Chapter 12
Problems
Barty Crouch, Junior had a problem. Not the 'act like Mad-Eye Moody' part. Any fool that knew the man could do that. It wasn't like he was some kind of one-hit wonder, although some had their doubts. After all, his catchphrase was well known and it was a bit amusing to watch the little snots nearly mess themselves every time he shouted it. He was careful around Professor McGonagall. That woman didn't put up with many shenanigans and probably had gotten worse as she aged.
It wasn't the need to constantly brew Polyjuice either, although it was getting harder to 'requisition' supplies. That was starting to get on his nerves, and acting like Mad-Eye was bad enough.
It wasn't even the need to grade papers and teach idiot kids. He had surprised himself by realizing that he actually enjoyed it. That had been a shock to discover and made him wonder where his life would have led to if he'd pursued that as a career instead of being a Death Eater. He didn't ponder that too hard or out loud, since there was no telling what ears of any type could hear.
No, what he had for a problem was the never-ending feeling that he was being watched. Continually. And he didn't know what to do about it.
A part of his mind – the acting part dedicated to the role of Mad-Eye Moody – found dark humor in the subverting of the phrase he enjoyed scaring people with to refer to the feeling of always being watched, but the rest of his mind hated it. It bugged the shite out of him. Crouch had gotten used to the feeling of being under continual surveillance in Azkaban, but that didn't mean he'd come to like it.
Even the magical eye saw no one observing him, but the feeling persisted in empty rooms and in either persona. It wasn't so bad outside, but in order to be believable Crouch had to spend a lot of time inside. After all, Moody wouldn't be caught dead out in the open if he could help it, so why should he while he was pretending to be Moody? Even though Crouch liked some sunlight once in a while considering that he'd been denied it through various means for a long time, being Moody made that hard to get.
Still, everywhere he went in the castle and that included the ancient Armory, he had that niggling feeling that was driving him batty. There wasn't a ward around the areas that he'd discovered that would cause such feelings so whatever it was wasn't necessarily magical. He couldn't discount the presence of a castle ghost that he didn't know about, but then again Crouch had devoured everything he could find and read on the known areas of the castle.
Somehow the word 'secret' didn't apply here, especially if the word 'known' was used. It was another thing that amused him, if it really wasn't funny.
He had his instructions from his Master and he was well on the way to doing those, but he had secondary instructions as well. The other doses of Polyjuice that had nothing to do with Moody helped in these regards. There had been a good deal of very interesting objects that the more academically slanted part of himself found intriguing.
It hadn't been the first time he'd been distracted by something educational. Thankfully up until now, he'd been able to rein it in. Now he was able to let it loose for a while. He was in a school, after all.
Finding that armory had raised a lot of questions that he needed answers for. It was obvious that the rooms in the castle set aside for that function had not been accessed for hundreds of years, just from all the dust in the room. The second question after the 'how long has it been' was 'how are these blades still so sharp?' Answering that question would probably take a good bit of study.
And in that regard finding the books that mentioned it would be hard. In between the Ravenclaws and that Granger chit, getting the texts wasn't that easy. Not that he as Moody could spend time in the library, since that would look enough out of character that someone would start asking questions.
Out of character, hell. Out of place, too.
So he'd ransacked the rooms looking for other books, documents, letters – anything written that could point him in the right direction. There had been some things found, but not a lot. There was just enough that gave him a tantalizing glimpse of what the armory had been intended to fight, and it wasn't just flesh-and-bloods. It had also been set up to fight those of a lesser permanence to their bodies.
It didn't help his original problem of feeling like he was being watched, but for now it distracted him from it for a while. A few things that he'd found stashed away in a centuries old writing desk made him realize that he – or rather Moody – had another problem. That problem didn't help him in his acting job and the spicy letters and drawings he'd found didn't help either. In fact, he'd been quite appreciative of the obvious talent shown by the unknown artist. Enough so that he had to concentrate on his role and that took biting his tongue more than once.
In the months that he'd been imitating the grouchy ex-Auror, Crouch had decided that the old man was in dire need of a certain kind of companionship. The right partner and the old fart would explode his heart which would make things easier for his fellow Death Eaters. Even he didn't want to think about the particulars of such a meeting, so to speak, or who would have to be insane enough to even be the other part of the pairing. Or 'parts,' the thought of which in certain variations made him want to throw up.
