Chapter 24: Hermione Granger: The Bladed Wing
Hermione Granger
The sharp January wind beat at Hermione's cheeks as she stood alone on a slope in the Highlands. The snow-dusted grass rose to a sheer rockface textured in browns and greys. In the center of the rock wall, the arch of a cave jutted above her head, the stones like a heavy brow. Despite the chill, the sun shone brightly. Faint wisps of clouds floated in the pale blue sky.
The blue expanse seemed endless as she shaded her eyes and scanned the horizon. Why had she agreed to pair up with Malfoy? She'd wanted Millicent, but had been unwilling to get between her and Pansy. And when Malfoy had split off to check for caves in the north, she'd been relieved to be rid of his grumbling. But now, facing a dark cave and possible dragons within, she wished she didn't have to face it by herself.
She'd nearly given up when a dark speck appeared from behind the crest of a hill. It quickly grew into a figure on a broom. Malfoy flew like a rocket, head low over the handle. He apparently saved the dramatics for conversation, as his flying lacked any showy spins or swoops. He sped straight on until he reached the slope, only slowing and pulling up in time to swing off and land lightly on his feet.
She stared at him. "You showed."
Malfoy frowned as he leant his broom alongside hers against the rockface. "You said to meet you here."
"Yes, well. Borrowing Aberforth's broom was your first opportunity to scamper. I did wonder."
"I'm not allowed to disappear again. Millicent made several threats regarding my ability to walk, talk, and produce heirs."
"Ha. Still intimidated by Millicent, even after all the running and battles and seeing—" She stopped as the blast they'd heard in the pasture reverberated through her head. Her mouth filled with the bitter taste of smoke and ash.
Malfoy's eyes widened, and his hand rose, reaching out. And then, as if a spell were cast, his hand flicked airily and the familiar curl of his lip returned. "Is the majestic eagle intimidated by an angry bull in a field?"
He spread his arms, making his trademark gesture intended to convey the specialness of the Malfoy name. Hermione privately referred to it as 'jazz hands.'
As she stared at him impassively, he deflated, shoving his hands in his pockets. "But I figured she's a better ally than enemy." He gave her a sidelong glance. "All of you are. And anyway, running off on my own…"
"Not all it's cracked up to be?" Malfoy had been spectacularly bad at it, getting captured by both sides within two months.
He gave a noncommittal shrug and studied the cave entrance. It stretched over them, the black interior impenetrable.
"They won't be here," Malfoy said.
"And you base that on what? Your vast expertise based on one childhood pet?"
"A pet from the same species you're looking for. They can be rather peculiar. A bit… well…"
"Large? Airborne? I've seen dragons before, you know." She cast lumos and stepped into the cave, listening for anything large with claws. "They're not meant for domestication. I'm surprised you could keep one."
"Father knew the warden at a wizarding prison in the Arctic Circle. He was curious about their breeding program to bring out new traits in their guard-dragons."
"They were breeding them for intelligence?"
"Nighteyes were already intelligent. Several dragon species used to be, but it was bred out of them. Makes them more manageable."
She shook her head. "Another species we've subjugated."
"They're fire-breathing monsters, Granger. You want an intelligence like the Dark Lord rising through their ranks? Selective breeding is the reason we control them, and not the other way round."
"Why does anybody have to control anybody?"
"That's—"
"The way the world works." She gave him a sidelong glance. "You've mentioned."
The chilly mountain air ebbed away to something warmer, touched by the scent of smoke. She followed the warmth through a tunnel, only to be stymied by a heap of rocks that blocked the way.
Malfoy pulled out his borrowed wand and cast lumos. As the tunnel grew brighter, he stiffened. "No."
"Don't give up just yet," she replied. "There's bound to be another way in."
Malfoy goggled at her. "Get your eyes checked. We're here."
She stared at him, then turned in a circle. Nothing. "Malfoy—"
The rocks rumbled and shifted.
Landslide. She whipped out her wand and cast a shielding spell on them both before one of the massive rocks crushed them.
