Of course, he wasn't just following Hagrid for Dumbledore's sake. He had a more practical reason: ensuring his potion ingredient supply chain remained intact.
"I'm not afraid of anything! I've got Fang!" Hagrid declared, tugging hard at the reluctant boarhound, who seemed far less enthusiastic about venturing into the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid's hand absentmindedly fiddled with the hem of his coat, adjusting it to ensure his battered pink umbrella, the thinly disguised remains of his broken wand, was completely hidden from sight.
"You think you're tougher than Dumbledore, you great lump? This is a situation even he finds troubling," Snape sneered, his wand ready at his side.
"Dumbledore can do anything! I'll tell him you're bad-mouthing him!" Hagrid growled, glaring at the potions master. He didn't hide his disdain, not to mention Snape's own questionable history as a former Death Eater.
"If you think that's a threat, I suggest you swap brains with a Mountain Troll. It might actually improve your reasoning," Snape replied coldly, his lip curling in amusement.
The two trudged further into the woods. The dense canopy overhead twisted and shifted, casting jagged shadows beneath their feet. But before long, both of them sensed something was amiss.
"What's that smell? Burning? Something's scorched!" Hagrid's nose wrinkled in alarm. "I'd bet my last Galleon it's those ruddy Centaurs trying their hand at cooking!"
"Or it's a trap. Rushing headlong into trouble, how typical," Snape snapped, his eyes narrowing.
The eerie stillness gnawed at him. Not a single creature stirred. The usual hum of the forest was absent. Even the low rustle of Acromantulas or the distant howl of wolves was nowhere to be heard.
It was unnatural.
Before Snape could voice his concern, Hagrid's booming shout rang out, filled with disbelief.
"Western Dragon! Western Dragon!"
"Have you lost what little sense you had? Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest doesn't house Western Dragons. Even an idiot like you should know that," Snape scoffed, but his sarcasm faltered.
Just then, a massive figure soared past them, wings beating powerfully.
A Dragon.
A magnificent, fearsome Dragon, its form wreathed in crackling flames.
"You reckless oaf! That's Fiendfyre! Do you have any sense at all?" Snape roared, his face paling as he instinctively flicked his wand, yanking Hagrid back with a forceful spell.
The half-Giant tumbled through several small trees before crashing to the ground with a pained grunt. While it was undoubtedly a rough landing, it was clear that Snape had added a little extra force to his spell, perhaps with some lingering irritation.
"I-I knew that! 'Course I did!" Hagrid stammered, hauling himself to his feet. His face was scratched, and bits of twigs clung to his wild beard, but the lingering fear in his eyes betrayed his bravado.
"Thanks for the help, Professor... Snape," He grumbled.
Snape gave only a derisive snort in reply. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the sky above. Over a dozen fiery Western Dragons, forged from cursed flames, twisted and circled high above the Forbidden Forest.
"Dark wizards! There are dark wizards about, controlling Fiendfyre! What are they up to?" Hagrid growled, trembling with rage.
"Or perhaps," Snape murmured, pulling a telescope from his robes and raising it to his eye, "There's only one dark wizard."
Through the enchanted lens, he spotted a figure standing on the head of one of the burning beasts. His blood ran cold. He had braced himself to see the worst— perhaps Voldemort himself.
But instead, the sight before him sent an entirely different wave of disbelief and fury through his veins.
"That arrogant brat! How dare he!" Snape's voice erupted with rage.
Hagrid gawked at him in confusion. "Who? Who is it?!"
Back at Hogwarts, the commotion had not gone unnoticed. From the castle grounds, young witches and wizards had paused their lessons, eyes wide with awe and terror. The blazing Dragons were impossible to miss.
Even from the Astronomy Tower, students clutched their telescopes in disbelief, their chatter echoing through the stone corridors.
"Are those... Western Dragons?" A girl exclaimed.
In Transfiguration class, Daphne Greengrass's startled voice rang out.
"Hogwarts doesn't keep Western Dragons, Miss Greengrass," Professor McGonagall responded sternly, though the flicker of unease in her eyes was undeniable. "I suggest you return your focus to your work and refrain from making absurd observations."