"Bella, the crazy bitch," he grunted to himself. "That's too easy."
Barty Crouch was amused that the part of him playing Moody recoiled at the thought and immediately started thinking of ten or twelve ways to prevent such a thing. In fact, the rest of him agreed and thought it made perfect sense to have those ways ready. The problem was deciding which ways should be used first.
He like his women a bit crazy, but there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. Bella was 'too much.' In fact, he idly wondered before he could stop himself, what did she consider 'too much?'
Crouch/Moody recoiled at the thought as it bloomed in his mind. Best not to think about such things or he would go Bella-level insane.
Constant vigilance, after all.
|:-:|
Amelia Bones had a problem. She had a headache named 'Cornelius Fudge.' To be fair, she had headaches named for other people battling for attention in her workday, but right now the one sharing a name with the Minister of Magic was the more prominent one. It was bad enough that she was muttering things under her breath that was more potent than usual and everyone was giving her a wide berth.
His insistence on having roaming bands of Dementors to look for Sirius Black was part of it. That was stupidity to a level that before, she didn't think even he was capable of. Bones hated to be proven wrong, and not for the first time she wondered if taking him to the woodshed would help.
The failure of the Minister to sign off on budget concerns for her department was another. She was familiar with the juggling act that went along with fiscal policies and the old practice of robbing Peter to pay Paul in hard times. It got old quickly and she dreaded having to explain to some family that they'd lost their loved one due to substandard equipment that was all the Department could afford at the time.
It didn't help her mood to see the luxurious things that popped up in his office every week or two. She kept her silence with difficulty and didn't comment about them, but any more and she'd have to check into St. Mungo's to have her tongue reattached.
Somehow, she didn't think throwing a strong headache potion at him was going to help her but the thought was there more often than she wanted to admit out loud. He didn't know how often she wanted to throw something else at him when he really ticked her off. Anything at hand with some weight and heft would do. Large desk paperweights, various steel chairs, Kingsley Shacklebolt when he didn't move fast enough. The current look on his face as he briefed her told her that he knew exactly what she was thinking. It also explained why he was sitting a bit farther back from her desk than usual.
"So let me get all this straight, Shack. There's been a centuries-old magical treaty originally signed at Hogwarts that's been reactivated due to circumstances detailed in said magical treaty."
"Right."
"It involves an abused child."
"Right."
"And an interested non-human party that wants to take custody of that child and put things to rights."
"Got it."
"And the abused child is none other than Harry Potter."
"Yep."
"Who, thanks to some helpful soul in the Ministry, now knows that he's Lord Potter and he'd been kept ignorant of that along with anything about magical nobility."
"Right. No idea who it was that told him. He's probably going to have a meeting with the Goblins."
Bones waved that off and continued.
"And the interested non-human party where this treaty is concerned is part of a group of mother dragons, one of which was the opponent he faced in the First Task."
"Got that, too."
"And that one is apparently the main dragon of the group, which means all the other mothers are right in line behind her and willing to help her. And I can't explain it, but they all apparently like him."
"Uh-huh."
"And Harry Potter's parseltongue ability lets him converse with these mother dragons just like you and I are doing?"
"Yes, but without smoke and fire."
She looked at him. A frown had him quickly modifying what he said.
"Um, boss, let me change that. I meant 'less smoke and fire.' Sorry."
"Good catch, Shack. How did Harry Potter come to be abused and for that matter how do we know the details?"
Unspoken but clearly heard were the other questions: who put him there, who didn't check up on him, and who the hell didn't take care of him?
"Wellllll… it's all preliminary to actually confirming all this somehow, but Magic acted as witness in this case as far as the details are concerned. There's been a lot of conflicting reports about this or that, but everyone seems to agree that the mother dragon in question, a Hungarian Horntail..."
Amelia winced involuntarily. The kid had all the luck and could use some help.
"…was distracted by Potter doing something as he walked into the arena and took a good look at him first before flaming him."
"Took a good look?"
"Well… it's hard to explain but the best I can come up with since I wasn't there to see it for myself is what one woman told me. That would be Evealine Hightower, wife of Roland," he said, reading from his notes. "She said that Harry Potter looked so small and underfed and nowhere near how big she remembered James to be. She started really looking at him like a mother would. He didn't look like any child she'd send off to Hogwarts. She got a kind of feeling down deep when she saw him, Madam Hightower said."
