Harry Potter: Dragonborn comes

The Revelation of the Dragon Priests 

All the students paused, curiosity sharpening their attention as they watched Professor Einar walk calmly through the castle corridors. It wasn't just his imposing presence or the long black coat that floated elegantly with every step… it was what he carried in his arms.

Nestled like restless pups, he held two small dragons: one red as dawnfire, the other black as a moonless night. Viing, the scarlet dragon, twisted excitedly with endless energy, flapping his tiny wings and releasing golden sparks with every breath. Viir, the dark dragon, was usually the calm one—watchful, composed… but today, he was just as agitated as his brother.

Seeing Viing excited was normal. Seeing Viir this restless… definitely wasn't.

Einar walked on without a word, unaffected by the dozens of eyes following him. He passed through staircases and stone arches until he reached his office. Once inside, he closed the door gently, cast a silencing charm, and placed the two dragons on his desk—though he had to stop Viing from diving headfirst into a bookshelf in search of scrolls.

"Los kul do hi?" Einar asked seriously, speaking in Dovahzul, the ancient dragon tongue the two understood better than any other language.

["What's the matter with you two?"]

Viir sat back on his hind legs, puffed up his tiny chest, and answered in a shrill but noble little voice:

"Dovahkriid… Zin… Saar… Hahrii."

["Dragon King… Honor… Priest… Harry am."]

His eyes sparkled with adorable intensity, fixed on Einar's own. He was doing his very best to express himself.

Not wanting to be left behind, Viing spun in a circle and shouted boldly:

"Kren… Dovah… Zin! Zin… Ne-vil!"

["Defeat Dragon King! Honor Neville!"]

Einar narrowed his eyes slightly—not confused, but intrigued. He tilted his head with calm understanding.

"I see… So it's time to make them your priests, isn't it?" he murmured, recognizing the seriousness behind the small dragons' request. Both looked up at him with unwavering determination. Viir even stepped forward, solemn and proud despite his tiny, scaly form.

"I suppose you want my blessing then."

Without hesitation, Einar brought both hands to his mouth and made a small cut on each thumb. A drop of blood welled up from each wound. Leaning forward, he gently pressed his thumbs to the dragons' foreheads. The moment his blood touched their scales, it shone like molten gold, tracing an ancient symbol—one reminiscent of the Amulet of Akatosh, the Father of Dragons, but personalized and unique.

The golden light slowly sank into their bodies, and both dragons released a low, rumbling sound of satisfaction. For creatures so small, the resonance of their voices made the walls vibrate gently.

"You have my blessing to accept Harry and Neville as your dragon priests," Einar declared solemnly, his gaze steady and full of purpose.

Viir curled up contentedly, wrapping his tail around himself like a pleased cat. Viing, on the other hand, bounced excitedly on the desk and chanted:

"Kren… Dovah… Zin! Defeat Dragon King! Defeat Dragon King!"

Einar allowed himself a faint smile. "You'll have to grow stronger if you truly want to do that," he said softly, lifting both dragons into his arms once more and heading out of his office.

As soon as he stepped outside, he nearly bumped into Fleur Delacour, who was waiting just a few steps away, pretending it was a coincidence. She held a stack of books in her arms, one hand tucking a silvery strand of hair behind her ear with effortless grace.

"Oh, Professor Einar! What a coincidence," she said, though they both knew it wasn't quite so accidental.

"Hello, Fleur," he greeted, his voice calm and steady.

"It's funny… We work in the same castle and I still see you less than I did during the Triwizard Tournament," she said quickly, her voice teetering between cheerful and nervous. "Of course, with the inspector breathing down everyone's necks, it's understandable. I'm not saying you're avoiding me—or I you. I just… well, maybe I should stop talking now before I say something more."

Einar watched her patiently, his expression warm and composed. "Changing environments is always difficult, even if the place is familiar."

Fleur glanced down for a moment, but her smile remained. "Yes, a little. But… it's worth it, right? For my future."

There was a quiet charm in her words—a soft double meaning that didn't go unnoticed.

"Working toward something always brings rewards," Einar replied. "Even if they're not quite what we imagined at first."

Just then, he felt Viing and Viir squirm slightly in his arms, eager to return to their chosen ones.

"I'm sorry… I need to return these two to their companions."

"Of course. Then… shall we talk later?" Fleur asked with a hopeful smile.

"Of course," he replied, walking away with the dragons nestled close.

Fleur watched him as he left, and when he was far enough, she gently touched her cheeks, realizing they were warm. She let out a quiet, bashful giggle, her fingers playing absently with the edge of one of her books.

Meanwhile, the dragons wriggled happily in Einar's arms—Viing repeating his warrior chant again and again, and Viir, back to his calm self, slowly drifting off to sleep.

…

Einar arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. As usual, she seemed ready to toss a snide remark about unscheduled visits, but when her eyes fell on the red dragon in his arms, her face turned pale.

