The Dragon
Hermione is screaming. Ron is yelling hoarsely. A dragon is breathing blue-white fire, encasing the tent in altering states of sunny heat and arctic breeze.
Harry startles awake. For a disoriented moment, he thinks that he’s dreaming. The events of the previous day at Gringotts are presenting itself in a new situation, an impossible situation, wherein the dragon that they rescued has managed to return, to eat them for snacks, after all. He thinks about cursing Malfoy into next year because it was his stupid belief that they’re safe from her, that she is a warrior and wouldn’t harm them if they don’t raise their wands against her.
But then Hermione screams again and Harry knows he’s no longer dreaming. The burning on his skin is too real, the flashes of bright flames somewhere outside their tent are too real. Ron isn’t in his sleeping bag and neither is Hermione, which makes sense, he thinks, heart hammering inside his chest, it would make sense because they’re outside where Hermione is screaming and Ron is screaming and the dragon has returned.
He runs outside –
The gigantic white dragon from Gringotts is towering over them, her wings spread apart, nostrils flaring and sparks of sizzling blue-white fire scattering on the bank of the lake like haywire needles of hot lava. Wherever they touch the ground or the water, however, it freezes over, immediately melting when another spark flies under proximity, refreezing it all over again like a malfunctioning time-turner.
Hermione and Ron are cowering near the back of the tent. Harry joins them, having to yell to be heard over the dragon’s frantic behaviour.
“WHAT’S GOING ON?”
“WE DON’T KNOW!” Ron shouts. “WE TRIED TO STUN HER BUT IT DIDN’T WORK!”
Harry remembers when Charlie had to take assistance of at least half a dozen professional dragon-tamers to stun a smaller dragon.
“I’M GOING TO KILL MALFOY,” Ron declares as another spark drops a few feet away from them.
“NOT IF I DO IT FIRST!”
Another spark closely misses the tent.
“WHERE IS HE, ANYWAY?” Harry bellows, feeling his throat become hoarse.
“DON’T YOU SEE HIM?” Ron says incredulously. “HE’S RIGHT THERE – NEAR HER LEGS!”
Harry’s neck snaps in shock. Sure enough, he’s managed to miss Draco Malfoy, standing near the dragon’s legs, hands up in the air as though telling a person to calm down.
“IS HE MENTAL?”
The dragon suddenly stops. Harry’s words echo in the sudden silence.
Ron bursts into relieved laughter. Hermione is staring at the dragon with wide eyes. The dragon folds back her wings into her body, crouches low to pillow her large head on her front limbs. Malfoy moves aside in a haste to avoid being crushed.
And then Hermione whispers, sounding highly stressed the way she does before an exam. “We’re going to need bigger perimeters for concealment charms.”
“You tried to Stun her!” Malfoy is arguing for the umpteenth time. “She felt threatened!”
“What did you expect me to do?” Hermione says angrily. “A freaking dragon approaches early in the morning, the same one that we used to escape! Should I have offered her a cup of tea? Have a sit down and chat?”
Ron laughs.
“If she wanted to hurt us, she had every opportunity to do so yesterday,” Malfoy retaliates just as angrily. “And today morning! The moment you tried to Stun her, she could have killed you.”
“We still don’t know why she’s here,” Ron reminds them pointedly. “How did she find us, anyway? Hermione put up all the concealment charms.”
“Have you ever bothered to know what the concealment charms are for, Weasley?” Malfoy says scathingly. “I highly doubt one of them is undetectable against ancient reptiles.”
Harry has given up all pretence of trying to understand what’s going on. He thinks that, perhaps, it’s best to just go with the flow, accept information, however bizarre, at face value and deal with it.
“What if someone followed her?” Ron demands. “We might as well be surrounded right now.”
“The charms will hold against them,” Malfoy says impatiently. “And now that she’s under the charms as well, no one will be able to locate her.”
“Thanks to Hermione,” Ron says meaningfully.
Malfoy stares and then huffs. “Whatever.”
“So,” Harry rubs a hand across his face. “Not only am I a Horcrux, we also have a dragon?”
Malfoy twitches. “We don’t have a dragon, Potter. She’s just here for – for company. She might have gotten lonely, not knowing where others of her kind are.”
“You’re a weird bloke,” Ron realises and Hermione snorts.
“Sod off, Weasley.”
“If you love dragons so much,” Harry says, turning to Malfoy, “why did you report Hagrid’s dragon in First Year.”
