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 21 – Believe It Or Not
8:20am
Sunday, 21 August 1995
Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England
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The morning tea had been poured and all-but drunk and the bowls of porridge nearly finished before the tapping on the nearby window occurred. It was slightly later than normal and Neville had begun to wonder when the owl would come. He'd begun dawdling over his porridge, taking the tiniest of mouthfuls at a time. It wasn't that he needed to, or because he wasn't hungry, for he was – a couple of hours out working in the greenhouse before breakfast always built up an appetite.
No, the reason for his slowness was that owl. His grandmother expected that he would see to it of a morning when he was home from Hogwarts. And until it had arrived and delivered its burden, he wasn't free to leave the table.
"Ah, the Daily Prophet is finally here," his grandmother said. "Neville, if you would?"
"Of course, Grandmother," he replied as he rose from his chair.
He quickstepped across to the appropriate window before throwing it open. Instantly, the owl hopped inside, eyed him up and down and promptly raised its foot. Obediently, Neville untied the paper, dropped the appropriate amount of knuts into the leather pouch, offered the owl a treat and closed the window behind it.
"Your paper, Grandmother," he said, handing it to her.
The instant that he'd retaken his seat, his spoon was scraping the bottom of his bowl, searching out the last morsel of porridge. Quickly, he gulped down the last of his juice and placed the cup back on its saucer.
"May I please be excused, Grandmother?" he asked.
"What are your plans today, Neville?" she asked.
Neville blinked at her, but she'd already given permission, albeit the day before yesterday.
"I'm meeting up with Susan, Hermione and Hannah," he said. "We're going to Diagon Alley to get our school supplies. Madam Bones is accompanying us."
"Of course. Give my regards to Amelia, won't you?"
"Yes, Grandmother," Neville replied.
A short nod of her head was enough to have Neville bouncing out of his chair. The rustle of the paper barely registered as he crossed the room.
"Neville!" his grandmother's sharp voice called, stopping him in the doorway. "I think you will want to see this."
Obediently and deliberately not sighing, Neville reversed course. The newspaper was placed flat on the table, bowl and saucer pushed to one side. His eyes quickly scanned the pages before coming to rest on a long, thin column on the right-hand page.
One of Harry's columns, Neville realised, not even realising that he was smiling. His smile, though, quickly vanished as the animated photograph registered.
"What is that?" he asked, revolted.
The animal was unlike anything that Neville had ever seen or heard about before. It paced backwards and forwards inside a cage, occasionally showing its long, pointed teeth in what Neville imaged must be a roar. The animal was skeletal thin and had – he leant as close to the paper as he could to be sure – webbed feet.
Somehow, he managed to tear his eyes from it to the headline of Harry's article.
Bunyip: Mythical Creature No Longer
Mythical creature? Neville blinked. Trust Harry to, once again, do something that ordinary people didn't do. This time, it seemed that he'd discovered a new animal.
Quickly, he read through the article, feeling his heartbeat quicken and his mouth turn dry at the Harry's description of this animal, this bunyip, that had been burrowing into dragon's nests and stealing and eating dragon eggs! The telling of how Harry and the other dragon handlers had caught the bunyip was worthy of something straight out of a Gilderoy Lockhart book!
"Grandmother?" he asked, daring to be braver even than Harry. "Can I have that article? I'd like to take it with me to show the others."
Quickly, the page was turned, scanned and then turned back again. Two quick low-powered cutters from her wand later and his grandmother was handing him the article.
"What time might I expect you home?" she asked.
"I think we're going to have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron," he replied, crossing his fingers behind his back.
"Very well," she replied. "Please ensure that you're home well in time for dinner."
"Yes, Grandmother," he beamed, overjoyed at his good fortune.
For some reason that he couldn't understand, his grandmother had started to give him more and more freedoms over the last month. He didn't think that it was because he was now fifteen. Whatever the reason, there was no way that he was going to do anything to jeopardise it.
With the newspaper article clutched tightly in his hand, he quick-stepped across the room. Only when he was sure that his grandmother wouldn't be able to hear him, did he race for his room to collect his Gringott's key and moneybag ready for a day of adventure.
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9:18am
Sunday, 21 August 1995
Diagon Alley, London, England
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"Neville! Over here!"
The shout came from further down the Alley and caused him to look ahead. It was the waving arm as much as the bushy head of hair that caught his attention and Neville grinned and waved back. As he expected, Hermione had beat him there, unexpectedly, though, she was standing outside of Flourish and Blotts.
