Harry Potter: Dragonborn comes

Movements

A cold night enveloped the castle, while the wind howled fiercely from the top of the Astronomy Tower. The treetops of the Forbidden Forest swayed as if trying to send a warning. In the midst of that darkness, standing atop the highest tower, Einar watched in silence.

His eyes were fixed on the horizon, on the shadows stretching beyond the forest. The breeze stirred his cloak, but his posture remained firm, unshaken. He didn't need to look back to know someone was approaching. He had already sensed it.

"That's why you let me live… isn't it?" asked an old voice, heavy with resignation. It was Dumbledore.

Einar didn't respond right away. His gaze remained locked on the darkness, as if speaking to the world itself.

"Sometimes, death is a gift," he said calmly, without turning. "You touched something you shouldn't have. As a former master of this world, you should've known what happens when you cross that line."

He turned slightly, his voice as firm as steel. "Even I don't use that artifact. And I could. It's powerful… but foolish."

"How much time?" Dumbledore asked, his voice low.

"Maybe a year. Maybe more. Or maybe less. There is no cure. Your mind will be corroded, broken, twisted. You might become a tyrant… or simply fade away. No one truly understands how that thing thinks."

Silence fell between them, heavy as lead.

"You wanted to be remembered in the history books… remember?" Einar finally said, slowly turning to meet his eyes for the first time that night. His voice was serene, yet an unshakable judgment pulsed within it. "I'm sure you'll make it. Looks like you'll have to accelerate whatever plans you had."

He walked past him without stopping.

"Einar," Dumbledore called out seriously, halting him. "It was my fault. Just… protect the students."

Einar looked over his shoulder. His voice was barely a whisper, yet it struck like thunder.

"That's what I've been doing since the day I arrived."

And with those words, he vanished like a shadow into the night.

Dumbledore remained alone at the top of the tower, gazing out over the scattered lights of the castle, now farther away than ever.

"One year… is enough time," he murmured to himself before leaving in silence.

…

Later…

"Harry, you were brilliant in Defense! You should've seen the look on the pink toad's face when she couldn't say a word!" said an excited student passing him in the corridor.

"I still can't believe the Ministry keeps denying what happened, when we all saw it!" another commented.

Harry stopped, instantly sensing the enthusiasm in their voices.

"You guys… believe me?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

Both students looked at him as if the question were absurd.

"Of course we believe you! We saw it with our own eyes! The professor turned into some kind of dragon and flew off to save you. The crystal sphere didn't show everything, but we're not stupid," explained one of the Hufflepuffs.

"Then why… why do people keep staring at me or whispering behind my back?" Harry asked, still confused.

"At first, we thought it was a prank, something the Weasley twins might pull," said the other. "But Cedric… Cedric spoke."

"Cedric? What did he say?" asked Harry, intrigued.

At that moment, someone pulled out a copy of The Quibbler and another of Witch Weekly. On the cover of the latter, Cedric was smiling confidently beneath the headline: 'One of the Triwizard Champions: The Truth the Ministry Doesn't Want You to Know.'

"It came out this week. Cedric used the opportunity to tell everything about… you know. The Quibbler also interviewed him, and this time he was direct. He spoke the truth, no sugarcoating. The Ministry wants to arrest him, but they have no excuse. So now they're saying Cedric's gone mad—just like they said about you."

"They fired his father from the Ministry," added another student. "But word is, he's supporting Cedric all the way. He's not ashamed of his son."

"The students were just scared, Harry. Scared of the truth," one of the older ones finished.

Harry slowly nodded. A spark of confidence reignited in him as he climbed toward Gryffindor Tower.

On the way, Hermione caught up with him, walking briskly.

"Did you hear about Cedric?" she asked.

"Yes," Harry replied calmly.

"It's like… it was the missing piece for everyone to finally see the truth," she said with a smile.

Several Gryffindor students approached.

"Hey, Harry, what was he really like? Cedric said he looked like some horrible snake. That Professor Einar called him… Argonian," one of them asked with curiosity.

"He said you both fought bravely… but that he was controlled, and because of that, you got captured," another added.

Harry could've been upset that people were only now believing Cedric and not him. But he wasn't naïve. He understood how things worked. He and Dumbledore were attacked relentlessly in The Daily Prophet, while Cedric was simply ignored—perhaps in hopes that he'd stay quiet.

But now it was clear Cedric had only been waiting for the right moment.

And now that they were saying the same things about Cedric that they'd said about him… that only proved one thing:

The Ministry didn't attack liars.

They attacked those who told the truth.

…

Meanwhile, in Einar's office…

The faint glow of a magical lamp lit the surface of the black stone desk. Einar held a crystal orb between his fingers, calmly watching the flickers of light within. Across from him, Cedric Diggory—recently accepted into the Order of the Phoenix—smiled with confidence.

