By mid-December, the school was blanketed in snow. Professor McGonagall was handing out a form—students who wished to stay at school over the holidays could write their names down.
"Aren't you staying for the holidays?" Hermione asked.
"No, I want to spend Christmas in the Muggle world," Harry replied.
…
"Draco, I think Potter's coming over," came a nervous voice from one of the Slytherins.
By now, almost everyone believed Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin. He had used Dark magic—yet Professor Dumbledore remained silent.
"Draco, I want to ask you a small favor," Harry said.
Malfoy scowled—who was Harry to act so familiar?
But he nodded obediently. "Yes, sir." He didn't dare talk back to Harry anymore.
"Your family has a house-elf named Dobby, right? I want you to set him free."
Malfoy hesitated. "House-elves aren't usually freed. They serve until they die. They know too many family secrets—my father would never agree."
"Just tell him that Riddle's diary is in my hands, and that I know the truth about who he really is," Harry said. "But I'll keep that secret. I'm sure your father will agree."
Malfoy said, "But I'm not going home for Christmas—I'll write him a letter."
"Doesn't matter, as long as it gets done."
That very day, Lucius Malfoy received a letter from his beloved son.
Upon reading Draco's request, he immediately started drafting a scolding reply. House-elves were meant to serve until death—freedom was out of the question. But as he read on, his expression changed again and again.
The Dark Lord's Horcrux was in Harry Potter's hands—and apparently, Harry knew exactly who he was. Could it be that the Dark Lord was truly dead?
That thought brought Lucius both relief and panic.
But how could the Dark Lord's preparations for resurrection have failed? Did Dumbledore intervene? He'd just seen him at the Ministry recently, and the man hadn't mentioned Voldemort at all. Hadn't Dumbledore always been the one warning everyone about his return?
And what did this have to do with Dobby? Lucius frowned deeply, his brow forming sharp creases.
Annoyed, he barked, "Dobby!"
"Yes, Master?" A small figure appeared. Upon seeing Lucius's grim face, Dobby immediately lowered his head in fear.
Lucius sneered. Dobby trembled. Surely the master was about to punish him again—maybe smash his head, burn his toes with an iron, or pull out all his hair.
Lucius picked up a nearby hat and tossed it at Dobby in irritation. "You may leave. Get out of my manor."
The round cap rolled across the floor and landed at Dobby's feet.
Dobby stared at the hat in confusion. A hat? What did this mean? Why would his master give him a hat?
Suddenly, his eyes widened. Clothes! His master had given him clothing—he was free!
The one thing every house-elf yearned for more than anything… and he had it.
Tears and snot poured down his face. "Master, thank you for your mercy!"
Lucius looked at him with disgust. "If you want to thank someone, thank Harry Potter. Now get out of my sight."
Even if he had hated Dobby, he had still belonged to him. Now it felt like betrayal.
Dobby froze for a moment, then said, "Yes. Dobby will leave right away."
That night, Dobby stood outside the manor gates. Though the world outside was frozen and the snow nearly buried half his body, his heart burned with joy.
Before, he had never been able to leave the estate without his master's permission. Now, he was free. He could go wherever he wanted, do whatever he pleased.
Several other small, thin house-elves watched him from inside the manor, their eyes filled with envy.
The next day, Dobby appeared before Harry.
He poured out his gratitude, offering to serve Harry as his new master. Harry declined. In the end, Dobby said that if Harry ever needed him, he could call his name at any time.
…
Snow blanketed the ground, and Harry decided to visit his pet dragon.
Trudging through the deep snow, he arrived at Hagrid's hut. Hagrid stood fuming, staring at a dead body in his hands.
"My roosters keep getting killed," Hagrid said. "I use them to catch pests in the vegetable patch. I think something from the Forbidden Forest's been getting at them."
"I'm heading to Diagon Alley to buy more chickens. Next time, I'll hide and see what's killing them."
