Sirius bowed over the brass cauldron bubbling atop a brazier and sniffed. His brow furrowed. He gave the concoction another counter-clockwise stir, lifted out the stirring rod, and blew on it to cool it down before tasting it with the tip of his tongue. "Hmm."
Harry grinned. Under the dim light of the gas lanterns in Grimmauld Place's basement, with his long hair swaying in the fumes, his godfather resembled a witch straight out of a Muggle fairy tale. He suspected that most of the theatrics were unnecessary, but they certainly seemed to impress Cedric, who observed raptly from the sidelines.
"Just needs to simmer for a couple minutes," Sirius declared, taking the cauldron off the heat.
Cedric let out a breath. "Thanks again for doing this for me, Mr. Black. Ever since I saw Anthony Goldstein's transformation, I couldn't get the idea of becoming an Animagus out of my head."
"I told you, it's Sirius—and don't mention it." His dark eyes narrowed. "I mean it. I don't mind helping out friends, but James and I didn't puke our guts out so every Tom, Dick, and Harry could use our secret sauce to become Animagi."
"Bad choice of phrase," Harry remarked.
Cedric bobbed his head. "I'll keep mum. If it really grants animal-like reflexes like people say, I'd rather keep an advantage over my Quidditch opponents."
Sirius gestured at the cauldron. "In that case, go ahead. Fair warning, it tastes awful, but don't let that deter you. You're a big bloke, so swallow at least two ladlefuls."
Cedric came up and picked up the ladle. "So it really only takes drinking this and having a dream?"
"A short spirit trip, and you'll know your form," Sirius said, nodding. "Mind you, it won't necessarily be to your liking."
"Oh no, I'll be happy with whatever I get." Cedric plunged the ladle into the steaming potion.
Sirius grinned. "Don't be so sure. Why, Harry here—"
"As if this guy could be anything but bloody perfect," Harry cut in, scowling. "He'll get his form, and it'll be awesome, I just know it."
"Thanks, I think," Cedric said. He took a deep breath, brought the ladle to his lips, and downed its contents. Grimacing, he scooped up more potion and slurped it down again.
"Reckon that's enough," Sirius said. "Lie down on that cot over here and relax. We'll keep an eye on you."
Cedric shuffled to a threadbare mattress that looked like it had belonged to Kreacher and sat on it heavily. Rubbing his forehead, he peered at the other two. "You lot aren't going to mess with me while I'm out of it, are you?"
"'Course not, we're not children," Harry scoffed.
"This is a highly delicate process," Sirius said somberly. "It's not a time for infantile shenanigans."
"Alright," Cedric murmured. "Whoa, I feel woozy already. Hope this doesn't take long... told Cho I was heading to a pub... with my teammates..." Slumping on his back, he stared at the ceiling until his eyelids fluttered shut.
Sirius nudged his chin at the cauldron. "Change your mind yet? There's enough for one more go."
"Nah, I'll sit this one out."
"Suit yourself." Sirius rummaged in a cabinet for a strainer and set about funneling the filtered potion into a bottle.
Harry wandered over to Cedric's recumbent form and poked him in the ribs with his toes. Seeing no signs of consciousness, he crouched, retrieved a felt-tip pen (a wizarding one, naturally) from his pocket, and whistling merrily, set to work.
A shadow loomed over him as he was putting the finishing touches on his veiny masterpiece. He looked up and saw Sirius staring down with his arms crossed.
"I'm disappointed in you, godson. A dick across the cheek is utterly cliché."
"How can you say that?" Harry sketched some curls before capping the marker. "It's a timeless classic."
Sirius produced a felt-tip pen of his own and sank to his haunches. "When you live to be my age, you'll realize that it lacks a certain je ne sais quoi. Here, let me show you how it's done."
No sooner had the tip of his marker made contact with skin than a convulsion went through Cedric's body. His limbs spasmed and he let out a moan.
Harry scooted away in alarm. "One of those bad reactions? Is he going to puke everything up?"
Sirius's hand stretched toward his pocket that held the bezoars, then drew back. "No," he said grimly, "he's transforming. Look at the fingernails."
Harry gasped. Cedric's fingernails lengthened and curved, raking the mattress underneath. His limbs swelled, stretching out his shirt and trousers, and his skin acquired a greenish tinge.
