"And you're sure you're all right with this, Moony?" Harry asked, as he trailed Moony and Padfoot across the rapidly darkening grounds. Above them, the moon sat bright and full in the sky, and Harry knew from Moony's ill temper and the increasingly frequent groans and winces that it wouldn't be long now. "Not that I want you to change your mind, but-"
"For the last time, Harry, yes," Moony said irritably. "It was my idea. You're old enough, and I thought you could us a distraction, and - given how much like James and Sirius you seem to be - something to look forward to."
Harry shared a look with Padfoot, who winked. He grinned.
"Ah, yes," Moony said, "look, Sirius - the next generation's just as excited by my pain as you've ever been." He laughed hoarsely at Harry's stricken look, then winced and lengthened his strides. "It's soon."
"We need to be a bit further in," Padfoot said, putting a hand on Moony's back, and using it to shephard him.
"Yes, I know," Moony grumbled, twisting away. Padfoot glanced behind them, through the thin ranks of trees; they could still see the castle quite clearly. Moony marched forward with grim purpose.
"How'd the wand-weighing go?" Padfoot asked, eyes on Moony as he fell into step beside Harry. Harry's eyebrows rose, and Padfoot must have smelled his surprise. "Cedric was pulled out of my lesson."
"Right. Er… well, my wand's fine," he said. "I- Cedric doesn't know whether to believe me or not, about putting my name in. He wasn't unfriendly, just a bit… I dunno… Confused, maybe?" Just like the rest of the school, really; Harry hadn't been surprised to overhear whispers about how he'd entered himself for the attention and glory, but what did surprise him was that for every one of those there was another overheard whisper to disagree; Padfoot's face when Harry's name came out of the Goblet had not gone unnoticed, nor, apparently, had Harry's behaviour - and that of his friends - since. "Krum mostly kept to himself, and Fleur was… Fleur; got all offended when Rita Skeeter wanted to talk to me instead of her."
"Skeeter was there?" Padfoot asked, voice sharpening. "Doing what?"
"Wanted a photograph of the Champions," Harry said, darkly. "And pulled me aside for a quick interview after." He grimaced.
"You gave her one?" Padfoot's eyebrows shot up.
"Not intentionally," Harry sighed. "I mostly argued with her to start with - said I was underage so I wanted you there, but she said being on my own was good practice for the Tournament, because obviously you're not going to help me compete, and then she sort of- it was a bit like at your trial, you know where they were saying a lot of things but not really letting you answer?" Harry hadn't really had to have much to do with reporters before, because Padfoot usually scared them off, or Harry managed to slip away before it became an issue. Not today. Today, Skeeter had asked about Harry, and how he felt about the Tournament and having to compete against older students, and then she'd asked about Lily and James and Padfoot, and how they'd feel - or in Padfoot's case - did feel about it all. "The interview…. It's probably going to be a disaster, honestly." Padfoot sighed, scent tired and rather angry. "Sorry."
"We'll deal with it if or when we need to," Padfoot said. "And in the meantime, I'll have words with Rita."
"Won't that make it worse?"
"I'd much rather have her after me than after you," Padfoot said. "You've got enough to worry about."
"But-"
"There's a lot I can't fix the way I'd like to be able to," Padfoot said seriously, scent unhappy. "And that's- well." He cleared his throat, eyes back on Moony's progress ahead. "Skeeter I can help you with. Let me." Harry swerved to bump his arm against Padfoot's, grateful, and Padfoot reached out to ruffle his hair and pull him closer for a moment.
After another few minutes of walking, when they were far enough into the forest that there was nothing in sight but the trees, and nothing to hear but the sounds of their footsteps on leaves, Moony stopped.
Harry looked around at the dark trees, thinking of Wormtail because he always did when he was in the forest, but also because, once upon a time, Wormtail had been a part of this, a part of full moons. So had Harry's dad.
Moony stripped off his shirt and trousers, tossing them to Padfoot who shrank them and tucked them into his pocket for safekeeping. Then, Moony gasped and arched back, then hunched over. Harry thought he heard something snap, and winced.
"Time to change," Padfoot said, over his shoulder, and Harry did as he was told. Padfoot blinked, scent - even stronger to Harry's wolf nose - a mix of guilt and nostalgia. Harry cocked his head, and let out a soft whine when Padfoot didn't explain right away. "I just- had a moment where I expected a stag," he said, and Harry padded forward to bump his nose against Padfoot's palm.