"Mother's instinct?"
"As good a term as any, but what struck me was what she said next."
"Which was?"
"The woman said that dragon stopped when she got a look at him. Didn't breathe, stopped flaming the place, and just stared at him the same exact way Madam Hightower had just been looking at the boy. She could practically see the gears turning in the dragon's head and wouldn't have been surprised that there was some kind of mental checklist being ticked off, line by line. Then she and everyone else including Harry Potter himself, got a shock."
"When she started talking to him instead of flaming him? I heard about that."
"Exactly. I'd be surprised too but definitely wouldn't argue. Between you and me, I'd be having problems keeping from soiling my robes from being that close to begin with. The dragon licked him and nuzzled him like he was some kitten or something!"
"Really?"
"Really. Damnedest thing anyone ever saw, and I'm including that time Tonks pulled Mad-Eye up to sing karaoke with her in that muggle bar. I'm working on getting a memory of the event for the Department pensieve."
The pensieve memories of Mad-Eye stumbling through three rounds of music was already a highly guarded secret in the archives of the DMLE, especially from Moody himself. However Shacklebolt didn't know that. He was talking about the memory of the First Task.
"Why not get it from Madam Hightower?"
"I asked, but she said that the best one to get that from would be from Hermione Granger. She was part of the interaction with the dragon."
"Interaction?"
"Well, you see… I don't know how to explain it. You'll have to see it for yourself. It's… well, it's something."
"Really. At least it can't be worse than my day so far."
"Worse than dealing with the Minister?"
It was a good thing for Kingsley Shacklebolt that he wasn't sitting as close to the desk as he normally was.
|:-:|
Dolores Umbridge had a problem, and since she had a problem so did everyone else. Snide comments followed her that she couldn't hear but suspected that existed, but she didn't care.
She had plans, and Cornelius Fudge was one lucky man. He didn't know it yet, and wouldn't know it until she had things all finished and wrapped up in a glittery pink bow. All he needed to do was accept the things that she enabled for him to use, and Magical Britain would be his for the taking.
Of course, he was already Minister of Magic, but there were several posts on the international stage that she thought was more important and with more prestige. He just didn't know about them quite yet. Everyone knew about the ICW structure or at least the publicly available organization chart that resided in a binder in the Ministry.
Britain paid lip service to that chart, of course. There were far too many things that had to be handled quietly that the ICW didn't have any need to know about – things that should have been done long ago and weren't, thanks to some of the mewling statements of weak politicians on the Wizengamot.
Well, there would be corrections made forthwith and Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, was just the person to do it.
It was sad but nowhere near regrettable that certain people would have to be disposed of. Once someone reached the end of their usefulness, then that was it. Most in that category had been shuffled off over the years. Some had been redirected to other things using various methods. A few had been a bit troublesome, requiring more direct means of management.
That hadn't been a problem for her. Such things maintained her abilities and kept her sharp. Those few had been retired from the service and sent off to their reward, never to be seen again by anyone. It didn't bother her, since there was only The Plan and the The Plan was paramount.
Sure, there were certain subordinate parts to The Plan, things that had to be accomplished first before moving on to the next item. That wasn't an issue, since she had made allowances for certain delays that were to be expected. If a specific detail took a bit longer or finished up quicker than expected, then it was no big deal as long as they all fell within the allowances that she made for them.
After all things happened sometimes, right?
One of those things had been the appointment of a department head for the Department of Magical Cultural Affairs. The wizard holding that office at the time when the part of Plan dealing with his part of the Ministry had activated had presented a problem. He didn't seem to be very receptive to the things that Umbridge had pointed out to him.
It was very obvious to her that certain things had to be dealt with to root out the decay in Wizarding culture and make it something that all proud wizards and witches could point to as progressive in nature. As such, there had to be no place in Magical Britain for the pervasive stain that the Muggleborn and some halfbloods brought with them. There was no place for most of that terrible music, boring paintings, and revealing clothing. It had to be removed, post-haste. It wasn't the only thing, of course, but it was a start.
The man hadn't agreed with her and in fact had remonstrated with her using tones that she found unsuitable to a Ministry worker. As she couldn't remove him using procedure, Umbridge decided that whatever worked would be good enough.
