Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.
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Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer
Chapter 17 – Manipulating Elements
4:50pm
Thursday, 11 August 1995
Ministry of Magic, London, England
.
A glance at the clock had him nodding. Yes, just before the Ministry workers signed off for the day; the perfect time.
Standing, he walked around his desk but just before he reached the fireplace and the mantle where he kept the pot of floo powder, he glanced across at the elaborate perch that stood near the window. He missed seeing the brilliant red and gold plumage that ordinarily lived there, but, alas, another burning day had come and gone and the baby bird that now resided there wasn't as nice to look at.
Then, after grabbing up a handful of green powder, he clicked his fingers, magicking fire in place.
Throwing in the powder turned the flames green and he stepped in amongst them.
"The Ministry of Magic!"
Instantly, the green of the flames intensified before he was whisked away on a whirlwind tour of hundreds of other fireplaces – all too fast for the eye to make out any details.
"Headmaster Dumbledore!"
He turned at the sound of his name, a smile already on his lips.
"Ah, Miss Rutledge, how nice to see you again," he greeted.
She smiled shyly, her head dipping, but not before he noticed the rounding of her eyes. It was always so wonderful to see how amazed and awed people were of him, especially when he remembered their names. Really, how could he not remember them? After all, he had one of the best minds in the world and had taught himself to remember names and faces decades ago. Not to mention that he'd taught or been the Headmaster for the majority of the British wizarding population for close to the last century.
"If you will excuse me, I have an appointment that I mustn't be late for," he said.
Instantly, she bustled out of his way, mumbling something that he took no notice of.
"How are you, Headmaster?"
"Nice to see you, Chief Warlock."
"Headmaster Dumbledore!"
The greetings came thick and fast the further into the Ministry that he strode. And every greeting that he received, he returned, more often than not adding in the person's name as well. There was a reason that he chose this particular time: seeing so many, walking among those that were once children that looked up to him, reminded them of his achievements and how important a place he held not just in magical society, but also in their hearts.
Finally, after traversing the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic and then an elevator ride, he reached the very door that he'd been aiming for: the sub-Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain.
The concept of knocking wasn't even entertained, after all, he was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and every Department was expected to accommodate every one of his wishes.
At first glance, he thought that he'd come too late, that the Department was empty but a scrape, the sound of a chair moving slightly in a side office had him focussing that direction.
He cleared his throat and waited. When no one had come out to greet him after a minute, he frowned. That was not how it was supposed to be! A tiny bell on the counter before him caught his attention and he contemplated it. It was decidedly … muggle and he considered ignoring it and using magic to sound a bell but that wouldn't do for the image that he was trying to convey nor the way that he wanted the conversation to go.
Thus, he reached out and tapped the bell once, causing a melodic chime to ring throughout the office.
"Headmaster Dumbledore! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in!" the wide-eyed woman that appeared in the doorway exclaimed.
"Madam Grimblehawk," he smiled. "I hope that I'm not disturbing you?"
"Of course not," she replied.
He watched her as she bustled up to the front counter, remembering back nearly three decades to the girl that she had once been.
Mathilda Grimblehawk, or, more precisely, Mathilda Tickerton, as she was when she was first sorted, had always been a rather plain girl. She worked hard for her marks, as any Hufflepuff was wont to do and she was considered a well-liked and friendly girl. From what he understood, little had changed with her.
Madam Grimblehawk had been an odd choice to head up the Committee that had been designed to entice Harry Potter to stay in Britain. The fact that it'd failed abysmally – indeed, young Harry hadn't even responded to the invitation to come talk about him being involved in the monitoring and preservation of the country's dragons – hadn't reflected very badly on her, even if the committee had been disbanded and she'd been thusly reintegrated back into her original department.
Upon hearing about the contract that young Harry had signed with the dragon reserves of the world, Cornelius had decided to not only revive the committee but then to elevate it to sub-Department status in an effort to 'persuade' Harry home. Madam Grimblehawk, as the one with the most knowledge of the subject, had been tapped to lead it and thus, it was to her that Dumbledore needed to come. Yes, she was hard-working and would definitely put her all into the job, but he knew that he could … assist her endeavours. And his own while he was at it.
"What is it that I can do for you, Headmaster?" she asked.
Dumbledore smiled at her, letting a twinkle form in his eye.
"As you know, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I receive reports from all of the Departments and when I came across yours and the wonderful work you are doing here, I decided that I really must visit to see if there was anything that you needed or perhaps if there was a way that I could lend a guiding hand? Setting up a new sub-Department is, after all, a lot of work."
As expected, Grimblehawk beamed at the concept of having his attention.
"Well, I won't argue, these last few weeks have definitely been some of the most challenging of my career but it's all been so very rewarding. Especially now that I'm starting to see results," she replied.
