Chapter 18
Moody stood at the door of the Bones estate, his magical eye spinning wildly as it scanned the battlefield like it was inspecting the lunch menu at the Leaky Cauldron. His normal eye, on the other hand, was as grim as ever. The quiet night had returned, but the ground still bore the evidence of what had gone down. And by “evidence,” I mean scattered Death Eaters who had a very bad day courtesy of Harry and Drakor.
“Amelia,” Moody said, his voice gravelly, like someone who gargled nails for fun. “We need to be careful. The Ministry finding out exactly what happened here? Bad news for all of us.”
Amelia Bones, standing tall with her ‘don’t mess with me’ aura, gave a firm nod. “Agreed. The last thing we need is Scrimgeour sniffing around.”
Moody, in full clean-up mode, started working his magic—literally. His wand flicked, muttering incantations that only the most paranoid of aurors probably had memorized. The battle scene shifted, the telltale signs of Drakor’s... unique combat style were erased like they’d never been there. Blood? Gone. Bodies? Transfigured into your run-of-the-mill, died-from-a-hex Death Eaters. Basically, it was like turning a Quentin Tarantino movie into a Hallmark special.
Inside the Bones’ living room, things were a little less… intense. Amelia, Remus, and Sirius watched the scene unfold in front of them with the kind of bemusement that only comes after surviving yet another near-death experience. Susan and Mipsy, the family’s house-elf, were fussing over Harry and Drakor, who were both still riding the high of their “we just took down a bunch of Death Eaters” moment. Chocolate treats—bars, truffles, you name it—were laid out in front of them, like it was Christmas morning.
Remus shook his head, a smile twitching at his lips. “You know, Moody’s right. We can’t let the Ministry catch wind of this. Otherwise, the Prophet’s going to have a field day.”
Sirius, leaning against the wall with his signature grin, chimed in. “Oh, I can see the headline now: ‘Boy Who Lived and His Dragon Pal Eat Death Eaters for Breakfast.’ Not exactly what we need right now.”
Amelia, despite everything, managed a smirk. “Well, at least Drakor’s hooked on chocolate and not… brains.”
Sirius snorted. “Honestly, as long as it’s Death Eater brains, I’m not complaining. But yeah, let’s keep him on the sweets, shall we?”
Remus added, deadpan as ever, “Not sure how nutritious Death Eater brains are, anyway.”
Laughter bubbled up between them, the kind that felt a little like relief after a long, rough day. Outside, Moody was wrapping up his masterpiece of deception. He stood back to inspect his work, looking like a proud dad at a science fair.
“All done,” he grunted, stomping back inside. “No one’ll know what really happened here.”
Amelia met his gaze, genuine gratitude in her expression. “Thanks, Alastor. We couldn’t have done this without you.”
Moody waved it off, grumbling like a guy who secretly loved the attention but wasn’t about to admit it. “Just doing what had to be done. Now, let’s make sure no one starts blabbing. We don’t need this blowing up.”
As everyone settled back, the weight of the night still hung over them. But amidst all the seriousness, there was Harry and Drakor, chowing down on a mountain of chocolate, completely unfazed. If there was one thing to be grateful for, it was that even in the darkest times, there was still room for a little sweetness.
And hey, if Harry’s biggest worry at the moment was a potential sugar crash, they’d take it.
—-
Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of the Bones estate, filling the room where Harry lay with an almost obnoxiously cheerful glow. He groaned and sat up, stretching, only to freeze mid-yawn.
Wait a second—did he feel stronger? Like, "could bench-press-a-troll" stronger? He flexed experimentally and felt an unfamiliar surge of energy ripple through his muscles. Oh, yeah. That was new. He wasn't just awake; he was supercharged.
At the foot of the bed, Drakor lay coiled like the world's most terrifying yet oddly cute pet dragon-slash-symbiote, his sleek black form shimmering slightly. The events of last night slammed into Harry like a rogue bludger, and he couldn’t help but feel both amazed and mildly horrified. Sure, the whole "teaming up with Drakor to annihilate Death Eaters" thing had been effective, but still... intense.
You're welcome, Drakor’s voice slithered into Harry’s mind, smug as ever. I did most of the heavy lifting, just so we're clear.
Harry rolled his eyes. Right, because biting people’s heads off totally counts as a team effort.
