The Duel That Wasn't, Suspicions and… Dragons?
That day had finally come.
After postponing it more times than anyone thought reasonable, Louis Carrow had no choice but to accept that he couldn't keep dodging it. A date was set. And now, under the watchful eyes of all Hogwarts, the duel against Harry Potter was about to begin.
Excitement spread through the halls like wildfire. It wasn't every day that two first-years faced each other in a formal duel—especially not when one of them bore a heavy name like "Carrow" and the other was already the subject of whispers all around the castle.
But based on the few demonstrations Harry had shown in class, his level was… worryingly high. So high, in fact, that a pair of very well-known redheaded twins were already organizing a betting pool. Not on who would win—no, that was obvious—but on how long Carrow would last.
Even the professors, knowing they would be present to intervene if anything got out of hand, had agreed to let the students enjoy the spectacle. As long as no one was in real danger, a little adrenaline was harmless fun.
The Great Hall had been transformed for the occasion. The long tables had vanished, leaving a wide open space in the center, and a slightly elevated dueling platform had been set up. Minerva McGonagall still had her reservations, but there were no rules against student duels as long as both participants agreed and there was no real threat involved.
And to prove it, one of the smallest professors in the school—who also happened to be one of the deadliest in his field—stood nearby, his eyes gleaming faintly with enthusiasm, though he tried to hide it behind his usual composed demeanor.
The students rushed into the Great Hall the moment the last class ended, and within minutes, they swarmed around the stage like bees to honey, barely leaving enough space for the duelists to climb up.
The first to arrive was Louis Carrow, flanked by his usual Slytherin entourage and wearing a confident grin.
"You've got this, Carrow," said Boyle with a smirk, bumping his fist against Louis's shoulder. "You trained hard with the seventh-years."
"I know. I'm calm. I just hope Potter doesn't chicken out," Louis replied with a smug grin, while most of the other students —particularly those not in Slytherin— looked at him like he was a clown. After all, he was the one who had kept postponing the duel because he couldn't even pull off a proper Expelliarmus.
Then Harry arrived.
The crowd parted like the sea before him, leaving a clear path through whispers and curious glances. Behind him came Daphne, Hermione, and Draco.
Daphne looked visibly excited to see a fight; Draco walked with bored indifference, like this was just another inconvenience in his day; and Hermione, of course, carried a thick book of magical dueling rules tucked under her arm, ready to intervene if anything went wrong.
"Well, well, Potter… so you didn't hide. I guess it wasn't all talk after all," Carrow sneered as Harry approached.
Harry looked at him with no interest at all.
"I don't have time for your nonsense. Let's get this over with," he said in a flat tone, as if he had far more important things to do than waste time on a meaningless duel.
Louis scowled, ready to shoot back another insult, but at that moment Snape, Flitwick, and the rest of the professors arrived, taking their places around the platform.
Flitwick stepped forward, wand in hand.
"Alright, boys. I hope you've reviewed the basic rules of dueling. We don't want anyone getting hurt. Just in case, Madam Pomfrey is on standby in the infirmary," he announced firmly. While Snape would serve as the official witness, it was clear all the professors were present. Which is why the referee would be the one with the most expertise.
"Yes," both boys answered, climbing onto the platform.
Flitwick studied them seriously, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his excitement.
"This is a formal duel. No dark spells, dangerous curses, or attacks to sensitive areas. First to fall or surrender, loses. Now—bow."
They both bowed. Harry's was simple and proper. Carrow's, on the other hand, was so exaggerated it looked like he had practiced the gesture more than his actual spells, striking a theatrical pose fit for a third-rate play.
Harry raised his wand, calm and steady, pointing it forward without any flair. Carrow did the same, though his shoulders were tense.
"Then… begin!" Flitwick shouted, wand at the ready in case he needed to intervene.
"Depulso. Atabraquium. Slugulus Eructo."
Three flashes burst from Harry's wand in a blink.
Louis didn't even get a chance to move.
The first spell blasted him into the air. The second struck while he was airborne, binding his limbs with invisible ropes. The third —the cruelest— hit him just before he crashed to the floor.
Carrow landed on his back, completely immobilized… and began vomiting slugs.
But since he was tied up and lying face-up, the slimy creatures and their trail of mucus had nowhere to go but his own face.
