Chapter 6

Princhek townhouse, London Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Miranda sipped her coffee as she reviewed the information provided to her by Minister Shacklebolt. He had told her all he knew about the recent dragon attacks, the memories extracted from the witnesses before false memories had been implanted in the Muggles' minds, and theories on why the dragons were attacking. Not that any of the given motivations were plausible. It amazed her how little he and most others within the wizarding community knew about the majestic creatures. No. They would not attack without provocation. She was sure of it.

She needed to track down at least one of the dragons responsible for the attacks. If she could just get close enough, she was certain she would get to the bottom of the mystery.

After using scourgify and a banishing charm to clean and send her mug to the kitchen, Miranda allowed her eyes to wander to the display case across the room. On several glass shelves sat the dragons Andrea had gifted to her on her birthdays. Eight breath-taking reflections of great prowess at transforming objects. Months' worth of dedication toward each vision, each tangible proof of Andrea's affection, exposed through superb craftsmanship. It astounded her that Andrea did not know much about dragons. Her attention to detail was dazzling.

Crossing to the display, Miranda lifted her wand and tapped the Hebridean Black. It swished its tail languidly while tossing its ebony head back. The black scales glistened as they rippled. Bright purple eyes glowered at Miranda, and a long plume of fire shot from its mouth. Miranda jumped back, startled, and laughed.

Peering at the disgruntled dragon, Miranda smiled. Quite life-like, indeed. Deciding to be cautious, Miranda summoned a fire-retardant material. Waving her wand she lifted all the figures, and levitated the padding into place. The active dragon roared as she gently placed them back on the shelf. Sniffing curiously at the material, the Hebridean dug into it with sharp claws before wrapping its tail around its flank and settling down.

Mightily tempted to see how the other dragons would act, Miranda stood staring at the dragon sculptures for several more moments before mentally shaking herself. I don't have time for this!

Miranda forced herself to turn away after tapping the dragon with her wand to inanimate it. She swept through her home, her cloak swirling behind her as she prepared to apparate to the Malvern Hills. She knew she wouldn't find any dragons, but she might be able to determine which dragon had attacked the area.

Breathing in deeply and expelling slowly, Miranda visualized her destination and apparated near the edge of a rocky outcrop high above the rolling hills. Looking around, Miranda took a moment to extend her senses. She could feel no dragons nearby. She saw the ruined farmhouse and ripped up patches of earth down below. That would be her first stop. Miranda cast a disillusionment spell over her cloak and made her way over the rocky ground quickly.

Once near the buildings, she said, "Homenum revelio." It would not do to be careless. The spell revealed that no humans were nearby. Relieved, Miranda studied the scorch marks on the farmhouse, the destruction of a portion of the barn roof, and the deep indentations in the rich dirt. Miranda kept her senses on high alert, just in case someone wandered onto the farm. Although the disillusionment charm she had cast on her cloak would go a long way toward hiding her from others, it was not foolproof. Crouching near one set of indentations, Miranda placed her hand above it, feeling the energy.

Pulling back her hand quickly, Miranda rested on her haunches, stunned. It couldn't be! Miranda cocked her head and followed the ripped up ground with her eyes. She needed more proof. Grimly, Miranda searched the perimeter, searching for any detritus left by the dragon: scales, claws, horns, blood, even dung would help her to confirm incontrovertibly the identity of the dragon responsible for attacking the farm.

Several hours later, Miranda rested against a shady tree near a large body of water. Springtime hikers walked on a nearby trail, and Miranda remained still. It was possible that the disillusionment charm she had placed on her cloak was still keeping her hidden from unwanted eyes. Regardless, she chose to not draw attention to herself just in case the charm had faded and she could be seen.

After the people passed, Miranda clasped her hands together on her lap and pondered what she had found. Dragon dung, several drops of dragon blood, and a part of a copper-toned dragon scale. A Peruvian Vipertooth. Testing on her collected specimens would confirm her suspicion, but she was confident with her guess. This was extremely bad news.

Although known to be the smallest breed of dragons, they were quick and sneaky. Their fangs were venomous, and they were able to hide fairly easily since they only grew to be fifteen feet. Most distressingly, they had a craving for human flesh. At one point during the nineteenth century they had become a large threat to the wizarding and Muggle populations, and the Ministry had been forced to thin out that breed's numbers to ensure everyone's safety.

Where did the dragon come from? Where was it now? Had all the attacks been made by this one dragon?

Miranda's gut told her that was not the case. And if several different dragon species were involved, it made the attacks even more suspect. Looking around one last time, Miranda stood and readied to disapparate away from the area. It was becoming late in the day, and she was tired. She needed to reduce her observations to writing and confirm the identity of the dragon by conducting certain charms on the specimens she had collected.

Mentally preparing herself, she visualized the wards protecting her home shifting, allowing her to apparate directly into the front room. With a cracking noise, she arrived safely. She stood rigidly, willing her body to settle as the roll of nausea receded—an inconvenient consequence of apparating. Taking some deep breaths, Miranda swept her gaze around the room and smiled slightly at the sight of her faithful house elf. Santie reached up to take Miranda's outerwear and, after nodding respectfully, left.

