Harry Potter: Dragonborn comes

The Gathering Before the Hunt

Everyone gathered at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The atmosphere weighed upon each of them like a stone slab.

Einar was seated in his chair—though seated was hardly the right word. He looked like a king ruling over a ruined kingdom or an ancient conqueror surveying his defeated soldiers. His bearing was severe, his back straight with a stillness that strained every nerve. Without his mask, his icy gaze pinned the group of students trembling before him, kneeling with their hands raised as if pleading for mercy from the executioner himself.

To one side, the adults remained in an awkward, suffocating silence. No one dared to intervene. Even Sirius, his face still pale from everything that had happened just hours earlier, did not open his mouth to defend his godson. After all, he had been one step from death and had yet to fully awaken from that trance. Alice Longbottom leaned over him, murmuring diagnostic incantations as her wand traced patterns of light across his chest. Tonks and Lupin watched with expressions etched in worry.

On the other side, the only ones seemingly unaffected by the tension were the young warriors sitting along the wall, observing the scene with an interest that bordered on amusement. The smallest of them was calmly eating what Molly had brought for dinner, swinging her legs with childish rhythm as she took bites of bread and occasionally cast a curious glance toward the kneeling group.

"This reminds me of that time with the giants," she suddenly remarked in a cheerful voice, breaking the sepulchral silence.

"Or when we had the problem with the vampires," added Lars, propping an elbow on his knee with a thoughtful air.

"And the matter with the cannibals?" Hroar chimed in, as if they were discussing a simple travel anecdote.

"I think that was when he was the angriest," noted Blaise, folding his arms across his chest.

"No. The worst was when we destroyed the walls of Whiterun during a competition," Avento replied in a neutral tone.

"Are you sure it wasn't something more than just breaking the walls? I can't really remember," murmured Sissel, frowning in confusion.

Einar slowly turned his gaze toward them. That slight movement alone was enough for them to all fall silent in unison and drop their eyes to the floor. Compared to their own escapades, Harry and his group's recklessness was almost trivial—but even that did not justify what they had done.

"What did I say before I left?" he asked in a grave voice, shifting his eyes back to the students.

"That we shouldn't act without thinking," Hermione answered quickly, her voice trembling.

"And what exactly did you do?"

"We acted without thinking," they all responded at once, almost in a whisper.

"But, professor…it was a trap. I…I thought Sirius had been captured. I asked Kreacher and he told me…they had him. I thought—"

Einar raised one hand, cutting Harry off before he could continue justifying himself.

"Why didn't you look for a teacher?" he asked coldly.

"Professor McGonagall wasn't there. She'd been called to an emergency meeting because of Umbridge's disappearance," Fred replied in a subdued voice.

"And Hogwarts had no other professors?"

"No…but…"

"Then asking another teacher for help never even crossed your mind?" Einar insisted, his voice so tightly contained that every word landed like a hammer blow.

"It's just…they're not part of the Order of the Phoenix," George said in a last attempt at defense.

"And because of that, you thought they wouldn't help a group of students in danger?" Einar asked again, leaning forward slightly. Silence was their only answer. One by one, they lowered their heads.

"It's all right, Einar. They did it for me," Sirius interjected with a weary sigh as Alice finished the last of her diagnostic spells. "Even if it was a trap, it was very well set up. We can't blame them for worrying, only for putting themselves at risk."

"Shut up and sit down," Einar ordered, not even looking at him.

"Yes, sir." Sirius obeyed with a resignation that was almost oddly calm, casting an apologetic glance at the others as he settled back in his chair.

"Your punishment will be intensive training. Physical. No magic. For the remainder of the school year."

Runa, who stood elegantly in a corner of the room, arched an eyebrow. As one of Einar's disciples from far more savage times, she knew this wasn't simply a punishment—it was a way to make them stronger. A preparation disguised as reprimand, most likely because he planned to send them on a real mission if they reached the level he expected.

"Yes, professor." The answer came as a muted chorus, followed by a shiver that rippled through all of them.

Einar rose with the same inexorable calm he had shown when sitting down.

"That is all. I expect that next time you'll think before you act like fools and walk straight into an idiot's trap. Or at the very least, have the strength to annihilate anyone who tries to ensnare you."

"Professor…now that Voldemort is dead…what's going to happen?" Harry asked, lifting his gaze with a furrowed brow.

"You should know he isn't truly dead. He's just like that wizard in the pyramids. So I will give you two options. Only you will decide your fate—no one else." Einar's voice became even firmer. "Your useless rulers already know. They'll send their scholars to hunt down any remnant of his existence. And your options are these: trust them and let them handle it while you live the school life you deserve, or go out yourself, hunt down every fragment, and face him head-on. Both are dangerous. If they fail, he will return in perhaps a couple of years at most. If you do it yourself, you will face an adventure that could cost you your life."

Harry fell silent, his hands clenched in his lap.

"Don't worry. You can choose until the end of the school year. You still have time."

With that, Einar turned toward the other group, his expression softening in a curious way as he allowed the faintest hint of a smile.