The students recoiled immediately with groans of disgust.
"Aha! Looks like we won the bet," came the cheerful voice of the Weasley twins from the back, bumping fists triumphantly.
Harry glanced at Louis with detached calm.
"Alright."
Then he stepped down from the stage, unbothered, as if nothing had happened at all.
…
While the group was studying in the library—well, at least three of them were trying—Daphne had fallen asleep at the table, completely oblivious to the world.
Naturally, her friends took advantage of the opportunity to build a tower of books on her head. And not just any tower, but a carefully balanced pile of volumes on Charms, Herbology, History of Magic, and even one on Care of Magical Creatures—crowned with a magical dictionary that looked like it might topple at any moment.
The fun lasted until Madam Pince shot them a glare that could have disintegrated a troll. The three of them froze, abandoning their masterpiece and pretending to go back to studying with utter seriousness.
That's when Harry, casually flipping through a book, noticed a familiar figure walking through the library doors.
Hagrid.
The half-giant approached the main desk, mumbled something to Madam Pince—who pursed her lips like she'd just bitten into a lemon—and then shuffled off into the aisles, searching awkwardly. Despite his size, he moved with the caution of someone who feared breaking everything he touched. Finally, he pulled out a specific book, held it gently in both hands, and returned to the desk to check it out.
From where Harry sat, he could clearly read the golden-embossed title:
"Dragons: A Guide to Raising Them."
His curiosity sparked instantly. He watched as Hagrid stroked the book's spine with a goofy smile, like he'd just been reunited with an old friend.
"Hey," Harry whispered to his friends.
Draco looked up from his notes, Hermione lowered the book that had been covering half her face, and Daphne stirred slightly, still half-asleep and confused.
"Huh? What is it?" she mumbled, feeling something strange on her head. She raised a hand to her hair… and the book tower began to wobble dangerously.
Before the books could tumble to the floor, Harry flicked his wand and froze them in midair, gently placing them back on the table. Even so, Madam Pince shot them another glare so intense it could probably peel paint.
Harry, Draco, and Hermione gave small, apologetic bows. Daphne, still groggy and slightly annoyed, crossed her arms.
"You're all horrible," she muttered with a scowl.
"Hehehe," the others chuckled quietly, unable to help themselves.
"So… what did you want to tell us?" asked Draco, turning back to Harry.
Harry lowered his voice.
"I think Hagrid might be doing something illegal."
Hermione blinked. "Hagrid? The gamekeeper?"
Since Hagrid's invitation a couple of months ago, Harry hadn't gone to visit him. Something about the half-giant left him uneasy. Maybe it was the fact that he was the one who had left Harry on the Dursleys' doorstep. Maybe it was how much he clearly respected Dumbledore. Still, he couldn't deny that Hagrid seemed like a good man… or at least, a good giant.
"What do you mean by illegal? Like, banned creatures? Or is he eating students or something?" asked Daphne, now wide awake and clearly intrigued.
Harry shook his head with a slight smile.
"No. I think he might be raising a dragon."
That made all three of them stare at him.
"Why would you think that?" asked Hermione, frowning.
"Because I've seen him watching Red when I take him outside. And not like someone who's nervous… more like someone who's fond of him. This week I haven't seen him out and about like usual, and now he just checked out a book on raising dragons. And he had that same look in his eyes that he gets when he looks at Red. I think he might have gotten one."
Draco pursed his lips.
"Maybe you're just jumping to conclusions. Red's not a normal dragon, after all. He was created, not born. I don't think any Hogwarts staff would risk raising a real one inside the school."
"And the three-headed dog guarding the third-floor corridor?" said Harry casually. "Who do you think that belongs to? I don't see any other professor keeping a creature like that as a pet."
Draco fell silent. The logic was hard to refute.
"So… what do you want to do? Report him?" asked Hermione, visibly concerned.
Harry shrugged.
"You know I'm not exactly the right person to do that. Even if Red isn't a regular dragon, he's not exactly harmless either. But… I really want to see a real magical dragon. We've never seen one. Red's different from the ones in the books."
"That sounds amazing. I'm in," said Daphne without hesitation.
"I've always liked dragons," added Draco with a slight smile.
