The journey North took some weeks. Helga was not happy that Sal had insisted upon tracking down a Hebridean Black when Wales had plenty of Welsh Greens. She was also unhappy because all her books were very clear on the fact that Hebridean Blacks were bigger, better armoured and just generally more bad-tempered than Welsh Greens. Finally, she was unhappy because for the first time in her life she had to leave Wales.
For the first week, Sal found it extremely irritating to listen to her moan as they journeyed North. Then they reached Scotland and Helga decided it looked quite a lot like Wales. That cheered her up a bit.
What kept him sane through all her moaning was his journal. He had started one at Sir Randolph's suggestion and the old knight had given him his first book. It was a handsome thing, bound in dark green leather and filled with page after page of strong parchment, and he felt a bit bad writing in it in his still very childish script.
Eventually, they reached a small town near a unicorn population. In one of the inn's small but comfortable bedrooms, they planned how on earth they were supposed to catch a unicorn.
"They are very elusive," Helga noted. "Our best bet is either dawn or dusk. According to the innkeeper, there is an old stone they come to graze at during those times."
Sal, who was carefully drawing a map of the local area in his journal, grunted, "Dawn," at her and sucked the end of his quill thoughtfully.
She glared at him and shut her book.
"And where would we be finding this dragon you are intending to slay for its heartstrings?" she asked primly.
"Out west. Heard there's some beyond the Great Glen."
"Out west. Care to give us a little more direction than that?" she asked.
He tore his eyes from the journal to meet her frosty gaze.
"We're looking for a ruddy great dragon," he pointed out. "I think it won't be that difficult to find."
She refused to speak to him for the rest of the evening and greeted him in the morning with curtest of good morrows he had ever received from her. As she gathered some last information from the innkeeper, he regarded her.
Helga was a curious creature. In her father's house she ruled like a little queen. She worked herself and her house-elves as hard as they could to keep the other occupants fed, clothed and warm. She was the perfect homemaker, there was no denying it, and her kind heart made her one of the most incredible people Sal knew. Being away from her home and her father was hard on her, he could tell, but she was trying to stay strong for him. Her reading and her incessant questions were just her way of trying to help.
They rode out from the town towards the wood where the unicorn population lived. They reached it just as the sky became tinged with the oranges of dawn. The stone the innkeeper had told them about stood tall and proud in a glade and around it grazed the unicorns.
Sal's horse whickered at the sight of such beautiful creatures and he rubbed her neck comfortingly. He had to stay back, Helga had made that clear. Unicorns did not trust men as much as they trusted women and if the herd bolted then the two of them would have to come back at dusk.
Helga dismounted and handed the reins of her horse to Sal. The unicorns stopped grazing and looked up at her as she walked slowly towards them.
The stallion of the herd moved towards her, muscles bunching under the pure white velvety skin. He paused a few feet from her and pawed at the ground with one golden hoof. Helga stepped forward with fingers outstretched and the unicorn came to meet her.
Her cheeks flushed with success as she ran her hands through the silvery mane.
Then the sun peeked through the trees and reflected off the white coats of the herd and they turned and walked off between the trees.
Helga turned back to Sal and held up, with a small smirk, the handful of loose, silvery threads of hair that had come the stallion's mane.
The dragon was huge. It sprawled across the rocks of its cave; its great scaled belly heaving with every breath and little snorts of blue flame escaping from its snout as it snored. Despite Helga's doubts, it had been very easy to find.
"This is going to be easy!" Sal cried, straightening up from behind the rock he and Helga were crouched. Helga gasped and pulled him back down.
"Remember that you need to kill the dragon and rip its heart out!" she hissed. "Hardly the easiest test in the world! And keep your voice down, you'll wake it!"
"Don't be silly, it's out cold. I bet... I bet you my dinner that I can run down there and tickle it and it won't stir an inch," he said.
She raised her eyebrows. "On you go, you idiot."
He hopped over the rock and scrambled down the gravel on the other side.
The dragon up close was much larger than he had originally thought. He eyed the spiked barb on the end of the loosely swishing tail and the heavy, dark scales covering every inch of its body. One of its eyelids twitched and Sal froze as he saw the curve of a purple eye glimmering underneath. But, with another snort of blue flame, the eye shut and he relaxed.
He turned and glared up at Helga before stretching out a hand to tickle the dark grey scales.
The eye beside him shot open and, for a split second, he saw himself reflected in the dark chasm of the pupil. Then the dragon was rearing over him, wings spread wide and its roar drowning out Helga's scream.
Sal jumped backwards and dived behind a rock as a plume of blue fire swept towards him. He cried out as the flames licked at his sleeve and singed the flesh beneath. He could hear the dragon crawling towards him over the rocks. All of Sir Randolph's training went from his mind and he shut his eyes and hugged himself as the heat of the dragon's fire grew ever stronger.
