Chapter 1: RitualChapter TextAfter two years of research, and 6 months of preparations, now was the time for the biggest gamble in years. Harry Potter, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had just finished drawing the runic circle in the basement of his Yorkshire house. It was a magical house he had acquired for the sole purpose of using it for his own private research. The main floor and upper levels were fully furnished, and he and his family could live there quite comfortably.
The true magic, however, was in the basement.
Already outfitted with space-expansion charms, creating a room the size of the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Harry had reinforced it with various runes and enchantments, creating the perfect space for magical experimentation. The only flaw that had never been fully fixed was the containment wards. Simply put when the room was sealed, i.e. the door was closed, the wards operated at full strength allowing the room to contain and if need be, neutralize, and magic that could threaten the rest of the house or even the surrounding area. This meant that if the door was opened before the magic could be dealt with, it would be released and potentially cause severe harm to whoever opened the door.
Because of this Harry had made it a point to ensure anyone who entered the house knew not to enter the basement if the door was closed while he was in there. They were to knock and wait for him to answer. He'd even set up the magical equivalent of an intercom so anyone could talk to him if he didn't answer immediately. Not that he expected anyone to be bothering him. With the kids at school (Lily was wrapping up her second year of Hogwarts), and Ginny meeting with her friends at the Daily Prophet, he fully expected to have the house to himself for the next three days. With Hermione as Minister for Magic, it was easy enough to get the time off. It was all a matter of timing.
Now was the time.
The golden runic circle was based on the works of the Celts, specifically the Druids, and in his hand was an amber potion that, when consumed, would begin the ritual to become an animagus.
Since graduating from Boy-Who-Lived to Man-Who-Won, Harry had wanted to learn more about his father and the Marauders. He wanted something that would bring him closer to them. Wormtail was a traitor, Sirius had died in the Department of Mysteries, and Remus had fallen during the Battle of Hogwarts, along with Nymphadora leaving their son an orphan. So much had been lost, but this one thing could give him a connection to the ones he'd lost.
But something was wrong. Whenever he tried the meditations needed to find the animagus within, he'd come up empty-handed. All he would find was the rough terrain it lived in, and he could faintly recall hearing the roar of a creature. Something big, something strong. Something like that, he could definitely use as an Auror. Hell, it probably would have helped when he was fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But the idea had come too late, and now it looked like he would never have succeeded anyways.
But after doing his research, he'd discovered a ritual designed by Celtic wizards to allow them to become one with their animagus. The catalyst was the potion, and after three tries, he'd perfected the formula.
Eat your heart out Snape, no dunderhead could pull THIS off.
Removing his clothing and stepping into the circle, he chanted the words of power that began the ritual.
The runes began to glow.
He chanted the words again.
The potion began to glow.
He drank the potion and chanted the words a third time.
Every went golden, and as his body warmed, he found himself again in the same spot he found himself every time. Looking around, he got a better look and the terrain reminded him of the Peak District uplands.
But that wasn't what caught his attention. In front of him, 20 feet away was a massive iron cage. The cage itself was as big as Hogwarts, maybe bigger, and was wrapped by two titanic chains, etched with glowing purple runes. The inside of the cage was black, obscuring whatever was contained within.
But Harry instinctively knew: THIS was his animagus. Somehow, it had been locked away inside him, still part of him but contained in a way that he could never reach it.
Until now.
Stepping forward, the beast within thrashed against the cage, letting out a frighteningly loud roar. A roar of rage, power, and pain. At first, the thrashing became more wild, and the roar became louder as he got closer. But then, as he was three feet away, the cage went still, and all was silent.
Now directly in front of the cage, Harry could see two great green eyes staring back at him, appraising him, to see if he was the one responsible for its imprisonment. Realizing this was not the offender, it calmed and waited to see what its visitor would do.
As he reached out, the animagus pushed a limb forward, a limb ending in a massive clawed hand, coated in red-golden scales. He wanted to grab the limb, to finally fulfill this one goal of his. But now, like with so many other things, someone had interfered and now something was in the way.
His hand was pushed back by a purple barrier that appeared from nowhere, and a rage he never felt before welled up within. Not knowing the source of this rage, he did the only thing he could do; strike.
Hitting the barrier with all his strength should have been stupid. He should have stepped back and thought of a way to bypass the barrier. But he couldn't, because he couldn't think past the rage and frustration that needed... no, that DEMANDED release.
Again and again, harder and harder he struck, seemingly doing nothing but entertain his audience of one. The animagus made noises, noises that seemed unusual and sounded suspiciously of laughter, but then he realized, it was a cry of hope. Hope for freedom, as the first barrier shattered, and one of the chains collapsed around him, rusting into dust.
Whatever he was doing was working, and he continued striking the barrier, becoming dimly aware of a fire burning within him. The warmth rushed through his body, infusing it with power and might like nothing he had experienced before.
It felt good. It felt right. Like a piece of him had been missing for so long, and it had finally been returned.
But it wasn't enough. He wasn't complete yet. This final barrier was the stronger of the two, and it held firm against his onslaught.
Then the cracks began to form, and he could hear a voice calling out to him. It was different, deeper, yet he knew it was his.
No, it is our voice.
Startled, he looked into the cage and made out the outline of the mighty creature within.
Yes, Harry, I can speak. We can speak. And soon, we will be FREE.
The cracks grew.
We shall be free of our prison. YOU shall be free of your chains.
The cracks expanded.
All who made us suffer shall know our power, our might.
A hole began to form.
All who betrayed us
The barrier began to shatter.
shall learn to fear
The chain broke.
the Dragons Wrath.
The cage burst apart amid a roar of triumph, one Harry shared, until his body again began to burn. It still felt good, but it brought something else with it. Something he never thought he'd fear.
Memories.
Ginny Potter had Flooed into one of the hidden rooms of the Drunken Dragon, a magical-owned pub not far from their Yorkshire house. On her way out she noticed Neville Longbottom. She wondered why he was there. Even on a weekend, he rarely left Hogwarts during the school year. She then noticed he was speaking with a wizard wearing gardening clothes.
Consulting work, she mused.
Well, hopefully, whatever they were discussing went well. She'd stop to talk but needed to get to Harry. She'd tried to Floo-call him but no answer, and he'd deactivated the Floo so she had to walk for twenty minutes.
As she walked, she began to think back over the years, the life she had lived, what she had, and what she had done to get here. And some of it disgusted her, both what she had done, and what she had allowed.
She'd learned of her mother's schemes too late to stop them and had gone along with them for fear of what she'd lose. Now, enough was enough. She'd finally learned how to undo Obliviation. She had to make things right.
As she opened the little gate onto the property she told herself one thing.
Even if they hate me, they'll have their freedom. That will have to be enough.
Then came a bright flash of light, the sounds of stone and wood shattering amidst a terrifying roar, and a shockwave that propelled her back, and everything became fuzzy. The last thing she recognized was a massive figure rising from the cloud of smoke, then her mind slipped from consciousness.
Lord Neville Longbottom was finishing the drink he'd had while sharing his expertise with an enterprising herbologist. He had plans to create a magical greenhouse, one that would allow him to grow a vast amount of plants, and needed advice on what to set up first. It was fun being hired as a consultant, and it humoured him to remember the time when he would have been too timid to offer his advice to anyone seriously asking for it.
Then the shockwave came, blasting out the windows of the pub, and knocking everyone and everything flat. Rising unsteadily, he made his way outside and saw the smoke. A towering pillar of smoke, like something from a warzone, rose in the distance, blotting out the sun itself. Then, the roar came. That monstrous roar rattled his bones and shook his very soul. He knew better than to wish to never hear it again, for now, he saw what made it. Emerging from the pillar was the biggest dragon he had ever seen. He remembered the Horntail from the Tri-Wizard Tournament, a 50-foot-long monster built like a living weapon.
