Thank you everyone who's read or reviewed so far. Ive loved seeing the explosion of FBAWTFT fics on here in the last few weeks and I've really enjoyed writing mine.
Disclaimer: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Harry Potter belong to J K Rowling
Professor Kettleburn sighed, crossing his arms balefully over his chest, "I think we should return to the castle and come back in daylight with reinforcements. To stun an adult –"
"Nonsense," huffed Black, "We must end this now. A student hurt. The governors will need to know that action has been taken,"
Taking advantage of the discord, Newt, who was feeling faintly hysterical, as though there was something under his skin itching and bubbling to get out, took another step out of the clearing. He thought he might get away when the toe of his boot made contact with something underfoot that made a clear crunching sound and drew the heads of the teachers. He bent down to examine it, and picked up a cracked but identifiable glass flask, a shimmering green substance oozing sluggishly out of it onto the ground. He looked up to find the other teachers eyeing the flask like hounds with the scent of fox in their nostrils and for some childish reason wished he could hide it behind his back.
"Dragon venom," hummed Professor Kettleburn reluctantly, his face set in a grim mask, "well this changes things somewhat."
"A student?" Professor Black, pale faced and unsure, asked Dumbledore.
Dumbledore shrugged, "Perhaps. We must consider one of two unpleasant truths – either the school is not quite the impenetrable fortress that we like to believe it, or one of our own has been harvesting dragon venom. That person, or persons, may or may not be the one who has somehow introduced a dragon into the school."
"Lestrange?" asked Kettleburn, peering through the gloom after her.
Newt heard the words coming out of his mouth before he even knew he was speaking them, "No. Not Leta. She couldn't -"
"Of course not," agreed the headmaster, shaking his head, scandalised, "she's from a good family, she wouldn't do anything to besmirch the name of the house of Lestrange," Newt remembered vaguely that Leta had once told him that she was the headmaster's grand-niece or something similar.
"Be careful Phineas," Dumbledore warned, "in these times, it would not do to rely too strongly on old loyalties."
Newt wanted to shake all the confusing thoughts out of his head like a crup shaking off water from his pelt. There was obviously more going on here than a dragon being in the forest. Something dark. He tried to remember all he had read about dragons but fear was making his head feel fuzzy. There had been a few notes about dragon venom but almost nothing about harvesting it other than it was a foolhardy exercise and painful to the dragon.
"All I mean is, well, Leta wouldn't hurt a creature. I saw the dragon, it had been hurt. She wouldn't do that."
"But then what was she doing in the forest?" Black demanded. Newt remained resolutely silent, his eyes on his boots. He didn't know the answer and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
Dumbledore regarded his flushed face kindly, "I am sure that we will get to the bottom of this in good time, but perhaps we had better turn our attention to the matter at hand," and he waved his wand arm towards the flattened foliage that indicated the way that the dragon had gone.
They crept now through the undergrowth, hearing a distant rumbling and crashing sound that alerted them all to the fact that they were not too far away. Newt saw Dumbledore and Kettleburn exchange a nervous glance as thin wisps of smoke curled around their ankles.
A flickering of flames dancing in the branches above, licking lovingly around the leaves and causing ash to rain down on them like black snow alerted them to the fact that they must be close. The teachers muttered Aguamenti and pointed their wands skywards, dousing the fire.
There was a great creaking, crashing sound and Professor Dumbledore threw his arm in front of Newt's chest and pulled him backwards, seconds before a young sapling fell down onto the spot he had been standing. It was followed by a whiplike tail, slashing through the air and leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. An ember landed on the back of Newt's hand, burning a neat circle into his freckled skin. He resisted the urge to cry out although his eyes watered with the effort of it.
"I believe we have located the dragon, Phineas," Dumbledore smirked drily as the headmaster shrunk backwards away from the wildly lashing tail.
"Isn't he magnificent," breathed Professor Kettleburn, looking utterly besotted, having clearly forgotten all the damage the dragon had caused thus far.