So she had careful scoped out a few daughters of other 'less-than-suitable' employees of the Ministry and brought a few of her plans forward. A quiet but meaningful discussion with a couple of her fixers, an Imperio or three along with some other things, an obliviate of the fixers in question after the fixing was done, and wouldn't you know it? There was an opening in the Department of Magical Cultural Affairs.
Soon – the next day, in fact – two daughters of a couple of unimportant Ministry employees had been found in a delicate situation with a warm corpse that showed all the signs of having suffered a deadly heart defect that claimed his life. The fact that the three had never seen each other before meant nothing to Umbridge, and allowed her to pack the families of the despoiled girls off as surplus to requirements of the Ministry. That meant two more openings. Three, if you counted one of the wives that worked in the Accounting department. That was something useful, indeed. It could be used.
The people were immaterial, after all. The places she sent them to would find the tarts useful and the men either of use themselves or expendable. If it meant that they never came back to Magical Britain, well then that was suitable to The Plan. That worked for her and was something not to bother thinking about as merely no accounting of necessary.
Now, however, she had three slots to fill. The problem was deciding who was more useful to her in which slot and for how long? Then after that, who did she have available to replace the replacements?
Umbridge ignored the whispers. The voices that belonged to those whispers would be taken care of soon enough, the moment they became irrelevant. If that didn't happen soon enough, she would find a way to make them irrelevant – then she could advance her plans on Fudge and the Ministry that much quicker.
He would be so appreciative, she knew!
|:-:|
The Goblins had a problem but it wasn't that big of a deal, relatively speaking. Unlike everyone else, they were collectively looking forward to the resolution. Certain wagers had to be settled.
"So Ironbeard... the Potter boy asked specifically for me, is it?"
The Potter Account Manager looked at the other goblin in the room and shivered a bit to himself. The scar threading between the bright golden eyes down to the jaw and terminating at the brawny shoulder didn't look any less nasty. Neither did the steaming concoction in the beat-up mug the rugged Goblin drank from. Ironbeard looked at his favorite arsenic-infused Earl Grey and felt like he was being judged and found wanting. He was on his fifth cup today and didn't want to try what was in the other goblin's mug without a way to discreetly pump his stomach of whatever that was.
"Yes. Well, he asked if House Potter had a sworn fighter to protect his interests as Lord Potter. I didn't tell him what a dherlec shakhacis was. I don't know what he's doing yet or how it came to be that he needs something like that, but the best way to find out is to see when he gets here."
"Hrrmpphh."
There didn't seem to be anything to say to that grunt, which frankly could mean anything coming from Steelarse. Not for the first time, the Potter Account Manager thought that whatever his father had been on when he named his son it was unusually potent and was more prophetic than usual where Goblin names were concerned. Steelarse was rumored to eschew any kind of cushioning and he held the record for making Goblins of any age burst into tears with heated harangues and commentaries on various family members.
He'd been undefeated in the few duels that he'd been challenged to because of it. Every time he left the pit, he would make another comment about the defeated Goblin depending on whether he was alive or dead. Those still alive were given fairly scorching evaluations of their failings along with a strong kick in the genitals 'for luck,' he always said.
Those left dead or too far along on the road to death didn't get any commentary but got the kick 'for tradition's sake.' No one wanted to mention that he was the only one with that particular tradition lest he start a new one with them.
"So is it true, Ironbeard?"
"What?"
"The rumors that the Potter boy got himself a dragon mother looking after him?"
"You mean besides Lily?"
"Heh. It's probably a good thing for you she's not around to hear you say that. She'd take a few inches off you and your wife has been heard complaining you don't have enough to spare. In either axis." Steelarse had actually gotten along with Lily a lot better than James. Some of the invective the wily Goblin knew came from her.
"Don't think I'm going to forget that little dig. Probably true about being a good thing, but the House of Potter misses its Lady. I doubt this dragon is going to be the Lady Potter, but you know dragons. They do their own thing sometimes. Wizards rarely understand them."
"That's the truth."
There wasn't anything said for a moment, and Ironbeard looked at the clock. The Potter group was supposed to portkey in for their meeting in a little over a half-hour.
"A Hungarian Horntail," Ironbeard mused. It still surprised him.
"I hadn't heard that part. What was he doing to get adopted, so to speak? I haven't been here for a few months, working on that detail overseas."
Neither mentioned what the detail was, but both knew. It wasn't spoken aloud in any detail, other than oblique references.
"Somehow he became the fourth wizard in the TriWizard Tournament."
