Sir Cadogan's first battle against the wyvern was a complete disaster. His warhorse was devoured, and his wand, lance, and armor were damaged. But Cadogan didn't give up. He climbed onto a chubby little pony grazing nearby and charged again. As the wyvern swallowed him, the broken stub of his wand pierced its tongue, triggering a fiery explosion that, by sheer luck, led to victory.
The story was brief, just two acts, so it didn't take up much of the banquet's time. As the moon peeked through the clouds, the stage reached its final scene, with powerful lines ringing out.
"Even if my lance is melted by molten rock and my steed has fallen, I'll still charge forward!
"You, little pony grazing over there, join me in attacking the wyvern!"
The banquet hadn't yet served food, but milk, pumpkin juice, and butterbeer were plentiful. The young witches and wizards sipped from their mugs, eagerly watching the performance.
Across the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat facing each other, their expressions varied.
Ron and Hermione were fully immersed in the story. Ron, raised in a pure-blood family, had grown up hearing tales of Sir Cadogan, while Hermione, ever the bookworm, knew his exploits from her reading.
Harry, however, was a bit lost. The Dursleys never told him wizarding stories, and he didn't spend much free time reading. Over the past two months, he'd only caught bits of the plot from his roommate Neville.
Watching the play now, he found the drama club's backstory a bit vague.
"Merlin's friend, one of the Knights of the Round Table…" Harry whispered, "Was Sir Cadogan really one of King Arthur's knights? I've never heard of him."
"His name was struck from the records," Hermione whispered back. "Sir Cadogan came from a medieval pure-blood family and graduated from Gryffindor. His wand was blackthorn with a troll whisker core, which made him hot-tempered and reckless. During his post-graduation travels, he left behind a trail of brave but wild stories. As a Round Table knight, he only followed Merlin's orders. Later in life, he clashed with King Arthur multiple times, once even pointing his wand at a princess, which infuriated Arthur."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "So he was kicked out."
"Exactly. But Arthur's authority didn't extend to the wizarding world. In wizarding tales, Cadogan still ranks alongside Lancelot, Bedivere, and Percival. Even today, some older witches and wizards use 'riding Cadogan's pony' to mean tackling tough challenges."
Hermione nodded toward the stage. "His most famous feat was risking his life to defeat the wyvern."
"You're wrong, Hermione," Ron said, leaning in with a mischievous grin. "Cadogan's not most famous for being a Round Table knight or slaying a wyvern. It's because he married three times and had seventeen kids."
Hermione ignored his trivia. Harry glanced at his friend, opening his mouth but saying nothing. The Weasleys had plenty of kids themselves, after all.
Onstage, the wyvern, crafted from dark blue hardwood, spewed orange flames from its snout. Villagers fled in panic, but the silver-armored knight stood tall, facing the dragon's maw. The reluctant pony pawed the ground nervously before charging at the knight's urging, becoming a blur as it crashed into the wyvern's mouth.
The fearless, sacrificial charge earned the blessing of Lady Luck. The black beast roared in pain, blood spraying from its mouth and nose. Its wings and claws flailed wildly as it clutched its jaw, then unleashed a torrent of dragonfire skyward.
The students at the house tables gasped and clapped. The professors at the high table watched closely, praising the clever use of Transfiguration, the Fire-Making Spell paired with the Whirlwind Charm to create the dragonfire effect.
In a corner by the wall, Hagrid downed half a mug of mead and asked, "Professor, the show's over. Why're you still leaning against the wall?"
"No big deal," Kettleburn said, rubbing his leg. "Got too caught up watching, stood too long, and forgot to switch canes. My leg's a bit numb."
"Want me to help you back?"
"Nah, I'll rest a bit and be fine."
"Then I'll wait with you."
"Forget it. Let's walk and wait."
Kettleburn nodded, slowly shuffling toward the high table with Hagrid's support, sighing wistfully. "The drama club's back in action."
---
Near a window, a cluster of portraits—Fat Lady, the nuns, Violet, and others—crowded into a single frame, Wulfric's Principles of Magic. It was the best spot to watch the play, though the space was cramped. Sir Cadogan had even brought his pony, ignoring everyone's complaints about the lack of room.
Just like the bold, stubborn knight on stage.
"Well, what do you think? I'd say it's pretty good—captured at least half my valor!" Cadogan said, grinning ear to ear.
"That's not what you said before," Violet retorted, rolling her eyes. "When Professor Lupin picked Marietta and the others to lead the drama club, you said they'd struggle. Then they chose your story, and suddenly you're all in."
"Do you think the drama club might adapt our stories someday?" the Fat Lady asked.
"What story do you have? Was your life that exciting?" Cadogan teased, clearly enjoying himself.
The other portraits stared at the actors bowing on stage, distracted. Wulfric watched them exit and said softly, "I think my life was pretty interesting. Traditionalist wizards tried to suppress my theories, but I wrote Principles of Magic amidst their slander, boosting Hogwarts' reputation."
He paused, then added, "It's not just stage-worthy—it could be shown on the Wizarding Wireless."
---
"So moving, just so moving. This is Gryffindor courage…" Dumbledore sniffled, his blue eyes glistening as if overwhelmed with emotion.
Snape gave him a sidelong glance. The drama club was just a bunch of kids, their performance far from flawless, and the wyvern-slaying plot wasn't exactly gripping. He couldn't see what was worth crying over.
Melvin also thought the headmaster's acting was a bit overdone. A wizard over a hundred years old, moved to tears? Really?
Clink, clink…
Dumbledore tapped his goblet with a silver spoon and cleared his throat. "Thank you, drama club, for a spectacular performance. I know you all have plenty to say, but for now, let's dig into the feast!"
