CHAPTER 25:

WRATH OF THE DRAGONS

Anger is a curious thing. While it is often compared to a fire, an inferno, flames cannot burn in a vacuum. Fire needs oxygen, or an equivalent oxidiser. Absence of such a thing will snuff out the flame.

But anger in a person's heart can be triggered by absence, by metaphorical vacuums. The death or disappearance of a loved one is a major example. When someone one loves either dies or is taken, then that can spark a burning inferno of wrath filling that gap, that can raze the very world.

When Harry first vanished from the maze, Cedric holding onto the trophy as well, Dany was not concerned, at least not at first. She had been told that the Tri-Wizard Cup was turned into a Portkey that would take the champion (or champions, as was the case here) to the podium. After Fleur was attacked by Viktor Krum, she had been hoping for a relatively peaceful conclusion to the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

But then, as the seconds ticked by, she realised something was wrong. Portkey travel was virtually instantaneous over such short distances. They should have appeared by now.

And then, with an unerring instinct, Dany knew what had happened. Oh, not in specifics, but certainly in broad terms. Harry had been kidnapped, and taken away from Hogwarts. And Cedric had been taken along with him.

Harry and Dany had had a sort of instinct that allowed them to know where each other was. It was how Harry found Dany so swiftly during the Second Task. And now, as she grew into her Targaryen lineage and her ability to become a dragon, Dany knew too. They suspected the soulbond was involved, and she knew Harry was far away, and in trouble, along with Cedric.

And with that revelation came a rage and anger that her bloodline was known for. A great inferno ignited within her soul, and she stormed from the stands, pushing past any in her way. And when a hand grabbed her shoulder as she strode away from them, she whirled and snarled, only to find Jorah there.

"Khaleesi," he said, looking at her with sheer worry.

"They've taken Harry and Cedric, Jorah," she snarled, feeling her eyes transform, lending weight to her furious words. "I'm going to get them back."

"But…" She knew what he wanted to say. She knew now that he would die for her, willingly, and that his fealty was not in dispute. He wanted to stop her from dying. Because she was heading to the Stranger's maw, and she knew it.

But she also knew she had to go herself. Harry had been kidnapped. Her love, her life. And she needed to show that she was worthy, that she protected her own, all those under her aegis. To be a true ruler, one protected those under their rule. And she could not bear it if her love was torn from her.

"Don't try to stop me. Whoever did this, they will learn what my family's words mean," Dany said in a low hiss, cutting across what he would have said. "Fire and Blood."

With that, she transformed, a large dragon, not quite as large as Harry's own form yet, but magnificent and silvery-white, shining in the moonlight, unleashing a roar of fury to the night sky. Then, she took off, shooting into the sky like a rocket, before flying towards where she knew Harry had been taken. But even as rage spurred her on, so too did fear, fear that she might be too late.

Stay strong, Harry, and stay alive, she thought, even as she flew through the dark skies. I'm coming…

Emotions too were warring within Harry's own chest, as he sat there, tied to the gravestone, listening to Voldemort monologue to his followers. Self-loathing, for he had insisted Cedric take the Portkey with him, and for showing Peter Pettigrew any mercy. Because of those two things, Cedric was now a cooling corpse, courtesy of the rat's Killing Curse, his face bearing an imbecilic expression of surprise. Showing mercy to a cowardly creature like Pettigrew had only backfired for Harry. He'd even helped Voldemort regain his body.

But with that self-loathing was a myriad of other feelings. Fear, yes, because his nemesis was no longer a bodiless wraith, but back amongst the living in a powerful body. Anger, towards this man and his followers, for their callous disregard for anyone who opposed them, or even those who didn't, but were not born with magic.

A feeling of impotence, too, when Voldemort gloated that he had Pettigrew place wards that prevented any kind of animal transformation in the area. Of course, he only said that after Harry tried to transform, only to feel a massive spasm of pain that forced him to stop. He could see them, in the form of massive wooden torches, burning with magenta flames.

But when he felt the surge of anger and worry within his soul, from a source he was sure wasn't his own, Harry allowed himself a grim smile of triumph. He knew, with utter conviction, that Dany was coming for him. And she was pissed.

Still, she needed to be warned about those torches. He doubted they reached too high into the sky, whatever ward they created, but Dany wouldn't know that if she landed or flew too low. The bond between them had allowed them to communicate with each other via dreams before. Could they communicate like a form of telepathy?

Closing his eyes, he concentrated. Dany? Dany, can you hear me?

Only a furious roar answered his efforts, echoing down the line. He tried again. Dany, it's Harry. Please, try to speak to me.

Another roar…and then, Dany's melodious voice, made discordant by anger. Harry? Where are you? Are you safe? I'm now a dragon, I'm coming to find you!

I'm in a graveyard somewhere, and I'm not safe. Voldemort has just been revived. I'm sorry, Cedric is dead. Dany, listen, he's got anti-transformation wards around the area. They seem to work against our own transformation, not just Animagus stuff. They're in the form of torches with a magenta light. If you can burn them from a distance, it might remove the ward. And try to stay on the move. They'll probably try to hit you with spells including the Killing Curse.

I understand. Hold on, Harry. I'm almost there, I think…

"CRUCIO!"

It felt as if Harry's very bones were set ablaze, and he emitted a strangled scream, convulsing and spasming where he had been tied up to the gravestone of Voldemort's father. Even the pain of the failed transformation was nothing compared to the sheer pain of the Cruciatus Curse. And even when Voldemort relented and stopped using the Unforgivable, the pain lingered for some time afterwards.

