"Hermione, why do we have to close our eyes?" Ron complained.
"It's a surprise. Just keep hold of the portkey with your eyes closed until I tell you."
Various Weasleys sighed.
"Dear, I'm not sure we're ready for surprises," said Molly Weasley. Her voice was still wobbly, the way it had been since she saw Fred's body.
Harry clenched his teeth and kept his eyes shut tight, willing to support Hermione while understanding the Weasleys' reluctance to play. He didn't feel much like playing himself, just after returning from the enormous joint funeral for those who died in the final battle with Voldemort. Fred, Remus, Tonks, Colin. He forced himself to stop listing them. So many gone, so young. And not as recently, Dumbledore, Sirius. He gripped the old vase harder. The silliest game was better than descending into grief again.
The portkey trip felt different that previous times: a familiar whoosh, then several bumps as though the ether road had potholes, a flash of light he could see through his eyelids, and then trying to stand on shifting ground, like sand. He reached with his other hand to grab Ron, who was staggering too.
"Hermione, can we—" The rest of his words were drowned in her screams.
He opened his eyes. They were standing on sand, or trying to, as their feet sank and shifted. Everyone else must have opened their eyes at the same time, because Ron pulled out his wand at the same time Harry did, and Mrs. Weasley leapt in front of them with her wand in dueling position. Hermione already had her wand out, trembling. Harry assumed that Mr Weasley, George, and Ginny were behind him, but that wasn't nearly as important as the two dragons in front of him.
One was as tall as a building, with a mop of tendrils that reminded him of Lee Jordan's dreadlocks. Harry had never seen a dragon that wasn't willing to eat him, but this one had a dainty appearance, fluttering blue-spotted wings like a butterfly. The other dragon was even larger, gleaming black all over, except for dark blue on the front edge of his wings. His tendrils were neater, and two drooped along the side of his mouth like a Chinese mustache. Neither showed teeth or claws; they looked more puzzled than anything else. When he could spare a glance away from the huge mouths and claws, Harry saw people, seemingly tiny, on the dragons' backs. One scrambled down the side of the blue dragon and approached the wizards. Two more people followed from her dragon and three from the larger one. Up close, Harry saw that she was female a young woman, maybe close to his own age, tall and sturdy, with dark hair and an olive complexion. Though her hair was pulled back in a severe bun and her clothes seemed to be some kind of uniform, she, like her dragon, gave a delicate, feminine appearance. Her followers were a large middle-aged woman and a wisp of a girl, still a teenager. A man in his thirties led the other party of a red-faced young man and another young woman, stocky and blonde. They all wore bottle green jackets, white pants, and boots, with white shirt fronts ranging from frilly to plain.
The first woman stopped in front of the wizards, and said in a voice used to command, "I am Lady Rose Danforth."
"…and also Captain Rose Blakeney," added her dragon.
"…of Florenzia, His Majesty's Aerial Corps," she added with a grand voice that would certainly carry to the back of a hall. "May I present my lieutenants Gardenley and Dane, my colleague Captain William Laurence of Temeraire and his lieutenants Ferris and Roland. I have no idea why there are so many of us to greet you."
The dragon Florenzia lowered her head directly behind her officers. She whispered in tones that the next town could hear, "Because you jumped down to face a possible enemy by yourself. Really, Rose, you must not put yourself in danger."
Temeraire murmured an agreement that sounded like a thunder storm.
"Fiddle!" said Lady Rose. "They are terrified and armed only with little sticks that I could slice with my sword."
Harry took note of the number of swords and pistols. Everyone had at least one of each. He wondered if the disarming spell would work on the whole group, or one only weapon at a time. Neither the dragons nor their people seemed unfriendly, but, as one of his teachers used to bellow, "Constant vigilance!"
"They keep talking like we're not here," complained Ron in a whisper not much softer than the dragons.
"You are a lady, then?" asked Mrs. Weasley, her eyes shining with love for aristocracy and royal families. She lowered her arm to her side but kept her wand pointed.
Hermione, no lover of either, tilted her jaw and raised her wand higher. Ron rolled his eyes and kept his wand in position. Harry did too, but he wasn't sure whom he was aiming at. Despite her sword and pistols, Lady Rose didn't look like a threat, especially when she smiled, as she did now.
Lady Rose said, "Yes, I am the daughter of the Earl of Wexley."
"And Captain Rosabelle Blakeney," said Florenzia, miffed.
"The Fifth Earl, I should say," Lady Rose amended. "My small brother is the present earl."
"I'm so sorry for the loss of your father, "said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes filling with tears.
"And her mother, my captain," growled the dragon.
"Indeed, my mother is the more recent loss." Lady Rose's voice wavered. "We are still in mourning."
