Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 862: The Stubborn Horntail

As expected of dragon keepers—they shared a deep bond with their dragons.

When they saw Newt calmly place the eight-month-old Liondragon into his suitcase, their eyes were filled with reluctant sorrow. But when it came time for the Hungarian Horntail, their tears were of pure joy.

Especially the five dragon keepers who had escorted it over—each one a hulking, musclebound man—who suddenly threw their arms around each other and burst into tears on the spot.

“The days of living on edge… finally over…”

“Mr. Scamander... what a saint...”

“From today on, youʼre my idol...”

“Tomorrow I’m buying ten copies of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!”

“I’m getting a hundred!”

The group chimed in one after another, their enthusiasm so effusive it nearly had Newt floating.

Even Drols was in high spirits—so much so that he pulled out a bottle of brandy, a rare sight, and took a hearty swig.

Normally, dragon keepers were forbidden from drinking on the job—especially strong liquor. The scent alone could trigger a dragon’s appetite and provoke a bite at any moment. For a dragon keeper, that was potentially fatal.

But Drols didn’t care anymore. He was too happy. Worst case, he’d take half a day off. Today, he just wanted to enjoy a proper drink.

Kyle sat motionless, face blank. He’d figured it out—this Hungarian Horntail was absolutely not ordinary.

What kind of dragon, after being hit with a Stunning Spell, still tried to whip people with its tail?

And Drols… he wasn’t innocent either.

Maybe from the very moment he suggested swapping the egg for a hatchling, this had all been part of the plan.

It had been a setup from the start—Drols’ goal all along might have been to offload that Horntail.

And Kyle had walked straight into it. After all, who wouldn’t choose a Horntail over a Common Welsh Green?

What he hadn’t expected was that this so-called “eight-month-old” Horntail would already be larger than a fully grown Welsh Green.

And from the look on Drols’ face, returning it was probably out of the question.

...

When they left the Dragon Reserve, the keepers cheerfully escorted them all the way. Only after watching them disappear via Portkey did they slouch back toward the reserve, arms slung around each other.

“Let’s hit The Oak Barrel for a drink. My treat.”

“Of course! We have to celebrate today. Even if we get fined—it’s worth it.”

“I’m in. I’ll drop off the hemostatic potions and bandages I ordered while I’m at it.”

“Hey, do you think Mr. Scamander’s age can handle something like this?”

“Don’t worry. He’s a magizoologist—he’ll be fine...”

“Should we pitch in and send him something? Otherwise, I feel bad…”

“Yeah… and if we send enough, he’ll feel too guilty to send it back.”

They didn’t even bother heading back to request time off. Arms around each other’s shoulders, they headed straight for the pub.

...

Meanwhile, Kyle and the others had returned via Portkey to the edge of the Dorset Forest, just outside Newt’s house.

The ever-enthusiastic house-elf Dobby opened the door and welcomed them in.

Kyle glanced at Newt, hesitating for a moment.

“If you’ve got a question, go ahead,” Newt said with a smile.

“It’s just… that Hungarian Horntail…” Kyle asked quietly, “Is there something wrong with it?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just a bit temperamental,” Newt replied casually. “So far, it’s injured nineteen dragon keepers. See that long scar on Drols’ arm? That’s from it.”

“Apparently, a while ago, the Reserve transferred it to another enclosure… and three adult dragons nearly got torn apart.”

Kyle’s forehead began to bead with sweat. This wasn’t just a troublemaker—it was a full-on menace.

No wonder the keepers had cried tears of joy when it was finally sent off.

“But it’s only eight months old. How can it take on adult dragons?”

“That’s what makes Hungarian Horntails so unique,” Newt said seriously. “They’re vicious by nature—won’t hesitate even against their own kind. And because their natural habitat is so dangerous, their juvenile phase is unusually short. In just one year, they can grow to over thirty feet.”

“By comparison, the Ukrainian Ironbelly—similar in size—takes nearly two years to reach that stage.”

“All Horntails are like that?” Kyle asked. “Able to take down full-grown dragons at eight months?”

“Oh, definitely not,” Newt shook his head. “Most Horntails spend their first year avoiding other dragons and potential threats, hunting as much as possible to build up strength.”

“But this one’s an outlier. According to Drols, its temper is extreme—even for a Horntail. It actually enjoys fighting more than it cares about the food.”

That...

Kyle let out a strained laugh. He didn’t even know what to say anymore.

He had clearly just invited a world of trouble into his life—and worst of all, he’d done it voluntarily.

“Also...” Kyle rubbed his forehead and changed the subject. “What exactly did you say to Drols that made him agree to give me a Liondragon?”