Exactly, Drakor replied, all innocence. And the part where I didn’t eat them all? That was for your benefit. See? I'm considerate.
Shaking his head in amusement, Harry got out of bed and realized something else—no aches, no stiffness, nothing. He felt great. Energized. Like he’d just chugged a few bottles of Felix Felicis. As he made his way downstairs, the conversation in his head continued.
Feeling strong, aren't we? Drakor chimed in, his tone almost sing-song. That’s the beauty of our bond, partner. You're not just Harry anymore—you're awesome Harry.
And humble, too, Harry shot back mentally, though he couldn’t deny it. Something had definitely changed. He felt more… alive.
Downstairs, the usual suspects were already gathered, lounging around the breakfast table. Sirius was the first to spot him.
"Morning, Harry," he said, grinning like the cat who ate the canary—and then probably framed the dog for it. "You look like you slept in a vat of Pepperup Potion."
Harry blinked, still adjusting to this newfound vitality. "Yeah, I feel... different. Stronger."
Amelia Bones, who had a “don’t even think about messing with me” vibe, looked up from her seat, her expression thoughtful. "The bond with Drakor might be enhancing your physical abilities. Symbiotic relationships can do that."
See? Drakor practically purred in his head. I'm the gift that keeps on giving. Like a chocolate frog—if chocolate frogs made you awesome.
Remus, now pouring himself a cup of tea like the cool, collected professor he always was, nodded. "You’ve always been strong, Harry, but with Drakor, it seems like your strength is being amplified."
Harry sat down at the table, and immediately, his appetite kicked into overdrive. He piled his plate high with food and started wolfing it down. Apparently, this new power came with a side order of hunger.
Careful, champ. You eat too much, and I might have to roll you to the next battle, Drakor teased, though Harry could feel his underlying pride.
Susan and Mipsy, the house-elf, joined the group, both clearly relieved to see Harry looking so, well… alive.
"I'm glad you're feeling better," Susan said warmly, her smile genuine. "Last night was... intense."
Harry nodded, swallowing a mouthful of bacon. "Yeah, but we did what we had to do."
Sirius leaned back, his usual mischief tempered with a hint of pride. "You handled yourself well, Harry. I’m impressed. You’re starting to remind me of—well, me."
Oh, joy, Drakor quipped. More ego in the room.
Harry stifled a grin, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie despite the chaotic events of the night before. As intense as things had been, he knew he wasn’t in this fight alone. He had Sirius, Remus, and Amelia. He had friends. He had family.
And you’ve got me, Drakor added with a mental wink. Aren’t you lucky?
Oh, definitely, Harry replied with a mental eye-roll. So lucky.
But even as they bantered, Harry felt a deeper bond solidifying between them. He knew that whatever challenges came next—whether it was Voldemort, Death Eaters, or, Merlin forbid, a particularly bad batch of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans—he wouldn’t be facing them alone.
And if the world wasn’t ready for the unstoppable team of Harry and Drakor? Well, too bad for the world.
Let’s just make sure you don’t mess this up, Drakor’s voice echoed playfully in his head.
Me? Mess up? Harry shot back, grinning to himself. Never.
As the group continued their breakfast, laughing and trading stories, Harry felt a strange but welcome sense of normalcy returning. Well, as normal as things could get when your best friend was a symbiote dragon with a sugar addiction and a habit of eating Death Eaters for breakfast. Literally.
It’s the little things, Drakor thought happily, probably dreaming of his next chocolate feast.
—-
After breakfast, Sirius stood up, brushing crumbs off his robes with a dramatic flourish. “Right,” he declared. “Time to find Bill Weasley.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow from behind her teacup. “Good luck, Sirius. Bill’s expertise could be the difference between life and, well, something much worse.”
Sirius grinned, the kind of grin that said I'm not worried, but maybe I should be. “Yeah, let's hope he's as good as they say.” He threw a wink at Harry before heading out the door like some kind of magical action hero on a mission.
The bustling streets of Diagon Alley felt like a completely different world from the quiet, cozy atmosphere of the Bones estate. Sirius, a man on a mission, dodged through the crowd like he had somewhere really important to be, which, let’s face it, he did. His target: Gringotts, the giant white building that looked like it was designed by someone who wanted to remind everyone just how much gold they didn’t have.
