Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Press and Warner Brothers, not me.
A/N: Here's another chapter for y'all:
Fanfiction recommendation of the day: "Faery Heroes" by Silently Watches. My hands-down favourite of the "Death's Pride" Challenge participants, my favourite Lunar Harmony, and an all-round entertaining time travel romp.
Chapter 6 – Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
6 November 1997
"There you are!" warbled a merry voice.
Hermione Granger glanced up from her Arithmancy notes in irritation – and recoiled. A toothy grin and thick mop of ebony curls hovered half an inch from her face.
"Argh! How did you get in here?" she growled. "And get out of my personal space!" Her hand pressed against the other girl's face and pushed her back as far as her arm could reach.
Bellatrix was unfazed. She leaned forward into the pressure and bit Hermione's fingers playfully, smirking at the older girl's indignant yelp.
"Wasn't hard, Luna and I just tagged along with a group of Lionesses and waltzed right in, they didn't even notice we were there."
The cheeky brat looked entirely too pleased with herself. Luna was staring with great concentration at an empty section of wall, turning her Butterbeer-cork necklace over and over in her fingers like Rosary beads. Hermione shot a glare at the fifth-year Gryffindor girls who had the grace to look sheepish.
"Never mind that, Herms – Tom, Luna and I finally cornered Harry and we're going to make him spill his guts! Come on!"
That set of a low rumbling of concerned murmurs throughout the Lions' common room.
"Oh Merlin," a third-year boy muttered in the background, "the Ice Queen's gonna go torture some poor bastard ..."
"I'm sure I don't care," Hermione told Bellatrix coldly.
"Yes you do," she sing-songed. "You liiiiiiike him; you like him a lot more than you pretend! After all, he's the only boy who can put with you, Your Moodiness. So you should take this chance to spend more time with him. Tom and I'll help!"
"The nargles have volunteered their services as well," said Luna absently, drawing a complex shape in the air with her forefinger.
Hermione ground her teeth. She so did not need to be having this conversation in public. "Enough! I have eight feet of parchment to write for Arithmancy, so –"
"Don't be all scowllelly," Bellatrix pouted, seizing the seventh-year's arm and pulling her out of her chair. "It won't be as amusing without you. You have the best glares out of any of us – nobody can make Harry squirm like you do! It'll be ever so much fun!"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Ugh, fine if it'll get you off my back! But you have to promise to never call me 'Herms' again."
"Whatever you say, Hermy," Bella chirped.
The high-spirited fifth-year dragged the grumbling girl out the door (Luna carrying the bags), whilst the rest of the Gryffindor common room looked on in shock and disbelief at the unbelievable sight. Two ickle Ravenclaw girls had just sassed and manhandled the infamous Ice Queen in the middle of her own lair, without vicious reprisal! This hallowed moment would be passed down from generation to generation of Lions, and would live on forever in Hogwarts lore …
Meanwhile, Bella and Luna were guiding Hermione to the seventh floor.
"Come and Go Room?"
"Yep, best place to avoid being overheard. The watch tells me that you like using it during exam prep time."
"Much more peaceful than the common room. You'd think those dunderheads would actually prepare in advance rather than flying into a panic at the last minute every single exam period! It's tiring just being around them in that state."
The mystical door led into a gloomy medieval dungeon. Chains and hooks hung from the walls and thin shafts of light shone through the bars on the windows.
"Ah good, everyone's arrived," said Tom impatiently. "Sit down, sit down, so we can get started."
"Was it really necessary to tie me up?" Harry complained.
"Yes," Tom said flatly. "You've been stonewalling or avoiding us for two months straight. Time to pay the piper and tell us what you promised."
"The next time Luna says, 'Close your eyes, I have a surprise for you,' I'm gonna turn tail and run," he grumbled.
"I can't believe it took you so many years to figure that out," snickered Bella.
"And I haven't been avoiding you lot! I just wanted you to focus on adjusting to classes and Hogwarts life without me getting in the way. Most of your time is spent in classes and extra tutoring sessions from the Professors anyway, not like we have a lot of time to chew the fat."
"Pull the other one Harry, it has bells on," giggled Bella.
"I'm surprised the watch didn't tell you everything already," the wizard said mulishly.
"Not my story to tell. It's better if you tell them about yourself Harry," rejointed Portrait-Hermione.
"Fine, fine, I did promise you at the Sorting." Harry explained to the three younger girls his counterpart's history in this timeline. Hermione had already learned most of these details from the painting, so contented herself with perusing her Arithmancy textbook.
"I can't believe your family and friends just threw you away like Crookshanks' kitty litter," Tom shook her black ringlets in disgust. "Though this prophecy business bothers me …"
"Hold the phone," objected Bella, "if you're a Squib, then how exactly do you have … y'know, magic?"
Harry shrugged helplessly. "Somehow I ended up with some of Tom's."
Hermione choked, almost dropping her book. "What!? That … what … how is that even possible?"
"I've haven't the foggiest." And on that point, the wizard was being completely honest. He still found it unfathomable as to how Voldemort could have passed on some of his powers to him. According to everything he knew about magic, it should be as feasible as transfiguring the Sun.
Guess Professor Dumbledore underestimated what happened that Halloween night. He told me in second year that Voldemort's Parseltongue ability transferred over to me when he was vanquished, but the fact I still have magic at all in this timeline tells me I must've gotten quite a bit more than snake-language … How ironic. It was thanks to that monster I was able to enter the wizarding world at all. If he hadn't attacked me as a baby, I'd've ended up as a Squib and probably still been exiled to the Dursleys. Guess that's the one and only thing I should be thankful to him about ...
"Um … thanks," he said to Tom, struggling to articulate his complex feelings.
"You're saying the only reason you have magic is because of me?" the girl said slowly.
"Uh, yeah," he mumbled, bracing himself for her rage.
But her response surprised him. A brilliant red blush infused her pale face; she refused to make eye contact.
Wait, what? What's up with that reaction? Did I miss something?
Hermione was still shaking her head in bafflement. "There's no way … have to research this …"
"Finally!" cheered Luna. "Definitive proof of the existence of the Rotfang-Heliotrope Pact! Harry, would you agree to sit for an exclusive interview with The Quibbler? This is important public information."
Tom seemed lost in her own world. She stared off into the distance, sporting an incredibly smug expression on her pretty face.
"Hem hem, since we're all here," Harry hastily changed the subject to avoid having to do yet another interview as an 'anonymous expert' for Mr Lovegood's rag, "we may as well discuss the Hippogriff in the room: somehow – in spite of Dobby and Winky's surveillance – I'm a G.I.T.T. Champion, even though I didn't enter my name into the Goblet and there's no possible way anyone besides you lot could know Harry Potter was at Hogwarts ... Seems all a person needs to do to force someone to compete in this death-tournament is write down their name and throw it in. What an ingenious and foolproof system! Ministry stupidity aside, the million Galleon question now is: who dragged me into this mess, and for what reason?"
"Assassination," said Bellatrix instantly.
"Assassination," said Hermione.
