The Unforeseen Terror of the Great Hall
The morning light usually painted the Great Hall in a comforting gold.
E.g. ：Betrayal at the Altar: Elite Engagement Party Explodes as Mother-in-Law Exposes Groom's Secret Past.
- 1、The Unforeseen Terror of the Great Hall
- 2、A Serpent's Desperate Plea
- 3、The Whispers of a Forbidden Bond
- 4、Malfoy's Impossible Choice
- 5、The Shadow of Ancient Magic
- 6、A Secret Unveiled, A Future Undecided
Today, it reflected off splintered stone and fear-widened eyes.
A creature of nightmare, a colossal black dragon, tore through the high-arched ceilings.
Its scales gleamed like polished obsidian, impervious to the few desperate spells cast by panicked professors.
Roars, guttural and tormented, echoed through the hallowed space.
Students, from first-years to seventh-years, were flung aside like dolls.
The air thrummed with chaotic magic and the acrid scent of ozone.
Panic was a palpable entity, sweeping through the students faster than the dragon itself.
Professors, wand in hand, were attempting containment, their faces grim.
But this was no ordinary beast, nor was its rampage born of simple aggression.
Its movements were jerky, unnatural, as if driven by an unseen, agonizing force.
It was smashing, yes, but not with malice; it was flailing, suffering.
Its eyes, molten gold, were clouded with a pain that defied understanding.
Then, a flicker of movement near the shattered main doors caught the eye.
A figure, tall and slender, pushed through the fleeing students.
Draco Malfoy.
A Serpent's Desperate Plea
His usually pristine robes were disheveled, his silver-blonde hair falling across a sweat-streaked forehead.
His face was a mask of raw, visceral anguish.
His breathing was ragged, every inhale a desperate struggle.
This was not the sneering, arrogant Malfoy everyone knew.
This was a person teetering on the edge of a precipice.
He moved with an urgent, almost reckless speed, straight towards the heart of the chaos.
Teachers yelled for him to retreat, but he seemed not to hear.
His gaze was locked on the suffering creature, a desperate glint in his storm-grey eyes.
The dragon, sensing his approach, let out a particularly piercing shriek.
It thrashed, its tail carving a new canyon in the stone floor.
Malfoy flinched, not in fear of the beast, but in shared agony.
He stumbled, regaining his footing, his hand extended.
A faint, silvery aura began to emanate from his palm.
It was healing magic, of a type few had ever witnessed outside ancient texts.
He reached for the dragon, his voice cracking as he whispered a single, forbidden name.
"Obsidian."
The Whispers of a Forbidden Bond
The name hung in the air, a secret suddenly made terribly public.
Obsidian.
It was a name spoken only in hushed tones within the deepest, most shadowed corners of the Malfoy manor.
The Malfoy family, infamous for its dark arts affiliations, held a far more ancient and terrifying secret.
They were the hereditary wardens of the Shadow-Wyrms.
These creatures, thought extinct by most of the wizarding world, were bound to the Malfoys through a blood pact millennia old.
They were not pets, nor slaves, but ancient, powerful beings whose emotional states were profoundly linked to their wardens.
This particular wyrm, Obsidian, was young, barely a century old.
He was highly sensitive to raw, untamed magical energies.
His presence within the school was Malfoy’s most dangerous, most meticulously guarded secret.
Draco had discovered the young wyrm accidentally, years ago, hidden in a forgotten chamber beneath the Slytherin dungeons.
He had felt an immediate, inexplicable connection, a resonance deep within his own magically potent bloodline.
He had nurtured Obsidian in secret, teaching him, calming him, forming a bond that transcended even the ancient family pact.
The current rampage was not an act of aggression but a desperate, uncontrolled reaction to immense pain.
A newly unearthed artifact, a relic of primordial magic from Hogwarts’ deepest foundations, had been unknowingly activated.
Its raw, chaotic energy was seeping into the castle’s ancient ley lines.
These energies resonated directly with Obsidian’s sensitive magical core, twisting his magic, driving him mad with agony.
Malfoy's Impossible Choice
Draco had been attempting to shield Obsidian from the artifact’s influence for weeks.
He had tried to contain the creature, to find a way to silence the artifact’s destructive hum.
But Obsidian’s pain had become too great, his primal instincts overwhelming his discipline.
He had burst forth from his hidden lair, seeking to either destroy the source of his torment or absorb its chaotic power.
Either outcome would be catastrophic for Hogwarts.
As Draco’s hand made contact with Obsidian’s flaring snout, a surge of silver light erupted.
The dragon roared, not in protest, but a guttural cry of both agony and momentary relief.
Malfoy poured every ounce of his magic, his will, his very being into the healing spell.
His face contorted, sweat mixing with tears as the strain threatened to tear him apart.
He was not merely healing a wound; he was desperately trying to re-establish the psychic link, to soothe a mind driven to the brink.
He was risking exposure, expulsion, perhaps even Azkaban for harboring such a creature.
But in that moment, none of it mattered.
Only Obsidian.
