Chapter 170: Weaknesses and Strengths
Could it be that the wizarding war had escalated to the point where dragons were needed to settle the score?
At the front of the grassy field, Fatir continued to speak passionately.
"Dragons have occupied the top of the food chain for tens of thousands of years. Each species of dragon possesses unique abilities, but they also have their own weaknesses."
Pointing to a palm-sized blue-green baby dragon, he began:
"The Welsh Green, among all fire dragons, is the best at concealment—a true chameleon of the dragon world. It can become so invisible that you wouldn't notice it even if it were right beside you. However, it lacks strength, is slender in build, and doesn't fly particularly fast."
Then he gestured to a larger, brown-black baby dragon.
"The Hungarian Horntail—known for having the longest breath of all dragons. As adults, they can breathe fire up to fifty feet, and in extreme cases, even eighty feet. It's one of the larger dragon species. Almost no weaknesses—if I had to name one, its flight speed is average among dragons."
Hoffa glanced at the baby dragon, lazily sleeping with its eyes half-closed. Was this the opponent Harry would face in the future? It looked so tame now.
Fatir moved toward a plump baby dragon with a yellow-green hue, resembling a stone with a pig-like snout. It was sound asleep.
Drawing a sharp knife, Fatir slashed at the baby dragon's head. The students below gasped in shock, with some girls even covering their mouths.
But the plump dragon merely snorted lazily, puffing out some smoke, and didn't wake up at all.
"The Swedish Short-Snout, the most defensive dragon among them all, but naturally lazy and inactive."
As soon as he finished speaking, a young black dragon suddenly charged out, headbutting the sleeping Short-Snout out of its spot. Raising its head, it rubbed its horned head against Fatir's hand, either trying to curry favor or provocatively challenging him.
Fatir pushed the black dragon aside.
"The Hebridean Black, one of the native fire dragons of Britain, is the most aggressive of all dragons and the largest in size. It has immense strength but is relatively clumsy and not particularly intelligent."
Hoffa's eyes shifted to Fatir's face. This guy—his understanding of dragons was this extensive?
After introducing the larger baby dragons, Fatir moved to another table with smaller ones.
He pointed at a golden-bronze baby dragon with a black ridge running down its back.
"The Peruvian Vipertooth, the smallest of all fire dragons, but also the fastest in flight. Its fangs are venomous."
The Vipertooth darted around the table like lightning, knocking the other baby dragons into disarray, acting like a hyperactive child.
Fatir picked it up and tossed it onto another table with larger dragons.
Still as restless as ever, the Vipertooth caused chaos until the Short-Snout snorted, rolled over, and pinned it under its backside, immobilizing it. The Vipertooth squealed but eventually quieted down, even licking the Short-Snout's backside in submission.
The students below chuckled quietly.
Blowing out a smoke ring, Fatir explained:
"Dragons are highly social creatures and ultimate opportunists. Weaker dragons will attach themselves to stronger beings but will not truly submit.
When you are stronger, they will yield without hesitation. When you are weaker, they will devour you without mercy. To become a top-tier dragon tamer, you must understand their weaknesses."
He paused, then continued introducing other dragons.
"The Antipodean Opaleye, the most visually striking of fire dragons, is beautifully colorful but has venomous saliva carrying dragon pox. It's a stealthy and dangerous killer, though very small and weak."
Then he pointed at a fiery red baby dragon shimmering like glass.
"The Chinese Fireball—a rare breed. Its fire breath has the highest temperature among all dragons. In ancient times, Eastern alchemists used their fire to forge secret potions. However, flying is its weakness; under the influence of Eastern alchemy, its wings have largely degenerated."
Fatir paused and added,
"Since we're on the topic of the East, let me share something extra.
When it comes to dragon taming, Eastern alchemists have always been at the forefront. Their methods differ fundamentally from those in Europe. Eastern magic emphasizes taming the 'heart,' seeking unity between humans and nature, rather than simply subduing the physical body.
And what is the 'heart'? Every dragon tamer has their own answer. If possible, I hope you will discover your answer this year."
The students looked utterly confused. It was clear that Fatir's remarks on Eastern wizards left them scratching their heads.
Hoffa didn't quite understand either, though Miranda seemed deep in thought. She finally turned to Hoffa and asked,
"Aren't you part Eastern? Tell me, what is the 'heart'?"
Hoffa could only smile wryly. He had never been educated in traditional Eastern magic, and the original works never depicted Eastern wizards. How could he possibly know?