"You're all insane," sighed Hermione. "Do you really want to become accomplices to a crime committed by someone we barely even know?"
"Don't worry, Mione. It'll be fun," Daphne said with a confident grin.
"You know that's not what I meant," Hermione muttered, clearly frustrated.
"We can go. Hagrid's been trying to invite me for weeks and I've never accepted. This is a good chance to observe him properly," Harry said.
"But you know he's one of Dumbledore's people," Draco warned in a low voice.
Harry smirked.
"That's exactly what makes it more interesting. You know… keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. And what better way to annoy Dumbledore than making him think I'm falling into his plans… just to turn things around later?"
Hermione gave him a long look.
"When you act like this, you really do remind me of your father. At least, according to your godfather's stories."
Harry chuckled softly.
"Maybe he's rubbing off on me too much. Remind me to kick him out earlier next time."
He stood up calmly and began putting the books back in their place.
The others joined him in silence, helping without another word… until the four of them left the library together.
Intent clear.
And perhaps—just perhaps—about to see a dragon.
—
"Ooh, Harry! You actually came," exclaimed Hagrid with a wide, completely genuine smile as he opened the door to his cabin. His voice boomed like a friendly echo, and his eyes lit up with clear joy at seeing the boy standing there with his friends.
"And you brought company! Come in, come in!"
But just as he stepped aside… he didn't actually move.
His massive arms still blocked the entrance, and although his tone was cheerful, something in his expression shifted for a brief second. Just a flicker—but it was enough.
Harry noticed immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly, a small, amused smile forming on his lips.
"Then… we'll take your word for it and come in," he said kindly, stepping forward without waiting. Hagrid's emotional transparency was almost endearing—but also very easy to read.
"Ah… how about we head up to the Hogwarts kitchens instead? I made a treacle tart today you'll love," Hagrid offered quickly, his voice trying—and failing—to sound casual. "Or… or maybe we could go fishing at the Black Lake. It's always nice to chat while casting a line, yeah?"
"We're fine here. I've always wanted to see your home and hear your stories," replied Harry with a smile. There was something about his tone that was too calm, too composed, not to be deliberate.
Behind him, Daphne, Draco, and Hermione exchanged knowing glances. They had picked up on it too—Hagrid's nerves, his clumsy attempts to deflect them, and the honest warmth he felt toward Harry.
"But if you're busy… we can come back another time," Harry added, lowering his head just a little with an expression of fake disappointment. "Though I don't know when that would be. Between classes and the club, there's not much free time."
That did the trick.
"No, no! It's fine—come in," said Hagrid quickly, a mix of panic and resignation in his voice. It wasn't fear that moved him, but something else entirely: the worry that Harry would leave. It had taken Hagrid weeks to work up the courage to invite him. And now that he was finally here, he wasn't going to let him walk away.
Ever since that day they spent together—when Harry was just a baby and Hagrid had carried him in his arms—the half-giant had felt a deep affection for the boy. A strange mix of fondness, pride, and a lingering sense of responsibility he'd never quite shaken off.
At last, he stepped aside.
"Welcome. Sorry about the mess," he mumbled, letting the four students into the cabin.
The moment they crossed the threshold, a wave of intense heat hit them like a heavy blanket.
"Sorry about the warmth… I've got a bit of a cold," Hagrid explained quickly, hurrying over to the fireplace.
There, bubbling away over the flames, was a massive cauldron. Without wasting a second, Hagrid grabbed a heavy iron lid and slammed it down over the top, clearly trying to hide whatever was inside.
Far too obviously.
The bubbling quieted slightly, but not enough to cover a faint snap—something that didn't sound like it belonged in a stew.
The kids glanced at one another. No one said a word, but their barely-suppressed smiles said plenty.
Harry stepped forward calmly, taking in every corner of the cabin as he spoke in a relaxed tone.
"So… a cold, huh?"
"Yeah, yeah… a bit of a fever, you know. Weather changes," Hagrid answered with a nervous laugh.
Hermione settled into one of the chairs near the table, opening her notebook as if preparing to document a magical creature. Daphne sniffed the air with curiosity. Draco simply crossed his arms, surveying the room with his usual hidden disdain.
But they all knew the truth.
And Harry's smile grew just a little wider.