Sirius strode inside, where the air was noticeably cooler and filled with that constant ching-ching of coins that always made people either smile or cry. He walked up to the front desk, where a goblin was giving him the kind of look that said, “I know you don’t have any money to deposit.”
“Good morning,” Sirius said, giving the goblin a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m looking for Bill Weasley. Is he available?”
The goblin, clearly unimpressed, flicked through some kind of ledger with sharp claws. “Curse-breaking department. I’ll have someone fetch him.”
“Thanks,” Sirius replied, as the goblin wandered off, leaving Sirius alone to admire the décor. (Spoiler: it was mostly piles of gold and goblins that looked like they didn’t trust anyone.)
After what felt like a very long minute, a tall, red-haired wizard finally appeared, his face lighting up in pleasant surprise.
“Are you Bill Weasley?” Sirius asked, even though he already knew the answer. I mean, how many redheads could there possibly be in a family?
“That’s me,” Bill said, shaking Sirius’s hand with a grin. “What’s up?”
Sirius went for the dramatic intro, because why not? “Sirius Black. Harry Potter’s godfather.”
Bill’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Right! Fred and George mentioned you. Something about a party and fireworks?”
Sirius laughed. “Yeah, they did well with those. But I’m here for something more serious. I need your help with a... delicate situation. Dark magic. Very dark.”
The mood shifted faster than you could say "Voldemort." Bill’s easy smile faded, replaced by a frown. “Dark magic, huh? Let’s find somewhere more private to talk.”
Bill led Sirius through Gringotts, past a few suspicious-looking goblins who gave them the side-eye, and into a small, secure room. It was the kind of place you’d use if you didn’t want to be overheard plotting, say, how to break into the most cursed objects ever.
Sirius wasted no time. “We know where two of Voldemort’s Horcruxes are—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bill interrupted, his eyes widening. “Horcruxes? Like, actual pieces of Voldemort’s soul?”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, grimacing. “And they’re protected by some really nasty curses. We need someone who knows how to get past them. Someone like you.”
Bill leaned back in his chair, processing that bit of information. “Well, that’s... horrifying. But also, kind of what I do. I mean, not the soul-pieces part—that’s new—but yeah, curses are my thing.”
Sirius’s relief was palpable. “So you’ll help?”
Bill nodded, though the serious expression didn’t leave his face. “I’ll help. But you’ve got to know, Sirius, these curses? They’re not your everyday, garden-variety hexes. These are designed to protect something Voldemort considered more important than, I dunno, his hairline.”
“I figured,” Sirius said. “But we’ve got no choice. We have to destroy them before Voldemort gets any stronger.”
“Fair point,” Bill agreed, standing up. “Let’s get started then. The sooner we deal with these, the better.”
As they left Gringotts, the weight of their mission hung over them like one of those storm clouds that always seem to pop up during dramatic moments in movies. But despite the looming danger, Sirius felt a spark of hope. With Bill on their side, the odds didn’t seem quite as impossible.
Sure, they were still up against deadly curses and pieces of Voldemort’s soul, but hey—at least they weren’t doing it alone. And that had to count for something, right?
—
Amelia stepped into Moody’s office, where the atmosphere could only be described as grumpy old warlock meets eternal bad mood. Moody was pacing back and forth like he was in a race against his own paranoia, his magical eye swiveling in every direction except the one he was walking in.
"Amelia," he greeted, giving a nod like this was just another casual day of not covering up a massive magical incident. "Glad you could make it. We need to get this report done quickly and carefully."
Ah yes, “carefully.” Otherwise known as let’s make sure no one knows just how much of a mess this really was.
Amelia nodded, her expression the picture of Ministry professionalism, even if her brain was screaming, Let’s not get fired today. "Agreed. We can't afford any missteps with this."
So, the two of them got down to work, which mostly involved trying to take a night full of chaos, magic, and a Death Eater party that no one was invited to, and turn it into something that could be handed over to the higher-ups without sending alarm bells through the whole Ministry. You know, just an average Tuesday.
They drafted a report that would’ve made a historian cry: all the right details, none of the dangerous ones. They mentioned “standard defensive spells”—because, obviously, that’s all anyone uses when a Death Eater shows up on your front lawn—and definitely downplayed the part where Harry Potter and a massive dragon got involved. Because who wouldn’t want to forget about that?
