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“Albus, are you serious?” Minerva asked in disbelief.
“Not at all, but I’m sure Mr. Black would like to know what his Godson is getting into, here,” Albus replied with smirk at the age-old joke.
Minerva glared at him. She waiting for him to stop snickering before being able to ask, “How many dragons are going to be in this tournament?”
“Not too many,” Albus answered. “Just one for each champion, after all.”
“Can they not just face the same dragon, each their turn?” Minerva asked, still shocked at what this task was going to be.
“That would be a bit much on the singular dragon having to redo the same thing all the time,” Albus said. “Besides, each dragon has their own personality. That way, each champion is unable to copy exactly what the previous champion had done. Sure, they can come up with similar spells. But each champion paired with a different dragon will be a unique experience.” He really was quite proud of this idea, never mind the smoke coming up from the trees that they could see from the window.
“I remember Potter’s second year,” Minerva began. “One dragon was bad enough... now we have four?”
“Ah, but my dear, this year we have Mr. Charlie Weasley taking care of them,” Albus said. “I, for one, have the utmost confidence in his dragonologist training.” Almost as if proving what he just said, the smoke suddenly disappeared in a huge geyser. Someone must have used the Aqua spell on one—or all—the dragons.
Minerva sighed heavily before shifting to her cat form. She hissed at him, at the whole stupid mess, before trotting out, tail held high.
As a cat, she headed through the castle until she came upon the door for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. She was about to shift back to go in, but instinctively moved a front paw up over her ears first, as if having a short bath before changing back to human form.
She walked right into a mess.
A desk was on fire. Tiny dragon footprints of ash marked paths on the floor. One dragon was currently chewing on a candlestick. Another was flying around, trying to get out. The third was being held rather roughly by Mad-Eye. It did not look pleased at its mistreatment. As for the fourth one, it wasn’t even in sight at the moment.
Minerva silently prayed to Merlin that the blasted thing was already in the bag.
Mad-Eye was currently trying to stuff the four tiny model dragons into a bag, starting with the one he had in his fist, but not having much luck. They may have been mere miniatures of the real deals out there trying to burn down half the Dark Forest, but they were still rather problematic.
“YEAAOOOCHHHH!!!” Mad-Eye suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs, dropping the Horntail model to the floor. He lifted a burnt finger, tiny red blisters bubbling up. After sucking on it for a moment, he snapped, “I swear to Merlin these bloody models are worse than the real ones! Oh! No. No! There goes the Green Welsh!” He watched helplessly as the little model scurried out the half-closed door faster than one could blink or pull out a wand.
Great. Now everyone knew where the fourth one was. Too bad it was getting away!
“I’ll get it,” Minerva said as she sighed irritably. “Stun the other three. They can sleep in that bag until we need them.” She shifted back to her cat form, ignoring Mad-Eye’s scowl.
One dragon really was bad enough, even if it was a fake.
The cat tore down the hallway after it, following the delicate burning sent of tiny flames. Her cat-like hunting instinct took over as she chased the damn thing all the way down the stairs until both ended up behind a large statue of a wizard on a Pegasus.
The little dragon was trapped against the wall, an enormous animal bearing down onto it. Opening its mouth, it let out a pitiful squeak of fear before blowing out a long tiny flame, singeing the whiskers on the cat.
For one moment, Minerva had felt a little sympathy for the dragon but then, her burning whiskers made her hiss angrily. She pounced, earning a sharp nip in her paw before catching the thing in her mouth.
The dragon let out another terrified squeak as the cat carried it. Wings flapped helplessly in a mouth full of teeth.
Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!
The cat stopped. After another squeak or two, she put the poor dragon down in front of her. A low growl escaped her throat as she put a paw on it’s back, right between the flailing wings.
Meow?
The dragon continued to squeak. This was it. This was how it was going to die, not that it was technically alive in the first place, but still! This horrible monster was going to kill it now. It started squeaking incessantly in terror as the cat moved closer. Another meow escaped its lips as the paw on its back began to stroke down the poor little dragon’s spine. The terrified reptile cowered down against the floor as the cat moved even its head ever closer to the dragon.
Suddenly, the cat began rubbing her head along the shaking dragon’s side.
Purr. Purr. Purr. Purr. Purr!
The wee dragon did not know what to make of this, but that sound was soothing. The dragon slowly settled down, folding its wings along its sides.
The cat picked it up in her mouth once more, like a mother cat carrying a little kitten. The dragon was still about unsure about all this, but at least it was no longer struggling. It hung limp, allowing the cat to carry it back to the classroom.
Minerva jumped up onto the desk where Mad-Eye sat, purring deeply to get his attention while the dragon shifted a little between her fangs, as if being lulled to sleep by the rhythm.
Mad-Eye was still glaring into the bag to make sure the other three dragon models behaved. Looking around, he saw the cat, nearly petted it before remembering who she was, then looked at the dragon model in her mouth.
“There you are!” Mad-Eye muttered, pulling out his wand. He stunned it before holding the opening of the bag out for the cat to drop the dragon in.
The cat jumped back to the floor. A moment later, Minerva was back in her human form again. Both peered into the bag of sleeping mini-dragons.
Yes, one dragon was bad enough... now they had four!