This one dwarfed that monster. At a guess, he'd swear this one was ten times the size of the Horntail. Whatever it was, it truly was the biggest dragon that ever lived.
He almost fainted with relief when it spread its wings and took off. Then his blood went cold as he realized, that was Harry's house.
He took off at a sprint, desperate to prove himself wrong. Desperate in his hope that his friend was alive and unharmed.
Then he remembered seeing Ginny leave the pub, and he doubled his efforts, arriving at the house in 2 minutes.
What greeted him made his heart drop. Across from the property he saw Ginny and ran up to her. She was alive and unconscious, but breathing with difficulty. Across the road, was the crater that once held a house his friend owned. A house he remembered being in regular use.
The words escaped his throat in a whisper.
It got him. It got Harry.
Hermione sat in her office, with a magically enlarged telly set-up to show muggle news reports. For the past week, the entire world had been headlining one thing.
A dragon had been sighted. A dragon.
This wasn't too uncommon. Muggles were obliviated of memories of dragons on a semi-regular basis. Every now and then some would stumble upon a dragon reservation, but this was different. A 500-foot-long dragon, bigger than anyone had ever dreamed possible, had appeared in Yorkshire, and flew north across England and Scotland, disappearing past the Hebrides.
The advent of the internet made keeping something like this secret impossible.
Standing in front of her desk were the Heads of the Department for Magical Creature Regulation, Magical Statute Incidents, the Department Of Mysteries, and the Deputy Head for the DMLE.
'Where's Harry when I need him most?' She thought to herself.
Her thoughts were broken by the interview of a frightened man, with two excited children next to him.
"It-It was huge! Bigger than anything I've ever seen!"
"And it had claws!" One little child said grinning.
"It grabbed a whale!" The second cried out with glee.
Changing from one channel to the next, it was all the same, whether British, German, American, Russian, or Chinese, everyone was talking about the dragon.
Turning to those assembled, she asked a simple question. "Well, gentleman?"
The DMCR head spoke first "Well, from what we've gathered it's a Great Caledonian Fire Drake. But they went extinct over 2000 years ago."
She glared at the man. "Right now, I don't care WHAT it is, I want to know WHERE it came from, WHERE it is now, and HOW has it avoided us ALL THIS TIME!?!?"
Flinching, he looked to his colleagues, desperate for some relief.
The DOM Head had some ideas. "The most likely explanation is it somehow found an unplottable island, likely a former magical outpost and is making a nest there."
"Is that even possible?"
"The Great Fire Drakes are known to have been the most magically attuned dragons. Finding an island no one else can is child's play."
"Hmmm. Has anyone in the DMLE heard from Harry yet?"
The Deputy cleared his throat. "No ma'am, and no one's heard from his wife either, so we're running in the dark right now."
Before she could respond, a knock came from the door.
"Minister, Lord Longbottom is here. He says it's urgent, and it's about the dragon."
"Let him through then."
Bowing her head, the secretary let in Neville, who looked haunted. With a pale face, and a stricken expression, whatever he had to say wouldn't be pretty.
Then again, when has anything in Wizarding society been easy or pretty?
The others bowed towards Lord Longbottom, recognizing him as a hero and man worthy of respect.
"Neville, what's wrong?"
"Hermione, I was there when it was first sighted."
Light gasps could be heard. Hermione beckoned him to continue.
"I was doing some consulting work, when the shockwave came. It knocked everyone flat, and then we saw the smoke. It was like a pillar from Hell, and that monster rose from it. Then I realized, it emerged near Harry's Yorkshire property."
She felt her heart sink into her stomach when she realized what he was trying to say.
"I found Ginny, badly hurt and unconscious. She's at St. Mungo's with Susan Bones. But the house, it was gone. Just a crater. And it... it... it got him."
No one spoke. No one moved. No one even breathed, as Neville said what he prayed wasn't true.
"It got Harry, Hermione."
At that, she slumped into her chair. She had never expected this. After everything they went through, everything they overcame, he was gone. It didn't seem possible. It shouldn't be possible. But it was. Shock and grief would have to wait because anger was taking charge.
"All of you, get me every dragon specialist you can find. Get every enchanter and craftsman in contact with us, ready to build at a moment's notice. Get me every resource at my disposal ready to use. We're finding that dragon, and by the New Year, I want its HEAD decorating the Atrium!"
Everyone but Neville rushed to fulfill their orders, as he shared a look with Hermione. A look that said one thing.
For Harry.
Chapter 2: RevelationsChapter TextThree days had passed since Neville broke the news of Harry's demise to Hermione. Since then she had barely left her office, in part to avoid the press. When people heard the Man-Who-Won was the first victim of the dragon, shock and horror took hold of Wizarding Britain. Those who followed his exploits at Hogwarts knew he had faced a Horntail and won. That a dragon capable of defeating him was loose in the world was a terrifying thought.
A legion of reporters was all but camping in the Ministry Atrium, all of them clamouring for word on how the hunt was going, were there any new sightings, and did the Minister have a plan? Her secretary, bless her, had done an excellent job keeping them from breaking down her door. She'd resorted to using Patronus and owl messengers regularly to communicate with the Departments, and her secretary had spun the narrative in her favour, stating she was absolutely focused on avenging their saviour.
That was at least partly true. She had been dead set on finding that monster and making it pay for what it had done. But there was more. Since that horrifying revelation, Hermione had been feeling... strange. She felt things she shouldn't be concerned with during a crisis like this. For God's sake, the ICW was all but calling for her head, demanding answers on how this had even happened!
Yet here she sat in her office, feeling guilt. Not over the loss of her friend, but over Obliviating her parents, and sending them away. It made sense at the time. The Death Eaters were hunting her, and anyone close to her would be targeted. Her Muggle parents were a juicy target, so sending them to another country was the rational decision.
But why use Obliviation? Why did she completely remove all the memories they had of her, of even having a daughter? Taking away all the joy they had felt together, seemed unnaturally cruel now that she thought of it. So why had she done it? Why had she been content to cut them out of her life completely?
In fact, the more she thought, the more she wondered why her life had come to this. She was proud of being the first muggleborn Minister for Magic, but that wasn't the problem.
The problem was, she was married to Ron of all people! Why? She never felt love or any sort of romantic inclinations towards him. In fact, she was often downright repulsed by him. The man had the table manners of a starving troll, and the personality to match. She hadn't forgotten how he was the reason she was even in that bathroom in the first place. He was the one who started a fight over a broom that wasn't even his, he had abandoned Harry during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and HE was the one who abandoned them during the Horcrux hunt.
Of all the people to marry on God's green Earth, WHY had it been Ronald Weasley!?!
In fact, now she realized who she had wanted to marry first. The boy who had saved her from that troll, and faced a Basilisk alone. The one she held tight while riding a fugitive Hippogriff, who'd faced Voldemort alone in a graveyard. Harry was the boy she loved. It had always been him in her mind. Whenever she dreamt of romantic nights, Harry was the boy she thought of.
She knew she loved him since her third year. Riding Buckbeak, her clinging to Harry while he was seemingly afraid of nothing, had been the last step. She loved him and dreamt that he loved her, and she... she hadn't told him.
Again, why??? Why didn't she admit to him she was in love? Why did she attend the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum? Why had she been jealous of Lavender when she never wanted the ginger git?
So many questions she had no answer for were giving her a migraine. She had to snap out of it! She had to find the dragon and make it pay for taking Harry away from them.
And from her.