"And now you." His voice grew almost paternal, though the seriousness never left it. "I can't allow you out of my sight—especially in a world this fragile. So you will spend the remainder of the school year at the wizarding school. Of course…" He extended his hand with an unquestionable gesture. "…I will confiscate all your weapons and armor."

"But what if we're attacked and need to destroy the enemy?" Hroar protested, his eyes wide with panic as he hugged his axes as if they were his heart.

"This place has no worthy enemies. And the few that exist are so weak you won't need any of this." Einar made a small gesture with his fingers. "And try not to kill everyone. It seems there are rather bothersome laws here."

"Boo…" Several grumbling protests rose as they began pulling an absurd number of knives, lockpicks, improvised bombs, and weapons that looked as if they'd been stolen from a war museum out of their clothing.

One by one, the objects fell to the floor until they formed a mountain that left everyone else staring in shock.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as the new students regarded their confiscated arsenal with absolute nonchalance.

"Einar…are all of them wizards?" Sirius asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the pile of weapons and armor accumulating at their feet. He had heard enough about the fight with Einar to know that hardly any of these young people had used a single spell.

"In the place we come from, anyone can use magic as long as they have enough money to buy the proper tomes." Einar spoke with such absolute serenity that the statement became all the more disconcerting. "Everyone is born with magicka."

"They just think wizards are weaker than warriors," Avento added, his voice as calm as if he were commenting on the weather.

"Wait…you're saying all of them are wizards, but they simply…don't want to be?" Tonks asked, frowning, her surprise etched across every feature.

"You could describe it that way." Einar didn't bother to explain further, as if the answer were obvious and required no elaboration. His gaze drifted calmly across the room before settling on Runa, who stood motionless at the edge. "Runa. It seems you did a decent job protecting them. Well done."

That short, emotionless phrase was, for Runa, a rare compliment.

"Since you're here, I need your help training Cedric. I didn't have time before." Einar spoke without turning his head, his voice so authoritative that no one dared interrupt.

Cedric blinked, surprised to hear his name. He looked toward the corner where Runa had been—but she was no longer there.

"All right."

The answer came from right beside him. Cedric started, seeing her so close without understanding when she had crossed the room. His surprise was obvious, but Runa merely held his gaze with cold composure.

At that moment, the fireplace flared bright green, and two figures emerged from the flames. Percy barely had time to brush the soot from his shoulders before Molly rushed at him, wrapping her arms around him so tightly she nearly knocked him over.

"Percy! You have no idea how worried I was…I thought you were truly ashamed to be a Weasley and that you were rejecting us…I didn't know you were there as a spy!" she cried, her voice wavering between reproach, relief, and affection.

"I'm sorry, Mum." Percy lifted his hands, looking uncomfortable. "You know I'm no good at keeping secrets. It had to be believable…that's why only Cedric and Tonks knew."

"It's all right." Arthur approached with a broad smile and clapped his son's shoulder. "What matters is that you did your part—and did it well."

"Well done," Einar added, his voice so neutral it was impossible to tell whether it was praise or simply stating a fact.

But for Percy, it was enough. His lips curved into a proud smile, and his chest swelled with a satisfaction that needed no further words.

"Not only that." Percy straightened, his confidence renewed. "Thanks to the evidence I gathered and the names I managed to record, Madam Amelia Bones promised me an important promotion—a position of real responsibility. I found many of the Dark Lord's spies within the Ministry. Not all of them, but most."

"Truly excellent work," Sirius said, a genuine smile lighting his face.

It was clear that this was far better than having remained loyal to Fudge—a man so consumed by his own survival that he would have thrown Percy aside without hesitation if it meant saving himself. Einar taught all his students to decide their destinies regardless of the price, never to betray their convictions for any measure of power.

"Hey, remember that half the credit is mine," Cedric remarked with a lopsided smile, folding his arms.

"I know." Percy nodded. "I told Amelia. She said your father would be able to reclaim his position, and if you want, you can apply to join the Aurors. You'd be welcomed."

Cedric blinked, surprised by how serious he sounded.

"Now, the most important thing." Percy's voice turned solemn in an instant, all the warmth gone from his face. "Several search teams are going to be assembled to hunt down the Horcruxes. We can't trust just anyone, so they'll be extremely careful choosing each member. Of course, members of the Order of the Phoenix can be hired as consultants if they wish to help. There's still no designated leader."

"They're moving quickly," Einar observed, nodding his quiet approval.

"And one more thing." Percy took a deep breath. "They've sent a contingent of Aurors to arrest some of the names on the list. A few managed to escape. Malfoy Manor, which they were using as a base, was completely empty. The battle isn't over. The only good news is that now we're in the light and they're in the dark. But even so…it will be more dangerous than ever. They'll do anything to restore their master."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Cedric narrowed his eyes, a dark premonition tightening in his chest. Not because of Voldemort's followers…but because of one man in particular.

"Above all, it's likely that one or two spies we overlooked in the Ministry now also know about the existence of the Horcruxes. So this has become a race to see who finds them first," Percy said gravely, while everyone nodded, understanding that the contest had just begun. Luckily for them, Voldemort hadn't trusted anyone enough to leave even a single clue about where they might be. In fact, they themselves might have more leads than his own followers. But that also put them at risk of being used to uncover them.