As they worked, Moody’s magical eye spun around the room like a caffeinated owl, constantly checking for any signs of eavesdropping. Not that anyone in their right mind would want to eavesdrop on this mess. Amelia’s quill scratched across the parchment with the precision of someone who’d been through a hundred Ministry crises—and maybe even caused a few.
By the time they finished, the report read like a charming bedtime story for paranoid wizards. Nothing too scary, just the good old-fashioned heroics of Death Eaters getting defeated by basic defensive magic. No dragons, no Harry pulling off miracles.
Moody grunted as he sealed the document with a thud. "That should do it," he said, sounding like he’d just wrestled a dragon himself (ironic, given the circumstances). "Now, we just have to hope it holds up under scrutiny."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "We did what we had to do. Let’s hope it’s enough."
As they parted ways, Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still off. There’s nothing like playing a high-stakes game of "hide the truth" with the Ministry to give you that lingering sense of dread. Sure, the report was spotless—too spotless—but sometimes you had to brush a few facts under the rug when that rug was basically covering a ticking time bomb.
She sighed as she left the office. In the world of magical politics, the truth wasn’t always the best spell in your arsenal.
—-
Sirius and Bill arrived at the Gaunt shack, a place that screamed bad things happen here. The shack looked like it had given up on life years ago, sagging into the ground like it was trying to hide from the world. Around them, the countryside was actually pretty nice—too nice, in fact. The shack was like that one creepy house on the block everyone avoided. The air was thick with old, leftover dark magic, and it felt like the place was daring them to come closer.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Bill muttered, glancing around like he expected Voldemort himself to pop out of a bush. “I can feel the dark magic from here.”
Sirius nodded, grim as ever. “It’s not going to be easy. Voldemort wouldn’t have left his Horcruxes lying around with a ‘Free to Take’ sign.”
They approached the shack cautiously, wands at the ready, like they were auditioning for a horror movie. The air buzzed with bad vibes, and Sirius could practically hear the soundtrack in his head going dum-dum-dum. Bill held up his hand, signaling for Sirius to stop, because of course, they couldn't just waltz in.
“Wait,” Bill whispered, as if the shack could hear him. “There are wards—powerful ones. We need to dismantle them carefully, or else we’re looking at a very bad day.”
Sirius watched as Bill went to work, his wand moving like a conductor at a concert only he could hear. The air around them crackled with energy as Bill muttered incantations, unraveling whatever nasty surprises Voldemort had left behind.
“It’s layered with traps,” Bill explained, because apparently Voldemort was the kind of guy who loved booby-trapping his hideouts like a twisted version of Home Alone. “But I think... there, that should do it.”
With a final flick of his wand, Bill stepped back. “The wards are down. We can go inside, but, you know, let’s not get too comfortable.”
Sirius nodded and pushed open the door. The inside was just as charming as the outside—if you were into broken furniture and windows that hadn’t been cleaned since Merlin’s time. The whole place felt like it had a permanent storm cloud hanging over it.
“There,” Bill pointed to a compartment hidden in the floor. “The ring should be in there.”
Sirius approached cautiously, wand raised. “I’ll open it. Be ready.”
Bill’s wand was already up, and Sirius carefully lifted the floorboard. Beneath it, tucked away like it was Voldemort’s secret stash of evil jewelry, lay Marvolo Gaunt’s ring. It didn’t sparkle in the fun, ‘ooh, shiny!’ kind of way—no, this thing glowed with an ominous, you’re probably going to regret touching this kind of energy.
Sirius felt a strange pull toward it, like a voice whispering in his head, Go ahead, try it on, what’s the worst that could happen? His hand trembled as he reached for the ring.
“Stop!” Bill’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and urgent. He grabbed Sirius’s wrist just before his fingers could make contact. “That thing’s cursed! Put it on, and you’ll end up looking like a petrified toad.”
Sirius blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he’d fallen into. “Thanks, Bill. I don’t know what came over me.”
Bill didn’t let go of Sirius’s wrist until he was sure Sirius was back to his usual, non-curse-attracted self. “Dark objects like this are designed to mess with your head. Let’s not give it the satisfaction.” He turned back to the ring, his expression all business. “We need to break the curse before we can even think about moving it.”