Springing to his feet, Sirius paced back and forth. "Damn it! The asphodel root must've been stale—it's supposed to suppress the animal during the vision so you don't hurt yourself thrashing about." He pointed his wand at Cedric, then lowered it. "Reversing a halfway transformation is too risky. Nothing else for it: we'll just wait for it to finish and then turn him back."
Retrieving his wand, Harry anxiously tapped it against his palm. Cedric writhed in what appeared to be unbearable pain, and given the snapping sounds his rearranging bones and cartilage made, Harry could see why.
Sirius paused in his pacing. "Blimey, would you look at that. What do you reckon he is, some kind of a crocodile?"
Diamond-shaped golden scales spread over Cedric's thickening neck. The growth swiftly covered his face, which crunched nauseatingly as it elongated into a toothy snout. His body bulged, and his robes burst into tatters, revealing something scaly and serpentine.
The beast rolled onto its fours and roared. Two enormous wings unfurled from its back, and a tail erupted from its hindquarters, pulverizing the potion station behind. The beast kept swelling in size, its claws gouging furrows into the stone floor.
Harry scampered to hide under a heavy table beside the wall, skidding the last few feet in a powerful gust of wind. The wings that now spanned most of the basement beat deafeningly and raised clouds of dust. "I don't think it's a crocodile!"
"What tipped you off?" Sirius yelled, chasing his wand that was rolling across the floor. Before he could seize it, a horizontal tail swipe laid him out on his arse.
Harry shielded him an instant before the ridged tail could crush him. "You said you couldn't become a magical creature!"
Finally catching his wand, Sirius launched a blue jet of light at Cedric, but it glanced off the golden scales. "Merlin was one! Thought it was legend!"
Harry aimed at what was unmistakably a dragon and cast his own Animagus-Reversal Spell. The only measure by which it proved more effective than Sirius's was in enraging the beast, which tilted its head backward in a roar until the spines of its sinuous neck tore into the ceiling.
"The bloke's tall, handsome, and a shoo-in for the national team! Why not give him the same bloody form as Merlin to boot!" Coughing, Harry pressed his sleeve over his mouth and pummeled the dragon with nonverbal reversal spells. "Cedric, if you can hear me—fuck you!"
The dragon pivoted his way, but its shoulders jammed against the ceiling. Roaring, it rose on its hindquarters and broke through into the ground floor. Its front feet clutched the flooring above while its hind propelled it upward. Powdered gypsum and chips of wood rained down, and the gas lamps blinked out, plunging the basement into darkness. Several seconds later came another deafening crash.
He curled up into a ball and erected a shield. Four more booms resounded, and a deluge of shattered furniture poured from the hole in the ceiling, making him cover his ears. The Grimmauld Place shuddered on its foundations, and he wondered if he should Apparate before it came down on his head.
The torrent of debris from the upper floors dwindled to a trickle. The noises of destruction ceased, and he made out the sound of falling water. A beam of daylight penetrated the gloom, illuminating the dust swirling in the air.
He canceled his shield, sneezed, and put up a Bubble-Head Charm. Crawling out from beneath the table, he rose to his feet. His spectacles could compensate for the darkness, but not the chalky powder clogging the air.
"Sirius?" His voice echoed back into his ears, and he winced. "Oi, you alive?"
A heap of rubble in the corner fell apart, releasing a dusty but intact Sirius. He inhaled greedily, then doubled over in a coughing fit. Harry took mercy and bestowed a bubble over his head.
"Cheers," Sirius wheezed. His hair and goatee were grey with dust, aging him by a couple decades. "Merlin's beard, but this went tits up."
"No kidding." Shards of porcelain crunched under Harry's feet as he climbed the mountain of debris in the middle of the basement and tilted his head back. Water spilled from severed pipes sticking out of the jagged edges of the dragon-sized hole. Far above, he could see a tiny patch of overcast London sky.
"Lumos," Sirius murmured, coming up. "Bloody hell, my bedroom relocated two floors down. The entire house is gutted."
Harry nodded absently, then froze. "My stuff!" Planting his heel firmly, he focused on his destination.