But the blockage moved strangely, shifting sideways, and a large boulder rose straight over their heads. On the boulder's side, a marigold-yellow eye slowly opened, the black vertical pupil narrowing as it caught a beam of sunlight from the entrance. The craggy rocks rippled and smoothed into violet-grey scales, and the eye focused on them and blinked.
Hermione blinked back. Her mouth hung open, but she couldn't remember how to close it. The part of her brain that never turned off reminded her that vertical pupils were often found on nocturnal animals. It made sense if they were used as prison guards. In some parts of Siberia, the polar nights lasted over a month.
The dragon uncurled its tail and stood before them. Its scales brightened, becoming more purple than grey. The serpentine neck swept downward until the head was resting on the ground in front of them. This close, the iris was the size of a wall mirror and showed striations of copper and gold.
She stepped back, bumping into Malfoy, who was still glued to the spot. She hoped she didn't look so saucer-eyed, although she probably did. Right. Straighten shoulders, close mouth. She didn't come all this way to freeze or run screaming, so she gathered up her courage and waved. "Hello."
Silence. The dragon blinked languidly.
Hermione turned to Malfoy. "I don't suppose you know dragon language."
He cleared his throat and took several seconds before answering. "Maybe it doesn't speak. Some understand human speech, but many don't bother to learn."
"But they're capable of language. I heard them speaking in a dragon tongue when they flew over the pasture."
He nodded vaguely, gaze rooted on the dragon. "Probably debating whether to eat us."
"The fact that they didn't implies they aren't operating purely on instinct. Come on, then. How do we communicate? There should be a way, if they're intelligent."
"As a species. But intelligence varies."
She frowned at him. "In humans, too."
The dark slit of the pupil eyed them as the scales settled into a shimmering pale lavender.
Malfoy made some strange swallowing noises. "Oh, Merlin… that's…"
He trailed off, and Hermione prompted him. "That's what?"
A voice rumbled inside her head. Malassara. That's Malassara. Good afternoon.
Hermione shivered, gasping. The voice was clear and absolutely alien, like someone had bypassed her ears and put the voice directly in her skull. Deep and rumbling and yet somehow feminine. She'd never experienced anything like it.
Malfoy shook his head. "Not possible. Hallucinations. Auditory hallucinations."
For a half second, she believed it. The stress of the war and her time as a goat had sent her round the bend. But then she heard the voice again, fainter and fuzzier, like the focus was elsewhere.
Draco? Is that you?
Hermione glanced between them. "You know each other?" Her brain caught up. "Wait. Was she your pet?"
Malfoy shrugged as the dragon nudged him with her muzzle, nearly toppling him over. He reached out a reluctant hand and patted her snout. "Father got the egg for my fifth birthday. You know, because I'm Draco. His dragon." He smiled, his eyes unfocused. "He wanted it for my first, but Siberian wizards don't give up their dragons easily. You wouldn't believe the bribes he had to pay."
His smile faded under Hermione's withering stare. She crossed her arms and eyed the massive dragon. "Why didn't you tell me you recognized your pet flying overhead?"
"You've seen it—she has a special camouflage trait. And anyway, I barely knew up from down. I was a goat."
I knew that was you. Malassara hummed, her breath as warm as a hearth. You have a distinct Draco smell, even under the goat smell.
Malfoy spluttered. "I don't smell!"
Hermione snickered. "Did you play hide and seek when you were little? Did she follow your smell?"
His glare wasn't remotely intimidating as he stumbled against Malassara's head rubs. "It wasn't like we ran about playing games. Or… Maybe a bit, when she was small. Mostly, she was a guard. For protection. "
And care. Malassara's words grew soft. Nursemaid.
Malfoy turned pink. "You were not a nursemaid. I didn't need a nursemaid. If anything, I raised you."
Hermione shook her head. Bribing a warden and then using a dragon as a private guard and nursemaid, of all things! It confirmed everything she knew about rich pureblood extravagances. But then she looked at Malassara's twinkling eye and Malfoy's bright blush and couldn't help smiling.