Bill got back to work, casting a series of intricate spells, each one more complicated than the last. Sirius watched, impressed and grateful that he didn’t have to be the one dealing with the cursed jewelry. The air buzzed with tension, the dark magic fighting back like it didn’t want to be kicked out of its home.
Minutes dragged by, feeling more like hours. Finally, Bill gave a triumphant flick of his wand. There was a soft pop—like a balloon deflating, if that balloon was filled with seriously bad mojo—and the oppressive aura around the ring disappeared. It just sat there, looking oddly harmless now.
Bill wiped his brow, clearly exhausted but satisfied. “That’s it. Curse broken.”
Sirius let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “You did it, Bill. And, uh, good thing too, because I was this close to making a really bad fashion choice.”
Bill carefully lifted the ring with a pair of enchanted tweezers, like he was handling a live bomb. He dropped it into a small, heavily warded box designed for storing dark objects. “We need to destroy this thing. Fast.”
Sirius nodded. “We’ve got a plan for that. Let’s get it back to the others.”
With one Horcrux down, they made their way back to the Bones estate. Sirius felt a surge of relief, but also knew this was just the beginning. There were still more Horcruxes out there, and the real fight was just getting started. Great, Sirius thought, because I definitely didn’t have enough excitement in my life.
—
Back at the Bones estate, the atmosphere was a mix of relief and anticipation. Amelia, Remus, and Harry were all waiting with bated breath, and their faces lit up as soon as they spotted Sirius and Bill approaching.
"So, did you manage to snag the ring?" Remus asked, trying to mask his nervousness with casual curiosity.
Sirius held up the enchanted box like a prized trophy. "You bet we did. The curse is shattered, thanks to Bill here."
Amelia let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. "One step closer to taking down Voldemort."
Harry turned to Bill, his expression a blend of gratitude and respect. "Thanks for the save, Bill. We couldn’t have done it without you."
Bill grinned modestly. "Just another day in the life of a curse-breaker. And hey, it’s nice to finally meet you, Harry."
Harry gave him a nod. “Good to meet you too. Now, let’s get on with destroying these Horcruxes.”
Sirius raised a cautionary hand, his tone taking on a mock-serious note. "Before we dive into anything else, Bill, brace yourself. Don’t freak out."
Bill raised an eyebrow. "Freak out? Sounds intriguing. Go on."
Sirius stepped aside, and Harry’s face grew serious. "Drakor," he said softly.
The moment Harry spoke the name, Drakor began to separate from him. Bill’s eyes widened as the black, fluid-like substance shifted and grew, morphing into a humanoid form with a draconic head, massive wings, and a flashy red and gold symbol on its chest.
Drakor struck a pose, his wings fanning out dramatically. “Ta-da! Meet Drakor, your friendly neighborhood symbiote dragon. You might want to sit down for this.”
Bill looked like he’d seen a ghost, but managed to maintain his composure. "Uh, right. Didn’t see that coming. But if you’re here to help, I guess we’ll take it."
Drakor gave a slight bow, his voice rumbling with a playful edge. “Absolutely! I’m here to kick dark magic’s butt and maybe have some fun while I’m at it.”
Drakor then turned his attention to the stone embedded in the ring. His eyes—glowing with an almost cartoonish wonder—went wide. “Guys, guess what? This isn’t just any old rock. It’s the Resurrection Stone!”
Bill’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “The Resurrection Stone? Are you serious?”
Drakor nodded, looking every bit the proud show-off. “Yep, I’m certain. And that means we’ve got two out of the three Deathly Hallows in our hands!”
Bill’s brain seemed to be working overtime, processing the new information. “So, Voldemort hid one of the Hallows in his Horcrux, by accident or not. That’s... huge.”
Drakor chuckled internally, his thoughts bouncing with excitement. Oh boy, this is like stumbling upon a dragon’s hoard of treasure. Only, the treasure is magic and super deadly. Gotta love it.
Drakor’s mental voice cut through Harry’s thoughts, a blend of seriousness and mischief. Alright, kiddo, the Resurrection Stone’s a big deal. We should be careful. If Voldemort didn’t realize what he had, we’ve got an edge. And if anyone messes this up, it’s not going to be me!