"Assassination," said Tom, shaking off her wool-gathering but unable to remove the smirk.
"I'm going to have to go with assassination too," said Portrait-Hermione. "The culprit ensured that every single Potter and Longbottom child was magically bound to compete in a tourney that greatly resembles the old Triwizard Tournament, a competition that got cancelled because of the high death toll. It's the perfect way to get rid of the whole basket in one go."
"Agreed," agreed Real Hermione. "If the goal were honour and glory, there's no reason for any of the factions to allow their rival competitor to become a champion too … unless House Potter and House Longbottom made a deal for both their candidates to be selected. But if that were the case, there's no reason to include Harry, who's not considered an asset or a threat. The only thing that fits all the facts is that someone wanted to thwart the supposed prophecy badly enough to want a clear sweep of every potential candidate, even a supposed Squib. Even if a Squib can't or won't compete, the media frenzy would likely flush him out from wherever he was hiding. That implies a mastermind who's meticulous and doesn't like leaving any potential loose ends."
"In other words, the worst kind of enemy," sighed Tom.
"So who wouldn't want the prophecy fulfilled? Sounds like everyone in Britain would be keen on ushering in a new golden age," said Harry.
"If they're enemies of the Potters or Longbottoms they may prefer a silver age Britain to a golden age with their foes at the helm," stated Hermione with a touch of condescension. "There's also the possibility of someone outside the country. A foreign government that feels threatened by Britain perhaps, or an organisation that competes with the British in some area."
Things were so much simpler when Voldemort was the cause of everything, whispered a rebellious voice in the back of Harry's head.
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8 November 1997
"Consider this an apology for fobbing you off for so long," Harry said, guiding Tom into a certain room on the second floor. "It's just … it's just I really don't like talking about my 'family'. It's a bit of a sore spot …"
"I guess I can understand. If I try to imagine Dan and Emma casting me out onto the streets for some stupid reason, it really steams my hams." She looked around. "Harry, why are we in the disused girls' bathroom? Do you have some fetishes I should know about?"
She giggled at his spluttering denials.
"Oooooh," gasped a spooky voice. "How scandalous!"
The two teens jumped, whirling to see Moaning Myrtle emerge from an overflowing toilet bowl.
"It's been decades since a couple snuck into my bathroom to snog," the ghost winked conspiratorially. "But don't worry, Myrtle won't tell a soul … as long as you let me watch."
Tom opened her mouth furiously, but Harry beat her to the punch.
"Alright you caught us, Myrtle. We snuck into this filthy latrine to spend the rest of the day in a torrid makeout session like a couple of crazed hormonal monkeys. Hogwarts faces a severe shortfall of underage unwed parents this year, which we aim to rectify," Harry deadpanned. He didn't notice Tom turning bright scarlet. "So what'll it take for you to … hang on, wait a minute!" Harry looked at the ghost, down at the crimson-faced girl twiddling her thumbs beside him, back at the ghost, down at the girl, back at the ghost, down at the girl, back at the ghost. "How the heck did you end up dead this time?" he blurted out unconsciously.
Myrtle's face lit up with macabre glee. "Oooooh it was awful! That beastly Olive Hornby and her harpies were making fun of me from the moment I arrived at Hogwarts. So I decided to learn to become an animagus to spite them – that'd teach them to call me a talentless Squib that Pollux Redmaine would never look twice at!"
"Animagus? How old were you at the time?"
"13."
Harry winced. This wasn't going to be pretty.
"I wanted to turn into a Hippogriff so I could peck their eyes out … but instead my spirit-animal was a newt. Still, Olive was deathly afraid of lizards for some braindead reason, so it was almost as good. I managed to complete the transformation most of the way –"
"Most of the way?" interjected Tom, who was still the colour of a tomato.
"I got the body right, but was never able to change my head or left arm," Myrtle sniffed dismissively. "It was still good enough for frightening. So I waited until Hornby went to the bathroom alone. While she was admiring her stupid bitchy face in the mirror, I transformed and crawled up onto her shoulder and hissed. Worked like a charm! Ol' Olive turned whiter than the porcelain of the toilet bowls and screamed louder than a Banshee!"
She cackled, doubling over in mirth for a good 5 minutes.
"Er, but how did that end up with you becoming a ghost?" Harry finally queried.
"Hmm? Oh, that. Hornby was so terrified she grabbed me and threw me like an old sock. I fell right into the privy bowl, and she pulled the chain. And so I got flushed into the Black Lake."
Harry could only shake his head. The Universe really has it in for the poor girl. Not like I'm any different, I s'pose … At least this proves that if an animagus dies in their beast form, their ghost still stays human.
The ghost continued to expound at length on the endless misery of being confined to a room full of toilets and a set of drainage pipes in a horrible school filled with malicious children who all avoided her like the Black Death. As he listened to her endless elegy of loneliness, an idea began to percolate in his brain.
"I'll make a deal with you Myrtle. The two of us may be using this bathroom on occasion. You tell no-one what goes on in here and I'll find you a companion. A permanent one. Captive audience, so to speak."
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"Wick-ked!" Tom's eyes sparkled as she explored the Chamber of Secrets.
Harry couldn't help grinning at her childish exuberance. She raced from one end to another, examining the giant statue, the empty pool, the empty ritual chamber, the empty library, the empty living quarters, a beaming smile brightening her face.
"Where do all these tunnels lead?"
"All over the castle. Some even go out to the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake," he answered. "I haven't mapped them all out yet though."
"Is this what you've been doing in your spare time the past few months? When you were avoiding us?"
Harry winced. "In part. I've also been spending time watching the Potter siblings and Professors Potter, Potter and Lupin."
"Know thy enemy?"
"Not really. I just want to see what kind of people they are … to try and figure out … y'know, why they did what they did …"
"Any luck?"
Harry shrugged helplessly. "Speaking of enemies, there is one in here I need to talk to you about." He explained about Slytherin's Monster and how to summon it. "How about it, Tom? Feel like battling a giant murderous serpent? There's no way we can leave it be under a school full of innocent children. There may be no Parseltongues around except us for now, but who knows when another one could stumble upon this place by accident? They could use that Basilisk to terrible effect." He shuddered at the memories.
The witch gripped his forearms with surprising strength. Her eyes were feverish. "Basilisk … that's a XXXXX-class monster, right?"
"Er, I think so, yes?"
"Can you leave this to Bella and I? I promise we won't disappoint!"
"Uh, I guess so, if you're really that keen …"
"Yay! We'll make you proud, Harry!"
"It's okay to tell Bella about the Chamber but please keep it quiet from Real-Hermione and Luna."
Tom blinked in confusion. That was unexpected. Harry was typically the first to defend Hermione and try and include her in their doings.
"I've never taken them down here before, and I've no idea how they'd react. We've already introduced them to the Come and Go Room, that's more than enough."
"So it's a secret hideaway just for us?" Tom's face burst into a radiant smile once again.