But first, she needed answers. The Aurors had been going through the crater that once marked the Yorkshire house with a fine-toothed comb. Anything, no matter how insignificant it seemed, was potential evidence. Progress had been slow, but steady. While nothing definitive had been identified as of yet, that was about to change.
The Aurors had recovered documents in the remains of an enchanted desk. It had been reinforced to withstand incredible amounts of damage, yet the structure had collapsed. Still, some of the enchantments held, with one of the drawers containing said documents. The Department of Mysteries had been reviewing them, and now the Department Head, Silas Bonewraith, was on his way with their findings.
A knock at the door broke her from her thoughts. At her permission, her secretary poked her head in.
"Minister, Department Head Bonewraith is here. He's also brought Headmistress McGonagall with him."
"McGonagall??? Why would she be here?"
"He wouldn't say, but they're ready for you. Also, you received another Howler 5 minutes ago."
"That's the 10th this week! Who sent it THIS time!?"
"Ron. Basically, he's demanding you come home to 'fulfill your wifely duties'."
"Rrrggh. I'll deal with him later. For now, send our guests in."
Nodding in acquiescence, she stepped back, and the hooded Silas stepped in with Minerva close behind.
Hermione smiled at them, Minerva in particular, and gestured for them to sit in front of her.
"Headmistress McGonagall, as happy as I am to see you, even considering the circumstances, I do wonder why you are here?"
Before she could respond, the robotic voice of Silas spoke up. "I invited her Minister. Given what we've uncovered her knowledge will be required."
"I'm happy to help, but I must ask, what exactly is it you need me for?"
Rather than answer, he simply conjured scrolls of parchment and unfurled them on the desk. What was written on the scrolls was mind-boggling.
The scrolls contained knowledge required for what appeared to be a powerful and complex ritual. Several inches were dedicated to an impressive runic circle, complete with runes she was both familiar and unfamiliar with. Resisting the urge to bury her nose in the writings and study, she looked to Silas for an explanation and noticed McGonagall had gone pale upon seeing the scrolls.
"As you can see, these scrolls pertain to the completion of a ritual, one that would require months of preparation for even the slightest hint of success. All of these runes are Celtic in origin, likely the work of the Druids, and some are unknown to us. Of the runes we can identify, they're used in a configuration specifically geared towards mind-delving, entering one's mind like a meditative trance. Others are used as a form of stabilizer, and some, we think, are geared towards the amplification of effects, strengthening the power of the runes to fulfill their purpose and reinforcing them against disturbances.
"But that's not all. We found a notebook." Pulling said notebook from nowhere, he began flipping through the pages before finding what he was looking for. "The notebook contains notes, not just on the runic circle, but various formulas for a potion we've never encountered. Given the circumstances it seems likely this 'amber potion' as it's called, is the final component of the ritual this runic circle is meant for. The book also mentions the provider of the scrolls. By name."
Minerva simply sighed in resignation and then spoke. "They are mine. I provided these scrolls to Lord Potter 2 years ago."
Hermione fixed the most disapproving scowl she could and spoke in a low voice. "Minerva. What, exactly, did you give Harry?"
She said nothing, seemingly debating with herself on whether or not she should answer until her mind was made up. "2 years ago, Lord Potter visited Hogwarts. He wished to discuss a personal project..."
"What am I doing wrong!?"
The words came out more forcefully than intended, but the point was made. Even as several of the portraits in the Headmistress's office flinched at the tone, Minerva McGonagall gave Harry her full attention as he sat across from her desk.
"I don't know what you want me to tell you, Mr. Potter. I'm a school headmistress, not a miracle worker. That seems more along the lines of your work."
"Don't patronize me, Minerva. You were the transfiguration professor for years, and you're an animagus to boot. Even more, as Headmistress of Hogwarts, you have access to a vast repository of knowledge. If anyone can solve this, YOU can."
Minerva shook her head in exasperation. "What do you want from me, Harry?? You've conducted the meditations?"
"Three times now."
"With powdered mandrake root?"
"The best in Britain."
"And you've never seen the animagus form?"
"NO. The most I see is highland terrain, with something roaring in the background. Then the meditations end almost as soon as they begin. It's like everything else that's happened in my life. Something is holding me back."
Harry was pacing the office now, increasingly agitated at the lack of progress. Minerva, likewise, was beginning to lose her patience.
"Well, the thing holding you back seems to be that attitude of yours. I'd expect that from my students, not a lord of the Wizengamot."
At that, Harry slammed his fist down on one of the small tables lining the office.
"THE MARAUDERS WERE ANIMAGI IN THEIR FOURTH YEAR! AND I'M HOLDING MYSELF BACK!?!?"
A wave of raw magic rolled from Harry, rattling the windows, knocking portraits off the wall, and leaving the normally stoic Headmistress unnerved. With great effort, Harry took deep breaths and forced himself to calm down, reigning in his anger and raw magic.
"I'm sorry, Headmistress." Sitting back down he hung his head low, ashamed of this outburst.
"I didn't realize this was so important to you."
"I've lost every connection to my parents. Sirius, Remus, even Wormtail. All I have left are memories that are too few and pictures that tell me too little. But this one thing, being an animagus, it's a personal, if indirect, connection. If I can't even get this right..."
Sighing in resignation, he stood to leave.
"Wait, Mr. Potter. There may be something I can help with."
At that he perked up, eyes filled with hope for the first time since beginning this project.
Opening a drawer in her desk, she pulled out scrolls of parchment and handed them to Harry. He took them gingerly and began reading the information contained with eagerness.
"These scrolls are a culmination of a personal research project of mine. One I've been working on since beginning as a Transfiguration professor. I haven't had the time to review them since your parents were students, but I'm confident of the results."
"Headmistress, this looks more like Alchemy than Transfiguration."
"I suppose it's a bit of both. What you're reading is my research regarding the animagus rituals of the Old Tribes of Britain. The key difference is the ritual binds the wizard and the animagus together, far more strongly than any ritual known today. But the final piece that I was always missing, was the catalyst. Something called the 'amber potion' was needed for the ritual to work, and I never had the talent for potions.
"I don't know what is blocking you from achieving your animagus form, but done properly this ritual should provide a strong enough link for you to complete the transformation."
"After that, he left my office and I never heard back from him regarding his progress. If I ever tried to bring it up, he'd simply say he was working on it and nothing else. I wasn't sure he was making progress, but if he had these notes on the amber potion, then I can guarantee one thing."
Hermione had been listening intently, and as Minerva spoke everything clicked together.
"He succeeded."
Silas' reaction could not be seen beneath his hood, but even his robotic voice carried a hint of disbelief.
"Are we actually saying that Lord Potter completed an ancient ritual and has turned himself into his animagus, which happens to be a 500-foot dragon???"
"I'm afraid it's worse than that, Mr. Bonewraith."
Minerva again had all attention focused on her.
"The ritual does more than allow you to change your form. The key difference is in the depth of the bond. My animagus form, a cat, is just that. A cat I take the form of. Had I completed the ritual Lord Potter has, I would have more than an additional form. The connection would also grant me traits and abilities akin to a cat. My senses would be heightened, from my sense of smell to hearing and sight. My reflexes would also be enhanced, granting me catlike agility. I would also possess an additional layer of protection in terms of Occlumency."
"Before you go any further, Headmistress," Hermione interrupted her lecture with great reluctance. "why hasn't Harry simply turned back?"
"Because I don't believe Harry is in control. Rather, the dragon has taken control, and Harry has been unable to reassert himself."
"The animagus can take control?"
"With this ritual, it's possible. One of the reasons this ritual has fallen into obscurity is the same reason it's so powerful. The animagus becomes, to a degree, sentient. It possesses its own mind, its own thoughts, its own will. And while these all may line up with the thoughts and desires of the wizard, the animagus can disagree.