Sirius clasped his shoulder. "Don't be daft! The floors are all tilted, you'll tumble down as soon as you Apparate in."
"But then how..." He scanned the rubble wildly, then raised his wand. "Accio Firebolt!"
The heap before them shook, starting a small avalanche, and they leapt back to avoid it. The broomstick broke out of the rubble and floated down, its shaft scratched and some tail twigs bent. When Harry mounted it, Sirius promptly settled down behind him.
Muted shrieks greeted their ears as they squeezed through the gap between the mountain of rubble and the ragged edge of the hole. The ground floor was devastated, sloping toward the chasm in the middle, and the staircase to the upper floors dangled in the air. A corner of a gilded picture frame peeked from under an overturned cabinet Sirius had placed over his mother's portrait years ago.
"That's one way to get it off, I suppose," Sirius commented. "Shatter the wall."
Harry ascended as quickly as he dared, swiveling to avoid the jutting pipes. There was a clang, and Sirius swore.
"Sorry, steering's off." Nudging the broom toward the middle of the hole, he cautiously rose another floor.
The staircase landing was gone, and Buckbeak's room (as it would be known forevermore because nothing could get the stench of Hippogriff dung out) was missing a couple walls. Harry's room technically had all four, but there was a mouth-shaped crevice between them and the downward-slanting floor. His hands tightened on the broomstick, and he zoomed through the deformed hallway to kick open his door.
The door smacked into an overturned bird perch, but he barely spared it a glance; Firo was probably at Hogwarts begging the children for treats as usual. His shelves still stood, albeit crooked, but most books had fallen onto the glass-strewn floor. Some of the glass was from the shattered window, via which a cool breeze wafted in, but the rest came from his display cabinet—now little more than a gnarled metal frame—which had toppled scattering its precious contents.
"No, no, no..." He dismounted and sank to his knees to scoop up a shattered figurine. "You poor baby."
Sirius cleared his throat. "I know you treasure your toys, but if your Firebolt's flying, we ought to chase down Cedric." He stooped for the broomstick Harry had dumped on the floor.
"Careful!" Harry yelled, pointing. Sirius's foot froze an inch above a tiny plastic sword. "Just—just watch your step, alright?"
As Sirius tiptoed around the debris, muttering under his breath, Harry summoned the broomstick and looked it over. A brisk sweep of his wand snapped its tail twigs straight. He would check them thoroughly later, but Sirius was right: there was no time to waste.
Plus, it would get him off Harry's back long enough for him to take care of the truly important stuff.
He handed the broomstick over. "One person will fly much faster. You go ahead while I sort this out."
Nodding, Sirius mounted and wobbled out through the askew door frame. Harry cast another gaze at the devastation around, clicked his tongue, and set to salvaging his collection, painstakingly inspecting every piece and applying repairs as needed. The floor gradually cleared as the pile of restored figurines atop his bed grew.
"Reparo. Tergeo. Looking fluffy as always, Holo," he crooned, gently setting the wolf-eared girl down. "Your thighs are a national treasure, Tohsaka. Where did your Pan-san go, Yukino? Accio. Reparo. That's one, two, three..."
And so he went through the lot, double-checking for damage as he counted. When he came up with the same total as before, he exhaled in relief. "Guess I'm not murdering Cedric after we find him after all."
"If we find him."
He whirled around to find a dripping and windswept Sirius at the doorway. "How did you get back here so fast?"
"I was gone for half an hour by my count," Sirius said with a mirthless snort. "We lost him. No panicked crowds, no fires—I flew for fifteen minutes toward black smoke, but it turned out to be some industrial monstrosity. He could be anywhere by now."
"Something that stupidly big can't be hard to find. Reparo." Harry wordlessly sent the books soaring back into the mended shelves. "Besides, he's an apex predator; there's very little that can hurt him."
"I'm more worried about him hurting others." Sirius sighed. "We'll have to involve more people. Pop all over the country, ask about sightings... God, this is a mess." He raked a hand through his damp hair. "Are you about done?"
"Think so. Yeah, just let me grab my..." He cocked his head at a vaguely speechlike hiss at the edge of his awareness. "Do you hear that?"
Sirius swiveled his head. "Hear what?"