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11 November 1997
In the end it only took Tom and Bella three days of brainstorming (and pumping Harry for every scrap of information he held about the Chamber and Basilisk) to come up with a feasible plan. Tuesday evening was designated the day of reckoning. After dinner, the two girls made their excuses to Luna and slipped out of the Great Hall. Entering Myrtle's bathroom, they were surprised to find Harry already present, along with a burly man in a tartan-coloured wizard robe who was busily inscribing runes on the floor and walls.
"What's going on?" Tom asked, peering at the strange symbols. Ancient Runes were of particular interest to her, and she couldn't recognise any of these.
"Runic array," the man said, not looking at them.
"I smuggled this fine gentlewizard into the castle tonight to do a little job for me. Invisibility Cloaks are really the gift that keeps on giving aren't they? But never mind about us, you have your own business to attend to. I'll tell you about all this later," Harry promised. He leaned forward and whispered. "So tonight's the night? Okay, good luck. Remember, if you're not back in two hours I'm using the Turner to go back in time for two hours and going down to rescue you. Now let's synchronise watches."
"Synchronised!" announced Portrait-Hermione. "Although they're not really, are they? You're just relying on me, aren't you?"
Harry moved to chat with the unnamed wizard to distract him, but it was unnecessary as the man remained focused on his task. He didn't look up once as Tom opened the tunnel and she and Bella dived down the chute.
Their task was soon completed, and the two wizards moved on to the next step. They huddled under the Cloak and made their way through the hallways.
"Are you sure you know where we're going?" Harry whispered.
"Detector's never failed me yet." The man was wielding a device that looked like a cross between a wand and a fly-swatter. It gave off a seemingly-random series of whirring and chirping noises accompanied by flashes of different-coloured light. The cacophony somehow made sense to its user. "We're here." They'd arrived in the corridor outside the Hogwarts Library. "Give me time to set up."
Harry watched as a mysterious box covered in runes was installed on the floor in the middle of the passage. Growing bored, he decided to see if the taciturn contractor could be drawn into some small-talk while they waited.
"So … been doing this sort of thing for a while?"
"21 years."
"I see. Any hobbies outside of work?"
"I collect spores, moulds and fungus."
"Oh … goodie ..."
"We're done."
"Thank Merlin."
A few moments later, Harry crept through the empty Library until he located his target. "Oh no, it's Peeves!" he yelled in alarm, and turned and ran as fast as he could.
The poltergeist was startled for a moment, but quickly made chase, throwing books and inkwells at the fleeing boy, cackling like mad. Harry raced out of the door and down the corridor. Peeves shot after him until he hit what seemed to be an invisible wall blocking him.
"What's this? Students using wicked spirit-runes to trap Peevsie!?" he screeched, at a pitch that would strip paint from walls. "What did Peevsie ever do to you!?" A bright white light shone from the box and a wailing and screaming poltergeist was dragged into it. With a puff of magic, Peeves was gone.
"Did it work?"
"Yes. The spirit should've been transported to the bathroom."
They hurried back, anxious to avoid encountering anyone that may have been summoned by the ghost's loud shrieks. To Harry's satisfaction, Peeves was indeed there, ranting and raging. But everytime the spirit tried to flee, he bounced back into the room. As they closed the door behind them, the entrance to the Chamber reopened, and two energetic students emerged. Extremely filthy, but otherwise unhurt.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Harry shouted over Peeves' caterwauling. He handed the wizard a bag of Galleons. "Let's get out of here."
"Oooh, what's going on this time? So much excitement this week, is it my birthday?" moaned Myrtle as she ascended from a toilet bowl.
"I'm keeping my side of the bargain, Myrtle. Here's your new companion," Harry gestured at the rampaging poltergeist. "Peeves'll keep you company from now on. Mostly because he can never leave this room, or the pipelines attached to your toilets, ever again. So he can only go where you can go from now on. And don't worry about all the screaming. We've made sure no noises can be heard outside this bathroom, so it doesn't matter how many tantrums he throws. Peeves'll settle down eventually."
"Harry," Myrtle wiped a spectral tear from her transparent cheek. "This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."
"Anytime," he replied roughly, shuffling his feet at the awkward moment. A bit of moisture collected in the corner of his eye. "We'll leave the two of you to get acquainted." He hustled the other three living beings out.
"Come play with me, Peevsie. For ever and ever and ever …"
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Harry escorted the contractor to the Honeydukes exit and bid the satisfied man farewell. Then he rejoined Tom and Bella, who'd made themselves cosy in his bed.
All in all, a 100% successful night. I can now cross Peeves off the List.
"So what happened down in the Chamber?" he asked. "How dya off long, dark and snakey?"
Bella brandished a hand-held mirror. The glass was shattered and smoking.
"With that?" he eyed it dubiously.
"Yep, this was our only tool." Tom radiated pure smug self-satisfaction. "You ever read the story of Perseus?"
"Ummm …"
"We went down to the Chamber and used an Engorgement Charm on the mirror," broke out Bella, far too excitable to wait for Tom to build up steam. "Made it ten feet tall. And then Tom spoke to the beast in hisses and made it come out."
"I called upon Slytherin in Parseltongue like you told me, and the mouth of the big statue opened," Tom gave up trying for suspense and got down to brass tacks. "I may also have taunted the Basilisk a bit; said that we had a bunch of roosters and weasels that we were planning to sic on it, and laughed about how it'd soon be pushing up daisies. Worked like a charm."
"The Basilisk charged out of the hole, coming right at us," Bella added. "We hid behind the mirror and wham!"
"It saw its own reflection and petrified itself?" Harry asked in amazement.
"Yep, just like Medusa," Tom smirked. "I got the idea from when you told me about that friend of yours who got petrified from seeing its eyes in a mirror."
Harry sighed. "Where were you two when I was younger?" he lamented.
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13 November 1997
"This better be worth it," groused Sage Bragnam climbing down into Harry's expandable trunk to join the rest of the crew.
With the last person inside, Bella fastened the lid to shrink the trunk down to the size of a matchbox and pocketed it. She and Tom made their way into the Shrieking Shack and down through the secret passage into Hogwarts.
A few minutes later, Bella placed the trunk onto the ground and tapped it with her wand, restoring it to its ordinary size. She opened the lid and reached down to help the adults climb out.
"Ugh, what a way to travel," grumbled Myra.
Mathilda Grimblehawk, Sage Bragnam and Myra Curio clambered out alongside three other rendering specialists from Longbottom's Rock Bottom Prices creature plant.
"What a cheery place," observed Mathilda, looking around at the dank gloominess of the Chamber of Secrets.
"It has to be done here, we're trying to keep all this a secret," Tom reminded them. "How long do you estimate it would take to dismantle this baby?" She swept her arm back to draw attention to the enormous Basilisk laying on the Chamber's black stone floor.
The 6 workers stared in absolute shock.
"One 60-foot petrified Basilisk, as promised," reported the young witch. "Shall we sign a contract now?"
Tom and an incredibly dazed Myra negotiated for a while and eventually agreed that the two girls would get 40% of the gross sales revenue. The contract also included a clause that the students' identities would remain company secrets.