Draco was afraid to fly. I helped. Comforted him.
"No, that's not…I was six!" Malfoy shoved his hands in his pockets. "What are you doing here, anyway? Father said he took you to a big farm up north, where you could run and play and fly as much as you wanted."
Malassara slowly swung her head in the negative. There was no farm. Your father thought I had become too large, too intelligent. Too dangerous. He sold me to the goblins. But I stole my hoard and escaped.
"Oh." He looked crestfallen. "Father never told me."
Lying to protect his son's feelings—probably the best she could ever expect from Lucius Malfoy. But she was more interested in something else Malassara had said. "Bill Weasley worked with dragons, and he never mentioned hoards."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "A lot of dragon trainers consider it old-fashioned. Mostly, they can't afford to maintain hoards of gold and gems to control each dragon. They're working to breed hoard-bonding out of them, in favor of behavioral conditioning. But traditional training doesn't work with Siberian Nighteyes. They don't exactly come when called."
We do, but not to obey a master. Only when the person calling is special to us.
Malfoy pinked up again. "So, uh… yes. Humans and goblins still use hoards for some dragons."
Draco began my hoard. He gave me the gold-plated collar from one of his toys. His favorite stuffed rabbit, Mrs. Hoppy-Boppy.
Malfoy closed his eyes, scrunching up his face. "Malassara, please. Granger doesn't need to know all that."
Granger?
"Call me Hermione." She tucked her wand away and raised her hand as if to shake, then realized she'd be lucky to wrap it around a single talon. She wiggled her fingers in a friendly greeting. "You carry your hoard with you? Isn't that difficult?"
We have our methods. Would you like to see the hoards?
Malfoy perked up. "They're here with you? The other Nighteyes?"
Malassara nodded. My family. Follow me.
She led them deeper into the cave. Despite her size, she moved lightly, only her tail whispering against the ground. Their footsteps were loud in comparison, echoing against the curved walls.
A golden glow appeared ahead, and the air grew warm and misty. The passageway opened into an immense cavern. To the side, a roaring underground waterfall cascaded in tiers over three stone shelves until it fed a dark lake. Mist flowed from the lake onto a shelf of warm brown rock, rippling around a cluster of glowing red boulders in the center.
From the swirling mist appeared a dragon's head, its red-orange scales bright against the haze. Its mouth opened wide and a deep rumbling emanated from its throat. The rumbling grew into a thundering blast, and fire lit up the chamber.
Hermione clapped her hands over her head, as if she could somehow protect herself from bursting into flames. Even with her eyes closed, the light was unbearable.
The noise died out. She cracked her eyes open. The boulders in the center glowed a bright yellow-orange now, like coals in a fire. Heat poured off in waves. She unbuttoned her jacket and used her scarf to wipe the condensation and sudden perspiration off her face.
The heat burned away some of the mist, revealing ten dragons resting against the cavern walls. They varied in color, from fiery orange to gemstone blue and darkest black to palest white. Collected beneath them were piles of galleons and jewels. Heaps of tangled gold necklaces, rings set with sapphires and rubies, diamond pendants, and more—so many they formed small hills. It was more wealth than she'd ever seen in her life. They glittered and glowed far brighter than the dim light should have allowed.
She cleared her throat. "I'm Hermione Granger. I lead… that is, I'm part of a resistance movement against a powerful dark wizard."
It was disconcerting to have ten pairs of slitted eyes stare unblinkingly at her. She glanced at Malassara. "Do they understand me?"
Malassara nodded. Only some know human language, but the others are translating. We can speak without sounds, although it takes more concentration.
"I never heard you speak dragon language," Draco said.
I learnt it when I found my dragon family. She sent a burst of warmth that had no words. Let me introduce you.
Dragon families—at least this one—turned out to be complex, with adoptive and biological aunts as well as blood-siblings and clutch-siblings. All laid eggs were gathered in a single clutch under a brood mother. And most of the dragons were female, the male dragons flying off in search of mates and weyrs once they were adults. Except for the weyr-father, who stayed. It was absolutely fascinating. Hermione was on the verge of asking more questions when her thoughts were interrupted by some pointed throat-clearing from Malfoy.