"Hi, Hermione!" he said, reaching her. "I would have thought you'd already be inside getting your books."
"Well, I did consider it," she admitted, "but we'd agreed to do our shopping together. And so, I waited."
He grinned at her, knowing how much it must be killing her to have to wait to do one of her favourite things – looking at, reading and acquiring new books.
"Susan and Hannah aren't here yet?" he asked.
"Not yet, although I expect them any moment now," she said, peering past him in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron.
"You don't get the Daily Prophet, do you?" he asked.
She cocked her head at him and blinked, obviously unsure of the relevance of the unexpected question.
"While I have considered taking out a subscription, no, I currently don't receive it," she replied.
"I thought so," he nodded. "Here, I thought you might be interested in seeing this."
Curiously, she took the carefully folded piece of paper and unfolded it. He watched her eyes widen and fix for a second before they started darting back and forth.
"Oh my!" she exclaimed softly. "A bunyip!"
Finally, after what Neville judged as her having read it two or maybe three times, she looked up at him and handed the newspaper article back.
"Harry really doesn't do things by half, does he?" she asked. "A bunyip! I've read about them, of course. But I never expected that they were real!"
"I'm just glad it wasn't me who came face to face with one of them," Neville said, shivering at the memory of the picture.
"Quite," she agreed. "Mind you, it does make one wonder what else is out there still to be discovered."
The face of the strangest girl in Hogwarts flashed through Neville's mind. She was always talking about strange creatures. Maybe they weren't as fantastical as everyone thought? Before he could dwell on it any longer, the sound of their names being called turned Neville and Hermione's heads.
"Neville! Hermione!"
"Hi Susan! Hi Hannah!" Hermione replied, waving to them.
Neville merely smiled and waited until they'd joined them before greeting them as well.
"Madam Bones, it's nice to see you again," Neville added, seeing Susan's aunt approaching.
"Mister Longbottom and Miss Granger, it's good to see you both looking well," she replied.
"My Grandmother sends her regards," Neville said, thinking to get that out of the way quickly; he could just imagine the scolding he'd receive if he arrived home and he'd forgotten to pass it along.
Madam Bones inclined her head. "Please give her mine in return."
"Have you two seen the Daily Prophet?" Hermione asked.
"You mean Harry's column?" Susan asked with a shake of her head. "If I didn't know Harry as well as I do and there wasn't that picture accompanying it, then I'm not sure if I would have believed it at all."
"That thing was ugly!" Hannah added, her eyes as wide as saucers. "And scary!"
"Well, what can you expect from The-Boy-Who-Lived?" Susan asked rhetorically.
"You know that he doesn't like that name," Neville defended his friend.
"I know, Neville, I'm just teasing," Susan smiled at him. "But you must admit that he's doing things and seeing things that no one, not us, not anyone in the world – magical or muggle – ever dreamed was possible!"
"Magical, maybe," Hermione allowed, "but there are quite a number of muggle fiction books and stories that go back centuries that deal with even more fantastical things than even Harry Potter can do."
"Have either of you heard from him recently?" Neville asked.
"Only through Daphne," Susan grinned. "She seems to get quite regular owls from Harry."
"I wonder why?" Hannah laughed.
"I haven't received anything from him either," Hermione added. "What about you, Neville? Have you heard from him?"
"I got a birthday present from him last month," he replied, standing a little straighter than he had been. "Some seeds and cuttings from some magical plants in Romania. I'm growing them in my greenhouse at home."
"While I know that the four of you have much to catch up, perhaps it can be done while we are shopping?" Madam Bones interrupted. "I only have until lunch before I must return to work."
While buying their school books may have taken care of the larger part of their Hogwarts' List, Neville really wasn't sure that it was the smartest idea to go into Flourish and Blotts first. He, however, was overruled.
The bookstore always made the purchase of the required school books easy – shelves dedicated to each year level were laid out near the door – and Neville joined the line with his friends. As soon as he reached the Fifth Year section, he grabbed the ones for his subjects and turned to leave. That, of course, was never going to happen. Not with a Ravenclaw in the mix, and especially with Hermione being that person.
Thus, with a sigh, Neville turned back into the shop to peruse the shelves. Flesh-Eating Trees of the World (the NEWT-Level course book) caught his eye and he snatched it up, adding it to his pile. His wander through the store's herbology section didn't last long, after all, the library at Longbottom Manor included every book available on the subject and he, himself, owned his own copies of the best of them.