The rest of the crew was still frozen, drool dripping from their open mouths.
"I thought her talk of a giant Basilisk was schoolyard exaggeration," muttered someone, "but this … this is a Merlin-be-damned monster!"
"Better get cracking, I've no idea how long the petrification magic will hold," Bellatrix smirked.
That lit a bluebell flame under their backsides! The teams hurriedly assembled their equipment and began the arduous task of reducing the horrifying beast to usable materials.
"So how long do you think it will take for you lot to finish?" asked Tom.
"I'd guess at least 2 days," Myra replied weakly.
"Did you bring your magical tents and food like I told you? Good. Then we'll return down here in the evening in 2 days to let you lot out."
The two 14-year-olds trotted away, the giant serpentine gates grinding closed behind them.
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14 November 1997
"Out of our way, Mudblood!"
Harry was shoved unceremoniously into a nearby wall as the Slytherin contingent swept past him and into the Great Hall. The group descended onto the Snakes' table where Draco Lestrange and his retinue were holding court. The boy's blonde hair and pale eyes were similar to Harry's memories of the previous timeline, but the jawline, ears and aquiline nose were different enough that it gave Harry Uncanny Valley heebie-jeebies.
Lestrange was making some doltish point in a loud voice, flawless hands gesticulating for emphasis, while the students around him hung on his every utterance. The wizard's voice was of a lower register than Harry remembered it being before, giving his speech more weight and majesty, and sounding much less weaselly.
"You know what really grinds my gears?" Harry muttered to his watch, dusting himself off. "It's bad enough that Draco – Draco of all people! – is not only a Champion representing Hogwarts, but take a gander at two of those bootlicker fourthies waiting on him hand and foot – Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape or I'll eat my hat!"
"Yes I noticed that too. I checked with Real Me at the beginning of term – Lucius goes by the name 'Armande Malfoy' and Snape by the name of 'Ebenezer Thrushtruckle' these days," replied Portrait-Hermione.
"Ebenezer Thrushtruckle? Hehehehehehe," Harry chuckled.
His mirth faded when he saw 'Armande' casually curse a Hufflepuff in the back who'd made the unwise decision to approach the Slytherin table to ask for use of a spare salt-shaker. The unfortunate firstie screamed as his hands transformed into scissor-blades.
A teacher strolled by and with a flick of the wand, the Hufflepuff was levitated and carried away to the hospital wing. No points were deducted or penalties issued to the perpetrator. Harry recognised the man as Professor Regulus Black, apparently Sirius' younger brother. The man was Head of Slytherin House and their Astronomy teacher for some reason, instead of Professor Sinistra.
"Nauseating isn't it? They may not remember their past lives but it seems all three are still raging blood-purists in this world as well. The power of traditional Slytherin chauvinism lives on."
"And here I thought that a mere twisting of the cosmic stream of Time and forcible transformation of the Universe would've been enough to remove that noxious ferret, his odious father and the greasy-haired git from my life … how naïve I was," Harry lamented.
"Will no-one rid me of these turbulent Slytherins?" his watch quoted.
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15 November 1997
"A toast – to our wonderful friends and supporters!" Rudolphus Lestrange, patriarch of his House, raised high a glass of fine Astibarian blue wine.
"And to our son, Draco – may he bring glory to our House, and to everyone of the Dark, as our Hogwarts Champion for the Grand International Thaumaturgical Tournament!" added his graceful wife, Narcissa Lestrange-Black, raising her own.
The crowd cheered boisterously as they drank toast after toast. The man of honour for the evening was the recipient of many firm handshakes and back-slaps from the wizards, and cheek-kisses and sultry looks from the witches. Draco offered a charming smile to all his well-wishers, as he slowly worked the room. The Grand Ballroom was stuffed to the gills with the Who's-who of the Dark alliance. Numerous politicians, bureaucrats, celebrities, and wealthy businessmen laughed and mingled. Everyone wanted to give their personal best-wishes to the bright young hope of the great Pureblood Houses, and bring themselves to his attention. Anticipation was sky-high that the G.I.T.T. could push their faction to new heights of power and international prestige.
It was a clear, cold Saturday evening. The stars and moon burned with cold clarity from the enormous windows of Lestrange Manor. But for the celebrants, their hearts were warmed with the red-hot pride of future success.
After more than an hour of socialising, Draco was tapped on the shoulder by his father. Rudolphus made eye contact with an elderly man dressed to the nines in a robe bursting with silk and gems, and both shared a small nod. A small number of people politely excused themselves from the assemblage of wizarding elites, and made their way into a secure side-room.
Rudolphus steered his son Draco, wife Narcissa, and younger brother Rastaban into the room and firmly locked the heavy doors. "Here we are Abraxas, now what is so very important to drag us away from Draco's special night?"
Abraxas Malfoy, the redoubtable head of his House, was flanked by his son Brutus, grandson Septimus, and adopted son Armande. The old man nodded to Brutus, who produced a heavy lead chest and set it on the table. Abraxas produced a tiny gold key and unlocked the container. The set of 6 Time Turners glittered under the light of the chandelier.
"Behold, the treasures I have obtained through many years of spilling sweat and gold like rivers."
Narcissa gasped. Rudolphus' brows raised.
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The revellers continued to revel even in the absence of their hosts. Until an unexpected interloper brought rather a dampener onto an otherwise merry evening. The man stepped out of the hall into the Grand Ballroom and surveyed the scene. His nostrils twitched with the scent of vitality, and his vicious yellow eyes swept back and forth over the grandées of the magical world.
The noise of the party began to die down, to be replace by screams of terror as the intruder was recognised. Fenrir Greyback, the most notorious and violent of werewolves, the alpha of all alphas in Britain and Ireland, beamed his widest grin, which revealed every one of his razor-sharp fangs. From each of the entrances and exits other smirking werewolves appeared, sealing off the room.
"Evening to you all. So nice of you to hold your little shindig during the waning gibbous."
Greyback's muscles rippled and swelled. His clothes tore apart as his limbs elongated and his fangs extended out of his mouth. The transformation was replicated by his followers. Since it was a mere day after the full moon, the werewolves could induce the transformation with little difficulty.
"Can anyone spare us a fine red to toast the event? I don't know about you, but I'm just aching for something to sink my teeth into."
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"You're sure about this?" Rastaban enquired, holding a Time Turner to the light for a better view.
"Absolutely," Abraxas rasped with utter certainty. "When Armande was first brought into my home I had the elves inspect every inch of his body. The elongated earlobes and birthmark on his lower left back – combined with the blood test results at St Mungo's that confirm his status as a Malfoy – are definitive proof that Armande is in fact my eldest son Lucius, who disappeared from his bed at Hogwarts in 1965." His sharp eagle-eyed gaze swept over his shocked family members. All three of his offspring were speechless. "And Brutus' elder brother and Septimus' uncle."
"So your son was a victim of time dilation magic," stated Narcissa.