The house groaned, and Harry's bed slid several inches toward the askew wall. He sprang toward it and fussed over the figurines that had slid off the pile.
"I do now," Sirius said. "We better get out before the place crumbles completely."
"Don't sweat it." Squeezing past Sirius, he braced against the doorjamb and leaned out into the ruined landing. "Reparo!"
Debris rocketed up, molding itself back into darkened rosewood balustrades and wallpaper-covered walls, and adhering to the lip of the hole to become worn parquet. As the slanted floor righted itself with a creak, something rolled loudly across it, and turning back, he saw a jade statuette emerge from beneath the bed.
He hastened to pick it up. "Knew I was forgetting something."
Sirius walked out into the landing and whistled. "If your Mending Charm's this good, why didn't you start with the floors? I thought we'd have to call in contractors to fix the place up."
"Huh? Oh." His examination didn't reveal so much as a scratch on the smooth jade. From underneath the bed, he pulled out a cardboard box stuffed with foam peanuts and tenderly laid the statuette inside. "Like I always say, you gotta have priorities." He moved on to depositing the rest of his collection into the box, separating each figurine with a generous amount of foam.
"Priorities, he says." Sirius shook his head. "Repair the remaining floors, then. Ten minutes here or there won't make a difference at this point, and at least we'll know the house will still be standing when we get back."
"Sure thing." He strolled out into the restored landing and leaned over the balustrade. "Better start with the bottom, it's in the worst shape..." A chilly droplet fell on the back of his neck, and he looked up. The sky roiled with clouds. "Or not."
Sirius motioned him to get on the Firebolt and flew them into the attic. The side of the sloping roof that faced the street was mostly gone, and slate fragments littered the floor.
Harry poked his head out, then swore and ducked. "There's a crowd down there."
Sirius rubbed his face. "Damn, I keep forgetting we're no longer invisible to Muggles. I'll try the Floo and call Magical Accidents and Catastrophes—they'll get the Muggle authorities off our backs. You get down there and calm them down."
Harry tested the floor with one foot before jumping off the broom. He tilted his head back. The drizzle was getting stronger, and with the gawkers down below, he couldn't magic the roof together. "The rain might flood my—"
"I'll put up a tarp or something," Sirius said irritably. "Go before they barge in to rescue us and get cussed out by a talking portrait."
"Alright, alright, don't get your wand in a knot." He pushed back the broom Sirius stuck out. "Keep it, the stairs are all mangled."
Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What about you?"
"Watch this." He tapped his chest with his wand, causing an unnatural lightness to spread through him, and shuffled toward the lip of the hole. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. Gravity took hold, but rather than plummet to his death, he floated down like a feather. "Whoo-hoo! Ouch—bugger, stupid pipe—I'm okay, don't worry!"
Touching down on the restored second floor, he repaired the sleeve that had snagged on the pipe before vaulting over the balustrade and continuing his journey down. He landed beside the hole into the basement and canceled the Feather-light Charm.
Someone was ramming the front door, which hung askew on its hinges but held on. Yells from outside blended with the portrait's screeches.
"Colloportus," he said, sealing the door with a squelch.
Walburga's voice became more clear. "What have you done, you stains of dishonor? This is the venerable home of the Blacks, not a menagerie for filthy creatures!"
Harry stooped to wrench the painting from underneath the overturned cabinet.
Walburga's eyes bulged out. "You!"
"Me." He rotated the frame the right side up. "It's been a while, Mrs. Black. You're outstandingly cantankerous as always."
She curled her yellowing fingers into claws as though to throttle him. "Waste of your father's seed! Ungrateful freak leeching off our noble house's fortune! Restore me to my rightful place this instant!"
"You know," he mused, "I really need to take a piss, but all the toilets are broken right now." He chucked the portrait on the floor and groped for his fly.
Walburga gaped like a fish out of water. "You wouldn't dare."
"Care to try me?" Another impact rattled the door, making him glance over his shoulder. "Better be civil to me, or who knows what I'll do. After all, I'm a freak."
He kicked the portrait into the basement, hearing Walburga shriek as she bounced down the heap of debris. Lifting his wand, he swept it over the hole. "Reparo."
