Unplottable Island

Chapter 14: Baby Norbert

Biana rose from her knees, lifting Laura as she stood. She carried the unresisting girl back to the cell, laying her opposite from the man Snape, who had fallen asleep. Now would be a good time to find some food for them, since most Dreki would either be sleeping or out with the dragons.

She tugged down her dress before walking outside, well aware of her immodest dress. Maybe she had a spare skirt somewhere, she thought vaguely as she walked through the low stone passageways of the lower levels. They were in no way rough tunnels, although their appearance was roughened by the lack of the tapestries and paintings that Voldemort had taken for his own viewing (and sometimes selling) pleasure. Exiting through the ramps that led to the upper level, Biana went to find her dragon's cave.

Dreki and dragons were made for each other—almost literally. Many millenniums past, dragons had nearly killed off the human race altogether. A young and very brilliant man whose name was never known performed a magical maneuver unlike any other. He had taken a dragon's blood and crudely introduced it into the human system of five of his own children when they were infants. Three of them died, but two survived, male and female. These children slowly changed to be scarcely recognizable as human—taller, faster, and cleverer than other humans. They also grew tougher hide—something almost like pebbles fused into a single sheet. Finally and most importantly, they could control dragons. Most humans found this impossible to believe, considering the Dreki monsters. Because of this, Dreki lived deep in the mountains.

Biana nearly ran up the ramps to her room. Through the high arched door there was a very large room, nearly fifty meters high, just as wide, and seventy-five meters deep. In place of a wall at one side of the room there was only open space, making the room cold in the morning air. The room (as well as most other rooms in a Dreki home) was simply a very deep groove in a mountain. Biana's room was about midway down—not a choice view, nor easy access, suiting her rank.

Been see mortals?

A dragon, a mere twenty feet or so in length, pattered across the smooth-swept dirt floor with the grace of a big cat. It was a Norwegian Ridgeback, the second one Biana had been partnered to in the course of her life. She reached out her hand to it reassuringly, smiling indulgently when he butted his head against her hand to be scratched between the horny ridges on his back.

Hello, Lrrch, Biana said affectionately. The dragon hummed back, pleased that she was home and well. Have you behaved while I was gone?

Lrrch good, much good, hungry. Much hungry as well, Biina. Eat hungry now? The mind-voice was begging and pompous at the same time; the dragon was proud of his manners. Lrrch was a relatively young dragon—less than six years old, a mere adolescent in dragon years. Dragons are quick to reach maturity and slow to age after reaching young adulthood. Humans who worked to control the dragons that escaped Dreki control had brought Lrrch to the mountains. He had been hatched illegally in Northern Britannia, in a hut of some kind. Lrrch had told Biana this many times, proudly enforcing how quickly he had learned to breathe fire.

Okay, Lrrch, Biana called as she walked to get the riding harness. But we must hunt together or the mortals will see us.

Lrrch shook his head, his thoughts radiating contempt of the humans and their feeble weaponry as Biana looped the harness over his head. She settled the main straps just in front of the sweeping black wings. Swinging herself up onto the neck and settling her body in between the main back spikes, she hissed a command in Parseltounge and smiled exultantly as they flew off through the mountain mists.

Lrrch flies well! Biana complemented the dragon as he executed a series of clipped wing adjustments that left her heart pounding.

Lrrch tossed back a thought that made Biana do a double take. Big mortal call me Norbert. Biana thought about probing deeper into this random thought, but she shrugged it off and gave him a command to head west, to the sea.

**

"Where have you been?" Cho Chang asked as Tim settled into his seat at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast.

"Dumbledore wanted to see me," Tim replied, helping himself to some eggs and a glass of pumpkin juice.

Cho stirred her food around with her fork. "Am I allowed to know why?" she asked. Cho never ate much at breakfast—or any other meal, making her almost child-like in her proportions. Most of the Ravenclaws had given up trying to make her eat more than a few bites, accepting that it had something to do with Cedric Diggory that was better left unsaid.

Tim laid down his fork, suddenly not hungry. "I guess. Laura disappeared last night."

There was a clatter as Cho dropped her silverware. "Oh my god," she whispered. "That's awful for you and Harry." Tim nodded, biting his lip. "Well, I've got to go," she added, rising from the table with her bag. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen."

Terry Boot, another Ravenclaw in Tim's year, nudged him and winked. Apparently he hadn't heard anything but the last line. "Go Tim! Well, go talk to her! What're you waiting for?"