Padfoot tugged one of Harry's ears and then shooed him away so he had room to drop down into his dog form. Behind him, Moony began to grow fur, and his groans became whimpers. It looked agonising, and Harry whined again, unhappy this time rather than curious. Padfoot glanced at him, ears briefly going back in acknowledgement, and then went back to watching Moony, who was now more wolf than man and trembling from his transformation.
A few moments later, it was over, and Moony picked himself up off the ground, gave himself a shake, and then seemed to notice them. He went very still, and Harry felt himself go still in response; Moony was tall and lean as a wolf, but also not really a wolf, or at least, not to Harry, who was a genuine wolf. His eyes and tail were wrong and his snout was a bit too short, and there was something else about him, something different that made Harry's wolf side wary, even though he knew it was Moony.
Padfoot trotted forward with a soft bark that Harry knew was a greeting, and Moony gave a brief wag of his tail, then went back to watching Harry. After a moment, Moony took a step forward, then another, almost stalking him.
Harry's hackles went up instinctively when Moony reached him, and he had to force them down. There was nothing human in Moony's eyes, but they were not entirely unfamiliar either. Harry barely breathed as Moony sniffed him, first cautiously and then more seriously. He circled Harry as he did so, with a nervous-smelling Padfoot at his flank, likely ready to intervene if things went poorly. Harry wanted to turn his head to watch, but didn't dare.
When Moony was finally back in front of him, he stood still for a moment, as if considering Harry, then leaned forward and licked him from cheek to ear. Padfoot's scent relaxed, and Harry's tail wagged, even as he lifted a paw to wipe at his wet face.
Then Moony let out a loud, unearthly howl - startling Harry into leaping backward, and making Padfoot snort his amusement - and trotted off into the underbrush. Padfoot howled his approval and followed, leaving Harry to scramble to catch up.
Though the forest was dark and they weren't that far from where Wormtail had sent the forest alight, Harry felt safe, and utterly at home; after all, who could hurt them here? Who would even try to take them on?
Moony ran on long legs, with a near unnatural speed and power, and Padfoot ran just a few steps behind him, clearly used to the brutal pace, and content to let Moony lead (though Harry was under no illusions that Padfoot was the one in charge).
Harry surprised himself with how easily he was able to keep up; he was smaller than they were, still - though nowhere near as small has he had been years ago, when he'd first managed it and been able to walk under Padfoot's shaggy belly - and leaner, and yet, he had the advantage of being utterly at home here.
Being what he was, Moony didn't have a natural habitat, and Padfoot - for all his adventuring - was a creature more made for parks and gardens and the warm spots in front of fireplaces. But Harry - despite admittedly being very partial to the hearth, and also to the sunny patches beneath Grimmauld's windows - was in his element here as much as his human form was on a broomstick; he was quicker than the others, more sure-footed, and quieter. He was utterly at home - a creature of the forest, like he imagined James would have been.
Without breaking stride, Harry threw his head back and howled.
"Have you slept?" Hermione asked, when they met at the front doors the next morning.
"Not really," Harry said, with a grin. He was exhausted, certainly, but that exhaustion was much more physical than mental. He'd run until his paws ached and his sides were heaving, but for the first time in a long time, he'd had a night where he hadn't been wrapped up in his own head thinking about Voldemort, or - worse yet - actually being Voldemort. It was unbelievably refreshing. Hermione's eyes scanned his face and then she smiled. "What'd you lot get up to last night?" Harry asked, smothering a yawn.
"Draco was with Snape," Hermione said. "Ron and I were together for a bit, but then he disappeared off to the Room, and I went to the library."
"The usual, then," Harry teased. She rolled her eyes at him, then glanced quickly toward the lake and away again, frowning; Krum had just finished his morning swim and was walking back toward the Durmstrang ship, while his usual gaggle of admirers trailed after him. "He's not that bad you know," Harry said, taking a guess at what her issue might be. "Especially given who he's here with." His eyes went to the Durmstrang ship.
"I never said he was!" Hermione protested. Her cheeks were pink, and Harry would have put it down to the cold, except her scent was oddly flustered. Harry grinned at her. "I- I think he's-um-"
"Mornin' you two," Hagrid said, waving at them from beside the large water trough outside his hut. Fang looked up from where he was dozing in the early morning sun.