Rounding the corner, Neville stopped dead. The shelves here had been gutted of books. Most of the shelves were completely empty and the books that were still stocked looked to be older copies, some with cracked or torn covers. Hermione, he knew, would have a heart-attack seeing that!
Desperately, he looked up and around, searching for her and sighed at seeing her bushy-head bowed over an open book on the far side of the shop.
"You're not wanting a book on dragons, are you?" a voice asked.
Neville blinked and turned to see a younger witch with the Flourish and Blotts logo on an apron standing beside him wringing her hands.
"Um, no?" he replied.
"Oh, that's good," she replied. "Just we've out of stock at the moment. Normally, we don't carry all that many – not that's there's a lot of books on the subject in the first place, is there – but of late, we simply can't keep them on the shelves."
"Okay?" Neville said, not sure why he was being told that.
"Of course, it's all down to Harry Potter, isn't it?" she continued, causing Neville to look at her more sharply. "Ever since he went off to work at a dragon reserve of all places, we've had an upswing in sales for books on dragons. It only got worse once he started writing that article of his. Everyone's got to know everything there is about dragons!"
"Okay?" Neville repeated.
He, himself, found the subject interesting and he was curious but that had more to do with the fact that Harry was his friend than anything else. Meeting one had nearly had him wetting his pants and that had been with a dozen dragon keepers standing there, their wands ready and pointing at the dragon that Harry had insisted that Neville simply 'had to meet' after the First Task. Yes, that had been more than enough for him, thank you very much.
"I'm guessing you're wanting a book about fantastical magical beasts?" she asked, looking nervously at him. "I think we might have a couple of copies left after this morning's rush."
"This morning's rush?" Neville repeated, starting to wonder how he could extradite himself from the conversation.
"Well, of course! After young Harry Potter's latest article with that bunyip of his, everyone wanted to know everything that there was to know," she relayed.
"Oh," Neville said. "Um, thank you, but I'm alright."
"Well, that's a relief, let me tell you," she said.
Just then, a customer across the aisle motioned to her and she was off.
Neville shook his head. He had no idea. And he doubted that Harry had any idea, either. Neville wondered whether he should write and tell him, he could see his mate getting a laugh out of hearing what he was doing to book sales. Well, that or shake his head in embarrassment.
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6:21pm
Sunday, 21 August 1995
Dragon Reserve of Great Britain
Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland
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Angus McNalty stood transfixed as he stared at the retreating figure. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! He'd been assured that it couldn't happen.
"I guess someone forgo' to tell tha dragons," he muttered.
He'd been told that the wards were the best in the business.
Muggle-repelling, even if they couldn't be Unplottable seeing as they'd had to pay top galleon for the island, including paying the fifteen muggles that lived there to move away.
Wizard-repelling had been woven in as well, after all, when it came to dragons and the black market that surrounded their parts, it was best to make sure that even magicals stayed out unless invited.
The wards themselves had been tied into a series of wardstones that had been dropped into the ocean just off the coast of the island to ensure that the dragons could fish if they wanted without being seen or endangered. The fact that the island was positioned on a minor ley line should have greatly increased their power.
Nothing was supposed to be able to breach those wards, not without a special key, at least.
And now this!
"Madam Grimblehawk is no gonna like this!" he muttered, not for the first time.
Angus watched the dragon, a common Welsh Green, disappear in the fading light as it beat its mighty wings.
The day had been going smashingly, as far as Angus was concerned. For the moment, he was the only dragon handler there and he was kept busy, dawn to dusk. His job was simple. For now, at least. Watch the dragons, see how they're settling in and learn about them. He'd been filling rolls of parchment with notes about each of the nineteen Common Welsh Greens and twenty-three Hebridean Blacks that had been transported to the island so far.
He was learning where they were setting up their new homes – weyrs, Angus reminded himself of the word that Potter had introduced to the dragon keeping profession. He was starting to get an idea of how they interacted with each other, which dragons seemed to get on better together and which ones had a dislike for other dragons. He was sure that, once other dragon keepers started arriving and especially when a Head dragon Keeper was selected, those notes would be invaluable.
But if the dragons could simply get up and fly away whenever they felt like it …
Angus looked around and up, shielding his eyes against the setting sun as he turned in a complete circle. For now, the skies were clear. Well, clear of dragons, at least; this was Scotland, after all. But if one dragon could fly away, then what was to prevent all of them from flying away?
"Madam Grimblehawk is no gonna like this!" he repeated. And then an even more depressing thought occurred. "Ock, Merlin-be-damned, no! There's no other sodding person 'ere! It's me that's gonna have to tell her!"