“Oh, that?” Newt replied as if it were obvious. “I promised to help him deal with the Hungarian Horntail problem, so he agreed.”

So it was Newt who made the offer?

Kyle felt like heʼd been punched in the gut. He’d thought it was Drols doing Newt a favor out of respect.

But now, it seemed there was nothing more to say—it was already done.

“Come on in,” Newt said. “I need to make use of the Stunning Spell while it’s still active to get them properly settled.” He opened the suitcase and set it on the ground, then jumped inside.

To avoid unnecessary trouble, Kyle had left his suitcase in Newt’s care the whole time.

“I’ll help too—consider it after-sales service,” Dumbledore said, following him in.

Back when Kyle finished second year, he’d used the Philosopher’s Stone he found as payment to have Dumbledore expand the suitcase to its current state.

At the time, Dumbledore had modeled it after the Forbidden Forest, which—needless to say—was not designed with dragons in mind.

Of course, no one could have predicted that five dragons would be living here just a few years later.

By the time Kyle jumped in, Newt and Dumbledore were already hard at work.

Transforming the environment was no small task. Since it would take time, they decided to start by relocating some of the other magical creatures—including the Basilisk—into Newt’s suitcase to avoid any unnecessary chaos later.

After that, Dumbledore kicked everyone else out.

“Leave it to Albus,” Newt said with a chuckle. “He really isn’t the same anymore. The Albus I knew would never be this energetic.”

“I just hope he doesn’t build me a blue castle,” Kyle muttered.

If it were the old Dumbledore, he wouldn’t have worried. But ever since Ariana had become the center of his thoughts, there was no telling what might inspire him.

After all, Ariana’s favorite colors were sky blue and earthy yellow—one representing freedom, the other stability.

Earthy yellow, Kyle could live with. But the other one...

A ferocious dragon perched atop a glittering light blue castle? The aesthetic alone was disturbing. Kyle didn’t think he could handle it.

“Um... probably not...” Newt said, though his voice was laced with uncertainty.

Truth be told, he found this new Dumbledore a bit unfamiliar himself.

At that moment, a sudden scream cut their conversation short.

Dobby came sprinting toward them in a panic, flailing his arms and pointing wildly toward the sky.

“Sir... it’s terrible... the spiky dragon... it’s flying...!”

Spiky dragon?

The Hungarian Horntail.

Kyle and Newt turned their heads at once. The Liondragon was still snoring under the Stunning Spell—but the Horntail had already woken up.

Maybe the unfamiliar surroundings had agitated it. It was clearly enraged, belching jets of fire dozens of feet in every direction.

A wave of blistering heat surged forward, flinging Dobby into the air. He crashed to the ground and let out a sharp hiss of pain.

Kyle instantly drew his wand.

But just then, another roar echoed from nearby.

It was the Horntail from Newt’s suitcase—drawn by the scent of its own kind. It had left its nest and flown straight toward them.

The two dragons collided midair, and battle broke out instantly. No fire this time—it was a brutal clash of teeth, claws, and tail whips that lashed like flails.

Kyle suddenly remembered—wasn’t Newt’s Horntail also a menace? The one that had been returned by the reserve three times?

“Should we step in?” Kyle asked.

“Ah... better not,” Newt sighed, clearly troubled. “If we interfere now, they’ll just see us as enemies. Let them work it out themselves.”

He helped Dobby up and asked him to help clear away any nearby magical creatures.

Not that it was necessary. As soon as the two dragons had clashed, every creature in the vicinity had already bolted for safer ground.

Soon, only Kyle, Newt, and Dobby were left.

It was obvious Dobby was terrified—his legs were shaking so hard they practically blurred. Still, he stood his ground in front of Newt and Kyle.

“No need to be afraid, Dobby,” Newt crouched and said gently. “Go check on Laflar. I saw him run off toward the Graphorn.”

“But... I have to protect the professor...” Dobby stammered, trembling.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Newt smiled, completely unconcerned for his own safety.

As they spoke, Kyle kept his eyes on the sky.

And he noticed something unbelievable.

Despite the size and strength difference, the eight-month-old Horntail wasn’t backing down in the slightest. In fact, it kept launching attacks—relentlessly biting and clawing, even if it couldn’t pierce the other’s scales. It seemed determined to leave its mark.

Kyle twitched slightly at the corner of his mouth.

By Merlin’s beard, this thing was relentless. Was it really this hard-headed?

If that thing ended up in his suitcase...

Kyle shuddered. The last thing he wanted was to open it one day and find the Horntail rampaging inside like it owned the place.

“But Drols was really willing to give it to me?” Kyle frowned. “It held its own against an adult Horntail and still refused to back down. In a way, its strength matches its temper, doesn’t it?”