"Hagrid," Hermione said with obvious relief, and hurried forward.
"How've yeh bin doin'?" Hagrid asked, once he'd released Hermione and turned to pull Harry into one of his usual rib-cracking hugs.
"I'm- all right, I think," Harry said. "Not much I can do about it all except make sure I'm ready..."
"Which is why we're here, actually," Hermione said.
"Oh?" Hagrid scratched his beard, looking surprised but pleased. "Well, can' say I think I'll be a lot o' help to yeh, but I'll do what I can." He stomped over to the door of his hut and pulled it open. Fang bounded inside, and once Harry had sat, promptly shoved his big, drooly head in his lap and gave him an expectant look. Harry scratched behind one of the boarhound's soft ears, and his eyes drifted shut with a doggy groan, tail thumping on Hermione's chair leg.
They turned down breakfast - stoat sandwiches - but took Hagrid up on his offer for tea, and when the three of them were seated with steaming mugs in front of them, Hagrid said:
"So, what do yeh think I can do for yeh?"
"Er," Harry said, "well, we've been reading about the sorts of tasks they did in the old tournaments-" Hermione nodded. "-and they always seem to have at least one sort of magical creature in them. And you know about magical creatures better than almost anyone, so, I was hoping you could tell me about them. What I might need to know if I have to face them." Hagrid looked delighted, and Harry suddenly had visions of still being here at dinner time, having only got to Billywigs in the alphabet of magical creatures. Hermione winced into her mug, and Harry thought they were thinking the same. "Er, dragons, specifically."
"Dragons?" Hagrid asked. He looked no less enthused, but a bit perplexed. "I'm happy ter tell yeh about 'em, Harry, but if yeh want ter be properly prepared, it migh' be best fer me ter tell yeh a mite about everythin'..."
"Er…" Harry nudged Hermione's foot under the table, a silent plea for help.
"We think there's a fairly good chance it'll be dragons," Hermione said smoothly. "They hadn't been used for quite a few tournaments before the last one, and since this is the first one, we think it's likely they'll want to use something impressive that really tests the Champions." Harry nodded vigorously.
"Well, a dragon'll test yeh all righ'!" Hagrid said. "Marvellous creatures, dragons. If yeh're right, I'll be a bit jealous of yeh, ter be honest." Harry forced a smile. "Now, what might yeh need ter know…"
Dear Ron,
Stating the obvious a bit there; yes, I do know a lot about dragons. What I don't know about dragons probably isn't worth knowing.
I've always hoped that one of you might take an interest in magizoology, and it seems I've got my wish all at once; Ginny wrote to me yesterday to ask for help with a Care of Magic Creatures essay about dragons, and Fred and George are apparently considering working at the sanctuary with me after they graduate and want to know all about dragon handling techniques. And now, you've written.
I just want it on record that I'm not an idiot; I'm fairly sure I know where your curiosity's come from even if I have no idea how you know you ought to be curious. Let's leave it at that, for the sake of plausible deniability, eh?
So, to dragons…You were pretty vague in what you wanted to know about, so I'm just going to tell you what I think will be most helpful.
Dragons are found all over the world. We've got some here at the sanctuary from places like Wales, Sweden, Hungary, and China. They're all different, both physically and in their behaviour, because they've adapted to these different habitats. If you want to know specifics, there's a book in the Hogwarts library called Wyrms of the World, which was so useful I've since procured my own copy.
Dragons can be dangerous, even when they're young - maybe you remember that from your first year - and only become more dangerous as they figure out how to fly properly and control their fire. As a handler, I find smaller breeds and adolescent dragons are the most dangerous, simply because they're more agile, and therefore almost impossible to outrun or outfly. That's not to say larger breeds, or fully grown adults, aren't dangerous. Sure, you've got more hope of dodging them, but there's also a lot more of them to dodge, and they'll certainly do more damage than a smaller dragon if they catch you!
Generally speaking, males tend to be calmer and more predictable than females, though both tend to mellow with age. Nesting mothers can be particularly nasty, especially if they think you're going anywhere near their eggs.
Some useful magic:
Avea Apara, cast with a circling motion above your head. Harry'll be familiar with this one, so talk to him about it, and what it can and can't do.