Steelarse gaped. It took him a moment to speak as he tried to appreciate the depths of wizarding stupidity.
"I knew wizards were all dumb. How did they get 'four' out of 'three?' And for that matter, I thought this was supposed to be for wizards considered of-age? The Potter boy's got a few more years to go."
"There's been regular correspondence with young Harry. No one's been able to figure out how it was done and it's been 'determined' that the Goblet had made a binding magical contract on him and the other three Champions at that time."
The look on Ironbeard's face at the word 'determined' left no doubts about his thoughts on the matter.
"Of course it did. It probably didn't and the idiots in charge knew that and that the Goblet doesn't enforce it until the beginning of the First Task."
They looked at each other and simultaneously shook their heads at the thought processes of whoever was in the Ministry. Apparently they had forgotten that the first few Tournaments had Goblins judging and taking charge of the Goblet of Fire. It had been their job to maintain it in between Tournaments.
It had also been used a few times for Goblin stag weekends, at least until the brides found out and expressed their collective displeasures. Stories and jokes at certain Goblins' expenses still circulated about that, at least when no feminine ears were around to hear.
"And that was against a nesting mother dragon? Are wizards still bright enough to keep from putting their robes on backwards? I'm starting to wonder."
"You and me both."
"And the Potter boy turned the First Task on its ear with the help of this Horntail?"
Ironbeard chuckled.
"Yes, you could say that. The Champions had to sneak a golden egg out of the nesting mother's clutch."
"What? Are they stupid or just incompetent? No, don't answer that."
Ironbeard chuckled again.
"The change for young Harry was that he walked into the arena talking to a snake."
"He's a Parselmouth? I didn't think Potters had that ability."
"No, not for seven or eight generations back but Blacks do. His grandmother was a Black."
"Ah. I'd actually forgotten that. That woman was formidable in her own quiet, unassuming way. She'd have some fool's head clean off in between pouring the tea and offering a scone. She had good scones, too."
"She did, didn't she? The women in the Potter family tended to be… well, maybe vicious is the wrong word."
"No, you got it right. Most especially where their families and their babies were concerned. Almost like a nesting mother Horntail, which reminds me. How did all this come about from stealing a golden egg?"
Ironbeard got up and went to a small bookshelf. He withdrew a folder with thick covers and passed it to Steelarse.
"Here, look at this. It's our copy of the Shelleche Notch Treaty."
"There any specifics in here for our purposes?" He meant 'relating to Harry Potter.'
"In the appendices, plus some other information I've been able to gather. Eyes only Gringotts."
Steelarse had a mind as sharp as his blades. He heard the distaste in the other goblin's voice and saw the pinched expression on his face. There was probably an answer to why in the pages. He flipped through the pages quickly, reading the stilted phrases. The Treaty itself seemed to be straightforward for legal documents of that age but without any need for interpretation. It was in the appendices Ironbeard mentioned that he discovered that he was less than happy.
"Abuse?! Of a child?"
"Yes, old friend. There's more. I had to do some creative gathering to get it."
"You mean you bent the laws into a corkscrew and called them perfectly straight when you got done."
Ironbeard shrugged.
"Close enough. Read."
It didn't take long and judging from the mutterings that he was hearing, Ironbeard knew that there was probably going to be trouble.
"So the boy didn't even know about being Lord Potter until after he got a copy of the Treaty and someone let that information slip. Has he said anything about it yet?"
"Not a word. I think he'll bring it up in our next meeting. I think he's trying to come to terms with this being sprung on him out of nowhere."
"Hrmmph. Going to be a lot of questions."
"No doubt."
With that, they got back to work.
|:-:|
Tessaies didn't have a problem. She was calm, looking at the stars that her dragon senses allowed her to perceive even in daytime. She picked out her favorite constellation, which in the main Dragon tongue was named simply Ster'lich. She had overheard the Astronomy teacher call it 'Ophiuchus,' which sounded odd to her thanks to her somewhat limited experience with the myriad of human languages. The explanation came a moment later when Professor Sinistra mentioned that it was a Greek name that meant 'Serpent-bearer.' Tessaies hadn't had much to do with Greece in her long life for one reason or another. Although there was that Greek dragon and a memorable encounter that one time…
She shook the memories away and concentrated on what she was doing. Magic was waiting for her to take the next step in its own patient way. She had made the decision to foster Harry in a moment of rage-filled righteousness and usually decisions borne of hot blood brought bad consequences. However, she couldn't find anything but approval from Magic in what she had claimed as her path to walk.