He dimly became aware of many voices chanting. The onslaught of dragonfire ceased and he heard the dragon begin to moan and growl. He opened his eyes and peered over the scorched rock. The dragon was shaking its head back and forth but was crouched back like an obedient dog.
On the hillside above stood a group of wizards, the leader clutching the arm of a struggling Helga.
"Who trespasses upon the land of the MacFustys?!" he demanded, throwing her towards Sal. He caught her before she fell.
"Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin!" he shouted back. "We seek a dragon heartstring."
The wizard scoffed. "The heartstings of a dragon are not easily come by. And these dragons belong to us. Find another species to butcher."
The MacFustys stood aside to let them past. No protestations could move them. They just stood stoically by until Sal gave up and walked back the way he and Helga had come.
Helga slipped her hand into his.
"So, do we try again?" she asked after some minutes silence.
"Or we go find a Welsh Green," he said sadly.
"Oh, come on, Sal! If I can get a unicorn hair then I am sure we can get you a dragon heartstring! Don't give up!"
He shrugged.
"Wait, wait, wait!" a new voice screeched. They turned.
A girl their own age was running across the heather towards them. She skidded to a halt next to them and swung her long curtain of dark hair over her shoulder.
"I can help. If you still want the heartstring," she said.
"You can?" Helga asked and she nodded.
"I'm a MacFusty. The dragons will obey me and I know where one is that you can kill without the Clan Elders finding out," she said brightly, her dark eyes shining."Come on!"
She turned again and scampered off in a different direction. They exchanged a look with her and then tried to follow. It was like trying to keep up with a hare or a sprightly doe; the girl had spent almost all her years bounding across the unforgiving Scottish landscape and they were not used to it at all.
As she leapt neatly over rocks and bushes, she gabbled as fast as she was running.
"I suppose you want the heartstring to make a wand. You are smart there, it is thought dragon heartstring is one of the best. And with a wand at your side, you'll be extremely powerful I've never heard of having a wand so young. And, of course, I'm taking you to a young dragon. A young dragon heartstring will make a young wand. A young wand will mature with you as you age and create a very powerful bond. If you had somehow managed to take down Auld Bastard back there then he'd have made a very stubborn wand and you'd have had trouble bonding with it."
"Auld Bastard?" Helga wheezed.
"Aye!" the girl said with a tinkling laugh. "Auld Bastard! Ye coulda picked a better dragon to grapple with!"
She skidded to a halt again by another cave and smiled brightly.
"Have you got something to smite the mighty beastie with?" she asked.
Sal and Helga exchanged another look before Sal drew his father's sword. The girl examined it critically.
"Hmm, yes. Metalcasted. Goblin-forged would be best, of course, but this will do. Just make sure all your weight is behind you when you strike. Ready?"
Before he could answer, she jumped into the mouth of the cave.
"My goodness, what is happening?" Sal asked.
Helga sniggered. "I think some Scottish sprite is offering you the chance to get your wandcore."
She pushed him playfully towards the cave mouth and, with a flick of the eyes skyward, he jumped down after the girl.
She was waiting for him just inside. With another bright smile, she pointed to the sleeping form of the dragon. It was smaller than Auld Bastard, about the size of a horse, but it still looked just as fearsome.
The girl crept forward and began to sing softly under her breath. The dragon's eyes flicked open and it shot a plume of bright blue fire towards her. She thrust out a hand and the flames parted around her. Her face was cold and hard; her dark eyes shining in the blaze. Her song rose and the dragon snorted and cowered just like Auld Bastard had. She nodded to Sal.
He stepped forward, his blade ready. The dragon stared up at him with its wild, purple eyes and for the smallest second he paused. Then he brought the blade down.
The dragon roared. The flames died. And Sal plunged a hand into the hole in the scales and wrenched forth a heartstring.
"You did it!" the girl shrieked happily. She leapt forward, planted a kiss upon his cheek and then dived armfirst into the hole herself. "Now I have my own! Maybe I'll find a wand of my own one day," she grinned, waving it about.
She turned and skipped back up the rocks before turning back to him with a coy smile. "You realise that sharing the heartstrings of the same dragon is counted as a betrothal amongst the Clan."
He tried to digest this.
"Well, I have to go back home, I'm afraid," he said. She shrugged.
"I can wait."
"It would be nice to know the name of my betrothed," he called after her as she scampered up and out the cave.
She appeared around the rocks again.
"Rowena," she said with a small smile.
"I'm Sal," he told her. She gave him her last beautiful, bright smile and flicked her dark hair over her shoulder again.
"I know. I'll wait until you come back."
And with that, his little Scottish sprite vanished and he was left to climb from the cave to show Helga his spoils.