Disclaimer: Any of the characters and scenarios mentioned here belong to the world of Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, both written by JK Rowling.
Hi everyone who is following this story, it's nearly done now. Just two, maybe three chapters to go. Thanks for reading this far.
Newt listened to her footsteps recede until there was nothing but silence. It was almost as though the other animals of the forest could sense the danger and were in hiding. In the shock of the kiss, he had almost forgotten the bloody great dragon.
As he attempted to stop himself hyperventilating, by counting slowly back from five hundred, he tried to imagine how the dragon had found itself in the forbidden forest. Although dragon migration wasn't unheard of, it was incredibly unlikely for one to have travelled so far under its own steam. Not impossible though, and how else could you begin to explain it? Presumably it could smell the magic – that's why it ended up here, of all places. It explained the fire in the bowtruckle tree at least.
And what had Leta been doing in the forest? Meeting someone? Was it possible that someone had somehow introduced the dragon into Hogwarts and then tricked her into coming into the forest so the dragon would hurt her? His hands clenched into fists at the possibility.
He placed his hand absently on the dragon's side again. It was almost cold; barely even a flicker of warmth under his fingers. Hoping against hope that Leta had got back to the castle by now, he decided that there wasn't any more time to lose, and set off to find Professor Kettleburn.
Unfortunately, he must have used up his entire lifetime's luck on that kiss because it was not Professor Kettleburn that Newt ran headlong into as he hurried round a corner, but Professor Black.
"Scamander? What in the name of Salazar are you doing gallivanting around the castle in the middle of the night?" his voice was almost shrill as he drew himself up pompously, pointing his brightly lit wand tip directly into Newt's face.
Newt squinted into the bright light. He had many admirable qualities, he knew, but being able to come up with a cunning plan at a moment's notice was definitely a skill that he needed to work on. His mind drained of thought faster than a bucket with a hole in it.
"I need to see Professor Kettleburn, Sir. There's…a creature that needs his help," he neglected to mention that the animal in question was a dragon. Something told him that announcing that fact wouldn't help him at that moment.
"At this hour? I'm quite sure that Professor Kettleburn wouldn't leave a pupil in charge of any of his creatures overnight, particularly one that's unwell. Come on, let's have the truth now, and no more stories. What is it? Midnight feast? Or something a bit more unsavoury? And what makes you think you're so special? Oh there'll be serious repercussions for this, my boy, I can tell you that now for free," Professor Black was practically rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
Panic rendered Newt almost nonsensical. He knew that the chances of him being able to reach Professor Kettleburn now were tiny, and yet, he must. What was the alternative? "I'm so sorry Sir, I really do just…please," he took half a step along the corridor in an attempt to get closer to the Care of Magical Creatures Professor's quarters, hoping in vain that the headmaster would follow him.
Perhaps the school itself could feel Newt's fear and desire to do the right thing, and sent aid, or perhaps Peeves was just attracted by the shouting, but the poltergeist drifted down through the ceiling to them, singing at the top of his voice and pelting them both with pieces of chalk,
"Students out after dark, sneaking in the corridors, what a lark. Headmaster's caught you before you got back, now you'll have a spanking from old man Black," and he made all of the torches ignite in their sconces all down the corridor and the suits of armour clank and shake.
All of the air left Newt's lungs in a rush of relief as he saw Professor Kettleburn stumbling bleary eyed from a nearby doorway, shrugging his robes on as he came and attempting to flatten his wiry hair into some semblance of normality.
"What's going on here? Newt?"
Newt could feel the headmaster bristling beside him, "I need your help," he panted, giddy with relief, "There's something in the forest -"
"The forest!?" if Professor Black had been angry before, he was positively incandescent now, "Are you trying to say that you've been in the Forbidden Forest tonight? Oho! Tell me a reason right now why I shouldn't expel you this very minute?" His eyes gleamed and his dark, pointed beard wagged with glee.