The dead rooster had bright feathers and a plump body—but its death had been brutal.
Harry sighed. "All this because of a chicken… so beautiful, yet so cursed."
Hagrid added, "Norbert's gone off to the Forbidden Forest again. He's in his growth stage—always excited, always picking fights with the creatures in there." As usual, he ignored the name Harry had given the dragon.
Harry was starting to believe he really didn't have a talent for naming things: Big Black, Little Black, Little Cutie, Little Snow… always "big" or "little."
"Stay here," Hagrid said. "Norbert should be back soon. There are some herbs inside—have him eat those, they'll help with injuries."
With that, Hagrid grabbed his pink umbrella and left.
Not long after, an urgent roar echoed through the woods. A massive shadow came flapping toward him, wings struggling to lift it off the ground. But the creature was covered in black dots—crawling over its neck, back, and wings.
Harry rushed forward. It was his pet dragon.
As it neared the edge of the forest, the black dots began to fall off.
Only then did Harry see what they really were—giant spiders, hideous and monstrous, with eight legs and eight eyes.
They were a special breed of spider—Harry immediately thought of Aragog in the Forbidden Forest.
The dragon—Big Black—shook off the spiders and bolted behind Harry.
Its body was covered in hundreds of wounds, blood dripping everywhere. Its left eye was shut tight, bleeding continuously.
Harry's heart sank—was the eye blinded?
Some of the spiders were only palm-sized, but others were as large as horses. The ground was crawling with them in a thick black swarm. Even the trees held huge spiders descending from above, their legs like blades gouging into the bark.
Big Black, a dragon, was trembling in fear. Harry, standing close, could feel the beast's legs quivering.
In the past, Big Black had only faced lone monsters in the forest. It could fly, breathe fire, its scales were tough—and if it couldn't win, it could escape.
But this time, it had angered a swarm. The spiders clung to its body, webbing it up, refusing to let go. Whenever it tried to fly, they'd stab their pincers into its wings, tearing large gashes. Every flap brought unbearable pain.
The dragon had fought and struggled its way back, crushing and burning countless spiders along the way.
Harry raised his wand. A wall of fire dozens of meters long roared into existence and surged toward the spider swarm. As soon as the flames touched them, the spiders turned to ash and charcoal.
With clicks and screeches, they retreated and fled.
Harry didn't bother chasing them. His only concern was healing Big Black.
He took the dragon straight to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. Thankfully, with students petrified and the weather bitterly cold, no one was outside to witness a full-sized dragon standing at the infirmary door.
Madam Pomfrey heard the noise and looked out from the third floor—only to see a massive dragon's head and bloody maw staring through the window.
When she found out that Dumbledore had given Harry permission to raise a dragon, she fumed. "He's lost his mind! What if something happens?"
"Open your eye," she instructed. But the dragon didn't understand. In the end, she had to use a pair of massive tongs to lift the eyelid. Inside was a bloody, mangled mess.
She worked quickly. "The eye's not blinded. Just needs treatment and rest."
Apparently, there was no distinction between human and veterinary medicine in the wizarding world.
Big Black required larger doses. Madam Pomfrey poured an entire barrel of green liquid into the dragon's eye.
"Come back once a day. He'll be fine in a few days." She also treated his other injuries, wrapping dozens of wounds in white bandages.
"Keep him from moving around. Then again, dragons heal fast. Even if the wounds tear open, it's no big deal."
…
Harry walked ahead. Big Black followed behind like an obedient puppy.
"Tonight, I'll get revenge for you," Harry said.
The dragon flapped its wings in delight—promptly burying Harry in snow and turning him into a snowman.
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THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER
⚡🦉 THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER 🦉⚡
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📢 MAGIC REBORN! 📢
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The wizarding world is changing.
Old destinies twist, familiar names return under new shadows, and magic itself may follow a different path this time.
🪄 A second chance.🌙 A different fate.⚡ A wizarding world reborn.
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