"I would be delighted to hear about your progress in your own words," he said before leaning forward to convey an air of trustworthiness. "Some of those reports can be incredibly dry reading and not give the full picture, you know."
"Oh, I understand completely," she gushed. "Well, as you can see, we have most of the equipment that we need now and a small staff already in place."
"I believe that you – on the Ministry's behalf – have purchased some land to use for a Reserve?" he asked, knowing that this question would ultimately lead to where he wanted the conversation to go.
"Yes, we have!" she exclaimed. "The Ministry's legal department only finalised the purchase two days ago. An entire island to the west of the Shetland Islands. It's not quite as big as I would have liked – especially as it'll be the home to all the dragons of Great Britain, the Welsh Greens and the Hebridean Blacks – but it's the best that we could get. It'll be completely warded to keep the dragons in, not to mention make it unplottable and with a full compliment of anti-muggle wards by this time next week."
"Astonishing, absolutely astonishing! You are truly a credit to your old House with all of the hard work you've been putting in," Dumbledore praised.
"Thank you, Headmaster," she blushed, as if she was eleven once again.
"Tell me, how many dragon keepers will be needed to man such a Reserve?" Dumbledore asked.
"To start with, half a dozen. We lucked out there, thank Merlin. Our dragons are on the smaller size, so it won't take as many to handle a dragon at once. Later, I envision a dozen dragon keepers," she replied.
"You have been thinking ahead," Dumbledore smiled. "Am I right to assume that you're already taking applications?"
"Not quite," she replied. "I'm looking over portfolios for current dragon keepers for a suitable Head Keeper that we can approach."
"A wise decision," he nodded. "I assume that you'll be wanting to hire a British wizard – after all, such a dragon keeper would know our dragons the best."
Grimblehawk frowned. "Unfortunately, there simply aren't many British dragon keepers and none that I've come across with the correct qualifications."
"In that case, might I make a suggestion?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Of course, Headmaster!" she replied.
"May I suggest Charles Weasley for the role?"
"Weasley?" Grimblehawk frowned. "I haven't seen any Weasleys in the names that I'm looking into. Any relation to Arthur Weasley from Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?"
"His second eldest, in fact," Dumbledore replied. "As for young Charles, he currently works at the Romanian Dragon Reserve and – according to his mother – is only a year or so away from achieving his Beast Mastery which would make him more than qualified to be Head Keeper."
"Maybe," she allowed, looking not entirely convinced.
Dumbledore, though, knew one last piece of information, gleaned as it was through a contact in the ICW that would convince her.
"I believe that young Harry Potter is apprenticing under him," he stated mildly.
The broad grin that broke out on her face told him that his aim of visiting had been achieved.
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9:05am
Friday, 12 August 1995
Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia
.
Harry stepped into the room behind Charlie and instantly stopped. Less than half an hour ago, the room had looked completely different.
Then it had been set up with half a dozen long tables, each easily able to set eight. Most of those tables had been full of people then, all having breakfast.
Now those tables had disappeared. In their place was one gigantic table placed exactly in the centre of the room. There were no chairs, not that it mattered – the table was large enough to accommodate all eighteen dragon keepers already there standing around it.
That was another difference: there were only dragon keepers there. None of the support staff were in attendance and, as far as that went, only Harry and Charlie had been invited to attend, not Sirius or Remus.
"Gentlemen, come join us," Andy called from where he stood at the head of the table.
Following Charlie, Harry made his way to the table where a space had been left for them.
The table, now that Harry was closer and able to see it properly, wasn't the usual sort of table that he would have expected. It was thicker than normal, easily an extra hands width above what he would have considered a comfortable height.
"Thank you all for coming," Andy said. "As you all know, there's been a problem with the dragons for the past few weeks. Thanks to young Harry there, we now know the cause: three of the four clutches of eggs have gone missing. While you all have been given assignments that can hopefully help us find out what has been taking the eggs and prevent the last clutch from being stolen, I thought it time that to ensure that we're all on the same page."
Then, before saying anything else, Andy stretched forward with his wand and tapped the top of the table in select spots. A small glowing rune appeared at each place his wand tapped, causing Harry's eyes to widen. As the sixth rune activated, the entire top of the table glowed golden for a moment before disappearing from view.
What was left was a stunningly accurate three-dimensional map of the Preserve. Every sandhill and hollow was reproduced in exacting detail – there were even tiny green tufts of grass that Harry could have sworn moved with the wind. At the far side, he could even see miniatures of the buildings that they were currently standing in. And curving away on the opposite end from where Andy stood, the blue water representing the ocean spread out, a waterfall at the edge of the table that disappeared before it reached the floor
Again, Andy reached out with his wand. This time he lightly touched the centre of four of the tiny valleys – the very four where Harry knew the nesting mothers had their weyrs. Three Andy highlighted in red, the last blue.