Without a word, the painting creaked open violently, as if it were trying to leap off the wall and escape.

Einar stepped into the Gryffindor common room. His coat swayed like smoke behind him, and at his entrance, the room turned to stillness. Students froze mid-laugh, mid-spell, mid-conversation. The very air felt charged—like something powerful had just crossed a threshold.

But then they recognized him. And as always… with Einar, fear gave way to trust.

However, the moment they saw the calm expression on Einar's face, every student exhaled the breath they'd been holding. Though he was strict in class, Einar was also one of the most respected and beloved professors in the school. Not just because of his youth and the closeness in age, but because he was always the first to defend them when no one else would. Direct. Loyal. Reliable. He was someone you could believe in.

"Hello, Professor. What brings you here?" asked a curious girl with a friendly smile.

"I'm looking for Harry and Neville," Einar replied in his usual composed tone, and all eyes shifted inevitably toward the two dragons in his arms—Viir, the black one, and Viing, the red.

"Did they do something wrong?" asked one student, quickly standing up. "If they broke something, please don't be mad at them! They're still little and just like to play—"

"It's not about that," Einar answered, easing the tension with a faint smile.

"I'll go get them!" another student said, rushing up the stairs before anyone could stop them.

One of the older students raised a hand. "Professor, may I ask you something?"

Einar nodded.

"We heard what happened at the Ministry… that you fought the Aurors without hesitation to protect Harry. But now, with Madam Umbridge here… why haven't you stopped her?"

The question was bold. Serious. The entire common room fell silent.

"The answer is simpler than you think," said Einar with a smile that carried a hint of something deeper. "I've only ever intervened when my students were in real danger. While I find Umbridge annoying… she hasn't yet done anything to endanger your lives. But if she ever dares, neither her title nor her political power will save her. I will tear her limb from limb and send her to the deepest circle of hell."

The bluntness of his words didn't frighten the students. On the contrary, it brought visible relief. They trusted him—completely.

"That said, part of your training this year will involve learning to navigate politics and psychological warfare. You improved a lot last year. I expect even more from you now… or I'll have to triple your training schedule," he added, causing many smiles to twist into groans of dread. The seventh-years, on the other hand, wore smug grins—they were almost out.

"Professor," Neville called out, appearing at the top of the stairs with Harry beside him. Both hurried down at once.

Einar said nothing. He simply turned and began walking toward the exit. The two boys followed without question.

…

Far from the noise and crowd, in a quiet corridor where no portraits or prying ears could interfere, Einar stopped. He handed Viing and Viir to the boys. The dragons climbed instantly to their shoulders, curling up affectionately.

Harry, barely able to contain his curiosity, asked, "Professor… what are we going to do?"

Einar didn't respond right away. Instead, he raised both hands to his face and slowly removed his mask. He held it in front of them so they could see it clearly.

Then, with a firm voice, he began to speak:

"Millennia ago, dragons ruled the world like gods. To maintain their power, they chose the most devoted among humans and bestowed their magic upon them. These men became the Dragon Priests.

They weren't ordinary servants. They were champions, imbued with the power of the Thu'um and gifted with enchanted masks—capable of commanding flame and eternity itself. But ambition corrupted them. Some became monsters, others eternal guardians. And when they fell… their masks remained, echoes of what they once were."

"But now… something is changing. The dragons have begun choosing new priests. Not to dominate… but to guide. Not to serve… but to bring balance."

"You two are the first."

Harry and Neville's eyes widened in awe. Viir and Viing nestled closer to them, as if the revelation had sealed an invisible bond between them.

"Your task this year," Einar continued, "is to create your own masks. You don't have to copy the old ones—but you may use them for inspiration. This is your trial: a mask is not merely an object. It is an extension of your soul… of your destiny."

He placed a small box in front of them. Inside were fragments of volcanic stone, dragon scales, and enchanted pearls—ancient, magical materials… waiting to be awakened.

"Your companions have lived with you since birth. They've watched you, protected you, and chosen you. Don't betray that trust. And in return, you will gain power. Not to destroy, but to command your own fate."

Einar slowly placed his mask back on. When he spoke again, his voice echoed softly with arcane resonance.

"It doesn't matter how you use the power these masks grant you… but I truly hope you don't choose the path of darkness."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving behind a thick, reverent silence.

Harry looked down at Viir. The little dragon stared up at him with total trust.

"You can count on me, Viir. You're my friend. I'll never let you down."

Neville, meanwhile, smiled gently as he hugged Viing. The red dragon, true to his nature, squirmed dramatically to get free… but in the end, let himself be held a little longer.

The bond between them was no longer just friendship.

It was an ancestral vow.

…

N/A: Their masks won't grant them the Thu'um like the ancient Dragon Priests, but each will offer a unique defense tied to the nature of their dragons. Do you have any ideas for what Harry's and Neville's masks should look like—or what powers they should hold?