In the West, if you ask which creature has left the deepest impression on people's hearts, the answer is almost always the dragon.
From films to legends, dragons are everywhere. Especially in Britain, they seem to carry a particular symbolism.
In the old tales, the Knight King who led the Knights of the Round Table—yet never quite understood human hearts—was said to bear the blood of a red dragon. His enemy was even called the white dragon.
That alone shows how deeply the British revere these creatures.
And in the wizarding world, dragons are synonymous with overwhelming power and danger.
...
The Room of Requirement.
Everyone present knew perfectly well that although the Patronus Charm was extraordinarily effective against Dementors, strictly speaking, it was not an offensive spell.
Simply put, it could not harm a wizard.
And yet, even knowing that, they still found themselves retreating step by step under the gaze of Draco's dragon Patronus.
The more timid students had already backed up to the only exit, clearly prepared to scream for help and run at the first sign of trouble.
This unspoken coordination only made the Gryffindors, led by the Head Boy, stand out even more.
The other three Houses had instinctively distanced themselves from the Gryffindors—as if failing to do so would result in being caught up in whatever Draco did next.
The "highlighted" little lions, who normally enjoyed being the center of attention, looked anything but pleased with this kind of special treatment.
"This absolutely… absolutely isn't a Patronus Charm…"
It wasn't surprising that the Head Boy's words came out in broken fragments.
The silver-white dragon had closed the distance without warning, its massive form looming before him.
There was no warmth in that silver light.
Instead, it felt like standing beneath a blazing sun, skin prickling as if about to burn.
Beautiful.
And dangerous.
Though only a Patronus, its vertical pupils held a dragon's innate arrogance and savagery. Its slightly parted fangs gave the illusion that dragonfire could erupt at any moment.
The fact that the Head Boy—whose name Draco and the others had long since stopped caring about—could still form a coherent sentence was already impressive.
Beside him, one companion's legs had gone weak, while another stood frozen, mind blank.
The only other person able to speak was Harry Potter, who seemed to have unconsciously taken all of this personally.
"This can't be… Dumbledore said… a Patronus at this level…"
Those who could cast a Patronus understood one another.
Harry Potter knew better than anyone how difficult it was to summon a Patronus of Draco's caliber.
While size alone did not determine power, that did not mean such a scale was easily achieved.
The sheer oppressive force radiating from it was beyond what an ordinary wizard could produce.
For a fleeting moment, Harry thought he was looking at another Dumbledore.
The more he understood, the more his expression twisted.
Disbelief.
Resentment at being surpassed.
And the raw fear of confronting such overwhelming strength.
His lightning-shaped scar began to throb faintly.
'Is the gap between us… really that wide?'
Clutching his forehead, Harry Potter lifted his eyes toward the faint golden figure behind the shimmering silver light.
Unnoticed even by himself, the emerald green of his eyes—so like his mother's—seemed to darken with a trace of black.
Somewhere in the haze, he thought he heard a voice whisper.
He was supposed to be the protagonist.
...
In the suffocating silence, there was no way Harry Potter's and the Head Boy's voices could escape Draco's notice.
But Draco, who was admiring his own Patronus, had no intention of responding.
Without even lifting his head, he gave his wand a light flick.
It was like a signal.
Roar.
No sound echoed through the room, yet everyone felt it.
The dragon stepped forward, a massive claw pressing down.
It caused no damage to the Room of Requirement.
And yet the sudden movement sent the young wizards into panicked screams. The Head Boy, who had been forcing himself to stand tall, stumbled and fell in an utterly humiliating heap.
Just before he hit the ground, there was only blankness in his eyes—like someone whose mind had gone completely empty.
In their fear, they seemed to have forgotten that the Patronus Charm was, by nature, a defensive spell.
It had no offensive power at all.
The chaotic scene made Penelope's expression darken entirely. When she looked at Draco, there was even a trace of grievance in her eyes.
So in the end… was this exchange event a success or a failure?
In any case, the poised Ravenclaw senior found her composure slipping under Draco's relentless theatrics.
Meanwhile, behind him, Pansy and the other two girls were busy studying the silver-white dragon with open fascination.
Hermione, who had once ridden a real dragon, even felt the faint urge to climb onto its back.
Not one of them spared a glance for the rest of the room.
"Draco, when did you learn this? How come we didn't know?"
Pansy's tone sounded casual, but the way her gaze occasionally drifted toward Harry Potter and the others made her real intention obvious.
Draco chuckled softly.
"Just now."
"Just—just now?!"
"A moment ago."
"I wasn't asking you to define 'just now'…"
Even in the awkward silence—Draco and his group acting as if no one else existed while the others didn't dare speak—his answer still stunned them.
Hermione, who had been reaching out to touch the dragon's head, pursed her lips at Draco.
But if one looked closely, there was a hint of pride in her eyes.
She didn't doubt him at all.
In fact, aside from Draco's own circle, very few wizards present believed his explanation.
Only Pansy and the others trusted him without hesitation.
...
In the wizarding world, to break common sense might earn you the title of powerful.
To surpass it entirely—that was the mark of a legend.
But in the era yet to come, there would be only one name for such a figure.
Draco.