Miranda moved to the den and carefully laid out her specimens, casting spell after spell to confirm the dragon type's identity, knowing that her instincts were correct but needing hard proof to present to the Minister. Finally, she sat back with a sigh. She sipped her steaming tea, and silently thanked Santie for her care. Stretching her back, Miranda moaned as muscles twinged, a reminder of her passionate encounter with Andrea the day before.

Pushing such thoughts away brutally, Miranda refocused on her task. She had established unequivocally that a Peruvian Vipertooth had attacked the farm. Throwing some floo powder into the roaring fireplace, Miranda threw her written report into it and stated firmly, "Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ministry of Magic." She stared at the fire, allowing her tired mind to settle. Andrea's face, filled with passion, swam before her eyes. Taking a shuddering breath, Miranda refrained from floo-calling the enticing witch. Oh, but how she wanted to see her, if only for a moment.

Tomorrow. I will speak with her tomorrow, Miranda promised herself. It would be a reward after another hard day's work. With that thought, Miranda retired for the evening. Tomorrow promised to be another trying day. She was certain that the next site she planned to visit would reveal more evidence that a great evilness was behind the dragon attacks. That sobering thought kept sleep out of reach as she consoled herself with memories of Andrea's luscious body throughout the restless night.

The next morning, Miranda grimly prepared to apparate to the next attack site. Visualizing the place, Miranda felt the pull under her belly button as she transported to a wooded area.

Several scorched trees led Miranda toward another damaged structure in another rural area. She made sure to apply the disillusionment charm over her before venturing into the open area between the copse of trees and the farm structures. The events of that attack were similar to the Peruvian Vipertooth attack. No warning. No known reason for it.

It took several hours, but Miranda found enough proof to reveal the dragon at fault: a Hungarian Horntail. With black scales, a spiked tail, and bronze horns protruding from its head, this dragon's strength and power were awe-inspiring. It's most dangerous feature, though, was its ability to breathe fire fifty feet across an expanse at extremely high temperatures.

Different dragons. All attacks on farmland in the UK—two attacks in England and the other two in Scotland.

With a feeling of dread, Miranda studied the piece of nail she had found embedded in a downed tree. The claw was razor sharp, and Miranda took the time to apply a charm on it so that she could transport it without worrying about cutting herself inadvertently. Just to be safe she applied the same charm on the horn shaving. It resembled a shank, and if she were not careful, it could be just as deadly.

Noticing how late it was, Miranda apparated to her home. Santie took one look at her and reached up to receive the dirty cloak. Miranda had tramped through enough dirt and debris to stain all her clothes. Looking down with a grimace, she admitted to herself that she had made a good decision to wear the Marc Jacobs' jeans, Yves Saint Laurent pullover, and black Coach boots. It was as dressed down as she ever got. She had some very rare pieces made of dragon's hide that she had not worn outdoors in decades. At least she would be able to wear them while in the wizarding world.

Yesterday, while mucking around the countryside, Miranda had been reminded of how different this line of work was compared to the world of fashion. It tickled her to think that in both worlds she was known as the Dragon Lady. Andrea's face flittered through her mind, and she closed her eyes for just a moment, allowing herself the indulgence.

"May I prepare your dinner?" Santie asked sweetly, causing Miranda's eyes to flutter open.

"Yes, thank you, Santie. I will take a shower and change," Miranda murmured as she headed for the stairs. She hardly tasted the food once she settled down to eat. Her mind dwelled on what she had found and the implications attached. Why were the dragons attacking? Why now?

Miranda moved to her den and poured herself a glass of port. She sat down in a comfortable wingback chair and silently appreciated Santie's thoughtfulness with starting a fire to ward off the evening chill. She watched the flames flickering as she planned her next actions. She would visit the other two locations where the dragons had attacked. Verify her findings. Visit the dragon reserves. Report her findings. Just as she had yesterday and today. Then what?

This would not be an easily resolved matter. It stunk of darkness and evil intent. Who was behind such attacks? Who had the power to control or at least to provoke the dragons to commit such actions?

Dragons were not stupid creatures—they had learned from the Peruvian Vipertooth population reduction debacle. Dragons normally kept to themselves, stealing livestock from time to time but generally steering clear of humans.

In addition, several dragon reserves cared for and kept track of the different species of dragons. The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary was by far the largest of the reserves. She would be paying them a visit this week to ask questions and reacquaint herself with the dragons. Miranda felt adrenalin shoot through her. She looked forward to interacting with the majestic beasts once more.

Idly, Miranda's gaze roamed the room, landing on the miniature dragon statues Andrea had gifted to her. Andrea. What was it about the woman? After the other day, Miranda could no longer deny her feelings. She was absolutely captivated.

Soft skin. Silky mane. Toned muscles. Miles of legs. That mouth. Those fingers. Mesmerizing eyes. Unforgettable cries. Miranda shivered as arousal coursed through her.

Although she knew she could not afford to become distracted, her heart cried out. She wanted to spend more time with Andrea. Needed to taste that goodness, feel that body against hers. Perhaps in a few days. Slightly mollified by her self-made bargain, Miranda approached the dragon statues.