"How rude of you to ignore your host and fall asleep, Harry Potter," Voldemort said with that chilling high voice.

Harry, after a moment, laughed, a tired, cracked thing. "Rude…rude?" His emerald eyes roved up to gaze into Voldemort's own crimson ones. "This is coming from the man who murdered my parents? Who murdered and ordered the murders of so many innocent people whose only crime was to be born to Muggles, or to support them? And you consider me rude?" He laughed again. "…Why should I waste good manners on people like you?"

"You should mind your tongue in front of your betters, Harry Potter."

"Then let me know when they arrive. Because the way I see it, all you're doing is torturing a boy at least half a century your junior while he's tied up. That doesn't show you're better."

As sharp inhales echoed around the gathered Death Eaters, Harry knew he was playing a dangerous game. If he pushed Voldemort too far, he risked the vile warlock snapping and killing him before Dany arrived, or one of his followers. But if he pushed him far enough, he could give himself a fighting chance.

Voldemort, despite what could have been a brief scowl crossing his ophidian features, smiled thinly. "So defiant, just like your parents. I will give them that much, boy. I told you once that I admired their valour and tenacity if nothing else. But there is nobody coming to save you now. Your mother's protection will not save you now. Nor will that admittedly marvellous ability to become a dragon. Dumbledore is not coming. Neither is Sirius Black. And I doubt that Targe girl you seem so enamoured with will come either."

As if on cue, a furious roar split the night, and Harry grinned. "Really? You want to bet?"

Fireballs streaked out of the sky and smashed into the torches, and into the Death Eaters, sending them flying. It is said that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but in truth, it was simply that Hell hath no fury to compare to a woman enraged by a threat to their loved ones, either to lovers or to family. And Daenerys was no ordinary woman, even if she was not yet an adult. She was a Targaryen, who chose as their words Fire and Blood. A promise of what awaited their enemies: wrath and horror.

Daenerys was a gentle soul in the end, one who wished to be loved more than hated, one who wished to rule with kindness in an unkind world. But one could never mistake that as being weak. The blood of the Targaryens ran through her veins, the blood of dragons and dragonriders mingled. The Valyrian Empire was feared for a reason. And while not all Targaryens shared the spirit of their words, Dany certainly did.

To her eternal credit, Dany kept on the move in her dragon form, swooping in and out of the clouds of smoke caused by her initial barrage to avoid being tracked by the survivors of said barrage, using hit and run tactics to thin out the opposition. But Voldemort caught her with a lucky Cruciatus, sending her crashing to the ground with a pained roar that became a scream of agony as she changed back. Not from the torches: they had all been destroyed. No, it was sheer pain.

But Dany had bought Harry time. As the remaining Death Eaters, now down to maybe half a dozen, the others having burned or fled, surrounded her, Harry knew it was time. "See now, Harry Potter?" Voldemort yelled. "Your gambit has failed! Your slattern will pay the price, and…"

"Shut up, and BURN," Harry snarled. As Voldemort had ranted, he had transformed. Most of the remaining Death Eaters did just that, roasting in the flames he belched out. Voldemort whirled to face him, but Harry was ready. His jaws snapped down on Voldemort's body, while Dany, recovering, transformed once more, and grabbed the other half of Voldemort in her jaws. Voldemort screamed in pain as they tore him apart, and then burned his body in their respective mouths.

What happened next, Harry didn't really know why it happened. But the potent power of dragonfire, boosted by the magic and the soulbond between him and Daenerys Targaryen, not only burned away what little remained of Voldemort's soul in his body, but burned through the tethers linking Voldemort to his Horcruxes. This was something he never learned, only that he lost himself to the fury, pouring as much magic as he could into the fire, only to lose consciousness.

But nearby in the graveyard, a snake that was once a cursed woman, twisted to Voldemort's will, spasmed and burst into flame. So too did a diadem in the Room of Requirement, a goblet deep within the Lestrange vault at Gringotts, a certain ring in a nearby hovel, and a locket deep within 12 Grimmauld Place. Voldemort's Horcruxes, by a sheer fluke of magic and power, were all destroyed.

Whatever happened, Harry's next memory was of Dany shaking him awake, calling out his name in worry. Both had reverted to their human forms. "Harry! HARRY!"

"…I'm awake, Dany. I'm all right. We're alive. And honestly…it's thanks to you, my Khaleesi."

She looked around the burning graveyard. While it was unlikely that the Muggles saw much, the clouds of smoke and flames were conspicuous, and they would probably need to leave soon. She saw Cedric's corpse, and the trophy. "…Do you think it will send us back?" she asked.

"Maybe. Let's take Cedric back. He doesn't deserve to rot amongst these bastards."

With that, they hurried over to Cedric, taking hold of him, before Harry summoned the trophy over to him. The two teenagers, with their burden, disappeared from the devastated graveyard at Little Hangleton. Voldemort was dead, but this was far from the end of their troubles. Indeed, more were still on the horizon…

CHAPTER 25 ANNOTATIONS:

Okay, so…sorry it took so long for this chapter, which is the penultimate one. I did have a rough idea of what would happen, but I could never quite muster up the wherewithal to write it. But, well, here it is. A bit rushed, but hey, the last chapter is done too. And considering it's one of my most popular, well, I'm sure some of you are glad of that.

Anyhoodle, hopefully, you've enjoyed the story so far. It's pretty much all over bar the shouting. And a fitting chapter to gift to you as a VERY early Christmas present, yes?

No numbered annotations this time.