The Tenth Weasley - CH - 92

Harry stood near the jagged entrance of the dragon’s cave, the cold air mingling with the musty warmth rising from within. The great dragon shifted her massive body, scales scraping stone as she angled her head to glare down at the three hatchlings cowering before her.

A series of sharp clicks and deep, throaty screeches rolled through the cavern—each note layered with scolding disapproval. The hatchlings answered in nervous chirps, their wings tucked tight against their sides. Their tails twitched in guilty little flicks.

Harry could only stare, torn between awe and laughter. Merlin, it’s like watching Mum when she caught Fred and George stealing treacle tarts, he thought.

Sonja edged up beside him, her voice hushed. “Look at them. They look like they’d rather be anywhere else.”

“They’re about to get the dragon equivalent of a Howler,” Harry whispered back.

The mother dragon loomed over the little ones, her eye fixed in an unblinking stare that conveyed exactly what she thought of their impromptu flight to the school. Each time she clicked her jaws, the hatchlings pressed closer together as though they could disappear behind one another.

Harry’s respect for the creature only grew. For all the stories of mindless monsters in wizarding texts, this was a mother, furious but protective. He thought of Charlie’s letters, describing dragon families in vivid detail: how mothers would risk death to save their young, how they remembered kindness for years.

He was right, Harry thought. They’re not just beasts.

Behind him, Louis was fumbling in his satchel. He had been trying to stay quiet, but curiosity was a force of nature. He pulled out his battered enchanted camera, carefully winding the mechanism with trembling fingers.

“Louis, don’t—” Harry began.

Click.

The camera flashed in the dim cavern. The great dragon’s eye turned instantly to the photographer.

For one terrible heartbeat, the only sound was the echo of the shutter.

Louis went white. “Ah… oh dear.”

The dragon let out a rumbling hiss that vibrated the floor. A puff of acrid smoke coiled from her nostrils as she narrowed her gaze at him.

Sonja clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a laugh. Marek smacked Louis on the arm. “Idiot,” he hissed. “She’s going to roast you.”

Louis swallowed, very slowly lowering the camera to the ground. “I… apologize, madame.”

After a moment that stretched into eternity, the dragon turned away with a disdainful snort. Her focus returned to the hatchlings. Louis let out a shaky breath and looked like he might collapse.

Harry almost laughed, though he still felt jittery. “That was nearly the last photo you ever took.”

“Worth it,” Louis whispered, voice high and strangled.

On the other side of the cavern, Ingrid, Eryk, and Victor stood close together, watching in reverent silence. Even Victor, usually so confident, looked humbled.

The dragon rumbled again, this time softer. She leaned down, pressing her snout to the smallest hatchling. It squeaked, eyes squeezed shut, then nosed against her jaw. Slowly, the tension in the cave began to ease.

“She knows,” Ingrid murmured. “She knows we brought them back.”

Harry nodded. “I was afraid she’d think we were the ones who took them.”

Sonja tilted her head. “Or that she’d attack out of pure rage. But she’s… she’s not a monster.”

“No,” Harry said softly, watching the massive creature curl protectively around her children. “Just a mother.”

He took a cautious step forward, not wanting to provoke any anger. The dragon’s eye flicked to him, and for a moment he held his breath. But she didn’t screech or thrash. She only watched, unblinking.

“That’s approval if I’ve ever seen it,” Victor said. “Or the closest we’re going to get.”

The hatchlings pressed against their mother’s side, tails swishing. One of them peeked out and gave Harry a plaintive little chirp. He felt something warm in his chest at the sight.

“Every family looks the same,” he murmured. “Doesn’t matter if it’s humans or dragons.”

Louis cleared his throat. “Should we… leave them in peace?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. They deserve it.”

Carefully, the seven students backed away. No one spoke as they retreated, each step feeling oddly ceremonial, like leaving a sacred place. As they passed under the arch of the cave entrance, Harry glanced back one final time.

The mother dragon was settling in, wings folded protectively over her children. For all her size and fire, she looked… content.

And Harry thought that maybe, if more wizards could see dragons like this, the world would be a better place.



The cold air grew sharper as seven students emerged from the treeline. The northern wind whipped across the open expanse of stony beach. Clumps of wiry grass bent low, hissing with each gust.

Victor Krum was the first to notice Harry had drifted away from the path, boots crunching over gravel toward the curve of the shore. He frowned, tightening the sling over his healing shoulder.

“Harry,” he called, raising his voice above the wind, “where are you going?”