Colloshoo. Dragons use their wings for balance as well as flying. If you want to slow them down, or keep them on the ground, sticking spells cast in the circled locations on the enclosed diagram will pin the wings. Trouble is, the spells need to be cast simultaneously, or in very quick succession, else they'll just pull them free.
Don't bother with fire freezing charms - dragon fire is much too hot. Similarly, transfiguring dragon fire is not really an option - there's too much of it, and there's some theory about the heat of matter and transfiguration that I don't remember any more. McGonagall would be able to tell you. What does work is a bit of elemental magic. You might have heard of Fiendfyre, which is really nasty dark magic, but otherwise not dissimilar in principle. It all comes down to will and an understanding of fire (some people just have a natural affinity for it, others have to spend hours watching fire, and conjuring fire, and getting burned by fire to build that understanding, like I did). Don't get me wrong, it's complicated magic, and practicing with a candle or fireplace is a good start but still nothing compared to what you'll have to do to control dragon fire. Still, if you can get good with it, you can redirect fire, and even learn to control it to a certain degree. If you're interested, Mastering the Elements is a really useful book - it's in the Restricted Section (or it was when I was at Hogwarts) which is a pain. We used to use Tonks to get it, but you've got an actual teacher that'd probably be quite happy to help you out, so I don't imagine that'll be an issue.
That's probably the best I can give you, and it ought to be pretty helpful... know, I know - I'm the best, most helpful brother ever.
Give my best to Harry, and to the others, and I'll see you all soon.
Charlie
Ron loved the Room. The piles of stuff and little corner that resembled the Shrieking Shack had not appeared since the first time he'd rediscovered it. These days, there was a long stone walkway that connected the door and their sitting area (which bore a remarkable resemblance to their favourite corner of the Gryffindor common room), lined on one side with bookshelves, and on the other side with wooden railing to prevent anyone toppling over the edge and into the large sunken area, which took up the entirety of the rest of the space.
Since re-discovering it, Ron had done a bit of reading about just what magic could do when it came to securing a place, and then worked with the others to test the Room's security instructions. Harry and Malfoy - who were both very used to house elves and loopholes - had been very helpful there. It felt like theirs, in a way that not many other places did, a place where they couldn't be interrupted, and where they could talk without being at risk of anyone overhearing them, and it was a nice place to spend time…
Even if it currently smelled like burning hair.
"I think you're doing it wrong," Malfoy said, from where he was lying on one of the couches, with Wyrms of the World propped up against his knees. He hadn't looked up, but Ron figured he'd been able to work out what had happened from the smell and Harry's cursing.
"I'd worked that out for myself, thanks" Harry muttered, rubbing his red, smoking arm, while Hermione hovered nervously. "But if you've got any useful advice, that'd be good."
"Fire is very much not my element," Malfoy said. He was right; he'd been the worst at it out of all of them, with Harry a close second. Ron seemed to have a bit of the natural affinity for it that Charlie's letter had mentioned, and Hermione, despite obviously having no natural affinity for it, had - in typical Hermione fashion - proved the best of them thanks to a sound understanding of magical theory. "I think I'm probably more of a water sort of person," Malfoy continued, turning a page of his book. Harry scowled in his direction for a few moments.
"Any suggestions?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Maybe," she said, with a thoughtful frown. "I'll try to talk you through it." Harry nodded and raised his wand.
"Again," he said.
"Are you sure you don't want a fire-freezing-"
"Being at risk's a better motivator," Harry said, and Hermione pursed her lips but said nothing more. Ron caught Hermione's eye, a silent Ready? passing between them. She nodded.
"Incendio." Fire streamed from Ron's wand toward Harry, who twitched as if he wanted to jump out of the way, then squared his shoulders.
"Now," Hermione murmured - a few moments late in Ron's opinion - and Harry twisted his wand. The fire wavered then swerved, but a thought from Ron straightened its course. Harry's face scrunched up and Hermione was murmuring to Harry, low and urgent. Harry made a sharp motion with his wand that Ron knew was all wrong and that made Hermione wince; the fire was upon them again. Ron called it back, and Hermione shouted, "Protego Aqua!"
A watery shield popped up between Harry and the fading fire, protecting him until Ron released his spell and it disappeared entirely.
"Thanks," Harry said to her, slumping.