"He was discovered on a ship alongside a Time Turner, which in turn led the Aurors to confiscate many more hidden in Knockturn Alley," Abraxas croaked. "The conclusion is inescapable."
"So who kidnapped him and sent him 30 years into the future?" asked Draco, eyes sparkling with fascination.
"I have spent the last three years searching for that very answer, my young godson. And I feel I'm close, very close, to my foe. This tournament for which you are Champion, is the perfect chance to confirm my suspicions."
Draco pursed his lips in confusion. "What do you want me to do?"
"We shall use the very tools that stole my son away from me to unmask the vile fiends! Armande has been your aide from the day he enrolled in Hogwarts – now the two of you will take a Time Turner each. During the competition …"
I
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"Don't mind us, ladies and gentlewizards," Greyback sneered. "We just came to express our heartfelt appreciation for the Wizengamot's latest Werewolf Restriction Act. Especially the parts requiring werewolves to be forcibly sterilised and kept locked away in Magical Beast Reserves at all times ... I understand you lot all had a hand in drafting and passing it. Bravo, it sounds like a lot of hard work and sacrifice. And if there's one thing we werewolves can understand, it's hard work and sacrifice."
Fast and fluid as quicksilver, he reached out and plucked an elderly wizard from the crowd. Claws clamped tightly around his throat, the man could only wheeze as the beast lifted him off the ground with one arm.
"If it isn't my old friend Cecil Lee, what a small world," he growled. "How are things these days in the Werewolf Capture Unit?"
"Let him go!" bellowed Vinda Rosier.
Greyback smirked. "As you wish." With blinding speed, the werewolf hurled the caterwauling Lee into the crowd, bowling over august members of the wizarding elite like tenpins. At the same time, he sprang high into the air – avoiding the cavalcade of spells that landed where he'd been standing – and descended into the midst of a cluster of Wizengamot members.
The werewolves took that as the signal to launch themselves into the assembled grandées, tearing through them like tissue paper. The scene quickly devolved into chaos and confusion. Guests tripped and fell all over each other in their panic to escape, hexes were hurled wildly in every direction, mostly hitting their fellow Purebloods rather than their nimble attackers. While wizards typically had an advantage against werewolves due to greater magical power and spell versatility, this only applied to fights at a distance – in close-quarters hand-to-hand combat, werewolves were unrivalled.
Lestrange Manor, like all strongholds of the great Pureblood Houses, had extensive wards which blocked all Apparition and Portkeys aside from those of its family members. To their horror, the panicking sheep realised they were trapped in close confinement with these savage beasts, with only the fireplace and the first-floor doors as exits. Some fired blasting hexes at the windows and leaped out through the holes, desperately casting Cushioning Charms at the ground as they fell for three stories.
I
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"What in the nine circles of Hel is all the commotion out there?" demanded Rudolphus irritably.
Rastaban strode to the door but before he could open it, it exploded inwards, throwing him backwards into an undignified heap on the floor. A blood-spattered werewolf leaped into the room. With a vicious kick, he slammed Rastaban into a wall – and promptly ate the Killing Curse Rudolphus snapped off. As his body collapsed, three more beasts charged into the fray.
Narcissa screamed and grabbed Draco and Armande in each arm. With a 'crack!' she side-along apparated the three away.
Abraxas joined Rudolphus in conjuring silver daggers and banishing them at their foes. Brutus and Septimus grabbed the limp Rastaban and dragged him behind a conjured wall for safety. This act was as noble as it was foolish, as it left the two vulnerable to a hail of spears. The surviving beasts, realising that they couldn't approach their prey, opted instead to tear down the decorative spears adorning the walls and hurl them. The two patriarchs successfully shielded themselves, but the younger Malfoys weren't fast enough, and rapidly became pincushions.
Abraxas released a terrifying howl of grief and rage as his son and grandson crumpled, and unloaded Killing Curse after Killing Curse. The air crackled with magic and the scent of ozone burned everyone's nostrils. Each missed curse blew holes in the walls and floor. Several more werewolf carcasses dropped to the floor.
Fenrir himself arrived. Whipping out his own wand, he summoned the insensate Rastaban into his arms and charged forward, using the wizard as a human shield. Rudolphus' younger brother absorbed several silver blades before intercepting one of Abraxas' Avada Kedavras.
"Rasta!" shrieked Rudolphus. His wand whirled and a burst of bone-breaker and organ-boiler curses spewed out. But by that point it was too late, Greyback was upon them. With his right hand he used Rastaban's corpse as a bludgeon to knock Abraxas off his feet, while his jaws clamped down over Rudolphus' wand hand. Half a dozen werewolves fell upon the prone wizards and the fight drew to a close.
"H-how …?" gasped Rudolphus, as the life oozed from him.
"How did we get through the wards?" Greyback grinned, licking the blood from his lips. "We didn't. We transported ourselves here from the basement of Lestrange Manor three hours from now. Well, I assume it was part of the basement, it's hard to tell with a pile of ashes."
He stepped over the cooling body of Abraxas to seize the chest full of Time Turners.
"Funny thing happened to me this evening. I received a message to bring the pack to Lestrange Manor at midnight … from myself! It said there would be a bunch of Time Turners buried in front of the angel statue at the Mausoleum just outside the ward-line. And wouldn't you know it, so there were! So we went to the remains of your cellars and sent ourselves back to right now." He opened his shabby robe at the chest to reveal the hourglass around his neck. "Which reminds me …"
He pulled out his wand and conjured a Patronus, and gave it the message to himself. The silvery, skeletal wolf bowed and trotted off into the distance.
The screams of victims and howls of predators filled the Lestrange houses and grounds for another hour before estate finally fell quiet.
"Strip this place of everything of value," Fenrir commanded. "Our war-chest could use some more padding. Move! We're leaving before midnight!"
He hurried to the edge of the vast estate to the Lestrange Mausoleum, to leave the captured Time Turners for his past self to find.
At 11:30pm, the pack carried off their loot while a dozen of Fenrir's strongest magic users remained behind for the pièce de résistance.
"Ready, aim, Fiendfyre!"
The cursed fire spurted forth from their wands and gleefully gorged itself on the giant mansion. The building held up for a time, before it finally succumbed. The structure shuddered and then collapsed in on itself, to be consumed by the dark flames. The magical wards lasted a while longer, but eventually they too groaned and shrieked and then shattered, an invisible blastwave of magic exploding in all directions.
I
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17 November 1997
The werewolves' destruction of Lestrange Manor and its inhabitants sent shockwaves through elite Pureblood society. The Lestrange, Malfoy and Rosier Houses had been all but annihilated – Narcissa Lestrange, Draco Lestrange, Armande Malfoy and Evan Rosier were the sole survivors. In addition, a large number of members of other prominent Pureblood families and Dark-aligned Ministry bureaucrats had also been killed or maimed that night.
The different factions were scrambling to secure their interests amidst the fallout, so frantic meetings were held across the country. One such meeting occurred the Monday afternoon following the attack, in the Hogwarts Headmaster's office. Members of the three Light factions gathered to coordinate a joint response.