Newt dragged every ounce of courage right up from his toes and looked earnestly into Professor Kettleburn's eyes, knowing that this might be his only chance to tell him and save the dragon's life, "There's a dragon in the forest. I'm pretty sure it's a Peruvian Vipertooth but its fire is going out. It needs help. I didn't want to do a warming spell on it in case I distressed it," then he braced himself for the onslaught.
Professors Dumbledore and Merrythought hurried from opposite ends of the corridor to see what had caused the commotion, just in time to hear this proclamation. Professor Merrythought's hand flew to her mouth in shock
Professor Black seemed too angry to do much more than repeat what Newt had said, in screechingly incredulous tones, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth as he did so; "A dragon? In the forest? Do a warming spell on it?"
Professor Kettleburn ignored Phineas's rantings and leaned down to look Newt in the eyes, "A dragon?" he whispered, "A Peruvian Vipertooth? Are you sure it wasn't a Hebridean Black? They sometimes find their way to the mainland."
Newt shook his head, "I don't think so. I've been reading up on dragons." Professor Kettleburn couldn't quite contain a proud smile at his student as he continued, "it was too small. It could have been a baby I suppose, but its scales were more coppery than black."
"You can't tell me you actually believe this, Silvanus?" Professor Black shrieked.
"He isn't normally the sort of boy to make up stories, especially about the welfare of creatures. You said it was hurt?" he turned his pale blue eyes to Newt again, who felt a tiny spot of hope ignite inside him.
"It was very cold, and looked like it had been cut by something," he mumbled.
"Hmm, the shock might have forced it into hibernation," Kettleburn mused. If Newt had not known the danger that the beast posed to the school, he would have thought that his Professor looked excited at the prospect of encountering a dragon.
"Poppycock!"
"There seems an easy enough way to prove if young Scamander is telling the truth Phineas," Dumbledore smiled reasonably, "Why don't we take a trip down to the forest and take a look? If he's lying, it will be clear soon enough. And if he's telling the truth, your name will go down in history as the head teacher who saved Hogwarts from a dragon. I see little harm in testing the boy's tale," and he actually winked sidelong at Newt, causing him to muffle a gasp of surprise.
"Of course," sarcasm dripped from Professor Black's every word, "Because I've got nothing better to do than traipse around on a wild goose chase. Ha! A wild dragon chase more like. It's nearly a full moon; I suppose you'll want to be out looking for were-rabbits next?" He looked at the faces of those assembled around him; Newt, white with fear and chewing on his lip; Dumbledore, who was serenely unwrapping a boiled sweet and humming to himself cheerfully; Professor Merrythought, her eyes narrowed sceptically at the boy; and that idiot Kettleburn who looked like he couldn't wait to go charging about on a dragon hunt. "Oh very well," he sighed wearily, and ushered the lot of them out into the grounds.
They crossed the lawns and passed the Quidditch pitch quickly and silently, the mist coming off the grass swirling up coolly around them. The night was so quiet and still that Newt was surprised that no one had commented on the loud banging of his heart which was pounding in his chest like a fist against a wooden door.
When they reached the edge of the forest they all seemed to pause and take a collective breath of anticipation. Newt crossed his fingers that he would be able to find the place easily, and stepped into the forest.
"Just how long are we going to continue this charade, Scamander? I suppose you think this is hilarious don't you. What a tale to tell your classmates – how you led half the teaching staff a merry dance through the Forbidden Forest in the dead of night – well, you'll be out of the school before the sun's up in the morning. You won't be showing off to anybody," Professor Black kept up a stream of complaints as they picked their way through the trees, which was punctuated by the issuing of stinging sparks from his wand that he directed in Newt's direction. He did his best not to react to the onslaught, presumably intended to discourage him, although the sparks made him cringe and stumble more than once as they hit a sensitive spot.
Eventually, they reached the place where he had left the dragon but there was nothing there, save a large flattened patch of undergrowth and some felled trees. A wide path was beaten through the trees, as though something large and very heavy had forced its way deeper into the forest.