"That was a bit better," Hermione said encouragingly. Harry glanced at her, skeptical. "It was. Not perfect, obviously - your timing needs work and your movements were too sharp. Fire's…" She looked at Ron, imploring.
"It needs to be guided, not forced," Ron said.
"I was guiding it," Harry grumbled. "Or trying to." Ron caught Hermione's eye and they shared a helpless look.
"You just need more practice," Hermione said. "Really, Harry, it's only been a few days. Charlie said it's complicated, you can't expect to pick it up-"
"You have. Both of you," Harry said, not grudging, but rather helpless. He nodded at Ron. "You were directing it just then, and you pulled it back when you realised I'd mucked up."
"You'll get there too," Hermione said firmly. "You just need more practice. And we have time-"
"A few weeks," Harry said, arching an eyebrow.
"You'll get there, mate," Ron said.
"You've been getting it to consider changing direction today, which you weren't able to do yesterday or the day before, or the day before. Think of what you can do with several times that amount of time." Hermione smiled at Harry, and reached out to give his hand a brief squeeze.
"Something, probably," Harry said, in a mild tone that Ron thought he'd picked up from Remus. "But I don't know if it'll be anything that's any good against dragon fire." Much as Ron liked Hermione's optimism, he thought Harry was probably right.
Ron had always thought it would be nice to take to some sort of magic faster than Harry, but he'd quite happily have given Harry his slight fire affinity on the spot; Harry, after all, was the one who was going to need it.
"Maybe I'll have to go with the Conjunctivitus Curse after all…" Harry grinned but it was tired. "D'you reckon Charlie'd be mad?"
"Yes," Malfoy called back.
"Probably," Ron said, grinning. "You saw his response to Ginny." Ginny, like Ron, had written to Charlie, but she'd asked specifically about dragons' weaknesses. Charlie had said there were only a few, since dragons were so well protected by their scales; their eyes were one, goblin-forged weapons were another, dragon teeth and claws were a third, and dragonsbane was a fourth, and Charlie'd gone on - at length - about how unnecessary, cruel, illegal, and unethical those options were.
"Harry, you-"
"I'm joking, Hermione," Harry said tiredly.
"I'm not," Hermione said. "If you're going up against a dragon because V-Voldemort's making you, I'd worry less about the dragon or upsetting Charlie and more about… well." The word surviving hung heavy in the air though none of them had said it aloud.
"And getting whatever the dragon's guarding," Malfoy said.
"Guarding?" Hermione asked.
"Yes. Guarding." The three of them turned to look at him, and he snapped the book shut and rolled into a sitting position, brandishing Charlie's letter. "Did any of you even read this?"
"Yeah," Ron said. "That's why we're practicing this."
"Yes," Malfoy said. "But he hasn't just told us useful spells, he's told us everything. Everything he thinks is useful, which is very useful because he knows why you're interested in dragons and he said he'll see us all soon, so he's obviously involved." He brandished the letter again. "There'll be a Welsh Green, a Swedish Shortsnout, a Chinese Fireball, and a Hungarian Horntail - four dragons for four Champions. The dragons will probably be nesting mothers. Since dragon-tamer-Weasley's adamantly against Potter hurting anything, and lore traditionally portrays dragons as guardians, I think it's safe to assume you'll be trying to get to something they'll be guarding."
"You got all that from Charlie's letter?" Hermione asked, eyebrows shooting up.
"You didn't?" Malfoy asked. He considered the letter. "I suppose he's subtle, at least for a Weasley… or perhaps Durban helped him with it." Either way, Malfoy looked approving. "Even so, it's ridiculously obvious." He glanced at Ron, then at Harry, who looked a bit stunned - and Hermione - who looked both impressed and insulted. "Well I thought it was."
"Clearly," Ron muttered, catching Harry's eye. Harry seemed to return to himself, then shrugged.
"Makes sense, I s'pose." Harry rubbed a hand through his hair. "Stealing from a dragon's a new one, but not the most ridiculous thing I've had to do." Ron grinned and Hermione snorted a laugh. "And I certainly like the idea of stealing from one better than fighting one."
"Stealing from a nesting mother's likely to end in fight," Malfoy warned.
"Maybe," Harry said, shrugging. "But that's what all this is for, isn't it." Harry gave them a wry smile then settled into a ready stance, and lifted his wand. Ron mirrored him:
"Again?" Hermione nodded to say she was ready.
"Again," Harry said.