"However, for the animagus to assert control over the wizard takes far more than simple disagreement. It takes remarkably powerful emotions to cause such a change. Even worse, as the feelings become more intense it becomes harder for the wizard to regain control. In extreme cases, it can even cause the change to become permanent."
"What could cause this kind of change? Joy, or relief over his success?"
"Unlikely. He would have turned back by now, or at the very least attempted to be found so he could reveal his success. Something else has caused this transformation. I can only assume some sort of intense rage has overtaken him and continues to fuel the dragons' power. But I can't imagine what could cause such intensity."
Unknown to all, 150km northwest of the Hebrides, lay an unplottable island. Once the home of a mighty wizard, its fortress now lay in ruins, forgotten by all, seen only by those immune to such magic. Deep within the gutted remains of a magic fortress, a mental battle for control raged amidst the consumed remains of whales.
I am Harry James Potter. I must regain control.
We are power. We must have our revenge.
I must return home. I must see my childr-
We must find our enemies. We must destroy them.
I can't just-
We know who betrayed us. The false friend. The potions mistress .
They-
Have caused us pain. We are their doom.
I... I will get my answers. And then...
We will have...
Our revenge.
Chapter 3: RuinNotes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextThe entire world held its breath as it followed the movements of the mighty dragon that had appeared in Yorkshire. To the amazement and horror, of those who paid attention, the dragon was a remarkable specimen.
At 500 feet long, it was already larger than even the Blue Whale without taking the wings into consideration. At 200 feet each, the wingspan combined with the sheer power of its limbs meant each wingbeat was a small hurricane. Combined with the body length, the dragon was the largest, and most powerful creature the world had ever seen. The presence of four legs, each as thick as a rhino, meant it was just as capable on the ground as in the air.
Perhaps the most, or least, shocking aspect was its capacity for hunting in the oceans. Ever since the interview in which a child had stated, with the glee only a child could feel, that the dragon caught, and presumably ate, a whale governments and environmental groups had been watching it intently. Governments for fear it would attack naval assets assuming them to be its prey, and environmentalists are desperate to keep track of whale populations in the face of the world's apex predator.
Contrary to expectations, keeping track of the beast was a complex matter. It was capable of flying at speeds remarkable for something THAT massive, and had a tendency to disappear into cloud formations only to reappear at a completely new altitude. Sometimes it would be low enough that people could make out the scale pattern on its body, and sometimes it would be so high up it bordered on entering the mesosphere, 50km above sea level. Just how it managed this was a fascinating mystery to some and a terrifying implication to others,
Even more worrying, its preference for hunting the biggest sea life available meant it dived beneath the waves at semi-regular intervals. Whenever it surfaced, often hours later and miles away, it carried some form of prey in its claws, searching for land to begin feeding, or in its massive jaws, being swallowed as it soared through the sky.
News crews and self-described "dragon watchers" followed it near obsessively, noting that the dragon seemed, for the moment, content to fly and feed as it willed. Indeed, it seemingly had no clear direction in mind, as it flew north from wherever it was hiding, only to go west, and finally south. It wasn't until it was seen flying over the Sea of Japan that someone decided to take a chance in fighting the beast.
Within Harry's mind, the battle for control raged on. The Dragon possessed an overwhelming need for revenge against those that had wronged them, while Harry held firm to his training as an Auror, and Head of the DMLE. First, they would confront Ron, the false friend, and Molly, the potion's mistress (more like the Howler bitch) about their betrayals. They would be dragged before the Wizengamot, in pieces if need be, tried and sent to Azkaban. After all, he had his memories back.
When he had overpowered the bindings that held the Dragon in check, keeping Harry from tapping into his full power, he overpowered the decades' worth of potions and Obliviations. Now he remembered the times he and Hermione had shared a private moment, only for Dumbledore to appear and Obliviate them of it. He remembered the night he asked Hermione to the Yule Ball, only for the night to be conveniently forgotten courtesy of one bearded bastard.
He wished he could say that was the extent of it. But the memories went on.
Memories of him discovering the true nature of his scar, and the Horcrux within during his fifth year. Memories of him confronting Dumbledore over leaving it in him, only for him to admit his plans for Harry to die facing Voldemort. The Boy-Who-Lived was a sacrificial offering to the altar of Dumbledore's glory. Not content with that, he admitted his only real task before dying was to impregnate Ginny, so Molly could gain access to the Potter fortune (so large only the son of the Goblin King was allowed to be their Account Manager) and split it with him.
"Now Harry, I've much to do, and your only task going forward is making that Weasley girl a proper Lady." Those words echoed in his mind as he saw Dumbledore produce the Elder Wand.
The old fucker had died before Harry, but in the end, he won. THEY won. He had gone up against Voldemort with a fraction of his true power available to him, he had died in that forest, and he had married Ginny. Thank God for small miracles that Molly would NEVER get her hands on his gold, but somewhere in his mind he knew she already had. And if the Wizengamot wouldn't punish her, the Goblins certainly would.
But Ron, oh Ron, you have the worst of it coming to you.
Months before Lily was to begin Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron were expecting twin girls. Then a horrible fall in their house robbed the world of those two innocent lives. Only it wasn't the stairs that took them. It was Ron and his jealous temper, matched with his fists, that had taken them from their mother before she ever got the chance to hold them.
That had been too much for Ginny. She came to him and broke down into tears, telling him she had learned the truth, and so much more. She had learned of her mother's schemes years prior, having been kept in the dark since the Chamber of Secrets fiasco, and confronted her over them. Molly had a lifetime of influence over her, and berated her into silence, threatening that Harry would hate her and their children if he ever learned the truth.
Harry's biggest mistake was not summoning every Auror at his disposal. Instead, he went to the Burrow with murder on his mind, only to be ambushed by Ron, who'd been ranting to Molly about Hermione. At some point, he'd been Obliviated but not before Ron got a few kicks in. They'd sent him on his way, and no doubt threatened Ginny into keeping quiet going forward.
They would pay for everything they'd done. Ginny would be spared his wrath, if only because she had tried to do the right thing, only to be manipulated by the bitch that birthed her. Besides, the children would need her going forward. He couldn't imagine the ICW would be pleased with him going forward, considering the Statute of Secrecy bordered on being non-existent.
At the very least he'd kept the Dragon from total control. For now, he kept it away from Britain, soaring through the skies, diving into the deep, all so he could have time to plan their revenge. Starting an investigation should be a simple enough matter, assuming he can return to the DMLE. If he can't, at least he's owed enough favours to get the ball rolling on Molly.
Ron was another matter, but the stupid git lacked the foresight to realize he was being target-
A sudden explosion on his right side knocked him out of his thoughts and sent him tumbling down toward the ocean. It took seconds for him to realize he was in the Sea of Japan flying South, and whatever hit his right had come from the Korean Peninsula. At the moment he had yet to pass the DMZ, meaning the SAM that knocked him out of the sky came from his direct right, not his front. In other words, the North Koreans had launched a SAM hoping to either kill him or drive him away.
It did neither.
It took seconds for him to realize this. It took milliseconds for the Dragon to re-assert itself in a bloodthirsty rage.
If they are so eager to die, I will be happy to oblige them!
Before he could hit the water, he'd recovered and resumed flight, only this time he turned right and made a beeline straight for North Korea. With his powerful sight, he could see the SAM battery that had launched at him, and he could see the hundreds of SAM batteries and anti-air guns aimed straight at him. He could hear the officers shouting orders as the air was lit up by exploding shells, and filled with missiles. It was a fearsome display, meant to overwhelm entire fleets of aircraft. Now it was all turned to the destruction of one monstrous creature, flying at Mach 2 (2,385km/h).
As Harry heard the voice of the Dragon in his mind again, he realized one thing.
