Words That Burn
Harry walked with a frown next to Neville, gently cradling Viir in his arms and softly stroking the little dragon's scaly head. The baby dragon allowed himself to be pampered, calm as if nothing in the world could bother him.
"Are you okay, Harry?" Neville asked, noticing the tension in his friend.
"Didn't you notice?" Harry replied with a scowl. "Everyone was staring... and pointing again."
"You think it's because of...?"
"Of course it's because of Voldemort!" snapped Harry angrily. "The Prophet keeps saying it was all a strategy by Dumbledore to promote his Hogwarts champions. A sham! Even though plenty of people saw it with their own eyes."
Neville frowned, thinking it over. "Well, Harry, they didn't see it directly. Only through the twins' crystal spheres. A lot of people will want to find an excuse not to believe he came back."
That answer was more logical than Harry had expected. He glanced sideways at Neville, surprised by his rare display of insight.
"What?" asked Neville, sensing the look.
"My parents told me that when the Dark Lord started gaining power the first time, no one believed it either. It wasn't until he formed an army and began hunting down Muggle-born witches and wizards that people reacted. That's when the Order of the Phoenix was born."
"And what happened next?" Harry asked, curious. He only knew bits and pieces: terror, war, and the near end of the wizarding world.
"At first, many ignored him because it didn't affect them directly. But when the half-bloods —as they call them— started falling, people realized his true intentions. Now it's happening again, only worse. The Ministry itself is ignoring the truth or refusing to see it. No one wants to admit that Voldemort is back. And that, no matter how you look at it, is never good news."
Harry nodded silently. He knew the saying well: there's no one more blind than the one who doesn't want to see.
When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she shot them a glare before speaking.
"If you don't give me the password, you're not coming in."
Harry blinked, confused. He hadn't been paying attention. He looked at Neville, who wore the same puzzled expression.
"Now what? Wait for someone to come open it for us?" Harry grumbled, crossing his arms.
It was then that Viing, dangling like a sack under Neville's arm, lifted his head. Until now, he had been strangely calm, but his eyes locked onto the Fat Lady. He'd never really paid attention to her... until now. She was big, loud, and blocking the way. A challenge?
Clearly, a worthy enemy!
Viing suddenly stretched out and, without warning, unleashed a blast of red fire directly at the portrait.
A protective shield activated instantly, crackling with magic. It had been added after the "incident" with Sirius Black. Though more than an attack, it had been an outburst of frustration over being denied entry.
But Viing's flame was no ordinary fire. It roared against the magical barrier and, to everyone's surprise, began to burn it for real. The Fat Lady's eyes widened in horror.
"Wait!! Stop him!! I'll open, I'll open!" she shrieked, watching the shield start to melt.
Neville reacted quickly, pulling Viing away as the little dragon squirmed, eager to finish the fight. The Fat Lady opened the portrait at once and flattened herself against the wall, as if trying to disappear.
"That's enough, Viing. She gave up. You won!" said Neville firmly.
The dragon understood. He puffed out his chest, flapped his tiny wings proudly, and stayed still, gleaming with satisfaction. Harry gave him a half-smile, then looked down at Viir, still sleeping peacefully in his arms. Lucky I got the calm one, he thought.
"Why does he always want to fight everything? Last time you burned my grandmother's broom and we both got punished," Neville muttered, scolding his dragon.
Viing just responded with a haughty, almost mocking glance.
Neville shook his head in resignation and hugged him before entering through the portrait hole.
As soon as they entered the common room, where a few students chatted by the fireplace, Viing wriggled free, and Neville let him down. The dragon scampered toward the fire like it was his personal throne.
The students, by now used to his presence, greeted him affectionately and began offering him snacks.
According to Einar, dragons like Viing and Viir didn't get sick from human food. Even so, students always brought healthy treats just for them. Viir opened one eye as he saw his companion getting spoiled after nearly torching a portrait. He rolled his eyes and went back to sleep.
"Oh! The dragon knights have arrived!" said Fred with his usual teasing smile.
"At this rate, you two will be the mounts, and they'll be the riders —unless you start growing a bit more," added George.
Harry ignored the comment, already used to them, but noticed one of the twins was carrying a rolled-up scroll under his arm.
"What's that?" he asked.
"This, dear Harry, is the official announcement of our future shop," replied Fred, dramatically unfurling the banner.
"We're making products and looking for brave volunteers to test them," said George with a mischievous grin.
"Come on, George! Let's pin it to the board before someone steals our spot," Fred exclaimed, running toward the notice board.
"See you later, Harry!" George shouted, following him enthusiastically.