Malfoy rolls his eyes. “Clearly to get you into trouble.” He pauses, then says, “Besides, did the Giant really believe he could raise a dragon in a goddamn hut?”
“Don’t call him that,” Harry says tiredly.
“Whatever the fuck.” Malfoy gets to his feet. “Let’s hope that she isn’t too pissed or I won’t be able to stop her from eating you three.”
“Malfoy, wait,” Hermione says quickly. Malfoy turns around. “What about her injuries? Is there anything we can do to heal her?”
“I don’t think so,” he replies. “It would take time to learn what works on dragons and what doesn’t. I’m not exactly a Being Healer, am I?”
“What in the bloody hell are we supposed to do with a full-grown dragon?” Ron says incredulously once Malfoy leaves.
“I know,” Hermione says. “We can’t even Apparate to a new location. Not if she intends to stick around.”
“I still don’t understand,” Ron adds. “Why is she here? Did she really look for us?”
“Merlin only knows,” Harry heaves a heavy sigh. “We didn’t exactly learn about dragons at Hogwarts. This is entirely unchartered territory.”
“Not to mention,” Ron continues, “that for some reason, Malfoy can handle her. I mean, she nearly took his head off this morning, but here we are. Alive and in one piece.”
“It’s almost like she’s attracted to him,” Hermione muses and Ron gives a disgusted look. “Come off it, Ronald! Magical creatures are very different than non-magical ones.”
“Are there any non-magical creatures?” Harry asks with interest. “Sirius was a large dog. Minerva turns into a cat. Snakes are everywhere, both in magical and muggle world.”
“Of course there are non-magical creatures, Harry,” Hermione says with exasperated fondness. “Not all birds are magical, for instance. Basilisk is clearly a magical serpent, but a typical garden snake is not. Sirius’ Animagus form was a reflection of his own personality; also, remember he wasn’t exactly a regular sized dog, either.”
“Right,” Harry mutters, blaming his sleep-deprived head for asking stupid questions. “Of course. So – a dragon. Do we know what breed she is?”
Ron shakes his head. “No clue. All I know is that white dragons were close to extinct a few times over the centuries. The goblins must have captured her a really long time ago.”
“Great.” He stands up, dusting his pants lightly. “Got any more food left? I’m starving.”
As it turns out, having a full-grown dragon in one’s backyard is quite something.
For starters, she sends a shard of blue-white ice tearing through the fabric of the tent early afternoon, missing Ron by inches. Harry sees the dragon peeping through the gaping hole at them, her yellow eyes narrowing to slits. Harry tries not to back away in fear. Malfoy approaches her, hands thrown up to show he’s not holding his wand, and then settles under her shade without a word. Hermione sieves up the tent with a flick of her wand after him.
When Harry asks about the obvious, Ron shrugs.
“No clue, mate. She was definitely breathing fire at Gringotts. This whole ice business is new.”
“Has Charlie ever mentioned any breed that does it?”
“Not really,” Ron says, thinking. “But then again – I tend to tune in and out whenever he goes into his dragon rants.”
“Let me see what I can find in my library,” Hermione says, spreading cheese on her slice of garlic bread.
“But it wasn’t entirely ice, was it?” Ron says, grabbing a large slice for himself. “Did you see the way it melted?”
“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “It’s like the stuff that comes out of her mouth is fire but then it turns to ice after a point. Wonder if she can directly breathe out ice.”
“Too bad we can’t keep her,” Ron says wisely. “It would have been cool to melt You-Know-Who’s face off. That can be considered beyond magical repair, can’t it?”
Harry and Hermione burst into laughter.
“How long do you reckon she’ll stay with us?” Harry ponders once they calm down from the rather amusing mental image. “No offense, but we can’t stick around for long just because she’s too lonely and wants company.”
“True,” Ron nods.
“I have a feeling she’s not going anywhere,” Hermione thins her lips. “Haven’t you two seen? She’s not here because we rescued her. She’s here because he rescued her.”
“So what?” Ron shakes his head. “She’s free to fly away, isn’t she? Why would she return to a dick wizard?”
“A dick wizard who removed her chains,” Hermione points out. “I don’t understand it, either. I’m just thinking if it’s similar to having a life debt among us. Wormtail owed you, Harry. Dumbledore said so. Which is why he couldn’t kill you at the Manor. What if she feels that she owes Malfoy something for rescuing her?”