Mrs. Weasley could hardly get out the words. "You have my deepest sympathies. My own son was lost in battle. We are just come from his funeral."
Captain Laurence spoke for the first time. He was pleasant-looking rather than handsome, medium tall with his blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail that was sure to earn Mrs Weasley's censure. "I am so sorry. There is not one of us here who has not lost someone dear who fought for King and country. We have not heard of a recent battle, but no doubt the couriers will soon bring word. We are happy to offer you shelter or any other assistance that you require. May I ask whom we have the honor of serving?"
Mrs. Weasley drew a deep breath and pulled herself as tall as she could. "I am Molly Weasley, and this is my son Ron, his friends Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, and…" She looked behind her and screamed, "Arthur! Where is he? Where's Ginny? Where's George?" Where's…" She choked on tears as she recalled where Fred was.
"This is all my fault!" cried Hermione. "What could I have done wrong? I practiced several times." She picked up the vase—half of it—where it had fallen in the white sand. "Oh, no! It's broken! Where's the other part? I never heard of a portkey breaking. I'm so sorry I've ruined it, Mrs. Weasley. I don't know how it happened."
They collapsed against each other in tears, leaving Ron and Harry to awkwardly pat the nearest shoulder.
"You have lost some of your party then?" asked Lady Rose.
"Yes," sobbed Hermione. "Where could they be? I meant it for a treat, something to make us happier after the funerals. I set up a portkey to take us all to Dover Beach for a holiday, all of us at the Burrow, and we could call Charlie, Bill, and Fleur to join us after we arrived, if we wanted to stay longer. I'm sure my parents won't mind my using a bit of my education funds. I chose this vase because it had so many little handles, one for everyone to hold on to."
"I'm sure I don't care about the vase," cried Mrs. Weasley. "Such a horrid old thing, even if it is an heirloom. George and Fred broke it over Ron's head when they were small." She paused to cry some more over Fred. "I made them earn money to buy the glue to repair it, so that they shouldn't think everything could be fixed with magic. You see, it broke along the same lines. But where are Arthur, George, and Ginny?"
"Indeed, 1 do not understand one word in three, "said Lady Rose. "But we are also separated from our party."
"Only Isquierka, "said Florenzia. ''And nobody minds that."
"Indeed, "agreed Temeraire. "There was big flash of light and a great disturbance in the air. Florenzia and I dropped below it, as would anyone with any sense, but Isquierka took off above and beyond without a backwards glance, though she is our formation leader.
Florenzia sniffed. "Temporarily.''
"Perhaps she is gone for good,'' said Temeraire. The two dragons seemed cheered by the prospect.
"As she is carrying Granby and other friends, I trust not," said Captain Laurence.
Temeraire conceded, ''Oh, very well. I should not like anything to happen to Granby, as he was in my crew, and I do not think Isquierka looks after him properly. Let me lift you up, Laurence, and we will go look for her."
''You do not need me to take a wide sweep of the area. I will stay here," said Laurence. "Roland, you take charge of the search."
Temeraire agreed, ''Very well, if Florenzia will swear to defend Laurence as her own."
"I will," promised the smaller dragon, with a fierce glance at the wizarding party.
Temeraire waited only for her promise before picking up Lt. Roland and placing her on his back. After she settled herself, he leapt into the air and soared.
Harry caught his breath at the beauty of the 20-ton dragon, graceful as a bird. Temeraire never flew out of sight, making a wide circle around the party, gliding over the water with hardly a flap of his wings, diving close enough to touch the waves.
''Now that is too bad of him," said Florenzia, indignant. "He is getting himself a snack."
Lady Rose patted her dragon's side. "If he does not bring something back for you, you may do the same before we return to the covert."
''Excuse me, m'a am," began Hermione.
''My lady," corrected Mrs Weasley in a whisper.
''My lady," Hermione obliged, but grudgingly. "But do you know where we are? I meant for us to go to Dover Beach."
'That is where you are," said Lady Rose. "The town is perhaps a mile away."
Hermione's brows drew together as she tried to puzzle out the problem.
Harry felt sick at his stomach. He began to suspect that the problem was larger than mere geography. Captain Laurence had several times mentioned a king, and as far as Harry, knew, Britain had a queen, a nice old lady who often appeared on TV to wave at her subjects. He'd been preoccupied lately, but surely someone would have mentioned if the queen's son had finally ascended the throne. With a growing sense of dread, he asked, ''Could you tell us please when is it? I mean, what day and year?"
With an odd look at him, Captain Laurence answered, "The 8th of November in the year of Our Lord 1813.
"What!" shouted Ron.
Hermione gasped in horror.
Mrs Weasley fainted.