With a wave of his wand, the crystal chandeliers blazed brighter, the enchanted ceiling sparkled with starlight, and hundreds of candles floated above the tables, their flames flickering. Platters of food appeared on golden plates, filling the air with mouthwatering aromas.
As the drama club actors returned to their seats, chatter about the performance reached a fever pitch. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students, already talkative, were buzzing even louder, crowding around the lead actors and organizers as if the roast on their plates had lost all appeal. They swarmed Cedric and Neville with questions.
"That was amazing! When you leapt into the dragon's mouth, Hannah screamed! How'd you do it?"
"Warming flames are blue, right? How'd you make orange fire that didn't burn you?"
"And that huge explosion—how'd you pull it off?"
"The charge was so cool! Can we keep the silver armor as a memento? I want the helmet!"
In a wizarding world without movies or TV, the last time students felt this kind of thrill was when Harry and his friends protected the Philosopher's Stone. Today's Sir Cadogan play was a different kind of excitement. It showcased a wizard battling a dragon head-on—no dark wizards, no cryptic puzzles or chess games. Just a knight in silver armor, lance in one hand, wand in the other, charging an unbeatable foe. The explosion, with its vibrant flames and dazzling sparks, was a sensory feast.
The professors might've found it a bit rough, but to the young students, it was the epitome of cool.
"They say this performance will be shown on the Wizarding Wireless. Is that true? Will you guys be famous?" Seamus asked, his voice tinged with envy. "Like Harry last year, getting in the papers, the whole wizarding world singing your praises."
Dean chimed in, "They've already been in the papers, remember? The Daily Prophet's basilisk series!"
---
"Yes, Headmaster, the performance will be shown on the Wizarding Wireless—not just in pub mirrors, but on home mirrors connected through the Floo Network. No tickets needed; families can watch from home, and it'll be replayed multiple times," Melvin said, sipping his mead in response to Dumbledore's question. "The names of all the drama club actors and crew will scroll in the opening credits, seen not just in Britain but in Romania and Hungary too."
"Sir Cadogan's probably going to be insufferable until next year," Dumbledore chuckled.
Melvin hesitated, then asked curiously, "Aren't you worried this could affect the students negatively? They're not even graduated, and now they're famous. Praise, criticism, anonymous letters—it could overwhelm them."
"Melvin, I trust you to handle it. You've already proven you can," Dumbledore said with a hearty laugh, his blue eyes meeting Melvin's, candlelight reflected in them. "But that's not what you really want to ask, is it?"
"Alright, you got me," Melvin said, shrugging. The headmaster's faith felt a bit overwhelming. "It's about Riddle. I've had 'Professor Gaunt' helping with lessons for almost a month. The students talk about him in the corridors and the Great Hall, the ghosts have noticed, and the portraits by the walls have seen him. But you and Professor McGonagall haven't said a word. Don't tell me you didn't know."
"I know, Melvin," Dumbledore said, swallowing a bite of roast rib with a cheerful grin, a hint of smugness in his expression. "But I don't think it's a big deal. Your assistant, Gaunt, is doing a fine job. The classes are effective, the kids are learning—beyond just textbooks—and the school doesn't have to pay him a knut. He's practically the most dedicated Defense Against the Dark Arts professor we've had in years. If I weren't worried about disrupting your plans, I'd hand him the other years' classes too."
Melvin paused. "But he's… Riddle."
"I know he's Tom Riddle. The Dark Lord, Voldemort," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "I've even quietly observed your classes and seen Hufflepuff's Cup."
He continued, "I know you've found another Horcrux, but I'm not going to interfere, Melvin."
Melvin downed a gulp of mead. "Why not?"
"Because my own encounters with Horcruxes—the diary, the diadem—yielded little. I've got no leads on the others. I've had to rethink how to investigate them, and maybe you're the better person to deal with Voldemort," Dumbledore said, pausing. "Unlike me, who he's always wary of."
Seeing Melvin's empty goblet, he refilled it. "You found the diadem. You found the diary. Now you've found the cup. I think you've got a magic I don't."
Dumbledore winked playfully, though it was a bit jarring.
Melvin stared at the mead in his goblet, his expression odd. Teaching at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore's pouring me a drink?
---
Mid-April, before the summer solstice.
The Easter holidays had brought perfect weather. The sky and lake shimmered a cheerful light blue, sunlight warmed the skin just right—not too hot, just cozy.
Leaving the castle, Harry and his friends strolled along a path through the grounds.
As they passed the greenhouses, Neville split off, joining Professor Sprout to tend a patch of Venomous Tentacula. The plants looked like blooming flowers, but their snapping jaws were a bit unsettling.
Harry kicked a pebble, saying lazily, "Homework's done, but we haven't had much fun, and now the holiday's almost over. Ugh. By the way, have you filled out your third-year course selection forms? Professor McGonagall said they're due Monday morning."
"Not yet. It's a big decision—it'll shape our whole future," Hermione said, her face serious.
Harry turned to her, her tone and expression reminding him of McGonagall. "I wish we could drop Potions."
"Me too, but no chance," Ron sighed. "The core subjects are mandatory until fifth year. Plus, we have to pick at least two electives."
"Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Divination…" Hermione listed, calculating. "Magical Creatures sounds fun, and Professor Lupin said Hagrid's taking over from Professor Kettleburn when he retires. We have to take that."
"Yep," Harry and Ron nodded.
"Muggle Studies is Professor Lupin's class, so obviously we're taking it."
"Totally," they agreed.
"Ancient Runes is important, and I'm curious about Arithmancy. Professor Trelawney for Divination seems a bit… off, but George and Fred swear by her class. I might give it a try…" Hermione frowned, clearly torn.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look, staying quiet. They didn't have nearly as many subjects they were eager to take.