Right. The mission. The details of familial dragon relationships would have to wait. She addressed the room at large. "As you may have heard, it's been a difficult time for us. Many of my fellow comrades have been captured and are kept in prisons not far from here. Our numbers are low. It's likely…" She didn't want to say it, but it needed to be said. She took a deep breath. "It's likely the dark wizard and his allies will win, and reign over the wizarding world for many years to come, unless we find a new way to fight back. I was hoping…that is, would you help us?"
An orange dragon spoke a series of hisses and growls. Malassara tilted her head and turned to Hermione. My nephew Peressis says that dark wizards do not concern him. We are not part of the human world.
Hermione thought for a moment. "But other dragons are held by humans and goblins. Maybe other Nighteyes. If you helped us, you could have a voice in the new government we establish after the war."
The orange dragon bowed his head respectfully, and Malassara translated, we wish the best for our brethren, but we escaped to be free, not to have obligations to humans again. And we must recover. Raise our broods. Gather our numbers so we may never be captured again.
Malfoy raised his head at that. "And then what? Stay in hiding forever? Trust me, that doesn't…" He swallowed. "That doesn't work out as well as you think. Even if you succeed, you'll always wonder if they've found a new way to track you."
The dragons conversed again. Some agree, and some do not. But they will accept what Alzarad decides.
"Alzarad?" Hermione asked.
Our weyr-father. He listens to our concerns and plans the best future for us. Malassara tossed her head, indicating a tunnel that ran deeper into the cave, and led them inside.
At the end of the tunnel lay a smaller, darker cavern. Fire-warmed stones glowed dimly, casting red light and shadows on the walls.
A pair of emerald eyes glowed, far larger than those of the other dragons. His red-scaled body filled the room, a long tapering tail curling under a whiskered chin. Tendrils of smoke escaped his nostrils.
Hermione kept her chin up and approached. The eyes grew larger. She felt like she could step inside the black pupils. Boulders surrounded Alzarad, glowing faintly with warmth. This close, the scales were a dull rust-red, patches of leathery skin showing. Dead, blackened scales littered the ground below.
Two brown sentinel dragons belched fire on the rocks surrounding the red dragon's body, and the air grew hotter. The red dragon sighed.
The gale of his breath pushed Hermione off balance. She did her best to keep herself steady. "Alzarad?" She glanced at the fallen scales. "Are you all right?"
Alzarad shifted and blinked, his translucent third eyelids sliding across the irises. He lifted one wing, revealing a much smaller hoard underneath: a scattering of galleons and jeweled rings; a fob watch on a gold chain, three amber figurines of stylized animals, and a small stone box carved with the sweeping curves of a flame.
"Does the weyr-father not need as large of a hoard?" she asked.
Larger, Malassara said. Alzarad refused to be in bondage and escaped without his hoard. He now suffers. We have tried to collect the pieces we can find, but it is not enough.
Alzarad's shifting had dislodged the lid of the stone box, and it revealed a small crystal globe filled with mist.
Hermione drew a sharp breath. "Is that…?"
It is his prophecy. Admiration shone in Malassara's voice. He hid it from the goblins, and always carries it with him. It foretells of a sacrifice of blood and fire. Such magical objects in a hoard can transfer their properties, and sometimes our weyr-father can—
Alzarad growled, deep bass notes that rumbled through the ground and up Hermione's feet.
Malassara's gracefully curving neck tensed, and she lowered her head. Our weyr-father reminds me I do not know you well, Hermione Granger, and Alzarad knows neither of you. It is not my place to speak of such things.
"It's all right," Hermione said, trying to drag her gaze away from the sphere. She'd focused on the edge of the hoard when movement caught her eye.
A small creature camouflaged by glossy golden fur scuttled over the edge of the hoard. Its snout nosed a galleon as its eyes gleamed greedily.