Professor McGonagall had been guiding the young witches and wizards through their Transfiguration lesson.
Suddenly.
She noticed a cluster of students crowding around the windows.
"What on earth are you all doing?" Professor McGonagall frowned, prepared to reprimand them. But as she reached the window, her stern expression froze.
Above the Forbidden Forest.
A dozen dragons were soaring through the sky, diving and twisting with terrifying ease. The vivid blue flames crackling around them drew a gasp from the usually composed Gryffindor Head of House.
"Fiendfyre!"
She abandoned all thoughts of the lesson. Swiftly, she flung open the window and summoned her broom. Across the castle, other professors were reacting in much the same way.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, however, was notably slower. He leisurely mounted his broom, looking amused as he joined the ranks of the other teachers. Professor McGonagall's frown deepened as she addressed him.
"Professor Lockhart, the castle needs a professor to remain behind. We'll investigate the matter and hope it's not as dreadful as I suspect."
As Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall's word carried the greatest authority in Dumbledore's absence. Not even Gilderoy Lockhart could argue.
"Oh, absolutely! Staying put sounds perfectly delightful. I'll keep an eye on the children… haha." Gilderoy Lockhart chuckled, though there was a peculiar gleam in his eye as he gazed at the distant inferno.
"I mean, terrifying. Absolutely terrifying," He quickly added, mimicking a sheepish Lockhart grin. The absurd display only made Professor McGonagall's brow furrow further. But there was no time for rebuke.
With a series of sharp swishes, the professors soared toward the Forbidden Forest.
"Kids, isn't that something? Fiendfyre, right before your eyes," Gilderoy Lockhart commented as he entered the Transfiguration classroom.
The young witches and wizards crowded around the windows in awe.
"Merlin's beard! Is that really Fiendfyre?"
"No way! How can Fiendfyre look like dragons?"
"Blimey! I reckon that could swallow ten… no, twenty of my uncle's old broomsticks in one gulp!"
The students' astonishment rang through the room.
"Bit of Transfiguration mastery at play, I dare say," Lockhart remarked with a flourish. "Speaking of which, since we're in Transfiguration class, perhaps I could step in? Teach you a trick or two?"
The students, however, showed no interest in the lesson. Their gazes remained fixed on the roaring spectacle beyond the castle grounds.
"That Fiendfyre… it can't be," Daphne Greengrass murmured, paling as she turned toward Aurora Grindelwald, who stood by the window with wide eyes.
Having recently dug into her classmate's infamous family history, Daphne's thoughts raced.
"It's a combination of Paris style Protego Diabolica and Fiendfyre. It can be called a Controlled Fiendfyre!"
Her probing tone may have seemed subtle to her, but in a House like Slytherin, where alliances and whispers ruled the day, few secrets remained hidden.
"Grindelwald!"
"Merlin's pants! Is it your family?"
"Did old Grindelwald break into Hogwarts? Is he planning to take over?"
"Will the school get a new name? Miss Grindelwald, do you think you could put in a good word so my father can stay on as a governor?"
The Slytherins erupted into chatter, each theory more dramatic than the last. Aurora, overwhelmed, turned instinctively to Lockhart, her head tilted in disbelief.
But before she could say a word—
"No! That's not it! I've figured it out!"
A Gryffindor student suddenly slapped their forehead, eyes alight with epiphany.
"It's the news! Remember this morning's Prophet headline? The one claiming Headmaster Dumbledore has Veela heritage! That's the truth!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Old Grindelwald must be here for Dumbledore! He's come to kidnap him! All for love! It's like something out of a romance novel!"
The Gryffindors nodded, enthralled by the scandalous notion. The absurdity of it all seemed perfectly reasonable to them.
Amidst the clamor, Aurora launched herself toward Lockhart, eyes burning with suspicion.
She couldn't shake what she'd just witnessed.
She swore she saw it.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's hand had twitched.
That unmistakable motion.
She'd bet her wand on it— it was her grandfather's signature wand-drawing move.
(End of Chapter)
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