Harry just shook his head and quietly headed up to his dormitory. Neville, before following, glanced at Viing. The dragon had amassed a nice pile of treats in front of the fireplace and was eating calmly, ignoring everything else.
Neville sighed. As long as he wasn't bothering anyone, he'd let him enjoy it. And with that, he followed Harry up the stairs.
When Harry opened the dorm room door, he saw Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas chatting animatedly. However, the moment they saw him enter, both fell silent.
"Hey," Harry greeted calmly, walking toward his trunk.
"Hey, Harry," Dean replied casually as he put on pajamas with his favorite football team's colors. "Did you have a good summer?"
"Not bad. Though Professor Einar gave us a lot of training," Harry answered, though he didn't feel like summarizing everything that had happened. Explaining it would take all night. "How about you?"
"It was great," said Dean with a light laugh. "Way better than Seamus's, that's for sure. He was just telling me."
"Why? What happened?" Neville asked curiously while pulling out a small golden house from his trunk, enchanted to look like it was made of solid gold. It was Viing's personal castle, where the dragon liked to stash food and shiny things —though he usually slept on Neville's head.
"My mum didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts," Seamus said with his back turned, pinning a poster to the wall by his bed.
"What?" asked Harry, surprised, as he adjusted Viir on a small pillow beside his own.
"She didn't want me to come back," Seamus repeated, pulling out his pajamas without looking at Harry.
"Why?" Harry pressed, remembering that Seamus's mother was a witch and not understanding why she'd sound so much like the Dursleys.
"Well... I guess because of you," Seamus said calmly as he changed into his pajamas.
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Not just you. Also Dumbledore," Seamus clarified without raising his voice.
"She believes what the Prophet says, doesn't she?" Harry asked, already guessing the answer. "She thinks everything that happened was a stunt? That what happened to Cedric and me was just Dumbledore's plan to get attention? That I'm a liar? And that he's too old to think straight, letting a dangerous teacher work here?"
"Yeah... something like that," Seamus finally looked up to meet Harry's gaze.
Anger flared in Harry's chest like a fire. He clenched his teeth but said nothing at first. He walked to his bed, set his wand on the nightstand, took off his robe, folded it neatly into his trunk, and changed into his pajamas. Viir remained curled up by his pillow, breathing softly.
Then Seamus spoke again.
"Hey... what really happened that night?" he asked cautiously. "We saw something through the twins' crystal orbs, but honestly... we didn't understand much. Everything was moving so fast. We just saw destruction in the background and blurry shapes of you and Cedric."
Dean, who had been about to climb into bed, paused. He wanted to hear too. As if the words were the only thing that could bring clarity to what they'd seen.
"Why are you asking me now?" Harry replied, annoyed. "Why not just read the Prophet like your mum? Everything's in there, right?"
"Don't talk about my mum," Seamus snapped, anger rising in his voice.
"I'll talk about anyone who calls me a liar. If you don't want to see the truth, then wait until it punches you in the face," Harry retorted.
"Don't talk to me like that."
"I'll talk however I want," Harry said, nearly reaching for his wand again, his fury pounding in his chest. "And if it bothers you to share a room with me, go tell Professor McGonagall to move you. That way your mum can sleep peacefully knowing her son isn't rooming with a 'liar'."
"Leave my mum out of this!" shouted Seamus, stepping forward with clenched fists.
But before either of them could move, a burst of black fire shot from Viir's mouth, aimed at the ceiling. The magical roar echoed through the dormitory, freezing them both in place.
The small dragon shot them an irritated glance, clearly annoyed at being woken up. Then, with elegance and disdain, he lay back down as if the warning was more than clear.
The air grew heavy, and though the flame left no mark, the message was obvious. Harry and Seamus stared at each other, anger still in their eyes, but neither of them eager to continue.
"You're insane. And so are the people who believe you," Seamus muttered as he climbed into bed, rage still simmering.
"Yeah? Then go tell that to Professor Einar. He believes me too," Harry said coldly.
Seamus didn't respond. His face paled slightly, and he pressed his lips tightly together before yanking his bed curtains shut with a sharp motion.
Just then, Ron entered the dormitory. His eyes scanned the room and briefly landed on Harry before heading silently to his own bed. He began unpacking his things with calm, quiet movements, saying nothing.
Harry watched him for a few seconds. For weeks now, Ron had been distant, acting strange—as if something was bothering him, but he refused to talk about it. Harry didn't have the time or energy for a childish spat with Ron, and after the argument with Seamus, he wasn't in the mood for another confrontation either.
So he simply pulled the sheet over his head, nestled closer to Viir... and closed his eyes.