Ron and Harry exchange similar looks of disbelief. A dragon owing Draco Malfoy a favour? Harry’s head reels just from the ridiculousness of it.
“It’s a huge debt, too, isn’t it?” Hermione continues. “She was chained and tortured for years, probably would have died there eventually. It’s not a direct life debt, but something close to it.”
Harry doesn’t respond, choosing to finish his meal instead. He gulps down his cold tea in one-go, preparing to take a walk along the lake when Ron suddenly cheers loudly.
“Beyond magical repair!” Ron breathes out, shooting to his feet. “What if dragonfire damages an object beyond magical repair?”
“Bloody hell, Ron,” Harry says excitedly. “We should give it a go, right? Hermione, what do you reckon?”
Hermione chews on her lips, doubtfully. “I don’t think it’ll work. Dragonfire isn’t exactly rare, is it?”
“So what?” Ron says. “That doesn’t mean it’s not powerful.”
“No, I mean it must have already been tested,” Hermione replies. “There was no mention of dragonfire being effective against Horcruxes.”
“But Hermione,” Harry says. “Horcruxes aren’t exactly your regular Dark magical objects, are they? Maybe they never had to test it against Horcruxes in the first place.”
“Let’s ask Malfoy,” Ron proposes. “In case he knows anything about dragonfire properties.”
When they pose the question to Malfoy, he shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know. There are not many studies on dragonfire. It’s extremely unstable to work with.”
“Worth a shot,” Harry says.
“I doubt it, Potter,” Malfoy shakes his head. “Look, you said you use Basilisk’s vemon, right? To destroy the other Horcruxes?”
“Yeah?”
“Other than being deadly, Basilisks are so rare that they are a myth. Acquiring the venom would be impossible.”
“We found it, though,” Ron says. “Remember, Malfoy? When you were prancing about being Salazar Slytherin’s descendant?”
“Your point, Weasley?” Malfoy sneers.
“That they are not a myth,” Ron says coolly.
“As always, you miss the goddamn point,” Malfoy grits. “Basilisk venom doesn’t have a counteract, also because no one ever had an opportunity to find one.”
“They did. Phoenix tears,” Harry says, trying not to sound too pleased with himself. “It heals you from the venom.”
“Phoenixes are rarer than dragons,” Malfoy points out. “You can get a dragon anywhere, if you visit the dragon reserves around the world. Not to mention that the amount of dragon products we use, they’re clearly more accessible than Phoenixes.”
“I told you,” Hermione says pointedly.
“It’s worth a shot,” Harry insists. “What have we got to lose? If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”
“You can’t just command her to shoot fire at a cup,” Malfoy snaps in irritation. “Are you willing to risk agitating her and hope that she accidentally fires at it without killing you in the process as well?”
“Why not just use that?” Ron says, pointing at the icicle that had nearly killed him earlier.
“It’s not active fire,” Hermione says.
Ron shrugs, walking closer to examine it. He sticks his nose an inch away from the icicle’s surface, eyes narrowing. He gingerly pokes at it with the tip of his pinky. “It’s warm.”
“What?” Hermione joins him, mirroring his position. “He’s right. It looks as if there’s fire inside but the ice around it is insulating the worst of it.”
“Frozen fire,” Malfoy says in astonishment.
Harry’s mouth falls open. “She’s freezing her own fire?”
“Maybe that’s why we didn’t see any ice in Gringotts,” Hermione says. “She wanted to harm them but she probably didn’t want to harm us. So she froze her own fire to stop it from spreading.”
“So all we need is to defreeze some dragonfire?” Ron laughs incredulously. “Let me conjure some hot water.”
“I don’t think it’s that easy, Ronald,” Hermione straightens up. “The fire itself must be very hot, above a thousand degrees Celsius at least. The ice around it must be imbibed with her own magic to keep it safely encased.”
“Thank fuck,” Malfoy mutters under his breath, loud enough for Harry who’s standing closer, but low enough so that Ron and Hermione can’t hear. “At least one person has a brain around here.”
Before Harry can be properly shocked at Malfoy’s acknowledgment of Hermione, he’s exiting the tent without another word.
The second side effect of having a dragon in one’s backyard is a flood.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron are researching on ways to destroy a Horcrux, now that they don’t have the Sword in their possession. Harry is distinctly aware that no one touches upon what they had discovered the day before, the fact that Harry might possibly be a living, breathing, walking bit of soul of Voldemort.
That, if Malfoy is right, Harry will have to die.