There was a slight gasp from one of the keepers on the other side of the table and Harry flicked his gaze to her.
"Sharon?" Andy asked.
"Those three that have had their eggs taken, they're all fairly close to the water," she pointed out. "Could that be a factor?"
"We're not ruling anything out at this point," Andy stated. "Mick? Have any of the patrols noticed anything?"
"Nah, nothing out of the ordinary," Mick replied. "There's no crocs that live there – reckon the closest is about a klick to the south. Not even a croc'll challenge a dragon. Haven't seen any other animals about either."
"What about magical animals?" Charlie asked.
A chuckle swept around the table at his question.
"There's only two magical animals native to Australia," Bruce stated. "The Opaleye and the billywig."
"That's an insect, right?" Harry asked, remembering the animal from Newt's book.
"Right," Bruce replied.
"There are also bunyips," Andy stated, before holding up his hands at the murmurs of disagreement that swept the other dragon keepers. Looking at Harry and Charlie, he explained. "My people, the Aboriginal people, know of bunyips, even if no white man has ever seen one."
"What are they?" Harry asked.
"A predator that lives in swamps. Fast enough and strong enough to live at the top of the food chain. There are enough songs of the bunyip attacking and killing man that ensure my people respect them and keep well away," Andy replied.
"And completely mythological," Bruce stated emphatically, adding in a nod.
"What about introduced animals?" Charlie asked.
"I'm pretty sure that the miners in Coober Pedy introduced nifflers but that's a few thousand klicks south west from here," Daniel mused, rubbing his chin. "And I think there's a fella in WA that's got a reserve for diricawls. But otherwise, there's never been a lot of magical animals here."
"What about non-magical animals?" Charlie asked.
"All animals have a sense of magic about them," Andy stated. "Especially here in Australia. My people have always known that. Besides, how else would you explain the platypus or the fact that wombat droppings are cube-shaped?"
"Or that some marsupials glow in the dark under the right type of light," Bruce sighed with a shake of his head.
"They do?" Harry asked, surprised.
He wished Newt had come with him; Harry was sure that he'd be learning just as much.
"According to Andy, they do," Sharon laughed.
"They do," Andy stated with a finality that closed that topic. "Jessie, have you heard anything from your contacts in the muggle world?"
The woman in question pulled a satchel that she had over her shoulder around, opened it and pulled out an off-white, fossilized dinosaur egg.
"I found this," she said. "Definitely Opaleye, but not one of the ones we're looking for. This was in a museum – had been for a couple of decades. Didn't feel right leaving it there so I conjured a copy and brought this one home. Otherwise, nothing at all. Not even any chatter from the Black Market boys."
"Good work," Andy said, nodding at the egg. "And thank you. Harry, have you found out anything from the dragons themselves?"
Harry shook his head in frustration.
"No. They don't know what took the eggs either. Which is why they stopped letting any of you in – they hoped that by keeping everything out, both human and animal – that they could protect the eggs that they have left.
"I did have a look at Boolym, Lundsum and Vestrym's weyrs. There was no evidence of what could have taken the eggs. I didn't go down into Shiklyn's weyr at all – actually, I didn't even bother asking. It's got a wing of six dragons at all times watching over it and the eggs."
"Nothing unusual at all?" Sharon asked.
Again, Harry shook his head. "Nothing. Just a whole lot of sand and grass up on the lip."
"You said that you hurt your foot examining one of the weyrs?" Charlie prompted.
"My foot went down a hole in Boolym's weyr, that's all," Harry frowned.
"That could be something?" Jessie suggested.
"Were there any holes in either of the other weyrs?" Andy asked.
"Not that I noticed," Harry replied.
"Could be worth checking out; at this point, we need to check out anything, however unlikely," Andy mused. "Do you think the dragons would allow one of us to go in there if we were with you?"
"I think so," Harry hedged.
"Right, after we're finished here, you and I'll go take another look at those weyrs," Andy stated. "As for the rest of you, keep doing what you're doing. And Mick? Widen out those patrols. An extra half kilometre outside the Preserve should do it. Maybe whatever's doing this is sitting just outside the wards laughing at us. Whatever it is, I want it found and dealt with."
"Sure thing, Boss," Mick replied to the accompaniment of the murmurings of agreement from the rest of the dragon keepers.
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11:20am
Friday, 12 August 1995
Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia
.
Harry glided his Nimbus to a halt at the top of the sand dune. The hollow in front of him was exactly as he'd seen it just the day before – high sides with a flat, sandy bottom. It was small for a weyr – only slightly larger than Vestrym herself.
