Chapter Five

‘I’d like to see you after class, Harri,’ Mr Davies had said one day. ‘I need to talk to you about your dragon.’

Harri was convinced that Mr Davies had found out that Tân was a real dragon and not a radio-controlled model.

It had all started when Mr Davies had set the class a creative challenge. He’d offered a bag of Dragon Gold for anyone who could make a dragon fly for more than ten seconds.

Ryan always won the school competitions — or rather his dad did. Ryan’s dad did everything for his son. This time he’d made a model of a Chinese J-20 Mighty Dragon Stealth Fighter Aircraft for Ryan to fly in the competition.

As Harri and Ryan both flew their dragons for more than ten seconds, they were joint winners. Harri was thrilled. It was the first time he had won anything. Even coming equal first seemed amazing. And it didn’t even matter that the bag of Dragon Gold was only chocolate money — he’d won!

But Harri had sort of cheated. Imelda had used magic to turn his dragon drawing into a real dragon … but making a model plane was kind of cheating too, wasn’t it? It wasn’t the kind of dragon Mr Davies had had in mind.

‘You know I dress up as an Ancient Briton at the weekends, Harri?’ he asked.

Harri rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. ‘Er, yes, sir.’

‘We-e-ell,’ he continued. ‘My tribe of Ancient Britons are called the Red Dragons, see? I was telling everyone about your wonderful dragon the other day, and we wondered if you might fly it as our emblem at the May Day Parade?’

‘Phee-e-e-w!’ Harri breathed a sigh of relief. Was that all? Then, moments later, fear clutched at him. Blood rushed to his head and the floor seemed to go a bit wobbly. He wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that Tân was a real dragon, not if the whole town was watching.

‘Er-er-er,’ he stammered, desperately trying to think of an excuse. ‘Er … it’s broken, sir!’ was all he could say.

‘That’s no problem.’ Mr Davies smiled. ‘There are lots of very clever people in the Red Dragons. We can help you to fix it. It would look wonderful to have our group of warriors being lead by a flying dragon!’

Mr Davies’ eyes glazed over as he imagined himself, the new Chief, leading his little army with a red dragon flying above them.

‘Er-er-er…’ Harri’s mind had gone into brain freeze mode. Why couldn’t he think of a good reason to say no? ‘Thank you, sir.’ It was like someone else had said it.

Harri left the room with Mr Davies staring into the distance, imagining the glories that waited for him and the Red Dragons on May Day.

Harri could hardly sleep that night. If some great, hairy, bearded Ancient Briton came to try and fix Tân, he was going to find out that Tân was real and didn’t need fixing at all.

Maybe he could train Tân well enough to behave himself at the parade?

The next day, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, Harri told Mr Davies he’d mended his dragon and it was flying again.

‘That’s wonderful news!’ Mr Davies cheered. ‘The May Day Parade is going to be fantastic! Thank you, Harri.’

And Mr Davies had been right. The crowds cheered as they marched past, waving their swords and banners, singing Ancient British marching songs, led by their dragon emblem flying high and proud above them.