Harry himself avoids thinking about it. He thinks that the dragon’s arrival cannot be better timed; focusing on dealing with her takes most of their day, too. Malfoy is proving to be somewhat of a friend to her, spending time outside with his parchments. Harry thinks he might have heard him talk to her once or twice.
That’s another matter: Malfoy’s relation with the dragon. The only way Harry can think about it without developing a headache is his own kinship with Hedwig. Harry had been able to understand Hedwig almost as if she were a human. But then again, he doesn’t want to ponder on Malfoy having a dragon as a pet, so he firmly stops that train of thought. Not to mention, it aches him to think of Hedwig’s acute absence every time.
“What about Dementor’s Kiss?” Ron breaks the companionable silence. “It does destroy a soul, after all.”
Harry winces, thinking of his encounters with the creatures. “Would it work on objects?”
“I doubt it,” Hermione says, thinking. “Dementors thrive on happiness, don’t they? Horcruxes wouldn’t attract them, seeing as they merely contain souls immersed in dark magic. If anything, being near a Horcrux might make them even more powerful.”
“I still think we should give dragonfire a shot,” Ron grumbles. “All we need to do is figure out a way to defreeze it.”
“But Ron–” Hermione begins.
“No, hear me out. I get what Malfoy said. What you said. Dragons are not that rare so we probably might have counteracts for dragon injuries. But you heard him, didn’t you? Dragonfire cannot be collected, which makes it rare, doesn’t it?”
“We don’t need to collect dragonfire to use it,” Hermione says patiently. “We can toss the cup in a dragon’s reserve.”
“Let’s just try it out!” Ron insists. “Nothing to lose, right?”
“Time!” Hermione says in a withering tone. “We can’t afford wasting time doing experiments on a highly volatile substance that might not even work.”
“Okay, okay,” Ron concedes, sharing an annoyed look with Harry. “Fine.”
Harry bites down on a grin, turning to his own book when suddenly there’s a very loud PLONK and the next thing Harry knows is that he’s soaked through in freezing water.
“What the–?”
Hermione and Ron screech in surprise. The tent is flooded; their sleeping bags and the scattered books are floating like planks in ankle-deep water. Harry barely catches Hermione and Ron’s shocked expressions before the three of them are hurrying outside. Harry’s heart pounds. Did their enchantments fail? Was Ron right, that the dragon has led enemies to their location? Harry is in the process of removing the moleskin pouch from around his neck when he suddenly comes to a halt, almost slipping on the wet bank.
“Are you shitting me?” Ron groans beside him.
Malfoy is standing near the lake, yelling profanities, entirely drenched and clearly pissed. For a moment, Harry doesn’t understand why he’s yelling at thin air –
The tip of a leathery white wing surfaces from the lake before disappearing again.
“MALFOY!” Ron shouts angrily. “WHAT THE FUCK?”
Malfoy spins around to glare at them. “SHE DECIDED TO TAKE A BLOODY BATH!”
“What happened to our enchantments?” Hermione calls out, walking closer to him. “It should have protected us from the water.”
Malfoy shakes his head. “I had to stretch them a little bit so that she doesn’t get spotted from above.”
“Could have warned us,” Ron grumbles.
Harry leans closer to him, keeping one eye trained on Hermione and Malfoy. “Listen, I reckon we should try the dragonfire.”
Ron turns to him excitedly. “Really?”
Harry nods. “Don’t tell Hermione,” he warns. “We can do it tonight, after she sleeps. There are many shards to pick from outside the tent.”
“What about the dragon? We can’t do magic around her, can we? She might burn us to crisp.”
“Or freeze,” Harry suggests.
“I’m sure being frozen is less painful than being burned alive,” Ron says sarcastically.
“Either way, we’ll know for sure seeing I’m a Horcrux myself.”
Ron grabs his elbow seriously. “Don’t, Harry. I really doubt that they both are right–”
“I was just joking–”
“No, listen. We are basing that whole theory on the assumption that Malfoymight be right. Trust me, I’ve never said so many wrong words in the same sentence.”
Despite the pounding of his heart, Harry gives a shaky laugh. “Hermione agrees with him, though. And Hermione has never been wrong.”
“She has,” Ron says sagely. “The Deathly Hallows? Gilderoy Lockhart? Prince’s Book? Divination?”
“Divination?” Harry says incredulously. “Ron, we thought it was ridiculous, too.”