"I was right, Professor," Cedric said, resting his hands on the back of a chair. "If I had spoken up at the same time as Harry and Dumbledore, they would've just said I was being controlled by both."

His expression turned serious.

"How did you know? How did you know the Ministry would react exactly like this?"

Einar let out a short, dry chuckle.

"From the very first moment I met the Minister… I knew what he was. I've dealt with idiots like him before. In my world, I defeated them with brute force. But to destroy them at their own game…" A sharp smile tugged at his lips. "According to Torygg, that would be more fun."

He gave a slow nod, granting permission.

"Go. Enjoy it."

"Don't say it twice, Professor," Cedric replied with a grin. "Oh, and by the way—I've been assigned to the Dragon Order Team. I think that's what the twins called it…"

And with a flash of magic, he vanished.

Einar remained alone. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the silence fill the room. Then, with an almost solemn calm, he murmured:

"Even if Dumbledore doesn't move faster… I will."

A shadow materialized beside him.

"Sir," said Dren, appearing without a sound. "It seems certain creatures are about to join the enemy. What are your orders?"

Einar gently tapped his desk with one finger, thoughtful.

"Hmm… Should I go myself? Or wait for them to make the mistake of trying to run?" he pondered aloud.

"I also found several mortals lurking around the castle and the nearby village," Dren added.

Einar slowly opened his eyes.

"Yes… they're looking for an excuse to…"

But he stopped mid-sentence, his thoughts suddenly taking a different path.

…

At the Ministry of Magic…

"What the hell is going on!?" bellowed Cornelius Fudge, throwing a copy of Witch Weekly and The Quibbler onto the floor—both of them featuring the smiling face of Cedric Diggory on their covers.

Beside him, Percy Weasley stood silently, notebook in hand, expression unshaken.

"We were supposed to have bought him off! He accepted the money to keep his mouth shut, and now he shows up saying nonsense!" Fudge roared, red with anger.

Percy looked up, his eyes cold as steel.

"He's one of the three students chosen by Professor Einar. Even if he's no longer at Hogwarts, he still answers to him."

"That damned professor again…" muttered Fudge, clenching his fists. "Order Umbridge to increase the pressure on the Hogwarts staff. And spread the word: Cedric Diggory is under the Imperius Curse, being controlled by Dumbledore and Einar. Say he needs medical help. Say what was seen during the Triwizard Tournament was actually Potter casting Imperius on him."

"Yes, Minister," Percy responded firmly.

But as he exited the office, a faint smile crept onto his face. In a whisper only he could hear, he said:

"We're all still his students."

…

In the northern wilderness…

"GRRRAAAAH!"

A thunderous roar shook the ground as a giant charged with rage. Around him, a dozen of his comrades lay unconscious, defeated.

Before them stood a single man. Tall by human standards, yet still a mere ant before the towering colossi. And still—he did not flinch.

His armor, black as polished obsidian, gleamed under the sun. A smile, a blend of pure excitement and challenge, curved his lips. And though anyone who knew him would say he was a peaceful man, a lover of magical creatures—in that moment, he was reveling in the fight.

The giant struck him with a massive wooden log. The blow shattered into splinters against the ebony armor, barely making him step back. Then the man raised his fist and drove it into the giant's stomach with precision. The colossal being bent over like a shrimp taking a punch to the jaw, and collapsed unconscious, joining his comrades.

"Haah! Einar was right… this feels amazing!" exclaimed the man, laughing as he flexed his shoulders. "A good old fistfight… to make new friends!"

The remaining giants, still angry, now looked at him with a strange mixture of respect and bewilderment. Some even clapped.

From a distance, a tall and elegant woman watched the scene. Wand still aglow with a red enchantment, her eyes sparkled with emotion.

"Hagrid's going to be furious once the spell wears off," murmured Madame Maxime, her voice filled with awe. "But he's so… gallant."

Einar had given her two special spells, only to be used if the giants became dangerous: Call to Arms and Valor. Thanks to them, Hagrid was fighting with fearless courage, unmatched by any normal man.

The armor he wore had been a personal gift from Einar—an enchanted artifact that raised his defenses to monumental levels. And it was a good thing too, because giants are not known for their friendliness… not even toward half-giants like Hagrid.

By tradition, newcomers had to prove their worth in combat before being allowed to speak.

What began as a simple test had now become a brutal contest of endurance. And Hagrid… was in his element. Challenging each giant, one by one, without hatred—only with the joy of battle, and the hope of making friends.

Many claimed Einar had corrupted the gentle gamekeeper.

But Einar believed the opposite.

Hagrid wasn't corrupted.

He was… free.