Bill was lost in thought, but managed to speak. “So, we need to figure out if the stone can be separated from the Horcrux without triggering more curses.”
Remus chimed in, “If there’s a safe way to separate them, it might be worth looking into.”
Drakor’s mental voice was full of playful confidence. Oh, separating them sounds like a blast! But I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve, so don’t worry. Just don’t ask me to juggle flaming torches.
Bill gave a determined nod. “I’ll need some time to examine the ring properly. We can’t afford to make mistakes.”
Sirius chimed in, “Meanwhile, let’s focus on locating the Locket. We need to stay on top of this.”
Bill agreed. “Right, the Locket it is. And from the looks of it, we’re in for quite the challenge. If the Ring was this protected, the Locket won’t be any easier.”
Remus stepped forward, his expression set. “I’m coming along this time. We’ll need all hands on deck.”
Sirius smiled at the support. “Agreed. The more of us, the better.”
Bill gathered his curse-breaking tools with a mix of anticipation and seriousness. “Let’s gear up. The Locket will be a tough nut to crack, but we’ve got this.”
As they prepared to set off again, the weight of their mission loomed over them, but their collective resolve made the journey ahead seem a bit less daunting. With each step, they moved closer to their goal, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
—
After Remus, Sirius, and Bill had departed on their latest mission, Harry and Drakor retreated to their room at the Bones estate. Harry flopped down on the edge of the bed, while Drakor, in his adorably tiny dragon form, hopped up beside him.
“Drakor,” Harry began, his brow furrowed like he was trying to solve a particularly tricky riddle, “this morning was… different. I felt stronger. Do you have any idea why?”
Drakor’s eyes gleamed with the kind of mischief you’d expect from a dragon who’s just discovered a new toy. He tilted his head, thinking about how best to drop some mind-blowing knowledge. “Oh, I’ve got a theory. You see, by munching on the Death Eaters’ brains—don’t worry, I kept the seasoning to a minimum—I not only scarfed down some magical goodness but also absorbed their core abilities. Think of it as a magical buffet.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “So, you’re saying their magical essence got mixed up with mine?”
“Bingo!” Drakor said, his voice practically sparkling with excitement. “It’s like their magic did a little dance with yours and decided to stay. Your magical mojo just got an upgrade.”
Harry processed this with a mix of awe and a touch of unease. “Is that... safe?”
Drakor gave a reassuring flick of his tail. “Absolutely. It’s like absorbing raw magical energy without the whole ‘Hey, this could be dangerous’ warning. But there’s more! Remember the Cup? Hufflepuff’s Cup, that is?”
Harry nodded, a curious frown on his face. “Yeah? What about it?”
Drakor’s eyes sparkled with what could only be described as draconic glee. “That Cup had some pretty nifty magic. It’s known for being all about protection and healing. Guess what? Some of that magic is now part of our little symbiotic adventure.”
“So, you’re saying the Cup’s magic is now part of me too?” Harry asked, trying to wrap his head around the implications.
“Yep,” Drakor confirmed with a dramatic flourish. “The Cup’s magic is like an extra layer of awesomeness. You’re going to bounce back from injuries faster than a supercharged rubber ball.”
Harry furrowed his brow, considering this. “But don’t I already have those kinds of abilities because of our bond?”
Drakor nodded, as if explaining something obvious. “True, you do have enhanced abilities because of our partnership. But with the Cup’s magic in the mix, you’re going to be a bit more indestructible. More like a superhero with extra resilience.”
Harry’s expression softened into a grin. The thought of being even more formidable in battle was encouraging. The combination of Drakor’s power and the Cup’s magic was like having an ace up his sleeve.
Drakor’s mental voice buzzed with playful energy. Look at you, all pumped up with your new power! You’re practically glowing. Just don’t go all ‘I’m invincible’ on me. I like my host in one piece.
Harry chuckled, feeling reassured. “Thanks, Drakor. With this boost, we might actually stand a chance against Voldemort.”
Of course we do, Drakor replied with a mental wink. With me by your side and all this extra magic, we’re practically unstoppable. And hey, it’s nice to be appreciated. Makes all that brain-snacking worth it.
Harry shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He could feel the weight of their mission pressing on him, but with Drakor’s quirky companionship and their newfound strength, the road ahead seemed a little less daunting.