“And we were all wrong, weren’t we?” Ron laments theatrically. “I’m not saying Trelawney was anything less than a fraud. But prophecies turn out to be true, don’t they?”
Harry snorts. “I suppose.”
Hermione is peering at the water while Malfoy is drying himself with his wand.
“Let’s call Malfoy, too,” Harry decides. “He can keep the dragon distracted.”
It takes them over an hour to put everything back together. Hermione keeps shooting Malfoy murderous looks with each book that she has to dry.
Late evening, when Hermione tries to talk to Harry about him being a possible Horcrux, Harry shuts her down instantly. He tells her that she should get some sleep tonight, and Harry will keep watch, that they can talk the next day. Hermione agrees hesitantly.
Ron and Harry sit around the conjured bonfire while Malfoy sits further away, the dragon behind his back.
“Malfoy is on-board, right?” Ron asks. “He’ll keep the dragon distracted while we work?”
“Yeah. He’s not happy about it, though. Gave me another lecture over why it wouldn’t work.”
“Right,” Ron says, pulling out the parchment he’d stowed in his jacket earlier. “Here is a list of spells that I could think of. See if you can add more. Do you have the cup?”
Harry nods, patting his moleskin pouch.
Ron eyes it with caution. “Does it feel the same as the locket?”
“Not really. I think the locket was worse because we wore it on our skins directly. I think the Horcruxes suck your life force if you wear them long enough. Ginny was writing into the diary for months. We were constantly wearing the locket and things just became worse by the day. The cup has been in isolation until now, and this is the first time I’m keeping it on me since Gringotts.”
Ron nods thoughtfully. “I suppose. What about Nagini? You think she became stronger over the years due to You-Know-Who’s soul?”
“Probably,” Harry says. “She does seem vicious enough.”
“Snakes are vicious.”
Harry shrugs. “Not all of them. I met a Boa Constrictor once who seemed pretty decent.”
Ron laughs. “Yeah, I remember. The one you sicced on your cousin.”
“To be fair, it sicced itself on my cousin.”
Ron laughs harder. Malfoy twitches in the background. Harry turns to the sky, distracting himself with the thought of flying on a broomstick. He wonders if he’ll ever get to do it again. For the hundredth time, he wishes they had the foresight to pack them, too.
They wait an hour after Hermione falls asleep, just in case. Ron goes inside to check, saying he needs to use the bathroom anyway. Harry looks across the bonfire at Malfoy. The dragon is asleep, her deep snores rumbling in Harry’s chest like Sirius’ motorbike.
“We’ll be behind you both,” Harry says, walking towards him. “Even if she wakes up, we won’t be directly in sight.”
Malfoy nods. When Harry tries to pass by, he suddenly says, “Potter.”
“Yeah?”
He gets to his feet, dusting his pants. “Fiendfyre. Cursed Fire. There is – there’s no counter spell for it.”
Harry stops breathing. “Are you sure?”
Malfoy nods. He seems hesitant somehow, as if he hadn’t planned on sharing this information in the first place. “I remembered it when – well, Nuri here started going ballistic and you suggested using dragonfire on the off chance that it might work.”
“Nuri?”
“The dragon.”
Harry stares. “You named her?”
Malfoy rolls his eyes. “Of course, I named her. Did you want to continue calling her the great white dragon?”
“Yeah?”
“Merlin, Potter,” Malfoy rubs his face half in annoyance and half in exhaustion. “Not the goddamn point. Fiendfyre is Dark magic. I’ve never conjured it, though. Some Death Eaters enjoyed boasting having used it sometimes around the Manor. I assume it was to impress Tom Riddle.”
Harry holds his gaze. The orange flames are reflecting in his grey eyes along with the hint of snow-white of the dragon. “What’s the downside?”
Malfoy gulps. “You can’t control it. Or rather, it’s nearly impossible to control it. The only known way to stop it is by the caster.”
“How did the Death Eaters control it?”
Malfoy’s lips curl up on one side. “They didn’t.”
“It must have stopped somehow, Malfoy.”
“Yes, after it killed every living thing in its vicinity. Listen, I don’t know, okay?” he says lowly, stepping closer. “I just think that it might work since it has no known counter spell that I’m aware of. I read a little bit about it, spoke with the Death Eaters … no one ever wrote a counter spell.”
“Why were you interested in it?”
Malfoy shrugs, seemingly casually. “Thought it was my last resort to destroy the Manor.”