With a loud clatter, the floor stitched together and the staircase reconstructed itself. He made sure nothing obviously magical was in sight, then stepped up to the entrance, removed the Locking Charm, and yanked the door open.
"Oof!" His breath was knocked out of him by a checkered missile. Rubbing his midsection, he found himself face-to-face with a middle-aged man in a flannel shirt. "Oh, hullo, Mr. Wright."
"Potter!" The man clutched his shoulders. "Good lord, man, what happened? Is everyone in the house alright?"
"Yes, there's no need to worry." He side-stepped to block the foyer from Mr. Wright's wide-eyed gaze. "Just a slight, er, gas leak."
"A gas leak? That's no joking matter, lad!" Mr. Wright glanced over his shoulder and yelled, "Someone call the emergency services!"
"No, no. It was very, um, localized." The crowd on the pavement before the house murmured among themselves. He raised his voice. "Everything's under control now. Don't worry, folks, we're alright."
A tottering old lady shuffled up to the stairs. "What was that horrible noise?"
"Gas explosion," he enunciated.
"It sounded like roaring." The lady's gnarled hand trembled atop her cane as she peered at Harry with watery eyes. "Fufu wouldn't quit barking at the sky. She hid in the bushes and won't come out."
Fufu, he assumed, was the quivering, rat-like dog he occasionally saw walked by the old lady. "I'm sure one of these gentlemen will help get her out, madam," he said reassuringly. "I'm a little preoccupied myself, what with our house falling apart and all."
The lady didn't seem to be listening. "We saw something tear out the roof. Something very big, with wings."
The neighbors exchanged uneasy glances. One murmured, "I saw something too, but... must've been a trick of light..."
"Which way did it go?" Harry blurted out. A hush fell over the crowd, and their expressions grew wary. "Er, not that it was real, of course. Just idle curiosity."
Sirens echoed in the distance, growing louder by the second. Harry leaned out to watch. Two police cars rounded a corner and pulled up to the house with a squeal of tires.
"The bobbies came," the old lady said. "Maybe they'll get Fufu out."
Four uniformed officers spilled out of the cars and rushed toward the house, and Mr. Wright climbed down the stairs to get out of their way. Harry patted the pocket that held his wand and glanced over his shoulder, wishing Sirius would hurry.
As if in response to his fervent wish, a series of Apparition cracks resounded down the street. Everyone's heads turned that way, and one of the policemen's hands dropped to the holster on his belt—yet where Harry saw a trio of nondescript men in dull grey suits, the Muggles' gazes slid off them like water off wax.
"What was that?" said a policeman.
"Must've been fireworks," said another, looking straight through the arrivals. "Blasted kids fooling around. Never mind that, we have a situation to deal with. You sir, at the door! What happened here?"
No sooner had the policemen started trooping up the stairs than the trio of wizards did something with their wands and moved to intercept them.
The officer in the lead jerked back from a grey-suited man. "Bloody hell—where did you come from?"
"Parked just around the corner." The man's voice was flat, as if he was immensely bored. "We're taking over here. This should tell you all you need to know."
He produced a gleaming card and held it out for inspection. Harry stood on his tiptoes to get a better look. A large blocky script spelled out 'Obliviator Headquarters', and something smaller was written underneath.
The sergeant's jowls quivered indignantly as he scowled at the card. Then his eyes widened, and he snapped off a salute. "Understood, Chief Inspector McAuley. Give these damned dope dealers what they deserve." He glared at Harry, then waved to his men. "Back to the station, lads! These gentlemen have the situation well in hand."
"Must've been a meth lab," said a gangling teenager holding up a smartphone. "Those blow up all the time, I've seen it on the telly."
A pensioner next to him spat on the pavement. "Never in all my years... The country's gone to the dogs, it has."
Harry glowered at the grey-suit. "Dope dealers?"
"The Muggles simply see whatever credentials they find the most plausible." The Obliviator climbed unhurriedly up the stairs until they were face to face. Mousy and bland, he was so forgettable Harry was certain he wouldn't be able to describe him five minutes later. "Your reputation with the neighbors should be the least of your worries, Mr. Potter. Hitwizards will be by shortly to have a word with you. Until then, do remain indoors."