The steady jet of white hot fire issuing from the dragon's mouth illuminated the forest enough for Newt to see that it looked absolutely beside itself with rage. A fresh cut across its muzzle dripped black blood that hissed and sizzled in the flames. Its wings were outstretched and one seemed to be tangled in a branch overhead and as it reared up over and over to try and free itself, Newt could see the dully shining curse scar standing out darkly on its pale underbelly. The Care of Magical Creatures Professor was right; it truly was a magnificent beast. Its tennis ball sized eyes rolled green and golden in his head and each scale glimmered like a new Knut.
Pickett, feeling the heat, trembled inside Newt's pocket. He bit his lip in dismay that the little creature had sneaked inside his robes again and cast a cooling charm over his pocket, hoping that it would suffice to protect the twiglike bowtruckle. The acrid scent of burning hair assaulted his nostrils and he reached up to feel that the tips of his fringe were crispy and burned by a bolt of fire that had flown inches past his face. His skin felt tight and sore in the intense heat and the smoke was stinging his eyes.
Professor Kettleburn took charge, "Right, he hasn't spotted us and he's only a baby, so we've got a good chance of stunning it, even with only the four of us. Aim for the eyes and the belly, they're its weak spots. Stupefy on the count of three. Oh, and if it doesn't work…run."
He counted down and the three teachers and one student pointed their wands in unison and shouted a resounding "Stupefy!" and jets of light shot towards the dragon, all hitting their targets.
Whilst the dragon didn't fall immediately, the spell clearly had some effect. The fire from its mouth slowed to a gentle glow and it swayed woozily on the spot. Then slowly, it turned its head towards the direction of the spell and saw the men hiding behind the trees. With an agonised bellow it ripped its wingtip free from the tree and lumbered towards them, directing an intensely billowing cloud of flame towards them that made them all cringe back in pain and fear. Newt glanced sideways to see Dumbledore patting down sparks in his beard.
"Again!" Kettleburn called, the beads of sweat on his soot grimed forehead sparkling golden in the firelight.
This time, the dragon's knees buckled and its head lolled but it was certainly nothing like the unmoving unconsciousness that Newt had seen it in before. Even after a few seconds it was coming round again. It was blindingly obvious that without extra man power, they would be unable to successfully stun the dragon. However, in the absence of any other plan, they tried a third time.
Dumbledore cast a clever spell above them that caused rain to drip down onto them, cooling their frazzled skin for a moment, "Perhaps you will permit me to transfigure the dragon into something less volatile. A glove perhaps? Or a set of robes? Dragons take to being transfigured tolerably well. Even a student could do it," and he looked hard at Newt in a way that made Newt feel slow and stupid because he was obviously trying to tell him something but he couldn't for the life of him think what. He was certain that the professor couldn't be suggesting he was capable of it. After all, as his transfiguration teacher, he was well aware not only of his reluctance to transfigure animals but also his lack of skill at it. Leta had had to coach him extensively for their transfiguration exam, patiently transforming owls and cats back and forth for him, for hours.
However, before he had time to mull it over, or give in to the temptation to ask Professor Dumbledore exactly what he meant, Headmaster Black was rolling up his sleeves with a maniacal glint in his eye. He brandished his wand towards the dragon that was now getting unsteadily back to its feet, its eyes blinking lazily. The rain had extinguished the furnace like heat issuing from its mouth and all that remained were twin plumes of smoke from its nostrils. It seemed more confused than angry at that moment.
"There's only one certain way to deal with a dragon "Avada –"
"No!" Newt screamed, jumping unthinkingly in front of the dragon, "expelliarmus!"
Phineas Nigellus looked, open mouthed, at his empty hand as his wand skittered uselessly into the leafy mulch that covered the ground. Newt thought for a dizzy moment that he might faint – black spots weaved in front of his eyes and there was a buzzing in his ears like a Billywig's wings. The shock of leaping in front of a killing curse, coupled with his disarming the head master caught up with him all in a rush and he nearly had to sit down in the loam to stop himself from falling.
The dragon seized its chance and knocked Newt aside with its flailing wings. With an ear splitting roar that sent forth a blinding cloud of steam, it pulled itself up onto its clawed feet and rushed off into the forest, trampling Phineas underfoot in its haste to escape.
The professor sat up, his robes rumpled and muddied and his face bleeding profusely from a nasty scratch on his forehead, "Expelled!" he screamed, pointing a shaking finger at Newt, "You, Mr Scamander are expelled!"
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