"I will not sugarcoat it – the situation is most unstable," Albus Dumbledore said grimly, tenting his wizened hands before him. "The Wizengamot has called for an emergency plenum on Wednesday morning."
"All of the pro-Magical Creature legislation that we've fought tooth and nail to get enacted over the past two decades is in danger of being scrapped in toto," snarled Frank Longbottom in disgust. The burly Auror paced back and forth, agitation radiating off him.
"I've even heard talk of a Bill being raised for the complete extermination of all werewolves in Britain," Alice Longbottom added. The slight blonde laid a hand on her husband's arm and his manic energy slowly subsided under her gentle touch. "One Dolores Umbridge is leading the charge; the woman's whipped up quite a lot of hysteria on the subject. I suppose I can understand her point of view – she suffered some quite horrific scarring from the attack. Since werewolf scratches are cursed, they may last for the rest of her life, and leave her with some 'wolfish' characteristics."
"Umbridge? Never heard of her. Who's that?" asked James Potter.
"One of the innumerable low-level functionaries in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Amos Diggory explained. "And in my experience she's always been pretty wolfish."
"Looks like she's no longer just another brick in the wall," observed Lily. "She's now got a grand crusade to hitch her wagon to."
"And it's working too – people are panicking," said Arthur Weasley. "Though I don't know how much more the DMLE can do. The Aurors already have checkpoints in place in all magical settlements, and undertake random inspections of individuals for Dark Artefacts or use of Dark Arts by their wands. And that was in place before this tragedy occurred. Any further violence and I'm worried that the Wizengamot may simply declare martial law."
"We must gather our allies to head that notion off at the pass should it ever arise," Dumbledore said firmly. "In the immediate term, my greatest worry is the behaviour of the elite Dark faction."
"My sources tell me that young whippersnapper Arcturus Black has joined hands with Bones and her Neutrals," Griselda Marchbanks piped up. "His niece little Narcissa is the new Lestrange Regent and so that House is fully behind him. Evan Rosier is out for revenge, and Arcturus will have House Rosier eating out of his hand or I'll eat my hat."
"If that's the case, then the rest of the Dark Houses will likely fall into line too," sighed the Headmaster.
"Never thought I'd see the day when the Black and the Grey formed a united front," wheezed Tiberius Ogden. "They're usually at each other's throats over control of the Ministry. If it's true they've buried the hatchet, there's a danger that they can squeeze out the Light's influence entirely under the guise of 'protecting the public' and 'upholding law and order'."
Silence fell as the group pondered that sobering thought.
"There is one additional matter," Algernon Croaker – Frank's uncle – interjected. The Unspeakable rarely spoke, but when he did, it was well worth listening to. "What I am about to tell you is classified; it will never be made public, and none of you will speak of it outside this room. Understood?" The group nodded. Everyone here was familiar with keeping state secrets close to the chest. "Investigation by the Department of Mysteries at the site of the former Lestrange Manor has revealed evidence of time distortions."
"You mean …" said James.
"That's right. It is highly likely the assault was facilitated by some of the Time Turners circulating on the black market."
Frank and Sirius cursed a blue streak, and even Dumbledore allowed a troubled frown to mar his forehead.
"Greyback with a time machine," hissed Alice. "What a chilling thought."
"I was under the impression that issue had been resolved," James said weakly.
"Many timepieces have been recovered by the DMLE, yes. And yet every now and then another Time Turner crops up," the Unspeakable rumbled.
"Any countermeasures being developed by the Ministry?" asked Lily.
"Yes," said Croaker. "The DoM has been expending the lion's share of its time and resources for three years into developing a ward that can detect the presence of Time Turners and a second ward that can directly block time travel magic. Once they are operational, these wards will be installed throughout the Ministry of Magic, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and Godric's Hollow."
"I am in negotiations with the Minister's office for priority installation for Hogwarts," supplied the Headmaster.
"I expect the Minister to also open them up for purchase by private individuals to protect their homes."
"All things considered, Professor Lupin, I believe it would be for the best if you left Britain for the time being," said Dumbledore. "I will arrange for you to be sent on furlough effective immediately. I have every confidence that Professor Hagrid will be able to manage the Care of Magical Creatures classes by himself until this situation has settled down."
Remus grimaced and nodded. "I believe it's long past time for me to take holiday leave. I haven't laid around on the beaches of Black Island for years, seems like a good chance to work on my tan."
"And I'm coming with you. I have plenty of leave saved up," declared Sirius. "What, don't look at me like that, Moony! I'm the only one who can key you into the wards. And I don't like the idea of you being there all by your lonesome. At the very least, I can provide another wand in case someone gets the bright idea to follow you there and cause trouble."
"I don't know if the Minister will like you taking off," James cautioned. "I heard she cancelled all Auror leave and recalled everyone to active duty until the crisis passes."
"Then Bones can learn to live with disappointment," Sirius shot back. "Marauders come first, always!"
I
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I
The incident was a topic of intense discussion amongst the Hogwarts student body as well.
"That Greyback's bad news, mate," explained Ron as he shovelled hearty portions of Yorkshire pudding into his gob. "It's not the first time he's tried something like this you know. My brother Bill told me that back in the '80s he led his pack to attack Hogwarts twice; 'The Bloody Halloween' they called it."
"Of course it was on Halloween," Harry grumbled.
"This guy Cecil Lee joined up with a bunch of students and professors to fight 'em off. That was the same Lee who died at the Lestranges'. Guess Greyback finally got his revenge."
"I heard that nine Slytherins won't ever be coming back to Hogwarts," interjected Bellatrix, always keen on gossip. "And there are at least a dozen other students who think their parents will transfer them to overseas schools."
"Yikes, that'll look bad for Hogwarts, considering we're the G.I.T.T. host and have all the international attention on us right now," said Dean.
"What about Draco, do you think he's coming back?" wondered Ginny. "He's still a G.I.T.T. Champion."
"He'd have to wouldn't he?" said Harry. "Doesn't the Goblet form a magically binding contract? Won't he lose his magic if he refuses to compete?"
Tom's delicate features twisted into a complicated expression.
Ron stiffened. "Oi, what did you say? What's all this about losing your magic?"
Harry explained the mechanics of the Goblet.
"Mordred's horns! They never told us anything about that!"
"'Course not," Harry groused. "That might've discouraged people from entering their names …"
Ron and Harry found common cause decrying the G.I.T.T. organisers for deploying such a dangerous artefact and then not warning the contenders. It almost felt like old times in the old timeline.
"Bella," Tom said slowly, "why don't you take Ron and Ginny to bring some lunch to Charlie? There's still an hour left before classes for you to sling curses at him ... I mean, to help him train."
Bellatrix's stormy violet eyes lit up with glee. Their section of the Gryffindor table was swiftly vacated.
"Honestly," muttered Tom, "if it weren't for the fact that girl hates meeting new people I'd say she's more Gryffindor than the actual Gryffindors."
She steered Harry back to his dorm.