It was as if it was expected to happen.
She looked up at the constellation of stars. Dragons used them for navigation, of course. Several other senses as well that refined their positions at any point on the globe. They noted that the humans, both magical and not, did the same thing with stars. It was always an interesting matter for discussion over the centuries, especially when some new method was found.
Tessaies thought about the translation of the Greek name again. 'Serpent-bearer.' That was an interesting thought. Harry wasn't a serpent, and she wasn't sure he'd be all that comfortable mounted somewhere on her for transporting purposes. Still from what Magic had relayed first to her, then to Annika and later to the other two, she would be responsible for bearing Harry through the rapids of his life until he and his Mate was ready to fly from the nest.
He would be her first human and she looked forward to seeing what became of it. Tessaies was already sure that there would be plenty of discussions about the differences between humans and dragons in the future. She wouldn't be surprised if Annika was the cause of many of those discussions.
Somewhere in her concentration of the constellation, her thoughts dropped off and she entered a meditative state. Tessaies found herself in the nest she was hatched in, long before it had been destroyed. That had happened in the First Dragon Territorial Battle, and she remembered being gripped in her mother's talons with several of her clutchmates as they escaped the fighting as others covered their retreat. It had been a narrow flight from danger, as she could remember her mother flaming other dragons intent on killing younglings that couldn't fight back.
It was the actions of her mother that formed her own actions whenever she encountered younglings that couldn't fight back against the situations that they struggled against. She would follow her mother's example.
In the trance, Magic approved of her actions and cautioned her against some of the things that Harry would find impossible to do that any dragon would see as commonplace. As there were things specific to human children that she needed to know, she was given a bit of knowledge based on the things that Harry's magical core had already tried to fix and Magic was insistent on seeing these things done.
It was a long list, and Tessaies sighed to see it. Some things she had never heard of and put it down to a cultural thing. Magic made the suggestion to find a human mother that had experience with children and make use of her knowledge. It was a good suggestion and one that Tessaies had already thought of. The question was, who?
Other things were revealed and reviewed. The report that Annika had given her, plus the observations that she herself had made in the arena was shared with Magic and the tallies were made for the agreements and discrepancies between the dragons' observations and the things that Magic knew.
For a moment, Tessaies had the impression of a human with eyes like Harry's. That impression had a sense of wistfulness, determination, and love, and the mother Horntail recognized a kindred spirit. To that impression, she promised that Harry would be given every chance that he had been denied to date in his life.
There was a sense of thankfulness before the impression faded, and Tessaies descended deeper into her meditation.
The other three dragon knew what she had planned and was currently doing. The trio remained quiescent, with only the occasional light puff of smoke escaping from their nostrils with every third breath. They would wait for her to emerge before turning their attention to the tasks that awaited them, knowing that she had to do this. In the meantime, the dragon handlers noted the solemnity and wondered about it. They felt the need to stay quiet too, in the atmosphere that reminded too many of them of a testing hall under a stern proctor.
Watching over all of them, Hogwarts waited as well.
|:-:|
After several hours, Magic moved. There was some consternation and a good bit of confusion for five students at the evening meal. It had been a busy day for everyone and they had been wondering what was going on with the dragons. Charlie had steered them away with his apologies and noted that "they were all doing something, and no we don't know what." He had looked bemused but didn't have any answers for them. Harry resolved to check tomorrow morning before classes.
Now, Harry noticed that a rather elaborate badge had appeared on his robes. It was of a Horntail, and unlike the Prefect or Head Boy badges this one had motion embedded in it. It reminded him strongly of the moving portraits and looked a lot like the model Horntail that he'd drawn out of Ludo Bagman's cloth bag. It had a deep blue border around its oval shape and was of obviously fine quality. Harry looked again at the badge's dragon wondered if the model and the badge would interact.
Beside him, Hermione had stiffened for a moment before getting his attention. She directed his attention to a similar badge on her robes that looked almost exactly the same but for a slightly smaller size. The detail was of the same exquisitely fine quality. They compared the badges and noticed that the border was the same color as well. The only difference was the size.
When Harry brought his badge close to Hermione's, the two dragons in the badge reached for each other. The teens looked at this and then at each other. It was understandable, they thought.