Without a backward glance, the Obliviator went over to the gawkers, whom his colleague was already talking to in a soothing tone, and deftly confiscated the smartphone from the teenager. The last member of the trio produced a roll of barrier tape and cordoned off the front of the house.
Watching them process and disperse the Muggles with surreptitious swishes of their wands, Harry was impressed despite himself. It couldn't have been more than five minutes since Sirius called them; quite a contrast to his usual experiences with the Ministry.
Shutting the door, he strolled up to the hole into the first floor. "Oi! Sirius!"
"Coming!"
Harry busied himself with some desultory repairs around the foyer until about a minute later, his sooty and disheveled godfather maneuvered himself down through the gap in the ceiling.
"Floo's a no-go," he said. "I salvaged some powder and repaired the grate, but it wouldn't connect. The chimney must be busted. One of us will have to Apparate to Whitehall and report this."
"What are you on about?" Harry jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "The Obliviators are already here."
Sirius's brow knitted. "They are? But—"
There was a banging at the door, followed by a yell. "Magical Law Enforcement! Open up!"
Sirius blanched and clenched his fists, then, at Harry's concerned look, loosened them and motioned him to answer the door. As soon as Harry turned the knob, someone outside shoved the door, pushing him back. A wizard and a witch in drab brown robes marched in without a word and positioned themselves on either side of the entrance, their wands bared but not quite pointing at Harry and Sirius.
As Harry scowled and opened his mouth, two more people entered at a more sedate pace: a spindly, balding man in conservative navy robes, and behind him, Draco Malfoy. At Harry's surprised stare, the latter became greatly interested in his fingernails.
The man in navy lifted a monocle that was hanging off a golden chain and screwed it into his eye. His asymmetrical gaze passed over Harry and settled on Sirius.
"Good day," he said in a nasal voice. "Would you happen to be Sirius Black, the owner of number twelve, Grimmauld Place?"
"Right in one," Sirius said. "Sorry, can't offer tea at the moment. As you can see, we've had a bit of an involuntary renovation."
The man didn't bat an eye at his flippant tone. "Indeed. My name is Llewellyn Ludovic Peabody." He paused self-importantly. "The vice-chief of the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau of the Beast Division, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the British Ministry of Magic."
While Harry parsed that mouthful, Sirius said, "I'm afraid you have no business here, Vice-Chief Peabody. We need Obliviators, not beast herders."
Peabody drew himself up. "A dragon loose in London means unauthorized breeding, which means illegal acquisition of Class A Non-Tradeable Material, which means it is indeed very much my business." He produced a parchment from his robes, unrolled it, and harrumphed. "Mr. Black, you stand accused of violating the 1709 Warlocks' Convention ban on dragon breeding, as well as causing a second—potentially first—degree breach of the Statute of Secrecy." He frowned at Sirius for a good ten seconds as though to communicate the gravity of the crimes. "Place your signature under the dotted line to concede the charges, and the Hitwizards will take it from there."
Sirius crossed his arms. "No."
"No?" Peabody's monocle fell out as he goggled at Sirius. "There are numerous Muggle eyewitnesses to an adult-sized dragon breaking out through the roof of your residence. No less than three Ministry departments are engaged in containing what is shaping up to be the worst dragon-related crisis since the Great Fire of London!"
"Look, I'm not denying there's a dragon," Sirius said. "It's just... We didn't breed him. He's an Animagus."
Peabody's lips pursed. "An Animagus, you say?"
Sirius nodded. "A first-timer—it's why he's not in his right mind."
Peabody tittered. "Mr. Black, please. I never heard of an Animagus, no matter how inexperienced, losing control over themselves—not to mention, magical forms are nothing but fiction."
"Bloody Cedric," Harry muttered. At least the bloke married a shrew... a hot shrew, damn him.
"I rather hoped we could be civil about this, but you leave me no other choice." Peabody gestured to the MLE grunts, who came up to flank Sirius.
Harry raised his voice. "It's true! The bloke who transformed is my friend!" He looked at the stony-faced Hitwizard and Hitwitch before facing Peabody. "You know who I am, right? I wouldn't lie about something like this."