I am fire. I am death.
It would never be enough.
Hermione stood outside the office of the Director of Gringotts, King Ragnok the 10th. While she waited for the King to call for her, she could only think back over the events that had played out since learning of Harrys' transformation. Knowing that he was alive, she contacted Rita Skeeter, offering her a deal: Hermione offers her juicy insider knowledge of the Dragon Hunt, and Rita writes the story as she dictates. Her quill was as poisonous as ever, but she remained malleable only thanks to her unwillingness to register her beetle animagus, knowing just how many witches and wizards are waiting for a hint of blood from her.
The stories she'd been offered had indeed been juicy: The-Man-Who-Won was alive! He'd survived the attack and was hunting down the dragon, once again putting himself in great danger to protect Britain and the world. Even better, sightings of a British wizard with a Firebolt had made their way back to Britain.
It was all a lie. Hermione knew it, Bonewraith and McGonagall knew it, and she suspected on some level Rita knew it, though she doubted the vile woman knew the full extent of the lie. She did recognize what Hermione was trying to do; giving people hope that their hero was still out there. Something like that would keep the people from panicking, making it easier for the powers that be to handle the situation.
It was working at least. The people had hope, hope that their saviour would again protect them from the monster loose upon the world. Instead of huddling together, whispering in fear, they went about their lives with at least some confidence that things would indeed be better tomorrow. Sooner or later, the dragon would be slain, and Harry would return home a conquering hero.
On some level, Hermione was disgusted with herself for the charade but was grateful that it was helping. She only prayed that if Rita ever learned the truth, she'd know to keep her quill to herself. Or at the very least spin the story in a way people don't riot in the streets. People were getting ready to flee Britain as Voldemort gained power. How on Earth would they handle the transformation of their hero into a monster?
After her deal with the devil, she'd gone to St. Mungo's to speak with Ginny. As Harry's wife, she was probably the only one who could answer her most burning question: What could cause such intense emotions that Harry would transform into the Dragon?
Before she could, Healer Bones had insisted on providing a medical examination. Hermione had been a recluse for two weeks by now. Before she saw anyone, Susan would make damn certain that she was in good health. It wasn't up for discussion. Hermione had begrudgingly agreed, only so she could get her answers sooner.
When she was finally brought into the private room Ginny was staying she could barely breathe. There on the bed lay Ginny Potter, her sister-in-law. Even with magic at their disposal, the Healers had been hard-pressed to keep her alive, much less stable. When Neville brought her in he underestimated the severity of her injuries.
From the waist down most of her bones were reduced to dust, no doubt by the shockwave and subsequently being thrown back. Her spine had been cracked in three places, almost paralyzing her for life. Her arms fared a little better, being attached to her body solely by the skin. She still needed a neck brace and it was a miracle her skull hadn't been completely shattered.
Add in the organ damage caused by the shockwave and the shrapnel it was a bloody miracle that she was alive, much less talking. But she was, and she'd insisted on speaking with Hermione. Given she had her own questions to ask, this suited her just fine.
She only wished it didn't hurt so much to see her like this.
"Hermione?" Her voice was quiet, loud enough to hear but not enough to strain her.
"It's me, Ginny. Susan's here too. I need to ask you something."
"I have to tell you... while I still can."
"Don't talk like that! You're going to be fine. But Susan tells me you're refusing spells and potions to relieve your pain."
"The pain... It feels right... like there is... justice in the world."
"What are you talking about?"
"What I've done... what I've allowed... there has to be some justice for it."
Shaking her head, Hermione decided to get the conversation back on track for her.
"Ginny, I need to know, do you remember anything?"
"I remember the Inn... saw Neville... Went to the house... needed to see Harry... then the shockwave... and the smoke... so much smoke..."
"Ginny, do you remember seeing a dragon?"
"Vaguely... saw a massive shape... rise from the smoke..."
"Ginny, that shape, it was Harry."
The room went so silent the ladies could hear their own heartbeats.
"What?"
"The dragon, IS Harry. An animagus ritual went very wrong, or very right, and he transformed into his animagus, a dragon.
"But something went wrong. Something has happened that caused such intense emotions that he can't turn back. Ginny, you're Harry's wife, I need to know if anything happened that could cause this?"
No one spoke, Hermione for want of an answer, Susan and Ginny for fear over what would be said.
Wait, Hermione thought, why does Susan look so concerned? What does she know? I've already sworn her to secrecy on top of standard confidentiality. What could it be?
"It should have been you." When Ginny finally spoke, it wasn't what Hermione was expecting.
"What should have been me?"
"Harry's wife. It should have been you."
"Ginny, what are-"
"Molly potioned you."
Now it was Hermione's turn to go silent with fear. Fear of what came next.
"Say that again."
"My mother potioned you and Harry. You should have married him, not Ron."
Hermione said nothing, not until her eyes took on a murderous glint.
"Tell me everything. NOW."
So she did. She told Hermione how starting in their fifth year they began receiving care packages filled with potioned food. How Molly began strengthening the doses going into their sixth year, determined to keep Harry and Hermione away from each other. She told how she caught her mother brewing the potions while pregnant with Lily. She could still remember their argument.
"YOU'VE BEEN POTIONING US!?!?"
"Not at all Ginny dear, just Harry and Hermione. Couldn't let the mudblood take Harry from you, now could I?"
"Mud- Who are you?! My mother would NEVER say something that disgusting, and she'd NEVER do something so... so... EVIL!"
"Evil, am I? Then tell me Ginny, what does that make you?"
"I never knew about ANY of this until now!!"
"And yet, here you are arguing with me when you could be notifying Harry. Of course, what is he to think once he learns the truth??"
"He-he'll send you to Azkaban you vile harpy!!!"
"Oh, I'm certain he would. But then, what about you, my daughter? Would he truly believe you to be innocent of this? After all, I've taught you how to cook for your family, and I know how much he loves your treacle tart. Do you really think he'll believe you innocent of wrongdoing? And what about the children?"
"YOU LEAVE THEM OUT OF-"
"What will he do when he discovers all the children you've given him were born from potions? Would he say 'all's forgiven' and pretend nothing happened? We both know that isn't true."
"He-he'd never-"
"He'd hate you, and your children, renouncing them as his own. Then of course there's Hermione and her children. She'd likely do the same thing, abandoning her children when they'll need her the most. Truly Ginny, how could you endorse something so cruel?"
Ginny clutched at her swollen stomach, fearful that her mother might be right.
"Speak none of this to anyone Ginny, and your children will grow up happy and healthy, loved by a father they love back."
"I kept quiet for years, even knowing I should tell you the truth."
"What changed?"
"Your twins."
At that, Ginny nodded to Susan, who cast a spell meant to undo Obliviation.
The memories came flooding back, but one, in particular, horrified her, leaving her on the ground in the fetal position.
Ron had been mediocre at everything that wasn't eating, and that included being an Auror. He got by solely on his friendship with Harry Potter, who advanced through the ranks far quicker than Ron ever could. That night, in particular, Harry had been promoted to Head of the DMLE, and Ron's jealousy went into overdrive. Ranting about how Harry was a 'good for nothing half-blood that got by on his fame' he'd been incensed when Hermione dared to tell him to stop putting down his friend.
Accusing her of cheating, he'd begun striking at her, even demanding to know if Harry was the father of her twins. Nothing she said could calm him, and the more he hit her the angrier he got before he began kicking her.
By the night's end, she'd been beaten several shades of black and blue, clutching at a stomach that had taken several savage kicks. She begged Ron to get her a healer, but instead, he took her to Molly where she had helped mend her wounds, but couldn't, or wouldn't, save the girls.