Harry paused, one hand resting on the strap of his satchel. He turned back, face thoughtful, eyes fixed on the distant water. “Do you remember,” he said, “where we caught the poachers? They were almost at the seaside. Practically halfway down the slope.”

Victor nodded slowly. “Yes…they were trying to flee.”

Harry nodded. “Exactly. But think about it: why go to the sea at all? If they were confident enough to drag three hatchlings across half the island, they must have had a faster escape plan.”

Ingrid, her pale braid lifting in the breeze, tilted her head. “So you think there was a ship?”

“Or a boat,” Harry said. “Hidden. That’s why the Aurors never mentioned finding it. They probably cloaked it with concealment charms. Maybe even anchored it offshore.”

Marek squinted out over the water. “Wouldn’t the Aurors have checked?”

“Only if they knew precisely where to look,” Harry replied. “Some invisibility charms react to specific passwords or gestures. And the ocean’s the perfect hiding place.”

Victor exhaled slowly. “Alright. Then let’s see what they were planning.”

Sonja shot him a skeptical look. “And if we find it? Are we commandeering a ship now?”

Harry smiled faintly. “Just having a look.”

They picked their way down the slope, boots sliding over loose shale and damp sand. When they reached the flat stretch of beach, the waves broke against black rocks in a steady rhythm, white foam gleaming under the pale sun.

For a long moment, the group simply watched the horizon. A cold emptiness spread before them—gray water and endless sky. Ingrid shaded her eyes and peered out.

“There’s nothing here,” she called back. “I don’t see anything at all.”

Harry didn’t answer. He pulled out his wand and murmured a detection charm, the tip glowing a soft green. “Homenum Revelio.”

The charm pulsed, but the air stayed still.

Victor tried next. “Specialis Revelio!”

Again, nothing.

Marek sighed and began walking the tideline. “Perhaps we’re imagining—” He stopped abruptly, pointing at the pebbles. “There’s a boat.”

The others jogged over to see it: a narrow, weathered rowing skiff beached above the waterline. It looked battered, as though it had been dragged through rocks. The oars were gone.

Louis frowned. “They must have came in that.”

“That’s just it,” Harry said softly. “They didn’t came all the way in that.”

He turned, scanning the sea. Something tugged at his instincts—an itch of wrongness in the way the waves broke, just beyond the shallow surf.

Luis squinted. “Wait.”

Everyone stilled.

“Do you see that?” he asked, pointing. “Right there—watch the waves.”

At first it looked like nothing but churning water. But then Harry saw it: each time a swell rolled in, it crashed oddly in a particular spot—foaming up as if colliding with something solid. Then the water slid back as though the obstacle had disappeared.

Victor sucked in a sharp breath. “There’s something out there.”

Sonja narrowed her eyes. “That’s… at least the length of a fishing trawler.”

Harry’s heart beat faster. “That’s no accident. Someone left it cloaked.”

He raised his wand again and spoke firmly. “Finite Incantatem!”

The waves kept rolling, unchanged.

Ingrid tapped her chin. “Perhaps it’s layered concealment. Try a dispelling hex with intent.”

Harry nodded and drew in a steadying breath. He thought of the ship. He imagined the poachers sneaking aboard. He thought of the hatchlings caged in iron.

And then he raised his wand and spoke with conviction.

“Ostendo Veritatem!”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, like a fog burning off in the morning sun, the shimmering outline of a ship began to emerge—broad and low in the water, its dark hull covered in barnacles. Sails were furled tight against the masts, and the deck was littered with crates and ropes.

Louis whistled low. “Merlin’s beard.”

Victor exhaled. “A smuggling vessel.”

“Probably charmed to run silent and invisible,” Harry said. “This was their escape plan. They’d have vanished into the sea before anyone knew what happened.”

Marek took a step back from the surf. “What do we do now?”

Harry looked at him, then back at the looming shape in the water. “We tell the Aurors. And the Headmaster.”

Sonja rested her hand on his shoulder. “And maybe we have a look inside before they come.”

Victor’s grin was tired but fierce. “One last adventure?”

Harry felt a rush of determination. “One last adventure.”

He turned to the others. “Ready?”

They all nodded.

“Then let’s see what else they were hiding.”



They rushed down the rocky shore, the waves slapping cold foam over their boots as they reached the beached rowing boat the poachers must have used. It looked older up close—gray paint peeling, iron nails rusting along the seams.

Victor eyed it warily. “That’s barely seaworthy.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Harry replied, already pulling his wand. “It just had to ferry them to the ship.”

With a murmured Transfiguro, he conjured two solid wooden oars across the thwarts. Sonja climbed in next, bracing herself against the cold. The others followed one by one, until the small vessel rocked with their combined weight.