Looking up from where he hovered, Harry could see the ocean. This was one of the closest weyrs to the crystal blue water and Harry was tempted to ask for a chance to stop there before they went back; after all, a chance to swim or at least wade in the ocean wasn't something to pass up, not when this was the first time that he'd ever really seen it.
§Vestrym, may we enter your weyr§? he asked, refocussing on the business at hand.
The opaleye in question swung her great head to either side, looking at the other four dragons – Dankrum, Boolym, Lundsum and Cantrum before answering. Harry could see that she, of all of the three who'd lost clutches, appeared the most miserable and despondent. The way her head dropped and her wings remained tight against her body except when she was flying only added to Harry's determination to find the culprit and make them pay.
§Of course, Speaker. You and your friend have my permission§.
Glancing back, Harry gave a single nod to Andy before he leant forward and willed his nimbus over the rise and down into the valley of the weyr.
At the bottom, they hovered and Harry watched Andy pull his wand. He'd done this at Lundsum's weyr as well. The wand motion was a simple sweep, lift and sharp downwards flick, the incantation crevasse deprehendere was silent although Andy had instructed Harry on it verbally before they'd flown out into the Weyr proper.
A red-orange wave of magic swept over the sand after Andy had cast the spell. Not unexpectedly, a coal black circle appeared towards one end. Harry and Andy shared grim looks. They'd seen the exact same thing in both Boolym and Lundsum's weyrs.
"Looks like you were right," Harry stated grimly.
Landing, the two walked over to where they now knew that a deep hole in the ground lay.
"It helps narrow the search. Animal, no human could fit in a hole that size," Andy stated.
"Any guesses what animal?" Harry asked.
"No," Andy frowned. "At least, not yet."
The magic that Andy's spell had created had dissipated leaving them looking at what appeared to be no hole at all. Reaching out with his foot, Harry tapped where he knew the hole to be and watched as the film of sand fell away. Exactly how that layer of sand stayed in place was a mystery that they had yet to solve.
"I wonder how deep it goes?" he mused.
"Better, where does it go?" Andy asked and continued when Harry looked at him curiously. "This cannot be where the tunnel starts, only where it ends."
"Guess we'll never know," Harry shrugged. "We can't fit down there to follow it."
"We can't," Andy agreed. "But we're magic-users; there are other ways."
"You know a spell?" Harry asked.
"No, young Speaker, however, you do," Andy grinned even as he mounted his broom and hovered in front of Harry. "I want you to manipulate the wind as you did yesterday. Direct it straight down into the hole. It should follow the tunnel and when it finds its way out, there'll be a column of sand and other debris shooting into the air that I should be able to see."
"And if we find out how the animal got in, it might give us some more clues as to what it is!" an excited Harry exclaimed.
Andy laughed. "Exactly."
"Okay, I can do that," he nodded. "I'll hold it as long as I can to give you the best chance of spotting it."
After nodding, Andy floated straight up ten, twenty, thirty metres into the air. The dragons, Harry noted, watched Andy interestedly but didn't move from where they crouched on the lip of the sandy bowl.
Taking a few deep breaths, Harry centred himself. He felt for his magic, pulling it into himself and drawing it into a tight ball centred in the middle of his chest where he'd found that well of magic inside himself the day before. Carefully, he contracted it, tightened his hold on it, condensing it. He could feel it building, trying to swell and escape.
Then, opening the tiniest of holes in his magic, he let a stream of it out. He willed it into the very air, feeling as it charged the air particles, exciting them. Focussing on the hole at his feet, he directed the magically charged air straight into it.
The trickle that he'd let out threatened to explode and he was forced to marshal his willpower to make it do what he wanted it to do.
In a lot of ways, this was a lot easier than the day before – all he was doing was focussing his magic into the one continuous direction and not concentrate on multiple spells and directions at once. But it still had him sweating as the minutes ticked by.
Finally, he heard a cry from above him.
"There! There!"
"You can see it?" he yelled.
"Get up here, Harry! You've got to see this!" Andy yelled back down.
Maintaining that stream of magic while mounting a broom wasn't easy but Harry was determined to keep it going as long as possible to give him the best chance of seeing what Andy was seeing.
Finally, he could hold it no more. Releasing it, he rocketed into the sky. Thankfully, Andy was pointing out where to look and he spun his broom around in the appropriate direction.
What he saw had his eyes bulging. He'd expected to see a column of air and sand shooting into the sky. There wasn't. Instead, only a few metres out from the shore, the water bubbled and roiled as though a fire had been lit under it. It was a slightly different colour, too. Instead of the clear crystal blue, it was deeper with a murky brown pigment mixed in with it.
But even as he watched, the water began to settle. The bubbles slowed, leaving only a slowly spreading cloud of sand that began to settle back towards the ocean floor.
"The tunnel leads into the ocean?" he blurted in wonder.