"I wonder if Tessaies had anything to do with this?" Harry wondered.
"Possibly. It sure looks like a Hungarian Horntail on each of these badges. I wonder where they came from?"
He was saved from his own speculation by the interruption. They looked up to see Luna, Daphne, and Tracey standing in front of them.
"What are snakes doing here?" Ron asked from a little way down the table. He didn't say a word to Luna, and she smirked at the quick way he looked away from her.
"I don't know, Ron. Ask them, and be polite!" Hermione snapped. She still wasn't too pleased with him.
"Okay, I will. Why don't you slither back to your hole, snakes?"
"That's not asking them what they're doing here, Ron…" Harry sighed. There wasn't any point to mention being polite.
Daphne ignored the redhead, although Tracey was giving him a look through narrowed eyes that would have fit on any superhero movie screen, accompanied by heated beams of destructive force. Thankfully for Ron, he was unaffected.
Luna spoke up, since the other two was occupying themselves over Ron. She thrust something at Harry.
"Do you know what this is?"
He didn't take it, but looked at it in her small hands. It was badge a bit smaller than Hermione's, with the Horntail positioned within a flaming border.
"Flames. Is it hot?"
"No, it's a cool as any metal I've touched. Well, not freezing, but room temperature or a little below."
He glanced at Daphne, who was looking at him and smirking at the expression on his face when he realized that she had an identical badge on her chest. He quickly looked away and hoped that Hermione didn't think he was ogling Daphne's assets.
The look in Tracey's eyes and the grin on her face resigned him to the fact that he wasn't going to get away with it that easily. She took in a breath to say something, but he cut her off.
"So! Everyone's got a dragon badge, but where did they come from? And for that matter what are they for?"
Everyone looked at everyone else helplessly. No one had any idea. Luna shrugged and put her badge back on. It took a moment, since she had to jiggle it into place to find where it would stick. Apparently, there were no pins to hold it affixed to their robes and there was no obvious magic in use. Harry sighed to himself and tried not to look at any more badges and their placement locations.
The girls all grinned at each other when Harry looked at his own badge to look for more clues to this mystery. This was too much fun, they thought.
"Perhaps we should ask the dragons about this tomorrow," Daphne pondered.
"I think we're going to have to," Tracey replied. "I'm curious about it. I wouldn't be surprised if these had some kind of magical ability."
"Absolutely no idea." Harry felt confident in saying that as he was pretty sure the others didn't have any idea.
From the look on Hermione's face, she wanted to know and she wanted to know now. Harry reached out and pulled her into a hug.
"No library tonight. I would rather you be sharp tomorrow morning to think of the things I won't when we ask Tessaies about these badges. If they came from her somehow, I doubt she would give us something harmful considering the role she's taken on. Right?"
Hermione considered that. She still looked like she wanted to raid the stacks.
"Possibly."
He looked at her for a moment more and she relented.
"Okay, okay. No trip to the library."
"Good, because I've got enough questions as it is without falling down a rabbit hole with more questions."
She snickered at him before making plans with the others to meet at the Dragon Quarters the next morning. Tracey looked at her with a bit of betrayal in her eyes.
"You'll have to get up anyway, lazybones." Daphne snorted before turning to the others. "She's not a morning person."
"No I'm not, but I do intend to ask why I got named Quietly Trapping, though!"
Luna had been quiet. She'd been watching the interaction but spoke up now.
"I wonder if these badge have anything to do with the Treaty?"
"No idea, Luna, but it makes sense. We'll ask tomorrow, all right?"
The three visitors agreed and went back to their respective tables, and the two Gryffindors shared a look. They would find out more tomorrow.
-[-0-]-
Author's Note:
So I found myself in a predicament. I was working on Like Tenfold Shields, then switched to Fudge Gets Told Off. I didn't clear my mind between switches and well, the predictable thing happened. I ended up with a chapter section that was part LTS, part FGTO. After I looked at it and had a few not-so-sweet words with my imagination and its prank, I threw up my hands in disgust and modified that particular section to fit into the storylines of both tales. This means that you'll see similarities and a couple of Goblin characters that I'd more or less meant to just be in one story ending up in both.
My imagination is very amused at the chaos, but I'm not. Any aspiring fanfiction writers reading this note, warning: clear your mind! It works for Occlumency, Vulcan mind techniques, and writing multiple fanfics at the same time!