Tim punched him playfully. "We're not like that, Terry. We're just friends."

"Of course you are." A few other Ravenclaws snickered.

A crash from the table opposite Ravenclaw distracted them all. Tim looked and saw Harry giving him a panicked look. A red-haired boy had fallen on the ground, his face frozen in a grimace. Tim could see where Ron's hand had fallen into view. The fingers were all contracted into the palm; blood flowed freely from his palms where the fingernails had pierced his skin. Professors McGonnagal and Flitwick were rushing over, wands out. Tim ran over to Harry.

"What happened?" he asked as McGonnagal levitated the boy up to the hospital wing. Tim closed his eyes briefly, not wanting to see the agonized features of the boy.

"I don't know!" Harry pointed to the goblet of water that spilled onto the floor from the table, staining the linen dark gray. "Ron was drinking that, and he just fell over suddenly." Hermione, the pretty brown-haired girl Harry hung out with, was in tears. She flung herself at Harry, who looked quite as shocked by this as by Ron's sudden illness.

Tim cleared his throat awkwardly. "I hope he gets better soon," he said, unsure of what you should say to someone in a situation like this.

"DON'T DRINK THE WATER!" The magnified voice echoed to the magical ceiling. "DON'T TOUCH IT, DON'T DRINK IT, AND DON'T GET NEAR IT." Professor Sprout stood up on a chair by the teacher's podium. She looked ferocious; quite a shocking change for the mild Herbology professor. "Everyone is to go up into the Hufflepuff or Gryffindor towers this instant." A few queries rose from the crowd; moans of derision from the Slytherins. "Ravenclaws, go with the Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, go with the Gryffindors."

"What?" drawled someone from slightly behind Tim. "I'd rather not." It was Draco Malfoy.

"Just do it," Tim snapped at him.

"Why should I listen to you?" Draco asked derisively.

They were being left behind as the other students drifted upstairs. Tim grabbed his sleeve and pulled. "Try to be cleverer than you are, Malfoy, and go with the Gryffindors."

Draco shook his hand off. "Don't touch me. Ravenclaws are all brains, no bravery. You're just going to run and hide, aren't you?"

"You're being stupid." Tim made to leave, but the comments about bravery were getting to him, even if they were coming from Draco Malfoy. "I'm going. Goodbye."

He ran upstairs, not to the Hufflepuff common room, but to the Gryffindor. "Kelpies," he muttered, and the Fat Lady swung open. Tim scrambled through the portrait hole to be met by no less than seven wands pointed at his nose. "God," he moaned to himself. Trying to deal with a bunch of paranoid third years was far more than he wanted while dangling halfway out of a hole in the wall.

"Who're you?" one of them asked, prodding him with his wand. "State your name and house."

Tim sighed. "I'm Tim Potter, Ravenclaw."

"You're supposed to be in Hufflepuff," another added. "How do we know you're not a spy?"

"Because he's my brother," Harry said, offering a hand to Tim to pull him the rest of the way through the portrait hole. "Good job, though," he said to the disgruntled third years. "Close the portrait hole and keep watch."

Tim walked down to the seats by the fire, where Harry and his friends usually sat. Harry slumped into a squashy round armchair. "This is great," he moaned. "We practically have a war going on in here between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors."

"Is Malfoy in here?" Tim asked. "He was being an ass downstairs."

"No," Hermione said, sitting on the armrest of Harry's chair. "A few other Slytherins aren't here either." Her eyes were still very red and puffy.

There was a thunk as someone was bodily hurled into the common room. Tim jumped around in his seat so that he could see. It was one of the third years, who was now wobbling cross-eyed around in circles. On cue, Draco Malfoy pulled himself further into the common room, looking evil and highly annoyed. Seeing Harry and Tim sitting by the fire, he pointedly looked the other direction and stalked to the back of the common room.

"Well then," Hermione said, rolling her eyes expressively, "Moving on. How long do you think we'll be in here?"

"Not much longer before they send someone to tells us what's going on," Harry said encouragingly.

Tim shrugged moodily. He wanted to know now; he wanted to do something about it. To distract himself, he began running through a list of all the curses he would put on Voldemort had he the opportunity. It was a long list. Tim went alphabetically, starting with the Asphyxiation Jinx. He was all the way to F and the Fallen-And-Can't-Get-Up Hex when there was a stir in the common room, starting from the portrait hole and going outwards like ripples in a pool.