"The Daily Prophet published quite an exposé on your relationship with the accused. Given your, ah, closeness, I cannot possibly take you at your word." Peabody buffed his monocle on his robes and pushed it back into his eye. "Out of respect for your station, Warlock Potter, I will overlook you lying to a Ministry official. Do not interfere further, lest you be charged with obstruction of justice."
Harry gritted his teeth. "Ah, you're one of those types."
"Beg your pardon?"
"A dried-up bureaucrat with ink for blood."
"I'll say!" Peabody exclaimed. "If maintaining law and order so that our citizens can live in peace makes me such a person in your eyes, then I shall wear that title with pride!"
Harry shook his head in disgust. His gaze landed on Malfoy, who was slouching by the door as if to make himself less conspicuous, and he sent him a pleading look.
Malfoy sighed and cleared his throat. "Ah, vice-chief? Potter and I happen to be acquainted, and I've had the misfortune of witnessing some of the bizarre incidents he has a knack of finding himself in. Would you perhaps consider the possibility—minuscule that it is—that he's telling the truth?"
Peabody chortled. "Dear me. Mr. Malfoy, if this cock-and-bull story convinced you, perhaps you're not ready for that promotion yet. I heard many tall tales throughout my career, and no offense to Mr. Black, but his is far from the most creative."
Draco's expression was neutral as he said, "Right you are, sir."
"I believe we are done here." Peabody tucked the parchment away. "We will speak again at the Ministry, Mr. Black, although it will be through the bars of a holding cell. Come, Mr. Malfoy, we must locate and put down that dragon before—"
"Put down?" Harry and Sirius cried in concert.
Peabody took a step back, while the Hitwizard and the Hitwitch grasped Sirius by the elbows.
"The Killing Curse, delivered by a sanctioned Ministry Executioner, is the standard procedure for cases such as this. You did not brand your dragon with Muggle-Repelling runes when it hatched, did you?" Peabody clicked his tongue at their blank looks. "A mandatory practice for the past few decades in the civilized parts of the world. Without the brand, any Muggle can record the sighting with their obnoxious gadgets. Seeing how an adult dragon is much too difficult to subdue..." He spread his hands. "You should have thought this through before you decided to raise one."
"I keep telling you, there's a man inside it," Harry said, squaring up to him. "Call off your butchers."
"If you accompany Mr. Black to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I'm certain someone will listen to your story." Peabody cast an agitated glance over Harry's shoulder. "For your own good, please don't act rashly."
Wheeling around, Harry found himself under wandpoint of the Hitwizards flanking his godfather. His hand froze inches away from his pocket. He met Sirius's eyes. They crinkled at the corners, and he gave a slight nod.
Harry peered at the basement door behind the trio, from which Walburga's shrieks could be heard if one strained their ears. "Uh oh. The Nundu in the basement sounds restless."
The Hitwitch merely frowned, but the Hitwizard glanced over his shoulder. That split-second was all Sirius needed to turn into a shaggy black dog and tackle him.
Harry whipped out his wand and fired off two Stunners in quick succession. When the brown-robes crumpled to the floor, he rounded on Peabody and Draco.
"They're resisting arrest! That's a criminal charge, it is!" Peabody sputtered and pointed a trembling finger at him and Sirius. Harry wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. "In my capacity as a Ministry official, I demand you desist at once!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Stupefy."
Peabody fell with an indignant expression etched on his face, the monocle popping out as his head thudded to the floor. Behind him, Draco held up his empty palms. Harry slowly lowered his wand.
"You missed a pompous git there," Sirius said, rejoining them in human form.
"That one's alright," Harry said, pushing down Sirius's extended wand. He fixed Draco with a stare. "You're not going to fight us, are you?"
"I thought my raised hands were enough of an indication," Malfoy said grumpily. "Did I hear right? Diggory's gone and turned himself into a dragon?"
Harry considered him. "With a little help, yeah. Keep his identity under wraps for now."
"Daft as he is to get involved with you two, Diggory's a decent bloke. It would be a shame if he got offed." Just when Harry began to wonder about the unusual show of empathy, Draco added, "I have twenty galleons riding on Puddlemere winning the league."
Sirius scoffed. "No chance, the Magpies have got it in the bag."
"Only if Puddlemere loses their star Seeker," Draco retorted, crossing his arms.
