decades. The dragon sanctuary in Romania existed for that very reason.
But Harry had another, grander plan in mind. Once Ragehorn developed a stable, mature mind, he intended to transform it completely.
Back in Azeroth, through his green dragon friend, Harry had stumbled upon a secret of the Dragon Aspects—Incarnate Dragons.
Tens of thousands of years ago, before they accepted the Titans’ blessings to become Azeroth’s Dragon Aspects, only one type of dragon existed: Proto-drakes. Whether it was Alexstrasza the Red Dragon Queen, Ysera the Green, Malygos the Blue, Nozdormu the Bronze, or Neltharion the Black, they all started as Proto-drakes, with sturdy wings and short forelimbs.
The Titans’ blessings altered their forms, granting stronger forelimbs and unique powers, transforming them into a new kind of dragon.
But not all Proto-drakes accepted the Titans’ gifts. To some, born naturally of Azeroth, the Titans were foreign invaders who reshaped the world to their own ideals. To these Proto-drakes, the Titans’ blessings were a form of corruption, potentially hiding some sinister motive. True dragons, they believed, should reject the Titans’ orderly magic and embrace Azeroth’s native power—the elements.
The Dragon Aspects gained immense power through the Titans’ blessings. To combat them, the dissenting Proto-drakes infused themselves with elemental forces, becoming Incarnate Dragons, whose strength rivaled that of the Aspects.
Mortals millennia later couldn’t judge the rights or wrongs of that ancient conflict. The outcome was clear: the Aspects, now Dragon Aspects, sealed away their kin who had become Incarnate Dragons, imprisoning them for ten thousand years.
To modern Dragon Aspects, these were ancient tales, recorded only in dusty tomes. Even the fabled Dragon Isles, where these events unfolded, were lost to time, shrouded like Pandaria’s mists.
Harry had little time to dwell on Azeroth’s affairs. Meeting Ragehorn had simply reminded him of the dragon history his green dragon friend had shared in passing—and the key detail of those stories.
Proto-drakes became Incarnate Dragons by infusing themselves with elemental power, gaining strength to rival the Titan-blessed Aspects.
What about Ragehorn?
Dragon = Rare = Cool = Powerful = Irresistible Mount.
Yet a small part of Harry always felt a pang of regret—Norwegian Ridgebacks didn’t glow.
And if it didn’t glow, it wasn’t a complete mount.
But what if he infused Ragehorn with elemental power?
A Ragehorn wielding the elements would not only be stronger—capable of aiding in battle—but, most importantly, it would glow with the radiance of its chosen element!
Glow!
Just imagining the dazzling scene made Harry hum with excitement.
This was the obsession of a true enthusiast.
And if Ragehorn became an Incarnate Dragon, would it still be considered a dragon by wizarding standards?
Of course not.
It would be an entirely new species. Harry could claim Ragehorn mutated from a lizard due to elemental resurgence. Even if it grew wings and looked dragon-like, it would technically be a lizard.
The 1709 Wizarding Congress ban on dragon-keeping would no longer apply, as Ragehorn wouldn’t be a dragon. Even if the Ministry rushed to pass new laws, as the discoverer and caretaker of a new species, Harry would have priority rights to keep it.
Ragehorn could soar freely above the Forbidden Forest. Harry’s plan was flawless, practically airtight.
But all this would have to wait until Ragehorn matured and their bond deepened.
For now… the end-of-year feast had begun.
The Great Hall was adorned with Gryffindor’s gold and scarlet. The green banners Harry had seen on his first day were now vibrant red, the silver replaced by gold. The giant Slytherin serpent was gone, replaced by a majestic Gryffindor lion.
At the Slytherin table, most students looked ashen, their faces grim. After dominating the House Cup for six years, Slytherin had finally been dethroned. Gryffindor claimed the cup with an uncontested 931 points, crushed the Quidditch Cup, and even sent a player to a professional Quidditch team.
No Gryffindor could call this year anything less than perfect. It felt like a dream they never wanted to wake from, a victory they wished could last forever.
But everyone knew that was impossible.