After Fatir finished introducing the dragons, the students grew restless. Some of the boys could barely contain their desire to interact with the baby dragons.
Noticing this, Fatir exhaled a smoke ring and said,
"These dragons have just hatched and are at their most fragile. They also require the most care. Each of you, choose a dragon you like and take care of it in the wild.
During this process, I will supervise and correct your actions. Remember, as you choose a dragon, the dragon is also choosing you. It will see through your weaknesses and attack them."
Before he finished speaking, the students swarmed to the table, whispering excitedly. The lure of the baby dragons made them forget Fatir's warning.
Hoffa was no exception. He was immensely curious about these creatures. He had been chased relentlessly by them at Heiltsburg, and now, if possible, he wanted to understand them better.
As he walked along the table, he paused by the Short-Snout. Finding the lazy creature rather cute, he reached out to touch it.
But the supposedly asleep Short-Snout suddenly rolled over, wide-eyed, as if seeing a ghost. It avoided his hand and even let out a small jet of dragon breath, leaving the air faintly smelling of sulfur.
Startled, Hoffa quickly withdrew his hand.
Hoffa moved to the side of another young Hungarian Horntail. Just as he was about to reach out his hand, the drowsy dragon sensed something. It snapped its jaws toward him, forcing Hoffa to quickly withdraw his hand.
The Horntail bit at empty air, then retreated rapidly, hiding behind the chubby Swedish Short-Snout. Its wary eyes stayed fixed on Hoffa.
Strange.
Hoffa had no choice but to move toward the Fireball Dragon.
Surely, as we share some Eastern heritage, this Fireball might accept me, right?
Yet, as soon as Hoffa approached, the little Fireball curled up tightly, exuding wariness. It snorted two jets of white smoke from its nostrils, and its entire body radiated intense heat.
The Fireball rejected him, too.
Hoffa wandered among the young dragons, attempting to make contact. But every single one, large or small, bolted the moment his hand got near. None of them was willing to accept him.
Before long, the other students had chosen all the dragons. Aglaia held a Welsh Green in her arms, while Miranda playfully toyed with a Peruvian Vipertooth, inspecting it with great interest. The Hungarian Horntail perched proudly atop Sherlock's head, its posture haughty and regal.
Every student had found a dragon they favored.
Except for Hoffa, who stood empty-handed.
Fatiel paid little attention to Hoffa's predicament. Seeing that most students had secured their dragons, he continued his lecture:
"In the wild, all dragons go through a phase of play before becoming predators. This period may seem trivial, but it is, in fact, the most crucial stage of their lives.
Play, more than learning, introduces unforeseen outcomes. Responding to these uncertainties shapes a predator's adaptability. The creatures that excel in the games of youth are the ones destined to become apex predators.
Dragons remain young for only about a year. During that time, they mature rapidly, eventually leaving their parents' care. Over the next year, I will—"
Fatiel paused, noticing a raised hand.
He frowned slightly. "Yes?"
Hoffa spoke, "I didn't manage to choose a dragon."
"What?"
Fatiel frowned deeper. The students who had picked dragons turned to Hoffa with puzzled looks.
"Every dragon refused me," Hoffa explained. "They all seemed... not to like me."
A murmur of low laughter spread among the crowd. Among them, Sherlock quipped mockingly, "Come on, hero! Show a little backbone!"
Her jest prompted some of the students to clap and jeer, but Hoffa felt irritation rising. This woman... haunting me like a shadow. Does she really think she's funny?
Though displeased, he didn't let it show. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on Fatiel.
Fatiel, noticing the boy's unease, raised a hand to quiet the students. He turned to Hoffa and asked, "Have you ever raised other dragons?"
Hoffa shook his head. "No."
"Curious..." Fatiel stepped closer, leaning in to sniff at Hoffa and then studying his eyes intently.
"You're the boy from that night?"
"It's me."
Fatiel let out a soft "oh" and shook his head. "If the dragons won't accept you, there's nothing I can do to teach you the rest of the course."
Hoffa licked his lips. "Why not?"
"Dragon taming is the art of dominion. If the young dragons reject you, it means you're unsuited to this path—or that you're not yet ready."
Silence fell. By now, the sky had turned completely dark. Hoffa glanced at the dragons around him, their eyes glimmering faintly in the dim light. A pang of unwillingness gnawed at him. After swimming over 50 kilometers, was this truly the result he was left with?
Fatiel looked at the darkening sky and sighed. "Go back, child. You have your own path to follow."
(End of Chapter)
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09