She remembered breaking down that night, being held prisoner in one of the bedrooms of the Burrow while Molly prepared a potion to alter her memory, given that Ron couldn't do a damn thing right himself. She remembered hearing Ginny's voice, her screams of horror, and her leaving the house in a rush. Then she heard Harry, roaring with rage, demanding answers from Molly, threatening her, only to be ambushed by his so-called 'friend'.
'Gryffindor my left tit. He should've been in Slytherin' was all she could think.
By the time she'd recovered, her eyes were a horrifying shade of red, tears fell from her face like a waterfall, and her voice had become hoarse from her agonizing cries. She looked at Ginny and Susan and saw they were in a similar state, sharing her horror and pain from these revelations. When her voice was hers again, she spoke.
"You know I'm going to kill your brother and mother for this?"
Ginny only nodded, resigned to what happened next.
"Now, why were you going to the Yorkshire house?"
"To undo the Obliviation... I finally learned how to do it."
"Even thinking that Harry would hate you for what Molly did?"
Ginny could only nod.
At that, everything clicked for Hermione. Somehow the ritual had overpowered the Obliviation, restoring to Harry his true memories, and the shock of the betrayal must have forced the transformation.
Maybe with that in mind, she could find a way to bring him back, to find the man buried within the monster.
She then returned to her office, with a plan in mind for saving the Man-Who-Won, only for her secretary to tell her 'Turn on the telly'
So she did and beheld a horrifying sight.
Harry wasn't in control, but that didn't mean he was unaware of what was happening around him. The Dragon had been incensed at being attacked and turned the fullness of its wrath upon the hermit kingdom of North Korea.
The coastline had been the first to be incinerated. The anti-air defences stationed there might have been impressive once, but against the Dragon, they were little better than sticks and stones. Now they were melted heaps of slag. The men stationed there had been reduced to ash, amidst their horrifying screams.
Armour divisions stationed further in the country had been mobilized to counter the 'monster unleashed by counter-revolutionary forces' or whatever dragon shit their propaganda mills churned out. Fitting then that the armoured vehicles were reduced to little more than scrap as the Dragon tore through the vehicles with its godlike strength. Every strike from its claws sent more tanks flying, every step shook the ground and shattered the resolve of the men scurrying about like ants.
As he got closer and closer to Pyongyang, more and more of the country was mobilized. Children were ordered into the factories, while men and women were given rifles, useless versus the armoured scales of the Dragon, and told to fight for the 'glorious revolution and the Eternal President'. When Pyongyang was finally in sight, it had been mobilized to fight an invading army.
Instead, it faced something far worse.
Descending from the skies like the god of thunder, the Dragon unleashed its fire upon the city, incinerating entire city blocks, and leaving no survivors. Those closest to the fires ran screaming in pain, as their mere proximity caused third-degree burns. Nothing was spared its wrath as it made pass after pass, incinerating the entire city, before crushing the Kumsusan Palace of the Sun beneath its massive frame.
For untold thousands of people, the last thing they ever saw, before being burned alive, was the roaring figure of the Dragon, raising its head to the heavens and spreading its wings in a terrifying display of dominance, reminding all who saw it, that mankind was no longer at the top of the food chain.
The scenario played out across the country, with army units and the airforce attacking the Dragon with everything they had, only to be consumed by its fire as it retaliated. As it moved closer to the northern border, the Chinese began mobilizing their armed forces anticipating conflict and determined to bring everything to the table.
By now the death toll was staggering. Millions had died, and millions more were missing as the Dragon tore its way through the small country. Those left prayed desperately for a miracle.
It was then a miracle happened. It simply turned and left, flying away at Mach 2.
Hermione knew this was no coincidence, and it was hardly a miracle. Harry was coming home, to bring his wrath down upon, if not Britain then at least the Weasleys. She needed to act NOW. While Harry might still have a chance at being saved.
At long last the doors to Director Ragnok's office opened, and she was brought before the Director of Gringotts and King of the Goblins. The Goblin himself sat at an impressive stone desk, wearing an iron-plated hauberk, and a great sword strapped to his back. Gesturing for her to sit, she wasted no time.
"Forgive me Director Ragnok, but I must make this quick. I understand that Gringotts uses lifecrystals to detect when an account holder has passed away, correct?"
"Yes, it's one of our more efficient systems set in place."
"Then could one of these crystals be used to track down a wizard, even one hidden by Fidelius?"
Ragnok narrowed his eyes.
"Why do you wish to know this witch?"
"Director Ragnok, if you can, then I need your help. I need you to assist me in tracking down Harry Potter."
"Isn't he chasing after the Fire Drake? Find that, you'll find him easy enough."
"Director, the truth of the matter is far more complicated, something I'm not sure I would be willing to reveal just yet. But you are correct, if we find the Dragon, we find Harry. But the Unspeakables believe its nest is set up in an area protected by a Fidelius Charm, or is somehow made Unplottable by other means."
"And you expect that Lord Potter is somehow going to lead you to the Dragons lair?"
"Director, I cannot stress this enough: If you can help, I you to do this now. There may not be much time left."
Sensing that was all he was going to get out of her for now, Ragnok sighed in disbelief. "It won't be cheap you know."
"Price is no object. I just need it fast."
"Very well. We'll have what you need by tomorrow morning."
"Thank you, Director." At that, she stood and left.
Upon returning to her office she conjured a bed for the night and sent a Patronus messenger to Headmistress McGonagall. The plan was good to go.
I just hope this works.
Chapter 4: RedemptionNotes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextRon was in a foul mood. Then again, he'd been in a foul mood for two weeks straight now. Ever since that damned dragon showed up, everything had gone tits up.
First, there was Harry disappearing. Oh, the Prophet talked a big game about how he was hunting the monster to protect his beloved home, but Ron knew the truth. The truth was he was hiding, too scared to face the dragon like a man.
Sure, he could go and kill it, it was just a hunk of flaming muscle powered by a brain the size of a walnut. But he had more important things to worry about. Like getting the promotion he was long overdue. He should have been made Head of the DMLE, not Potter. The git got by solely on his fame, the fame he didn't want or deserve! Still, now that he was gone, or at least hiding, getting the job he was owed was well within his purview. After all, his wife was the Minister for Magic, despite her recent behaviour.
That, of course, had been another issue for him. With Hermione unavailable he'd been the one expected to care for the children and worry about the housework. He'd lost count of the number of Howlers he'd sent, trying to get the mudblood back to do her duties as his wife.
Ron smirked at that. She was his. Not Harry's, his. Those potions had done their job well, and he'd been enjoying bedding her for the past years, denying the git what he had wanted. But that lost its fun real fast, and he'd been more than happy to have a few mistresses on the side for when things got stale. Or when she got too mouthy for his liking. Thanks to those potions the normally clever bookworm was as clueless as Harry had been.
It was too bad Dumbledore had died before the rest of the plan could be carried out. If it had gone the way it was supposed to, half of the Potter fortune would be in Molly's hands, and he had dreamed of the mountains of gold their main vault held. Now though, it was all out of reach. While Harry had made Ginny a mum, he'd also claimed the Potter Lordship and the unimaginable wealth of his family. That gold should have been theirs, not Harry's. Or at the very least it should have been Ron's. He could be living like a king, complete with his own harem, and not even make a dent in that pile.
Well, Ginny was in St. Mungo's, badly injured and would probably be bedridden for a long time. If she couldn't carry out her duties as Lady Potter, then Mum could act as Regent for the kids. If that happened, then the Weasleys would have ALL the gold of the Potter family.