Newt stopped in his tracks, his mouth dropping open in confusion. There was no way the dragon could have recovered, not in the chilly temperatures of a Scottish autumn night, "I don't understand…" he muttered, peering around.
"See! The boy lies!" Black hissed triumphantly.
"Phineas," Dumbledore murmured in a placating tone, "He may be mistaken as to exactly what he saw. It was dark, the boy was scared, the mind can play tricks on us," he raised a hand to Newt, who was about to protest strongly that he knew what he had seen, "but the evidence is before us all right now. There is something in the forest, something large. Wouldn't it be prudent to investigate what it is before we start doling out punishments? Something of that size shouldn't be too difficult to track down."
"Well if you'd rather spend your night trampling round the forest than in bed, then who am I to stop you? After all, I'm only the headmaster, no one need pay me any mind," Professor Black sniffed peevishly, but he followed the trail of devastation, prodding Newt painfully with his wand to keep him moving forwards. They were heading deeper into the forest, further than Newt had ever ventured before. After a few minutes, when the trees thinned out and the dragon's path wasn't clear, the other Professors peeled off in different directions, the glow of their wand light melting away into the darkness as they ventured cautiously through the brush. Dumbledore and Black trudged on, with Newt between them, foreboding hanging heavily in the air.
They had barely gone more than a hundred yards when Professor Merrythought's magically enhanced voice rang out clearly through the trees, "This way, quickly. A student's been hurt."
Newt couldn't help a sharp intake of breath. Was it Leta? Had she hurt herself somehow on her way back to the castle? Perhaps she'd got lost and somehow ended up here, in the heart of the forest, where who knew what resided. Or perhaps if someone had somehow introduced the dragon to the forest, perhaps it had awoken and turned on them. He heard the snapping of twigs as the others raced alongside him towards the voice.
They reached a clearing. The smell of scorched wood and the smoking, curled leaves on blackened branches alerted them to the fact that the dragon had not long fled this place. But the only thing that Newt could focus on, the point of reality that his entire world shrunk to, was Leta, in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Professor Dumbledore crouched over her prone form, his face grave. He turned her over to reveal a jagged tear through the shoulder of her robes that revealed a nasty looking gash down her arm. Her face was chalkily pale with a waxy sheen of sweat and her eyes were closed. She looked tiny, like Newt could pick her up with one arm and carry her away to safety. His muscles felt cord tight and his jaw clenched painfully as Dumbledore inspected the wound. He touched it lightly then lifted his fingers to the light to reveal a greenish shimmer.
"Dragon venom," he sighed, "It looks as though young Scamander was correct. Professor Kettleburn will have to confirm – I'm more of an expert on the blood than the venom – but it does look like a Peruvian Vipertooth's work to me. See the striations on the wound," he pointed with an outstretched finger.
"Is she still alive?" Professor Black asked the question that Newt had been too afraid to.
"For now," Dumbledore replied, "It looks as though we have found her in time but there isn't long to waste. She needs urgent medical treatment to stop the spread of the poison. I can try and contain it to her arm but there is a chance she will lose the arm altogether. Professor Beery has some Dragonwort growing in the greenhouses that should counter the poison but it isn't an antidote that the hospital wing carries routinely," frowning in concentration he levitated the unconscious girl into the air and with a complicated wave of his wand, encased her arm in a glittering bubble.
Professor Black, who had been gazing on, paralysed with horror, seemed to come to attention, realising perhaps that he needed to take charge of the situation, "Professor Merrythought, take the girl back to the castle right away. It may not be too late. Scamander, where do you think you're going?" He shouted after Newt, who had raced after the retreating forms of Professor Merrythought and Leta, "We need you to lead us to the beast,"
Phineas Nigellus Black was a stubborn man, but seemed that finding Leta, so gravely injured, had finally convinced him that he had been wrong in this instance and that there was indeed a dragon that needed to be located and contained. In contrast, Newt couldn't find it in himself to care if the dragon burned the whole world away now.
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