Harry breathes around the shock. “Okay. Right. Do you know the incantation?”
Malfoy’s jaw clenches. “Yes. I wouldn’t – to be honest, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You three would never try a Dark spell that advanced, anyway. Potter, this is not normal fire, alright? It’s cursed. It’s sentient.”
“Sentient?”
“Yes. Hence, the uncontrollable nature of it. It can think for itself.”
Harry looks away, incidentally turning to the sleeping dragon. For a bizarre moment, he is reminded of Hogwarts motto: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus. And then he can’t help it, he starts to snigger.
“What the hell?”
Harry laughs softly, trying to keep it quiet and failing. “Never tickle a sleeping dragon.”
Malfoy stares at him for a beat speechlessly before snorting in amusement, watching the dragon himself. “Wonder what happens if we try.”
“Hey!” Harry suddenly spins Malfoy towards him by a hand on his shoulder in excitement, struck by an idea. “What if we freeze the Fiendfyre?”
Malfoy looks annoyed, the previous light-heartedness disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. “Sure, because that’s easy. It’s so hot, the water will vapour before you can freeze it.”
“Not us, you droll,” Harry says. “What if – Nuri – freezes it? I mean, she can freeze her own fire, can’t she? With her magic? How is Fiendfyre any different?”
“Are you insane?” Malfoy hisses. “You want to conjure uncontrollable sentient, cursed fire and throw Nuri in the mix? Potter, are all your grand schemes an aftereffect of brain damage? Seriously, even Gringotts was your idea! Ever since I’ve left Manor, the only thing you’ve done is suggest terrible idea after terrible idea, all of them with high probability of certain death! What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve always said it, haven’t I? People are stupid to make you any kind of role model. The Boy-Who-Lived, my arse. If you hadn’t been a goddamn baby, you would have come up with another idiotic grand scheme even then! And probably be famous as the Boy-Who-Lived-Not-So-Much!”
“Okay, okay, shut it!” Harry throws his hands in front of him in surrender. “Just stop lecturing. Merlin. Do you never get tired of listening to your own voice?”
Malfoy swells up in anger. “Do you never get tired of half-jacked ideas?”
“It was just an idea!” Harry defends. “And if you haven’t noticed, we’re running out of them!”
Malfoy’s eyes roll to the dark sky as though in prayer. Harry steps away when Ron finally exists the tent to join them.
“Definitely asleep,” Ron tells Harry.
“Malfoy, keep watch. Let’s go, Ron.”
Malfoy makes a sound but drops to the ground once more with a petulant huff. Harry blinks down at him. Does he want to be invited? After eating Harry’s ear off with why it wouldn’t work, and how Harry is stupid to attempt it? Ron is staring at him as though he’s never seen the man before.
Harry exchanges a questioning look with Ron, who nod-shrugs in hesitance.
“Er – Malfoy?”
Malfoy uproots the sparse amount of grass with his fingers vindictively. “What?”
“Do you want to join us? We could – er, use – some. You. We could use you.”
There’s a beat of pause before Malfoy is getting to his feet again, drawing out his wand in one smooth motion. “Lead the way.”
Harry shakes the whole thing off, pulling his attention to bigger problems. Like an extremely unstable dragonfire frozen in its caster’s magic that they’re about to defreeze like a Thanksgiving turkey.
The icicles are glowing bright in the darkness like haphazard swords digging in the dirt after a bloody war. They choose an icicle furthest from the tent and Nuri. The distance will give them a split-second notice in case Nuri wakes up and mistakes their Wanded intentions.
Harry can clearly see it now once they’re close: the active blue-white flames shining and burning and crackling under the clear encasement of ice. He thinks they look like Hermione’s Bluebell Flames.
“Wicked,” Ron exclaims breathlessly. “You think we can nick some to decorate The Burrow with?”
Harry snickers. “Not if you want Molly to let you live.”
Ron shudders. “Right.”
Harry points the wand at the icicle, the incantation ready on his lips, when Malfoy suddenly grabs his elbow violently.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Harry shakes him off in frustration. “What we came to do? What the hell, Malfoy?”
“Put a goddamn protection bubble around it, you dimwit.”
Malfoy waves his wand a couple of times, muttering spells under his breath. A liquid-like bubble starts to form around the shard before it settles and solidifies into an invisible spear, grumbling about Gryffindors and their lack of self-preservation.
Harry takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. “Incendio.”