Tapping the Hungarian Horntail with her wand, Miranda stepped to the side, just dodging the forceful expulsion of flames that extended out across the room. If only you could tell me why the dragons are attacking humans, Miranda thought while watching the Horntail sniff the air. Hearing a chuffing noise, Miranda cocked her head curiously. The animated dragon watched her just as closely as it walked toward the edge of the glass shelf.

A booming voice erupted in Miranda's mind, nearly knocking her down.

Evilness hides behind black robes' shadows, destroying our heritage without remorse. Search for the fragments of their failures, those former soldiers of Voldemort.

"What are you saying?" Miranda said, shocked.

The dragon merely stared at her.

What do you mean? she demanded silently.

The dragon swished its tail.

Irritated, Miranda tapped it with her wand and watched it solidify back into its black obsidian form. She tapped the Hebridean Black and demanded, "Tell me why dragons are attacking humans."

Silence, broken only by nails clawing at the material beneath it, filled the room.

Why won't you tell me? Miranda's mind raged, but no voice intruded upon her thoughts. Watching the Hebridean for a few more moments, she sighed.

Tapping it with her wand, she looked at the rest of the collection and saw the Peruvian Vipertooth. It was beautiful. Made of amber, the small horns on its head and black ridges across its back contrasted with the smooth scales gleaming in the light cast by the lit fire. Smiling grimly, she animated it.

How are Voldemort's followers compelling the dragons to attack humans? Miranda demanded in thought as she stared at the compact dragon. It blinked its eyes at Miranda as it stretched its body, much like a cat would. Miranda was ready to give up when she heard a growly voice echo in her mind.

The unborn are stripped of their ability to live, crushed under the weight of untimely death. To protect the future, dragons must heed the dictates of those whom you most dread.

Miranda's eyebrows rose steeply as she stared at the Vipertooth. Who would have the leverage to blackmail dragons? It was unthinkable. Unimaginable. Absurd.

How was it that these dragon statues were able to provide her with such information? Miranda tapped the Vipertooth with her wand and stood pensively. She took inventory of the dragons she had not tried to question. Already suspecting the results, she tapped the Welsh Green dragon.

Tell me why the dragons are attacking humans, Miranda requested as she watched it walk around the other dragon statues slowly before settling in the middle of the shelf. No answer. Do you know whether your species will attack humans at the Death Eaters' bidding? No answer. She tapped its head.

Staring at the other dragon statues, Miranda debated whether she should try to question each of them. Well, she had already questioned half of them. She might as well continue.

For the next twenty minutes she animated each of the remaining statues separately and asked questions, hoping to find more answers but gaining none. Finally, she sat down and stared at the fire. How was it that two of the statues had spoken to her telepathically? Was this magic created by Andrea? Just how powerful was she? And did she know of Miranda's ability to speak to dragons telepathically?

Dracotongue was a virtually unknown talent within the wizarding world. Miranda's family members had always been able to communicate with the great beasts, but several in her family line had used such skills to further the Dark Lord's purposes. Such talent had been coveted by Voldemort since not only could they speak to dragons, but also to all manner of reptiles—from snakes to serpents, turtles to crocodiles. The secret had been kept over the years, exploited by evil and lost to the wizarding world through death and memory removal. Miranda did not believe anyone knew. She had never revealed her ability, even while working for the Ministry so long ago.

As far as she could tell her girls were ignorant of the skill they most likely had. They had never experienced an opportunity to find out, nor had Miranda provided them with any indication that they might have such an ability.

It was one thing to be able to communicate with dragons telepathically and another to speak with animated dragon statues, though. How would they know what was behind these attacks? How would Andrea know? Did Andrea know?

Andrea. It all led back to her. Miranda crossed the room and grabbed some floo powder. She threw it into the fire and stated, "Hogwarts, Charms Master's Office," as she stuck her head into the green flames. Looking around, she spotted Andrea's surprised face.

"Andrea," Miranda greeted. "Is this a bad time?" Miranda ignored the incredulous look and proceeded. "Are you free for dinner on Friday? I have some questions for you that would be best answered in person, but I will not be free until then."

"Um, yes, of course, Miranda," Andrea quickly answered.

"Good. Come to my home by floo at seven." Miranda paused, her eyes greedily running over the attractive vision of Andrea's slightly rumpled appearance. She smirked. "That's all." She pulled her head out of the fire, smiling more widely at the bark of laughter she had heard.

At least she had the impending dinner to lift her spirits. Andrea might be able to answer some of her questions, too. Just being in the woman's presence soothed her restlessness. Between now and then, however, Miranda still had much to discover.

Tired and perplexed, Miranda decided to turn in for the night. Tomorrow she would get some more answers. Tomorrow she would search for clues at the other two attack sites and then attempt to get more information from the dragon statues.

Closing her eyes, Miranda's last thoughts as she dropped off to sleep were of how vocal Andrea had been while they had made love. It had created a higher level of intimacy, allowing her to respond to Andrea's body and words, to say what she had felt for so long. And yet Andrea's words had not been uttered aloud.

They definitely had much to discuss.