At the staff table, Professor McGonagall wore a rare, beaming smile. Dressed in a gold-and-scarlet sweater, she looked years younger, accepting congratulations from Professor Flitwick.
Slytherin’s loss wasn’t just Gryffindor’s triumph. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students celebrated too, relieved to see the “smug snakes” humbled.
It was an undeniable victory. When Harry entered the hall, the cheers were deafening, nearly lifting the roof. Students rushed to shake his hand—Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs alike.
Surrounded by the crowd, Harry took his place at the head of the Gryffindor table, struck by how quickly time had passed.
There was still so much to do, so many books to read, but his first year at Hogwarts was over. Summer loomed, and students would soon return home.
Reflecting on his summer to-do list, Harry doubted he’d be bored away from Hogwarts.
Ron had finished the Christmas gift Harry gave him—a wooden model of the HMS Hood battleship. The group had hauled the massive, person-sized model through the Gryffindor common room, drawing a trail of curious onlookers. By the time they reached the Black Lake, a small crowd had gathered.
With a precise Engorgement Charm, the wooden Hood floated on the lake’s surface—surprisingly stable. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville clambered aboard, frantically patching leaks and bailing water.
Under the envious gazes of students on shore, Ron, self-proclaimed captain, shouted orders from the bow. Harry used wind elements to propel the ship across the lake, but their speed got the better of them. They crashed into a tentacle of the Giant Squid, which had suddenly surfaced.
The wooden ship capsized, dumping everyone into the lake amid roars of laughter from the shore.
Ron was more worried about his ship than his own dunking. Fortunately, the model was sturdy, and the Giant Squid, perhaps aware of its mischief, dutifully returned the ship and its soggy crew to shore.
Drenched, the group headed to Hagrid’s to dry off by a fire and enjoy some roast meat. Despite the mishap, it was a wonderful day.
Three days after the feast, final exam results were posted.
Harry topped the year with perfect scores in every subject—a feat even Hermione couldn’t begrudge. She took second place, while Ron’s grades exceeded his expectations, with several Outstandings. He gleefully noted his mother wouldn’t nag him all summer.
Even Neville, perpetually unsure of himself, passed. His high Herbology marks offset his dismal Potions score, ensuring he wouldn’t be expelled. For days, Neville had been so anxious he couldn’t sleep, sporting dark circles under his eyes. Even Ron’s attempts to distract him with Exploding Snap hadn’t helped.
But now, he was relieved.
“Will we get caught if we use shamanic spells outside school?” Hermione asked, eyeing the notice handed out by the prefects, which forbade magic use during the summer.
“Probably not,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Shamanic spells and wizarding magic are different systems. The Ministry likely can’t monitor them yet.”
“Does that mean you lot can cast spells all summer?” Ron said, envious. “Fred and George were just moaning about hoping the school forgot to give us these.”
Despite his efforts, Ron hadn’t connected with the earth element by term’s end. He was practically sick of drinking Earthbind potions.
“Don’t be daft, Ron. We don’t want to get Harry in trouble,” Hermione said sharply. “And don’t forget Rita Skeeter’s still spouting nonsense in the Daily Prophet. I never thought someone could be that vile. Harry, don’t take her words to heart.”
Rita Skeeter showed no signs of letting up, milking Harry’s fame for all it was worth. His name appeared in the Prophet daily.
“Of course not,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Rita Skeeter’s no threat. Ignore her.”
“Alright, if you say so…” Hermione muttered.
Just as they’d arrived, the students boarded the Hogwarts Express to leave. The train wound through Muggle towns, finally pulling into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
“Remember our deal!” Hermione said excitedly. “We’ll keep in touch by owl. You promised to visit my place!”
“Of course,” Harry said with a smile. “We won’t forget.”
“Er, can you come to mine too?” Ron asked, raising a hand. “Ginny’s dying to meet you. She’s, y’know, a fan.”
Harry nodded. He understood.
Neville extended an invitation too. In the end, Harry was the only one who hadn’t invited the others to his place, making him seem a bit aloof.
Laughing and chatting, the friends headed out of the platform, splitting up briefly at the barrier to avoid a crowd of people emerging from the wall and alarming Muggles.
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T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