Being bedridden certainly seemed an appropriate fate for Ginny. Betraying her family by ratting them out to that git Potter. It was a good thing he was an idiot, or he might have brought backup. Instead, he got a stunner in the back, and a few good kicks to the gut, for his trouble. He'd have gladly faced him in a proper duel, he was a pureblood after all, but he couldn't risk Mum getting hurt, or the damnable half-blood fleeing at the first chance.
Ginny though, definitely should have been punished. He could easily deal with her, maybe forced some bindings on her core. He was an Auror after all, it was within his rights to do so. But Mum disagreed. She only warned her that if she ever went against the family again, it wouldn't be her that pays the price, whatever that meant. Not like anyone else could afford the amount of gold they'd extort from her. Mum shouldn't have gone so easy on her, but she knew best after all, so he'd let it go. But that didn't stop him from toasting the Dragon for putting the spoiled bitch in the hospital.
Speaking of toast, that food Mum was cooking smelled good. Her cooking always put him in a good mood, making it easier for him to put up with Hermione and the kids. Dad was working late, and the kids were visiting their relatives. That French tart could take care of the brats. He never understood why Bill went ahead and married the creature. Sure, she looks good enough and Veela definitely had their uses in the bed, but that was all they were good for. But lifting her up to be his wife!? That didn't make any sense!
'Wait, what's that sound?' He listened closer. 'Sounds like the wind. Maybe a storm is brewing. Should probably- ohh food's ready!'
Just as Molly put a big plate of dinner on the table, something big landed outside. Something big and heavy enough to shake the whole house. What the bloody hell was that???
Standing up to go see what had interrupted his meal, he couldn't believe his eyes when the upper floors of the Burrow were torn away. Amidst Molly's screams of terror, he noticed something. Standing in front of the ruins of their house was the Dragon!
Shit, the Floo's gone. No chance of getting away. Wait, what am I thinking!?!? If I kill it, they'll all be cheering MY name, not that git! Now's my chance to show Britain how it's done!
Whipping out his wand, he cast the strongest Stupefy he could at the Dragon, only to miss it entirely. He tried again, this time hitting it square on the nose. Nothing. He tried a third time, hitting its mouth. Again, nothing.
Switching tactics, he cast Conjunctivitis Curse and hit the face but not the eye. This time, the Dragon made a weird noise, only for him to realize 'It's LAUGHING at ME!?' He cast the Curse again and again, growing steadily more frustrated as nothing happened to it, even when he hit the eye. Now no one could deny, the Dragon was LAUGHING at him. HIM!!
"Pathetic as always Ron. Frankly, it astounds me you were ever considered of use to anyone."
It was TALKING??? A dragon that could TALK??? That's unbelie- wait a minute...
"Did you just call me PATHETIC!?!?"
"What else would I call you, other than the treacherous worm in the shadow of your betters?"
"HOW DARE YOU!!! I AM NOT PATHETIC!! I AM A PUREBLOOD AUROR!!!"
"Your blood matters little once spilled, and your rank as an auror is only because you're a parasite, leeching glory and recognition from those beyond your mediocre abilities."
"MEDIOCRE!?!? I'LL SHOW YOU MEDIOCRE!!!"
At that, he cast the most potent curse he could think of.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!!"
The Killing Curse flew straight at the Dragon and struck it with a sickly green glow and then... nothing. The Killing Curse did NOTHING!? Before he could fully process this information, he heard the Dragon LAUGHING at him.
"Too stupid to use anything but the Killing Curse, and too weak to use it properly."
Furious, Ron cast the Curse again, and again, and again.
"WHY...WON'T...YOU...DIE!?!?"
"Because, Weasel, our power has ALWAYS been beyond the feeble grasp. Now, it's time to end your meaningless existence."
The Dragon lunged at Ron, faster than he ever believed possible. Before he could Apparate away, he was pulled off the ground as the mouth closed around him, crushing his legs between the teeth. Before he could begin casting again, his wand slipped from his hand and he watched it be crushed by the jaws of the monster. He tried to claw his way to safety, only for that massive tongue to throw him back down the throat. He screamed in agony as the steaming hot throat crushed him, breaking every bone in his body as he desperately tried to worm his way back up the throat.
It was all for nothing as he fell further and further, until finally landing in some kind of massive pool. Those were his last thoughts as he felt the water begin to boil, and he screamed in agony and fear as his flesh melted from his very bones.
Outside the Dragons stomach, Molly was having a very bad day. Her house had been torn to shreds and her youngest son was facing off with a DRAGON. Listening to the monster taunting her boy, she considered her options. She couldn't find her wand, so Apparition was off the table, and the Floo was buried under rubble. That left her only option running for her life, but there was no way she could move faster than that thing could reach.
Maybe Ron can distract it...
That thought ended as she watched it swallow her son whole. The display shocked her to her core, rooting her to her spot as abject terror gripped her heart in its cold grasp.
"Well, that was satisfying. Now, as for you, Molly."
"You...you... you know who I am????"
"Much to my disdain, yes. I know you for a treacherous cow of a woman."
"How... how dare you speak to me like that!!!"
Cackling with cruelty, the Dragon grinned, showing massive sharp teeth, stained with blood.
"Like mother like son, it would seem. How fitting."
"DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY SON LIKE THAT!!! HE WAS A GOOD BOY!!!"
"In life he was shit. Now, he'll be dragon shit. Much like you and your potion schemes."
"YOU-YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME LIKE THIS!!! MY SONS WILL AVENGE THEIR BROTHER!!! AND MY SON-IN-LAW WILL OBEY ME!!! SO WATCH YOUR MOUTH!!!"
At the mention of her son-in-law, the Dragons eyes took on a cruel glint, as a sadistic grin spread across its face.
"Your son-in-law? Tell me, who exactly is he, that you would use to threaten ME?"
"HE-HE'S A HERO, AND YOU'RE THE ONE WHO PUT HIS WIFE IN THE HOSPITAL! AND I KNOW FOR A FACT HE'S OUT THERE HUNTING YOU DOWN! HE'S FACED DRAGONS BEFORE, AND YOU'LL BE NO DIFFERENT!!!"
"Oh Molly, you have NO idea, how wrong you are."
Molly waited with bated breath for him to continue.
"I AM THE MAN-WHO-WON"
At these words, Molly went pale as a ghost.
"And vengeance will be MINE."
At that, it roared in furious hatred, and a wall of fire burst from its mouth. It enveloped her and the last thing she noticed was the horrifying smell of her own flesh being cooked as her bones turned to char. Had she eyes to see, she might have noticed the look of exaltation on the Dragon as she screamed in agony.
The Dragons return to Britain had the nation into a tizzy. While only the two Weasleys at the Burrow were the victims, it still sent off a mass panic. For Hermione, it seemed poetic justice that those two had died at the hand of the one they betrayed. But the party could wait. For now, she had to act fast. Fortunately, the Dragon had again disappeared, returning to its hidden lair, which is exactly what she wanted.
The fewer witnesses around, the better.
Pocketing a rope Portkey, she Flooed to Hogwarts, and found herself in the Headmistress's office, with Minerva and Filius Flitwick waiting for her.
"Just him Minerva?"
"Indeed, he's been brought up to speed, and is ready to assist us."
"I admit, I'm as worried as I am excited. Entire armies have faced Harry and failed. Now it falls to us to bring him back. Are you certain we can do it, Mrs. Weasley?"
"Miss Granger, please. I intend to get my name back as soon as possible. And I know we can."
Nodding, they grabbed hold of the Portkey and felt themselves be pulled out of Hogwarts, and arriving at a small shack by the sea. Out stepped a man carrying three brooms, and handed each of them one. Nodding to Hermione, he went back inside, waiting for them to leave. Hearing their questions before they said anything, she turned to them.
"This is a DMLE safehouse in the Hebrides. Harry set them up to resupply anyone from the Ministry in need of assistance. I had the brooms brought in yesterday."