It must be some species of niffler, although she'd never seen one with such unusual coloring. And instead of stuffing the galleon in his pouch, the niffler gobbled the coin whole. Its squat neck showed the outline of the coin as the creature swallowed.
Malassara, alarm in her eyes, took a breath and opened her jaws. The smell of sulfur and charcoal charged the air.
"Don't!" Hermione jumped in front of the niffler and scooped it up. The niffler squeaked and rolled into a fluffy golden ball. She glared at Malassara. "It was one galleon. You don't need to burn him alive."
Malfoy clutched his chest. "What were you going to do—blast the whole room? You could have singed us. Give us a warning next time."
Hermione cuddled the niffler close to her chest. "There shouldn't be a next time. It's an innocent creature."
Alzarad pulled his lips back and snarled at Hermione, revealing fangs half as long as her leg.
She stumbled back. "Please. It doesn't mean any harm."
Malassara inspected the areas around Alzarad, her nostrils quivering. It's necessary. We have an infestation of alchemist nifflers.
Malfoy's eyes widened. "Alchemist nifflers?" He checked his pockets, as if the furry creatures could have slipped into them unknowingly.
Hermione recalled the term from one of her books. "Irodan Dorabo attempted to breed nifflers with ore-eating cavern moles, to have them feed on ordinary metals and produce gold."
"Attempted being the operative word," Malfoy said. "He failed. And what we got instead was one of the worst monstrosities magic has ever produced."
"That's a bit much," Hermione said. "They merely have different properties than intended. It's a common side effect when—"
"They eat gold, Granger. They eat it and leave behind piles of…niffler droppings."
"Mostly they eat lesser metals. Preferably anything shiny. Not much gold lying about in the wild."
"And when they discover a cache of gold? They're like locusts."
Hermione smiled. "Are you afraid of a little niffler?"
"Of course not." Malfoy brushed at his trouser legs, checking the cuffs. "I'm afraid of being poor."
We destroy them once we find them, but we are not always quick enough, Malassara said. They've eaten too much of our hoards.
Hermione cast a quick spell, and a tink echoed. A small jar rolled to her feet. She picked it up, spelled a few holes into the lid, and sliced off part of her scarf to serve as a nest. Then she shrunk the niffler and put him inside.
In many respects, he didn't look much different from other nifflers. Squat body, snout, and roving eyes that lit on the gold in the cavern. It was the color that made it distinct. Iridescent gold fur made him look as if he were made of precious metal itself. The only sign of any crossbreeding with a mole were its tiny eyes, blinking shortsightedly at her.
Malfoy leaned in, staring at the niffler so closely his nose was nearly touching the jar. "Ugh, awful. Hand it over. I want to destroy it myself."
The tiny niffler looked at Malfoy and scuttled closer to Hermione.
Poor little thing. That settled it. "No one's destroying him. I'm taking him with me."
Alzarad hissed and snarled.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Is this more of your S.P.E.W. nonsense? It's a rodent, Granger. They bore into walls and soon all your prized jewelry is gone. Bracelets, necklaces, tiaras—"
"I'll make sure he doesn't go near any of your tiaras." She tucked the jar into a pocket.
Alzarad had all his fangs on display, and she had the mental image of being tossed up and chomped like popcorn. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize they could destroy your hoard." As much as she hated to admit it, Malfoy was right—to a point. They hadn't come here to save nifflers, but to make friends with the dragons. And she was rather going in the wrong direction. "We can look through the rest of the cave. Capture all the nifflers consuming your hoards."
Alzarad grumbled noncommittally, but at least he wasn't still snarling.
They found another niffler in Alzarad's chamber and then worked their way towards the entrance, Malassara following. Hermione tucked the jar away before they reached the main chamber. "The dragons have quite a reaction to nifflers, don't they?"
"Can you blame them?" Malfoy replied. "They've got the right idea: burning them to a crisp. I don't know what you think you're going to do with them."
"I'll release them elsewhere."
