With Flitwick's enthusiasm and Lupin's calm oversight, we began organizing the students into their teams. Seven per group, one student from each year. It took only a few minutes to explain the logic behind it, but I could see understanding dawn in their eyes as I spoke. Raw power was meaningless without coordination, and experience mattered just as much as creativity. The youngest students would learn from the older ones, and the older ones would be forced to adapt instead of relying on brute spellcasting.
Balanced teams. Real combat conditions.
As I called the first group forward, they stepped out from the crowd with a mix of nerves and excitement written plainly on their faces. Some straightened their backs, others swallowed hard, but none of them hesitated long enough to embarrass themselves. That alone earned them my respect.
They stopped several meters from the dragon, close enough to feel the heat radiating from its breath. The Welsh Green shifted lazily, claws scraping against the stone, its head lowering just slightly as its slit pupils focused on them.
Good. Fear sharpens the mind.
I turned to the first student.
"Ms. Greengrass," I said.
Astoria straightened instantly.
"You will focus on distraction. Sparks, flashes, anything bright. Aim for the eyes. Do not try to overpower it, just keep its attention divided."
She nodded, jaw set, eyes narrowing as she studied the dragon's movements. I could already see her calculating angles and timing rather than panicking. Promising.
"Mr. Creevey. Mr. Goldstein."
Colin nearly jumped when I said his name, but Anthony gave a sharp nod, already composed.
"You two will handle defensive support. Flame-Freezing Charm whenever necessary, especially if one of your teammates misjudges distance or timing. You will also assist Ms. Greengrass with distractions if the opportunity presents itself."
Colin swallowed, then nodded enthusiastically. Anthony mirrored the motion, wand already half-raised as if rehearsing the incantation in his head.
"Miss Edgecomb. Mr. Diggory."
Marietta shifted her grip on her wand, while Cedric stood calm and focused, shoulders relaxed.
"You will alternate between Shield Charms and Stunning Spells. Keep your shields angled, not static. The goal is to redirect force, not absorb it. Coordinate with each other and do not waste magic."
Cedric inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. Marietta nodded, her expression serious.
I turned to the last pair.
"Ms. Haywood. Mr. Wood."
Beatrice and Oliver perked up immediately.
"You'll be using Transfiguration. Physical barriers, sudden obstructions, false targets, anything that can slow or misdirect the dragon. You are also cleared to use Stunning Charms in coordination with Miss Edgecomb and Mr. Diggory if an opening presents itself."
I let my gaze sweep across all seven of them.
"These are suggestions, not rigid orders," I added. "Combat rarely follows neat instructions. Adapt. Communicate. Think."
The dragon let out a low rumble, smoke curling from its nostrils as if impatient with the delay.
"Since you're the first group, you will be given five minutes to plan."
They immediately pulled together into a tight circle, voices dropping as they began whispering rapidly. I could see Cedric naturally taking on a coordinating role without asserting dominance, with Oliver offering insight from time to time, while Astoria sketched shapes in the air with her wand tip, clearly visualizing movement patterns. Anthony listened more than he spoke, but when he did, the others leaned in to hear him, which told me all I needed to know about their dynamic.
Flitwick hovered closer, eyes sparkling.
"They're actually thinking," he murmured approvingly.
"As they should," I replied. "A dragon doesn't care how many textbooks you've memorized."
Behind us, McGonagall watched silently, arms crossed, her gaze sharp. Lupin's expression was more difficult to read, but I caught the faintest hint of a smile.
Five minutes passed quickly.
I raised my staff once, sharply.
"Positions."
The students broke apart and moved with purpose, spreading out exactly as they had discussed. The Welsh Green lifted its head fully now, wings flexing, tail swaying with slow, dangerous intent.
I felt the familiar thrill settle into my chest.
This was where lessons stopped being theoretical.
This was where they learned what fighting truly meant.
…
The moment I lowered my staff, the fight began in earnest.
Astoria moved first, exactly as instructed. A sharp flick of her wand sent a burst of blinding silver sparks straight toward the dragon's eyes. Colin and Anthony followed immediately, their spells overlapping into a dazzling spray of light that forced the Welsh Green to recoil, head jerking back as it let out an irritated roar.
Good. Pressure from the start.
Using that opening, the other four struck together. Stunning spells slammed into the dragon's chest and neck in rapid succession, flashes of red rippling across its scales. The creature staggered, claws scraping loudly against the stone floor as its balance wavered. It shook its head, clearly dazed, but not nearly enough to bring it down.
"Again!" Cedric shouted.
They sent another round of stunners but the dragon evaded most of them and only one connected.
Seeing they didn't have time for another round, Oliver raised his wand with a grunt of effort and conjured the largest chunks of stone he could manage. The rocks landed in front of the group with a thudding sound. Beatrice reacted instantly, her transfiguration snapping into place as she reshaped the rough stone into thick, uneven walls.