Victor remained standing on the pebbled bank, his broom in hand. “I’ll scout ahead,” he called. “If there’s anything waiting on the deck, I’ll signal.”

Harry nodded. “Don’t go in alone.”

Victor flashed a grim smile. “Not stupid enough for that.”

And with a kick of his foot, he mounted the broom and soared low over the water. The wind caught his cloak, snapping it behind him in a dark banner as he circled the slowly materializing ship.

Harry and the others began rowing, oars biting into the sea. The enchanted hull glistened in patches, flickering from invisible to solid and back again. Each pull of the oars brought them closer, the ship’s size swelling until it loomed over them like a fortress.

When they reached the shadow of the hull, Victor’s voice drifted down.

“It’s clear!” he called. “Deck’s empty!”

A length of knotted rope dropped over the side—Victor’s handiwork. He braced it with a hooked boot as the boat bumped the hull, rocking in the waves.

“Ladies first,” Marek teased, though his voice was tight.

Sonja shot him a look and started climbing. One by one, they scrambled up the makeshift ladder, boots scuffing wet wood. Harry was last, the salt spray cool on his face as he clambered over the railing.

They all stood together, panting, taking in the ship. It was eerily still—no crew, no sound but the water lapping the hull.

Harry glanced around. “Anyone else feel like we just stepped into someone’s trap?”

Victor rested his hand on the hilt of his wand. “Then let’s spring it together.”

They moved across the deck in a cautious line, wands raised. A set of double doors led into the main hold. Harry exchanged a look with Sonja, then pushed one open.

What lay beyond the threshold made every one of them stop cold.

They had expected a cramped hold or hidden crates. Instead, the doorway opened into a cavernous interior that defied logic. A vast space—far larger than the ship itself—unfolded before them, glowing with lanternlight. Dozens of partitions and fences divided the hold into pens and enclosures, many lined with runes.

Sonja whispered, “This… this is impossible.”

“It’s not,” Harry said quietly, heart thumping. “It’s a magically expanded hold. Like a wizard tent. But this… this is a floating menagerie.”

They stepped inside, and the scope became clear.

On the nearest platform, a unicorn lay curled beneath a charmed canopy, a golden chain glinting around its delicate neck. Beyond it, a line of cages held two miserable-looking hippogriffs. In the corner, house-elves huddled together, eyes wide and afraid. A plump niffler dozed under a heap of straw. Even more creatures—manticores, kneazles, phoenix chicks—watched them warily from behind magical wards.

“Merlin’s ghost,” Marek breathed. “They were trafficking everything.”

Harry’s jaw tightened. “This is organized crime. Not just a few poachers.”

Louis moved closer to a shelf piled with ledgers and papers, his eyes scanning each title. He plucked up a thick binder and flipped it open. A list of transactions, meticulously recorded in spidery handwriting:

—Unicorn foal: sold to Bellamy & Sons, Brussels.

—Two manticores: shipment arranged to Milan.

—Four house-elves: paid by the Sarnov Consortium.

Marek turned a page and sucked in a breath. “Look at this… these records go back years.”

Victor leaned over his shoulder. “This is an entire supply chain. Buyers across Europe.”

Harry’s gaze fell on a thick envelope near the ledger. He picked it up and unfolded a letter with shaking fingers.

The parchment was cheap. The handwriting was hurried.

> To the Brothers Gryel,

I write as promised. There is a cave on the northwestern cliffs of the island. Inside is an old female dragon. She has recently hatched a clutch of young. None of the staff will go near it. If you are clever, you can take the hatchlings without drawing attention.

In return for this information, you will deliver the agreed sum to the Gringotts drop point.

Destroy this letter.


Harry read it twice before he could speak. “This… this came from inside Durmstrang.”

Victor’s face darkened. “A professor.”

Sonja’s voice was low and dangerous. “It explains why no one ever checked the cave.”

Marek turned to Harry. “What do we do?”

Harry folded the letter carefully. “We can’t trust the Headmaster. Not with this. We’ll send it straight to the Aurors. The ones who helped us.”

Victor nodded. “Agreed. They’re the only ones who have no stake in this place.”

Louis began snapping photos of the ledgers, the cages, the creatures—evidence that couldn’t be erased by burning a single document.

Sonja took a deep breath. “This isn’t just a poaching ring. It’s a network.”

Harry slipped the letter into his cloak. “Then we end it.”

And for the first time since the hatchlings had flown into their lives, he realized something.

This wasn’t an accident.

It was a war.