A jet of red fire shoots from Harry’s wand. The flames lick the ice for a few seconds before disappearing entirely.
“Well,” Ron says conversationally, referring to his list under the light emanating from the shard. “Next on the list is Inflamare.”
Harry tries it and again the flames extinguish completely. Ron starts to list off spells after spells, and all of them, fire ropes, fireballs, fire streams, Diffindo, Reducto, Confringo, Conflagaration …
“Hang on,” Malfoy interrupts suddenly. “Is it absorbing the flames or destroying them?”
Harry peers at the ice. It appears to be the same as before they had begun. “Destroying, I reckon. Absorbing it would have shown us visible signs, I guess.”
“Let me try some.”
Malfoy points his wand at the ice carefully and mutters a silky incantation. Purple flames erupt from the tip, gliding across the shard’s surface. They last slightly longer before hissing into oblivion.
“What spell was that?”
Malfoy is studying the shard with interest now. “Snape taught me. It’s a Dark spell whose counteract can be tailored by the caster.”
He proceeds to wave his wand in another fluid motion, a more complicated one, whispering the incantation like a song. Pitch-black flames erupt from the tip of his wand. As soon as it touches the ice, though, the three of them are thrown off their feet as a loud explosion rents the silent sky.
Harry falls flat on his stomach close to the lake, smashing the right side of his face painfully on the ground. His glasses crack, barely missing his eyes. Quickly pushing himself up, he fixes his glasses with a quick Reparo and spins around, ignoring his throbbing knees and face.
The protective bubble around the ice fissures cobweb-like as black flames fill up the space. The shard inside is blocked from their view completely. Harry, Ron, and Malfoy have a split second to exchange horrified looks before the bubble shatters with a loud crack, black flames spreading in all directions, destroying everything in its path.
Harry points his wand. “AGUAMENTI! ACQUA ERUCTO!”
The water from his wand sizzles into vapour. He hears Ron yelling defensive spells at the fire, but it continues to spread. Harry watches as it licks at the ground near Nuri, who is starting to stir from her sleep.
“Malfoy! Stop it! Stop the spell!”
Malfoy is whimpering in pain, clutching at his right knee that is bent at an odd angle. Harry curses loudly. He opens his mouth to warn Ron about Nuri but it’s too late –
The dragon’s tail swishes across the ground. She rises to her full height, her yellow eyes filled with rage. Harry gulps, frozen to the spot in fear.
Behind the dragon, Hermione runs out of the tent, coming to a standstill near the bonfire, her wand ready in her hands as she takes in her surroundings. Harry can’t be sure who is angrier at the moment: Nuri or Hermione.
The next second, though, Nuri opens her jaw wide and hot crackling blue-white fire cuts through the night. They devour the black flames entirely before she freezes them in clear ice.
And then her eyes settle on Harry and Ron.
“JUMP!” Harry yells as a stream of brilliance shoots in their direction.
Ron follows closely behind as they dive in the lake. The dark water illuminates around them as Nuri’s fire freezes on the surface, trapping them under. Ron frantically tugs at Harry’s arm and points in the distant darkness. Without pausing, they rapidly begin to swim away from the looming ice.
Only after a few minutes, the onslaught suddenly stops. Harry resurfaces, eagerly gulping in fresh air, heart hammering in his chest. They’re almost in the centre of the lake. On the bank, Harry sees Nuri towering over a small body, the area filled with brilliantly glowing stalagmites of dragonfire. Hermione is waiting around the other side of the tent, peeping at the dragon from time to time.
“Bloody hell,” Ron pants beside him. “What was that spell?”
“No clue, although I have a feeling Snape taught him that one, too.”
“Do you reckon it’s safe to swim back? I’m as blue as my balls.”
“I suppose we found the answer, Ron. Better to freeze to death than be burned alive.”
Ron gives a watery laugh. They swim around Nuri’s frozen fire on the surface of the lake towards the tent. Hermione is white as a ghost, but she walks up to the bank, her entire body trembling with adrenaline and fear.
She pulls them out of the freezing water. Ron and Harry collapse on their backs, catching their breaths. A warm sensation envelopes Harry as Hermione waves her wand over their quivering forms, murmuring spells. She heals their wounds, dries them as much as possible before bringing out two thick blankets to wrap around their shoulders.
Harry opens his mouth to thank her when she suddenly hits them both on their heads. Hard.
“What the hell were you boys thinking? You could have died! I told you not to play with volatile substances but of course, of course, why would you ever listen to me?” she cries in rage.