They dove behind the newly formed barriers just as the dragon inhaled.
A concentrated beam of fire erupted from its jaws, slamming into the stone like a battering ram. Heat washed over the students in a punishing wave, the walls glowing faintly as cracks spidered across their surface.
I saw Colin and Anthony exchange a single look before acting.
Blue-white magic rippled across the walls, instantly dulling the heat and stopping the stone from softening any further. Steam hissed into the air as the temperature dropped, and the students behind the barrier let out shaky breaths.
Cedric didn't waste the moment.
He conjured a flock of birds, sending them spiraling toward the dragon in a chaotic cloud of wings and feathers. For a split second, the creature hesitated.
Then it incinerated them.
The birds vanished in a flash of fire and ash, drawing a collective gasp from the watching students.
I felt McGonagall step closer beside me.
"Mr. Lockhart," she said quietly, eyes never leaving the battle, "how exactly do you intend to prevent serious injury?"
I smiled, keeping my voice low. "The dragon has autonomy, yes, but it is still my creation."
I raised my staff slightly. "I can assume full control whenever I wish."
With a smooth motion, I twisted my wrist.
The dragon responded instantly. Its wings unfurled with a powerful snap, and with a heavy downward beat it lifted off the ground, hovering several meters in the air. The sudden change sent the students into immediate panic.
"It's flying!" someone yelled.
Fire rained down from above.
The four older students reacted on instinct, throwing up Shield Charms as they dove aside, rolling across the stone floor. The shields flared brightly, deflecting the worst of the flames.
But the younger students weren't fast enough, and they couldn't use the Shield Charm.
For a heartbeat, it looked like an imminent disaster.
Then the dragon veered sharply, and instead of breathing fire, it dove.
Oliver barely had time to yelp before the dragon landed on him, pinning him gently but firmly to the ground with one massive forelimb. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.
Instead of pain, he felt something wet and warm across his face.
The dragon licked him.
Laughter erupted from the sidelines, breaking the tension instantly.
I stepped forward. "Mr. Wood, you're out."
Oliver wiped his face, half-laughing, half-groaning as he scrambled to his feet and retreated.
I looked at the remaining students. "The rest of you," I asked calmly, "do you wish to continue?"
They exchanged glances, fear still evident, but now tempered by understanding. One by one, they nodded.
They fought on.
In the end, the dragon proved too much for them. Coordination faltered, spells slowed, and exhaustion crept in. But they held their ground for nearly ten full minutes, adapting, communicating, and refusing to panic.
When I finally called the match, the students were panting, robes scorched in places, hair singed, and knees bruised from falls.
But they were smiling.
No serious injuries. No burns or broken bones.
McGonagall watched the aftermath for a long moment before turning to me.
"Well done," she said crisply. "Carry on."
Then she swept out of the Hall, already focused on whatever pressing duty awaited her.
I watched the students regroup, laughter mixing with exhausted pride, and felt a quiet satisfaction settle in my chest.
They hadn't beaten the dragon.
But they had learned how to face one.
…
The rest of the day followed the same rhythm.
Group after group stepped forward, nerves gradually giving way to determination as word spread that the dragon, terrifying as it looked, was not there to kill them. Each team approached the fight differently. Some relied heavily on shields and coordination, others leaned into transfiguration and clever terrain control, and a few tried reckless, overly ambitious strategies that collapsed within minutes.
I corrected where needed, offered short advice between rounds, and occasionally adjusted the dragon's behavior to force them out of predictable patterns. After all, a dragon that always attacked the same way taught nothing.
By midday, the Great Hall was buzzing with energy.
We broke for lunch, benches appearing as if by magic and food arriving in abundance. I announced that anyone who had already fought was free to leave and enjoy the rest of their Saturday, but not a single student moved.
Some exchanged looks, some laughed awkwardly, but they all stayed put, replaying their fights, arguing over tactics, sketching plans on scraps of parchment, and pointing excitedly at the dragon as if it were a puzzle they were determined to solve.
That alone told me everything I needed to know.
The afternoon fights were sharper. Students communicated faster, adapted quicker, and stopped panicking when the dragon roared or took to the air. Spells were timed better, formations tighter. Mistakes still happened, but fewer of them were born of fear.
By the end of the day, three groups managed to bring the dragon down.
Not through brute force, but through coordination, layered shields, repeated stunning spells, clever use of terrain, and relentless pressure. Even then, it was only possible because the space limited the dragon's mobility, and because I was holding it back from truly unleashing its full strength.
They were exhausted. Dirty. Hoarse from shouting spells.
And glowing with pride.
As the final group helped each other to their feet and the dragon dissolved back into its figurine form, the Great Hall filled with applause, not from me or the professors, but from the students themselves.
They hadn't just learned how to fight a dragon.
They had learned how to trust each other.
And that lesson, I knew, would matter far more than any spell.
…