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The expressions on all three faces froze at once.
"What did you say?" Harry suspected he'd misheard. His brain stalled completely.
Hermione took a sip of apple juice, perfectly composed.
"I said, the dragon from today's competition is my pet."
"..."
A beat of silence. Then Harry shook his head sharply. "But wasn't it brought in by the Ministry of Magic..."
"Who told you something brought in by the Ministry can't be mine?" Hermione cut him off, set down her cup, and stood. "Come on. Seeing is believing."
She offered nothing else and turned toward the Forbidden Forest.
Harry, Delacour, and Ginny exchanged a look. They were full of doubts. They followed anyway.
The edge of the Forbidden Forest at night was even more shadowed and still than during the day.
Several enormous metal cages had been arranged in a clearing, each holding one of the dragons from the competition. A handful of Ministry dragon handlers stood guard around the perimeter, and Hagrid was among them, clutching a massive slab of meat and attempting to calm one of the more restless creatures.
He looked up when he saw Hermione approaching with the others. "Hermione? Harry? What are you doing out here?"
"Come to see my pet," Hermione said, walking straight past him toward the largest cage, the one that held the Hungarian Horntail.
"Hey! Lady Witch, that's dangerous!" one of the handlers called out immediately.
Hagrid tensed. "Hermione, that Horntail's got the worst temper of the lot — be careful!"
He wasn't worried about Hermione, though. He was worried about the dragon.
If it was dim enough to take a snap at her, he feared she'd butcher it on the spot.
As a devoted lover of dragons, Hagrid found this deeply concerning.
Hermione acted like she hadn't heard a word. She walked right up to the bars.
The Hungarian Horntail had been snorting and shifting irritably, until it saw her. Something flickered in those huge golden vertical pupils. The dragon went still. A sound like a low, rolling purr rose from its throat.
Hermione reached through the thick metal bars and gently stroked its massive head.
That enormous, terrifying skull, all horns and armored scales, turned docile as a housecat. It leaned into her palm and rubbed the side of its face against her hand.
Every jaw in the clearing dropped.
Harry, Ginny, and Delacour stared, completely speechless.
The dragon handlers looked at each other. Disbelief didn't quite cover it.
Hagrid rubbed his eyes. He walked over, circled the cage once, circled it again, then turned to Hermione with his mouth working. "Hermione... what in the world... how is it..."
Hermione withdrew her hand and gave him a brief, indifferent glance.
She certainly wasn't about to explain that this entire batch of so-called Ministry dragons had been arranged by her, through a certain former professor, with everything perfectly above-board and legal.
After she'd torn through the Ministry, and then the Bellatrix Lestrange breakout had sent Minister Fudge into a flat panic, Fudge had become desperate to shore up the Ministry's defenses. Lockhart had stepped in at precisely the right moment, proposing a sweeping upgrade to the Ministry's security forces and volunteering personally to oversee it. The terrified Fudge had approved it almost on the spot, handing Lockhart a remarkable amount of authority.
Lockhart's influence in the Ministry had climbed steadily after that.
It hadn't taken long before he'd pushed through the acquisition of a highly aggressive dragon collection under the banner of "enhancing the Ministry's deterrent power, following the Gringotts model." Several key Ministry areas now had dragons on guard duty.
As for where those dragons had actually come from, that was Hermione.
When the Triwizard Tournament needed dragons, the requisition was a formality.
Hermione ignored the stares. She turned to the Horntail and said, "Its name is Kuntukutakatikotsuvaxilason."
Harry asked automatically, "Kuntu-what?"
"Kuntukutakatikotsuvaxilason," Hermione repeated.
"Purrr..." The Horntail seemed to recognize its name. It pressed its head against Hermione's hand again, a deep, satisfied rumble building in its chest.
Hermione patted its nose. "Alright, stop being clingy. It can still tell the difference between one big meal and a steady supply."
The Horntail didn't appear to appreciate this assessment. It snorted twice, swung its enormous head around, and fixed Harry with a flat, deeply unimpressed glare. It bared its teeth.
"Whoa!" Harry lurched back, nearly colliding with Delacour. "What — what's wrong with it?"
"It's complaining," Hermione said. "It says you acted far too stupidly. You couldn't use your wand, you didn't summon your broom, and you made its job incredibly difficult. It had to pretend to chase you with genuine menace while carefully calibrating its strength and aim so it didn't actually hurt you." She paused. "It also says that if you'd managed even a single spell, it could have conveniently collapsed and played dead, and everyone could have finished early."
"..."
Harry's face went crimson.
So his heart-pounding, death-defying dragon duel had been, from his opponent's perspective, a laborious performance opposite a hopeless leading man.
Ginny and Delacour were fighting very hard not to laugh. Neither was winning.
"Isn't that just cheating?" Harry finally managed, after holding it in for what felt like a long time. His voice had a distinct lack of confidence about it.
"Yep," Hermione said pleasantly. "It's cheating. What of it?"
Harry's voice rose. "It's not fair to Cedric and the others!"
"Fair?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You being able to cheat is your advantage. Having an advantage is part of your strength. They didn't have one because they didn't have the means, or rather, they didn't have me. Who's fault is that?"
She looked at him, and her tone shifted to something quieter, more deliberate.
"And do you honestly think that if I hadn't helped you, no one else would have? To some extent, your championship was practically predetermined. If anything, losing would have been the real problem. As for Cedric and the others, they seem to have lost. Whether that turns out to be a good thing or not, who can say?"
Harry scratched his head. He had the vague sense that something important was buried in what she'd just said, some thread he should be pulling on, but every time he reached for it, it slipped away.
He gave up on that and remembered something else. "Wait, how did you even know I'd draw the Kun... the Kun..."
"Kuntplute Fiddle-steak Custard Tart Soda Marathon," Hermione supplied, without blinking.
Harry: "..."
Ginny: "..."
Delacour: "..."
...Was that what she'd said before?
Harry decided not to pursue the name. He nodded. "Right. That one. How did you know I'd draw that one?"
"I didn't."
"What?" Harry blinked. "Then how did you—"
He'd been about to ask how she'd arranged the cheating in advance, but the words died somewhere before they reached air. It didn't seem like the most dignified question.
The corner of Hermione's mouth curved. "Simple. Because all four dragons are mine."
Harry, Ginny, and Delacour were struck absolutely senseless. They stared at her. Nothing moved behind their eyes.
Hermione ignored this and turned to the other cages, pointing to each one in turn.
"That one's name is Dalabengba Bandabedibudobiruweng."
"That one is Princess Miamorasunah Daniexielihong."
"And this one, Mengdalucruxibogubichi Balucheng."
[FULL STORY ACCESS]
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