“We do listen–”
“Don’t you dare talk, Ronald! There is absolutely no way you can explain away this foolish, foolish idea! And Malfoy! Didn’t he agree that we shouldn’t touch the fire? That it’s a stupid plan–”
“Malfoy!” Harry chokes out, remembering his limp body.
He clambers to his feet, the blanket slipping from his shoulders.
“Harry!”
“Hermione, come with me!”
He doesn’t give her time to respond before he’s off, running around the tent to the other side. A radiant meadow of iced blue-white flames meet his stunned gaze. Harry pauses for a moment, relishing in the sheer beauty of it, the magic of it.
When Nuri makes a rumbling sound in her chest, Harry begins to carefully manoeuvre the pointed shards. He approaches her with caution, hands in the air like Malfoy always does, and she fixes him with a murderous glare before lowering her large head gloomily.
Malfoy is passed out on the ground. Harry waits for Hermione to join him, stomping his feet to keep himself warm. Hermione gasps when she sees Malfoy’s broken leg.
“Harry, I’m going to need my wand.”
Harry tries not to curse. Desperation is starting to fill him now; the longer they wait to heal his leg, the harder it’s going to be. He’s not even sure that they can mend this amount of damage.
“Alright. Wait.”
He takes a steadying breath and steps in Nuri’s line of sight, hands still in the air. She glances at him with disinterest this time around, licking at Malfoy’s body.
“Nuri.”
She looks up. Harry gulps. To his discernment, the serpent-like eyes remind him distinctly of Nagini. He hopes he doesn’t break into Parseltongue mid-way.
“I’m Harry. Malfoy … Draco, he needs help. Medical help. He broke his leg, you see.”
Her eyes narrow slightly and then she’s licking Malfoy again.
“I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t think it’ll work. Llast time you could lick the wounds away because you caused them. At least, I think that’s how it works. Now though, he’s injured due to an explosion. He got blasted away and must have landed wrong.”
Harry has her attention once again. He crushes his fingers together to not lose his nerve. Never, ever had he thought he’d have to reason with a dragon to save Malfoy’s arse.
“Hermione, she can help him. But to do that, she needs to use her wand on him. Not on you, okay? No one is going to hurt you. Or him. We only want to help him. Are you understanding me?”
Nuri growls. Her eyes flicker back and forth between Harry, Hermione, and Malfoy. Finally, after a few moments, she retreats slightly so that Hermione can approach Malfoy. Hermione immediately rushes to him, kneeling on the ground. Harry drops down beside her.
She starts to pull out a book, various potions and bandages, throwing them in Harry’s arms hurriedly. Harry watches as she flips open the book to an instructional manual on how to fix broken bones. She points her wand at Malfoy’s leg, murmurs a series of incantations, and there’s a loud snap as the bone reattaches itself in the correct angle.
Malfoy stirs, groaning in pain but doesn’t wake up.
“Give him those three potions, Harry. Quickly!”
Malfoy’s skin is clammy and feverish to the touch. Harry tips his chin down to pour the liquids down his throat. Meanwhile, Hermione conjures two wooden rods, placing them on either side of Malfoy’s leg. A spell later, the bandages tie themselves around his limb tightly.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?”
Hermione bites her lips. “I hope so. We can’t exactly take him to St. Mungo’s.”
“What about calling a member of the Order? We can send a Patronus.”
Hermione starts to pack up, dumping everything back in her purse. “It’s too dangerous, you know that.”
Harry sighs. “Yeah … Let’s levitate him inside.”
Nuri doesn’t block their path this time. She lets them take Malfoy’s body away, stalking to the back of the tent instead. Ron helps them settle Malfoy in his sleeping bag. Harry summons his own from his room, sleepily unrolling it.
“Harry–”
“Tomorrow, ‘Mione. Please.”
“I’ll keep watch,” Ron offers in the prickly silence. “I have a bone to pick with the dragon anyway.”
Hermione lets out a grudging snort.
Harry snuggles under the extra blanket Hermione procures for him. Before they leave, Harry mumbles a sleepy, “Fiendfyre. Draco … Malfoy said … said it’ll work.”
“Mate, you alright?” Ron asks in alarm. “What are you babbling about? ‘Mione, did he hit his head too hard?”
Hermione doesn’t respond immediately. When she does, she sounds strange. “He told you about Fiendfyre?”
“Yeah,” Harry replies before everything blacks out.