"Right. Elsewhere. Where is that, exactly? They've no natural predators. Except dragons, I suppose. They're not meant to exist. They'll breed and eat all the metal in their environment."
"Well…They could be kept as pets."
"Kept where? In cages? They'll eat through them."
"Unbreakable glass enclosures, then." She tapped her jacket, the pocket of which held the jar.
In the main chamber, the mist had dispersed into a low-lying cover that swirled over their feet. The dragons lounged, nudging their hoards into nests. Malassara spoke, and heads turned towards them, tails curling protectively around their collections of gold and jewels.
"I feel bad for them," Hermione whispered to Malfoy. "To depend so on a collection of objects."
"Everybody depends on something." Malfoy's gaze focused on a dragon tending to a clutch of eggs. He pointed to a spot below. "There."
Shuffling movement and shimmering fur. Hermione cast her wand and added another niffler to the jar. "I'd hoped they'd be more enthusiastic about being allies."
He scanned the nearest hoard. "That's your fault, really. Should've let them—"
"Yes, you've made your point, thank you."
Malfoy gave her his complete attention. "It was never going to be easy. They have magic and can defend themselves. What do they need humans for?"
"Niffler hunting, apparently." An idea came to her. "Malassara, most of Alzarad's hoard is in goblin hands, right? What if we could get it back for him and help him regain his strength? Would the weyr fight alongside us, then?"
"Granger," Malfoy said warningly.
She waved him off. "Can you ask him?"
Malassara closed her eyes for a moment and stilled. Then she bobbed her head. He would agree.
Malfoy pulled at her arm. "You're not thinking of stealing from the goblins?"
She shook away his hand. "And could you provide assistance?" she asked Malassara. "With obtaining the hoards?"
Alzarad must stay here, and some of us must remain to attend to him and guard the weyr. But I will help. She lowered her head and gave a playful snort, sending Malfoy's scarf billowing behind him. It will be all right, Draco.
Her voice dropped to a murmur as she focused on Malfoy. Hermione couldn't make out what she was saying, but Malfoy gave her a weak smile and scratched her chin. She closed her eyes and let out a rumbling hum.
He remained quiet until they'd exited the cave. Then he rounded on her. "What are you planning? How exactly are you going to get near goblin-held dragon hoards?"
"Blaise has been looking into Gringotts transfers, at least for the family accounts of those who've been working with Aberforth through the Rattle and Horn."
"That has nothing to do with hoards. None of them have ever owned dragons. They'd have bragged about it long before now."
"But your family has, and there's bound to be a record of Malassara's sale to the goblins. Her hoard would have gone with her. And goblins have all sorts of identification numbers and runes magically embedded in their documents. I'll bet dragon hoards have their own special code. Blaise knows several codes and has deduced others. He's been instructing me on it." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll not be deceived again by not understanding the nuances of a bank document."
Malfoy grimaced and looked out across the Highland slopes. "So, you'll give them whatever information you can find and that's it, right? The dragons will find their hoards themselves, and we'll stay out of it?"
She shook her head. "I suspect most of the hoards will be too well-guarded, even for dragons. And I don't think passing on some information they can't use is helping them." She softened her voice. "What about Malassara? Don't you want to help her?"
"She's fine," he replied stiffly.
"And her family? Alzarad looked quite ill."
Malfoy shook his head and said nothing, staring across the snowy peaks and valleys. Finally, he let out a breath. "You want me to make a transfer request."
Her eyebrows rose. He might make foolish decisions, but there was a mind buried in there somewhere. "For your hidden memories, yes. Blaise determined that they're still in your private vault, so they'll need to be transported. If we can get the timing right, we might get them aboard a train with items from a hoard. Maybe."
He crossed his arms and shook his head. "Ifs and maybes."
She shrugged. "Welcome to the resistance."
Turning, he studied her. "Granger." He dropped her name with heavy disapproval.
She matched his tone. "Malfoy."
"You can't seriously suggest we hijack a goblin train."
"Suggest? No." She smiled. "I'm well into planning it."