Taking off the two professors followed close, impressed by how Hermione was completely unaware of her fear of heights, and instead focused on the crystal she had hanging around her neck.
"Miss Granger, what exactly is that?"
"This, Headmistress, is a Gringotts life crystal, or at least a modified duplicate. The Goblins use these to keep track of when an account holder dies, and they have to notify their heir. This one has been modified with a Tracking Charm, causing it to glow brightly as it gets closer to the chosen target."
After that, no one spoke, all three of them focused on the task. The Dragon had again disappeared, which likely meant Harry had gone back to its lair, one that seemed to be hidden by magical means, otherwise they would have found it by now.
The hours seemed to tick by, with Filius and Minerva sharing the occasional worried glance, while Hermione devoted all attention to the crystal. Slowly but steadily, it was glowing brighter and brighter as they got further out from the Hebrides, and deeper into a seemingly empty ocean. Not a sound could be heard between them, with only the crashing of waves breaking the silence.
After three hours of flight, they noticed a violent storm on the horizon. Clouds as black as the void, lit by flashes of lightning as the sea churned violently, caught in the grip of a monstrous maelstrom, everything about it embodied the storms that haunted the nightmares of sailors.
Minerva and Filius prepared to change course, expecting to go around the storm before it shifted. Nothing surprised them more than Hermione speeding up, charging straight into the storm. Despite their apprehension, they followed her. The trio was forced to adjust regularly as the powerful winds attempted to push them off course. More than once Minerva feared she would be thrown from her broom entirely, cast into the merciless maelstrom.
Then, almost as quickly as it began, it was over.
The skies became clear. The wind died down. Even the violent ocean settled into a calm that was unnerving, had the trio been attentive to the ocean current. Instead, they saw what they were looking for, an island situated on elevated cliffs.
"This is it," Hermione spoke in hushed tones. "Harry's here."
Flying closer, at a much slower pace, they approached the island, flying over the cliffs that marked the boundary between land and sea. Then they beheld the island in all its glory.
It was massive, covered in thick boreal forests. As they flew overhead, they noted large gaps in the trees, where the forest broke into grasslands, with small freshwater lakes linked by rivers flowing through the forest. The island itself was populated by various species of wild boar, bear, elk, and even aurochs. Nothing about this island felt natural, as even the pines radiated fear, of a primeval sort from an age long before mankind dominated the world.
As they flew further inland, guided by the light of the crystal, they saw trees knocked over by massive chunks of stone. It wasn't long before they found the source, for at the highest point on the island they beheld the gutted remains of a once mighty fortress. Only the vague outline of an outer wall indicated there had ever been anything of note there.
Setting down outside the wall, Hermione turned to her cohorts. "Alright, here's what we'll do: I'll head in first, while you two will follow. One of you will hold the Portkey, while the other will summon me ONLY at the last possible moment if things go wrong."
McGonagall was appalled. "Miss Granger, do you mean to say you'll face the Dragon ALONE?"
"No Headmistress, I'm going to bring Harry back. I know he's still in there, and we've been through too much for him to be lost. I know I can find him, and maybe my presence will help him regain control. Now, who'll hold onto the Portkey?"
Before anyone could answer, a deep rumbling could be felt as the very ground shook. Birds in the forest took flight, and the trio went cold with fear as they realized the source of the rumbling was the remains of the fortress.
Their fears proved true, as in a near instant they beheld the full majesty of the Dragon, stepping on the ruined wall like it was an anthill. Minerva and Filius went pale as ghosts, for this was the first time either had seen Harry in his new form, only reading descriptions and the occasional photograph. Neither did any sort of justice, as it dawned on them the sheer unbridled power that young Harry Potter had locked away inside him all this time.
And now, they beheld the physical form of that power, and they shook with fear and awe.
Hermione, for her part, despite feeling the cold grip of terror on her heart, especially as the deafening roar of the monster reverberated within her soul, knew she should not falter. She COULD not falter. Looking into the eyes of the Dragon, she could see the anger, the hatred, and the pain. All these had combined to unleash a monster buried deep within Harry.
But just as she knew this monster had been locked inside Harry, she knew that Harry was still in there. Somewhere beneath the anger and pain, fueled by betrayal, he was still there. She felt it inside her heart. And now was the moment of truth.
"Harry..."
INTRUDERS!!! INVADERS!!! ENEMIES!!! THEY HAVE COME FOR US!!!
WAIT!!! There are only 3 of them. They might be here for other reasons.
AS IF THAT MATTERS!!! WE MUST DESTROY THEM!!! WE MUST NOT LET THEM ESCAPE ALIVE!!!
"Harry..."
Wait, that voice...
Could it be...
"Hermione..."
"It's me Harry..."
She's HERE!?!? How did she find this place!?!?
It matters not. We must keep her here.
WHAT!?!? ARE YOU INSANE!?!?
We must keep her safe. At all costs.
She's our FRIEND, not our PRISONER!
She will be safe with us.
"Harry, I know you're in there."
She knows it's me. How could she know???
It makes no difference. If she knows it's us, she knows she'll be safe.
What about her children???
The spawn of the traitor.
They are innocent. As are our children.
Then we bring them here. We hunt, we protect, and we keep them safe.
"Harry, you need to regain control."
She's' right. The Weasleys that betrayed us are gone.
DUMBLEDORE'S INFLUENCE LINGERS!!! THERE WILL BE OTHERS!!!
Then we will face them, on our terms.
WE ARE STRONGER AS WE ARE!
But we aren't what our families need. We aren't what SHE needs.
She needs us...
as a man...
not a monster.
"I know you can do it."
In all their lives, Minerva and Filius doubted they had ever been more terrified. They had faced off against Death Eaters and dark creatures during the Battle of Hogwarts, but now that seemed like child's play compared to this. Harry Potter, transformed into the largest and most powerful creature the world had ever seen, a transformation fueled by some deep-seated anger, was staring down at them after wiping out an entire country.
Though neither was as familiar with Muggle affairs as Hermione was, they were made to understand that entire cities had been reduced to ash in the blink of an eye. The body count was still being determined but it was known to be measured in the millions. And now Hermione was trying to pacify it with simple words.
If anyone could do it though, they figured it was her. They both remembered seeing them at Hogwarts, and both believed Hermione would be the next Lady Potter. Things hadn't worked out that way, but if her insistence on being referred to as Miss Granger was any indication, something had happened there they weren't privy to.
But that mattered little, as with every second Hermione took a step closer, and the Dragon stepped back, as if afraid of her. They heard the Dragon speak, something both thought an impossibility. They saw a massive creature turn from furious to passive in moments, as Hermione gently eased Harry back into control of his mind.
And to their astonishment, it seemed to work. The Dragon had begun to shrink, going from a truly titanic 500 feet to half in minutes. Slowly but surely it continued to shrink, smaller and smaller. Soon it was maybe 100 feet. Then it became 50. Now it looked like an oversized rhino. Until, finally, it gave way to a human form.
There. in front of the trio was Harry Potter, completely naked and on all fours, taking deep breaths as his body shook. In an instant, Hermione had rushed forward and enveloped him in one of her famous hugs. A hug he reciprocated, as both seemed fearful of letting the other go as if to do so would be to forsake them.
"You found me."
Hermione pulled back slightly, tears of joy and relief falling from her eyes. "It was easy," she said, inclining her chin to the crystal draped around her neck, now glowing bright like a star.
"No it wasn't," he replied, his face defined by an unreadable stoicism.
Hermione could only hug him harder as the tears fell faster. And the two witnesses to this event made silent prayers to every god they could think of, for they knew one thing: this was only the beginning.
Notes:Harry's back. Now things get interesting.