"I've had an idea," the witch announced, plonking herself down on Harry's bed. "Our current problem can be summarised as follows: first, your name came out of the Goblet. As far as we know, it means you're under a magical contract to compete. Second, if you don't compete in the 7 Tasks there's a risk the Goblet will strip you of your magic. And since your magic is somehow also my magic, there's a risk I could lose my magic too. Third, you want to keep your identity secret from your family. Can't say I blame you after all the shite they put you through. All together that equals: you challenge the Tasks in such a way that nobody knows either Harry Potter or Harry Granger is competing."
Harry frowned. "This is giving me a headache. How in Merlin's name are we supposed to do that?"
"Simple," her sharp little finger jabbed his sternum. "You're going to compete in Draco's place."
"Huh?" he replied eloquently.
"The Hogwarts Sacred Band comprises Neville Longbottom and Draco Lestrange. Longbottom's too well guarded to interfere with; the boy's always surrounded by his friends, family and pet professors. But Lestrange has just lost his entire family to Greyback, and all his supporters have likely jumped ship to House Black or House Yaxley or someone else. He's all alone now. And that means we can get to him without too much trouble."
"Huh?"
"Honestly Harry," snorted Hermione's painting, "she's obviously talking about Polyjuice Potion. Which you should've twigged onto because we've already used it once, when we were trying to find out the location of the Chamber of Secrets, remember?"
Harry blinked. Very slowly. "Do you mean to suggest … that before each Task we knock out Draco, lock him away in a broom closet, use Polyjuice to turn me into him, and have me team up with Neville for the duration?"
"Very good," Tom said sweetly. "We'll make a schemer out of you yet."
"Won't that mean Draco will lose his magic?"
"Are you saying that would bother you?"
"Hmm, guess not. Better him than me."
"It would also be a good test to see whether there really is a magically binding contract at all," Portrait-Hermione mused. She noticed the two of them staring at her. "What? Human experimentation is acceptable if it's Draco. He's part of the reason the Real Me's had such a hellish time at Hogwarts."
Harry frowned. "Um, Hermione, is there something I should know?"
The watch sighed. "Not my story to tell. Just … just be there for her … me, will you Harry?"
"Always."
The topic caused a pall descend upon the group. In silent agreement the witch and wizard picked up the copy of the G.I.T.T. Rules that sat on his bedside table and began to skim through the slim volume's contents together one more time. The morose silence was only broken by the sudden appearance of two excitable house-elves.
"Dobby and Winky being finishing our search of the nasty Forest, Master-who-is-not-Master Harry Potter sir," exclaimed Winky breathlessly.
Harry sat up straight. "Find anything unusual?"
Dobby produced a dirty scrap of parchment and began reading in an officious voice. "In nasty Forest there is being 134 unicorns, 45 bicorns, 421 Centaurs, 98 invisible horsies, one giant, one half-giant, 7 dragons, 5 Cerberi, 62 wolves, 309 deerses, 47 Hippogriffs, 19 aswangs, 666 fairies, 887 pixies, 1,231 gnomses, 411 batses –"
"That's enough, thanks," Harry groaned and flopped backwards onto his bed. "Dragons. Of course it had to be bloody dragons."
"Guess we don't need to wonder about the First Task anymore do we?" said the watch. "Great ideas never die …"
Tom worried her lip. "7 schools, 7 Sacred Bands competing, 7 dragons … makes sense."
"Trust me, it's dragons. Why does the Cosmos hate me so much? Come on, let's go."
Harry led Tom through the corridors and up and down stairwells deep into the heart of Hogwarts castle.
"This isn't the way to the Library."
"I know."
"We're not going to the Library?"
"Nope."
"So you're not going to research dragons?" Tom raised a sculpted eyebrow.
"Merlin, no. Why do hours of tedious reading when there are others to do it for us?" Harry said, opening the door to a nondescript classroom.
"I knew it!" squawked Hermione indignantly. "You bloody leech!"
Charlie, Ivy and Rose Potter lay in an exhausted heap in a pool of their own comingled sweat. Around them, James and Amos were offering encouragement, towels and water-bottles. Bella, Luna, Ron, Ginny, Walter and Dean milled about offering colour commentary. Most of the classroom resembled an obstacle course. Rocks, tables and twisted clumps of metal were spread all over the floor. A strong scent of smoke and sulfur hung in the air.
"Mr Granger, Miss Granger," James nodded in acknowledgement.
"Hello Professor Potter," Harry and Tom chorused.
"We got to fire Incendios at the Potters as much as we wanted!" chirped Bellatrix, twirling her wand through her fingers.
"Glad to hear it," Harry said, absently patting the budding pyromaniac's obsidian locks. "Professor Potter, we came to warn you. We discovered what the First Task involves – it's dragons!"
James and Amos shared a look. Charlie scratched his head. The twins averted their eyes.
Tom's eyes sharpened. "You already knew."
"Ah, so how did you two figure it out?" asked Amos. The man was the only one of the pair of Marauders who had the decency to look a bit abashed.
"Exploring the Forbidden Forest," Harry replied.
"I should really punish you for going out of bounds, but you did bring us important information to help out my children, so … 20 points apiece to Ravenclaw," said James. He helped Charlie to his feet. "Since you came, can I presume you're willing to help us prepare?"
"Absolutely!" Tom's wide, innocent eyes were entirely guileless. "Whatever it takes."
The former Chief Auror beamed. "Brilliant! The Marauders have been putting our heads together and have come up with a few ideas. When you're fighting a dragon, style and panache are just as important as effectiveness …"
Tom tuned out the group discussions in favour of her own internal debate. Making eye contact with Bella and Luna, she wordlessly ordered the two to follow her. Nobody noticed as they slipped away to Luna's dorm in Ravenclaw Tower.
The three sixth-year Ravenclaws who were trying to break into Luna's trunk didn't notice the trio either. At least, not until they sensed Bellatrix's thick, intimidating aura crackling through the air of the confined space.
Bella's eyes flashed dangerously. The girls quailed. "Scram," she ordered. The girls fled.
"Now that that unpleasantness has been taken care of," declared Tom as she fastened the door shut, "I need your help. There are currently 7 dragons being kept in the Forbidden Forest for the G.I.T.T.'s First Task. There's got to be some way to nab those oversized potions ingredients. Now that everywizard and his mother are running around like headless cockatrices terrified that they'll be overrun by packs of werewolves, it's the perfect time to act without getting noticed!"
The girl paced back and forth, almost trembling in excitement. While Harry thought of dragons and saw certain death, Tom thought of them and saw Galleon signs. Her vault already had a healthy balance from sales of Basilisk and Acromantulae, but it is a truth universally acknowledged that a witch in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a bigger fortune.
"At least it's supposed to be a secret that there are dragons in the forest … that helps with arranging a solid alibi ..." she muttered to herself.
"Thought of how to disappear 7 giant scaly beasts from under the noses of the G.I.T.T. organisers yet?" drawled Bella. She was busy practising her quick-draw while Tom cogitated.