"Oi, focus," Harry said. "Malfoy, you need to convince the Ministry not to use lethal force. Sirius and I will go after Cedric, but there's no guarantee we'll get to him before they do." Seeing Draco frown, he added, "Please."
"Trying to persuade people like Peabody is a fool's errand, Potter. I barely believe you myself, and I've seen some of the stunts you've pulled." Malfoy held up a palm to stall his protests. "It might not even matter. Last I heard, the dragon was heading toward the Channel. If it crosses over, the Ministry will happily wash their hands of the affair. The head of our department was fretting about the diplomatic embarrassment, but went ahead and alerted France and the ICW headquarters anyway."
"Let me guess," Sirius said, his face darkening, "they have the same 'standard procedure' for rogue dragons as Britain does."
Malfoy nodded. "Nothing gets the ICW moving like a Statute breach. They even employ a unit of Squib"—he furrowed his brows— "dung-posters, was it? I'm told their job is to discredit any evidence of our world that might be floating around Muggle networks."
"That explains so much," Harry muttered.
"We're heading to the continent, then," Sirius said decisively, and raised his wand. "Accio cloak. Accio coin purse."
Harry snickered. "Purse."
Sirius gave him a dirty look. "Accio canteen. Accio Harry's nifty world map."
"Good call," he said as the Globetrotter's Map fluttered down from the upper floors. Following Sirius's example, he summoned a pair of rugged outer robes, a pointy hat, and his Warlock's Rod. "Clothes, money, vaguely phallic toy... broomstick?" He eyed the beat-up Firebolt propped against the wall.
"A single sports broomstick won't get us to another country in a reasonable time. We need something for long-range travel—on short notice, and from someone who'll keep quiet if Hitwizards come poking around." Sirius chewed his lip. "And that's the easy part. Tracking down a dragon won't be a walk in the park."
"Really? I figure we just follow the trail of fire and destruction."
Sirius sent him a flat stare. "Europe's not exactly small. Our best bet might just be to contact the local governments and hope they're willing to listen."
"If only we could get one of those ICW Squibs to pass on their information to us," Harry mused, gazing off into space. Those guys sure had dream jobs, getting paid to shitpost on the internet all day... He smacked his fist against his palm. "I've got an old friend who might help. We'll have to take a slight detour, but it should put us ahead of the authorities. You still got those two-way mirrors?"
Sirius raised his wand. "Accio." Two battered mirrors wobbled their way down the stairs and toward his extended hand.
"Good," Harry said," this might actually work."
A cough came from the entrance, and they turned to find Draco making himself comfortable in the corner beside the door. Resting his head against the wall, he asked casually, "Before you leave, could I bother you for a Stunning Charm?"
Harry snorted. "Are you serious?"
Malfoy's grey eyes narrowed. "I can see where this is going, Potter, and I don't fancy getting involved in another one of your escapades. Hurry up."
He shrugged. "Don't have to tell me twice. Stupefy. Heh, his tongue's lolling out."
"Where to, then?" Sirius asked, pocketing the mirrors.
"My old neighborhood—I'll Side-Along you." He patted his robes for the felt-tip pen. "Just one more thing." Squatting down beside Peabody, he proceeded to scribble from the top of the man's receding hairline.
Sirius groaned. "More dicks?"
"No," he said indignantly, "a message. Sorry about the Stunner... Dragon's really Animagus... Gone to find him. There."
"Looks like I misjudged..." Sirius chortled when Harry scooted over to doodle on Malfoy's face. "Never mind. Didn't you say he was alright?"
"It's for his own good." He sketched a monocle around Malfoy's eye. "Now the Ministry won't think he's our accomplice."
"Your benevolence astounds me."
"He'll thank me later, you'll see." Pocketing the marker, he rose to his feet. "Ready?"
Sirius nodded. As Harry walked up to put a hand on his shoulder, he nearly tripped over the unconscious Hitwitch. Her limbs were tangled and her neck was bent at an awkward angle. Struck by sympathy, he drew his wand and aimed at the door.
"Depulso!"
The door banged open, and alarmed voices drifted in from the outside. Harry didn't wait for the Obliviators to come in; visualizing his destination, he pulled Sirius into the void.