“No, that’s where you’re mistaken,” Newt said, shaking his head. “The reserve doesn’t care about how powerful a dragon is. What they care about is stability.”

“If nothing goes wrong, once this Horntail reaches maturity, it’s almost certain to challenge the current ‘king.’ That would spark another massive fight—exactly what the reserve wants to avoid.”

The “king” of the dragon reserve?

“Uh…” Kyle turned his head stiffly. “They actually seemed to be getting along. Maybe it’d be better if I just let them stay together as companions?”

“Getting along?” Newt blinked, then glanced at the pieces of scales and dragon blood still falling from the sky. He pointed upward. “What exactly made you think that looked like getting along?”

“Well, dragons, you know—no fighting, no friendship. Maybe they’ll make up by tomorrow,” Kyle muttered.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Newt said slowly. “Besides, I’m a hundred years old. I don’t have the energy to care for a second Hungarian Horntail.”

The way Newt stressed his age left Kyle speechless.

Right. Newt was a hundred. Dumping this kind of problem on him really wasn’t fair.

“So now what…” Kyle sighed. “If I’d known it was like this, I’d have swallowed my pride and tried to return it to Drols…”

“No need. That’s what you’re here for,” Newt said.

“Me?” Kyle pointed at himself, then looked up at the Horntail still circling in the sky, a beast willing to wound itself if it meant hurting its opponent. “I don’t think it’s going to listen to me.”

“There’s always a way,” Newt said. “Don’t forget—you still have the Basilisk.”

“The Basilisk can make it listen?” Kyle asked, clearly skeptical.

“No. Dragons and Basilisks are mortal enemies,” Newt replied.

Now Kyle was even more confused.

But Newt didn’t elaborate. He just quietly turned to look at a nearby cave where the Basilisk had been moved.

For various reasons, Kyle hadn’t put the creature into a deep sleep. Now, likely triggered by the scent of dragon blood, it was slithering out of the cave.

Fifty feet long and thicker than a barrel, its sheer presence was overwhelming—though the velvet cloth draped over its eyes did undercut the menace slightly, adding an odd touch of humor.

The Basilisk began licking the dragon blood from the ground—an act that immediately enraged the two Horntails in the sky.

The one Kyle had brought back from the reserve dived down first, unleashing a blast of fire straight at the Basilisk’s head.

The larger Horntail seemed ready to assist, but halfway there, it suddenly veered off and fled the scene.

“It saw us,” Newt said with a laugh. “It knows there’s no point to the fight now. The Basilisk gave it the perfect excuse to retreat.”

“How about we trade?” Kyle asked hopefully.

Newt just smiled and didn’t answer.

Meanwhile, the fight between the Horntail and the Basilisk ended just as quickly as it had begun.

Though the Horntail had the advantage of flight, it was still just eight months old. It had charged down recklessly, hoping to land a heavy blow with its tail—only to have its wing clamped in the Basilisk’s jaws.

And the Basilisk, of course, had venomous fangs.

Kyle froze, ready to intervene, but seeing Newt still standing calmly in place, he hesitated and stopped.

The Horntail swayed like a drunk in midair, then crashed to the ground.

Only then did Newt finally raise his wand and give it a firm flick.

A thick wall of earth suddenly rose up, blocking the Basilisk just as it lunged in to swallow the Horntail whole. The snake was then forcibly pushed back into the cave. The earth wall sealed the entrance, and no matter how it rammed or thrashed, it couldn’t get out.

“Perfect,” Newt said with relief. “Don’t worry—the Basilisk’s venom won’t kill a dragon, but it will knock it out. Much more effective than a Stunning Spell.”

“I’m not worried about the Horntail,” Kyle muttered, frowning. “I just don’t get what you’re trying to do.”

“Remember what I said? Dragons and Basilisks are mortal enemies,” Newt reminded him.

Kyle nodded.

“Well, that’s the reason,” Newt continued. “With a temperament like this Horntail’s, today’s defeat will be a humiliation. From now on, it’s likely to be fixated on the Basilisk—and that’s exactly how you’ll be able to control it.”

“Because the dragon can understand you, and you can command the Basilisk. As for how to maintain a delicate balance between them… you’ll have a few days to figure that out.”

A violent Horntail and a Basilisk… a delicate balance?

Kyle frowned. “You didn’t just come up with this, did you?”

“When I saw you pull out that magical contract,” Newt admitted. “Actually, Drols has been fretting about this for ages. He’s written to me more than once asking if I’d take the Horntail, but I always turned him down. Like I said, I don’t have the energy for another Horntail.”

“But you’re different. With the Basilisk, it’s like you already have a leash. And right now, that Hungarian Horntail could be the most powerful ally you’ve got.”