"Why don't you promise the dragons to guide them far away from here, to a land by the sea where they can frolic in the autumn mist?" Luna said dreamily. "I'm sure somewhere in my trunk I've got a pied pipe to lead them with, and strings and sealing-wax, cabbages and kings, that we can bribe them with."
"Excellent plan, with only two minor drawbacks. One, I can speak to snakes. Dragons aren't snakes and I've no idea if Parseltongue will work on them. And two, you're mixing up three different fairy tales."
"Can we not get into another debate about fairy tales?" whined Bella. "I don't want to be stuck here until dinner time."
"Dinner – Eureka!" Tom leaped high and danced an Irish jig. Bella and Luna giggled and joined in the fairy circle.
"Bella you're a genius!"
"I am aren't I," the girl replied immodestly as she twirled the smaller girls around.
"Winky!"
'Pop'! "Yes, Missy Tams?"
"Those dragons in the forest need to eat. And I presume they're with a bunch of dragon tamers to keep them under control, who also need to eat. Amirite?"
"Yes, Missy Tams. There be many wizards living in tents who be around nasty dragons all the time."
"And since I haven't seen any dragon tamers in the Great Hall at meal times, I assume the Hogwarts elves bring them food to their tents?"
"Yes, Missy Tams."
"What's their dinner menu schedule?"
"I be's checking with Greedee the head chef elf." 'Pop'! 'Pop'! "Monday's being bangers and mash, Tuesday's being beef wellington, Wednesday's being fish and chips, Thursday's being tikka masala, Friday's being oxtail soup, Saturday's being steak and kidney pie, and Sunday's being Cornish pastry."
"Friday it is then. Winky, I'm going to the Come and Go Room to brew up several cauldrons of Draught of Living Death. On Friday evening, I want you to find a way to spike their soup. Luckily the Draught is tasteless. Make sure none of the other elves know it was you."
"I be understandings, Missy Tams."
I
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21 November 1997
It was a peaceful Friday night in the Forbidden Forest. The stars were twinkling, the birds were carolling, the aswangs were screaming, the wolves were howling, the cursed brook bubbled merrily.
The large cluster of tents, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically silent. 35 dragon tamers and 6 supervisors lay sprawled out unconscious in various poses around the clearing.
"Winky, tuck these guys into bed and then return the crockery and cutlery to the Hogwarts Kitchens for washing," instructed Tom, vanishing the remains of the soup in the large pot by the fire.
"Yes, Missy Tams."
"Immobulus! Mobilicorpus!" Over by the cattle pen, Bellatrix froze and levitated the fattest cow in front of the nearest dragon pen.
"Dobby, batch number 1!" Tom said.
'Pop'! Dobby set down a cauldron filled with a sickly-green liquid.
Pulling a funnel and measuring cup out of her pocket, she proceeded to pour the Draught down the immobilised beast's gullet. When the cauldron was empty and the cow in a coma, she levitated it over the fence and before the nesting mother Chinese Fireball. The bright red dragon sniffed at the offering before its five-foot tongue darted out to take a suspicious lick. Satisfied at the taste of unroast beef, its jaws clamped down on the hapless mammal. The fiery lady threw back her head and swallowed it in one bite. Tom waited. 10 minutes later, the Fireball's eyes drifted shut and her head collapsed onto the ground.
"Okay Bella, the test run was a success!" she announced.
The two witches repeated the process with the other dragons. One and half hours later they had 7 empty cauldrons and 7 comatose dragons.
"Looks like the cavalry's arrived just in time," said Bella, thrusting her chin towards a familiar blonde skipping into the clearing. From her hands led a rope that seemed to float midair. A low snorting and rustling sound could be heard, but the forest behind the girl was empty.
"A witch is never late, nor is she early. She arrives precisely when she means to," intoned Luna gravely, leading what Tom and Bella assumed were a herd of Thestrals forward.
Dobby removed the cauldrons and replaced them with an assortment of ropes, chains, hooks and manacles that the team had 'borrowed' from one of Filch's dungeons. Why the sallow man was in possession of these items in the first place was something they preferred not to think about. After many difficulties, the three witches and two elves managed to rig up the Welsh Green to the Threstrals' harnesses.
"It's all up to you now, Seabiscotti," Luna told the dominant stallion. "Mush!"
The invisible horselike creatures grunted and dragged the limp reptile through the forest.
Tom led the parade towards a large rocky outcrop deep in the forest. Locating the small carving of a serpent, she hissed, "*Open!*" The bedrock split to reveal a large cave. "Lumos!" A miniature sun lit their path as the dragon was hauled through a long tunnel into the Chamber of Secrets.
"Whew," Bellatrix wiped her forehead once they'd detached the ropes. "Only 6 more to go."
By the time the remaining dragons had been deposited into the Chamber, the light of false dawn was already brightening the east.
Tom shut the passageway and collapsed against the outcrop. "Morgana, I'm tired."
"Not as tired as the Thestrals, poor dears," said Luna, giving Seabiscotti a sympathetic pet. "I'm going to take them to Black Lake for a drink. I think someponies have earned some healthy helpings of fresh carrion this morning."
The resultant neighs sounded both exhausted and enthusiastic somehow. The two weary teens watched as their friend herded the herd off into the distance.
"We still need to … clear our tracks." Bellatrix gestured towards the large trail torn through the forest by the dragon's huge bodies.
"Let me … rest ... for a while," Tom panted. Casting the Featherlight Charm over and over again on a bunch of magically-resistant sky-serpents had really taken the wind out of them.
"'Fraid we don't … have time. It'll be dawn soon … won't be long before someone discovers … all the sleeping beauties."
"Perhaps we can be of assistance," interjected a newcomer.
The two girls sprang up and pointed their wands … at themselves.
"Huh?" Bellatrix rubbed her eyes.
"Fret not, Less-Pretty-Bella," consoled the other Bellatrix. "My awesome self will take care of wiping clean all your footprints."
"And we'll get to work on repairing the damage to the trees and bushes," announced a different Bellatrix, as a new pair emerged from the bushes.
"Explain," demanded Tom of the four new witches, wand still raised.
"When you get back to your dorm, sleep for a couple of hours, then send Dobby or Winky to Harry's vault. They have access," replied one of the new Toms. "Tell them to fetch you a couple of his Time Turners. Ordinary ones, not the 'special' one. Then take a Pepper-up Potion, go back to before dawn and come down here to help us out. It won't violate the magical contract we all signed with Hermione."
"I certainly wasn't keen on reliving this morning three more times," said Tom, as yet another pair joined the group. "But it's the best way to sort this mess out in a hurry. Today's Saturday, you can sleep for the rest of the weekend if you want."
"Let's get cracking," grinned Bellatrix number 3. "Tom and I will go collect the dragon eggs."
Tom slapped her forehead. "Merlin! I knew we were forgetting something!"
"Don't stress, not everyone can be as awesome as me."
Next Time on ATTR: Chapter 7 – The Grand International Thaumaturgical Tournament