We checked out each one and determined they’d all been accounted for on the night in question. And since native Welsh Greens all stay far away from the cities by nature, that left only one option.”
Ron nodded. “A certain Norwegian Ridgeback that only a few people know about, and that we three are nominally responsible for.”
“We four,” Harry corrected, tossing a sidelong glance at Hagrid.
“Not to mention,” Ron added, “That several of the Muggle witnesses that night reported seeing a ship broken through the ice of the Thames. Some said it was a long old ship with masts and a great paddlewheel. Others said it was a regular old tugboat. Same place, same time.”
Hermione went on, “So we made some quick deductions, and then came straight here to ask Hagrid what, precisely, he was up to, and who else had come along for the ride.” At this, she turned to her daughter with a pointed look.
“What were we supposed to do?” Rose said shrilly. “Let poor old Hagrid go off and try to rescue Norberta by himself in that floating bucket of his? He would have, you know! We had an obligation to help, all three of us. It wasn’t my fault that Zane Walker ended up coming along for the ride! I wanted to send him back to Alma Aleron the moment Ralph Ducked him here!”
James saw what was happening an instant before his Aunt Hermione raised her eyebrows and turned to look back at her husband, a sly, knowing expression on her face.
“Nary a word,” Hagrid repeated emphatically. “It wasn’t me this time.”
Ralph smacked a hand to his forehead.
Rose looked from her mother to her father, then across the table to her uncle, who dipped his eyes to the tabletop and fingered his empty teacup.
Rose said, “You didn’t know any of that… did you?”
“It’s the oldest trick in the Auror book,” James sighed, flopping back in his chair. “Convince them you already know everything, and then just sit back and listen. He’s been doing it to Albus, Lil, and I for years.”
“But…!” Rose fumed, her cheeks going deep crimson. “But you said…!” She glared at her uncle accusingly.
Harry said, “It’s like I told you: it’s my job to work things out.
You were very helpful, Rose. Thank you.”
Hermione turned to Hagrid. “How could you let them come?” she asked reproachfully. “That was extremely dangerous.”
“No more than anything we did in our day,” Ron said softly, “and for the exact same dragon.”
“That’s what I told them!” Rose spluttered. “We were just finishing what you started!”
Hermione gave her daughter a stern look. “Except that we succeeded. You lot set a dragon loose in London.”
“Oh, don’t blame them,” Hagrid moaned, shaking his great head mournfully. “It’s all my fault. I never should o’ let ‘em come along.
Never should ‘ave involved ‘em at all. I was just so worried about Norberta. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight.”
Harry reached around James’ shoulders and touched Hagrid’s arm. “There’s no blame to be had. I know how persistent these three can be. Mainly because I remember how persistent us three used to be.
There’s nothing to be gained by pointing fingers now.”
Ralph, still standing behind Hagrid’s chair, piped up, “Especially since I tried to warn them over and over that the whole plan was a nightmare from the start!”
Hermione nodded with feeling. “Just like I tried to warn these two back when we were still students and Norberta was just a hatchling.
Some body needs to be the voice of reason.”
“Thank you!” Ralph nodded, holding out his hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s a thankless job, innit?”
“Prudence and discretion are rarely popular,” Hermione agreed wisely, now glancing aside at James, who sank lower in his seat.
“The point is,” Harry spoke up, “This is a serious dilemma that needs to be resolved. We all have a hand in causing it. So it’s up to us to try to mend it before any more Muggle Londoners are terrorized by a dragon in their streets.”
Hagrid nodded. “Or Norberta has to go one more day starvin’ and terrified in th’ city somewheres.”
Hermione gave him an impatient look. “Or any poor old gamekeeper gets sent away to Azkaban for the rest of his life. Let’s try to keep this in perspective, shall we?”
Harry sat up in his chair and put his spectacles back on. “We’ve been fortunate so far that Norberta went into hiding somehow. But it won’t last forever. The first task is to find her and get her out of the city without anyone else seeing her, Muggle or otherwise. The second task…?” He glanced across the table to Ron, who perked up.
“I spoke to Charlie this afternoon by floo. He says they’re pretty crowded now, what with the Romanian government rounding up and interring all registered dragons in his preserve. But according to him, there’s always a space for Norberta, even if it means letting her bunk with the twins in their apartment in Brașov.”
“But!” Hagrid said, sitting up in his seat and putting both hands flat onto the table. “I already made arrangements here! The barn’s all emptied out an’ awaitin’!”
Ron suddenly arched his eyebrows and made a point of arranging the cups and saucers on the table before him.
“Hagrid,” Hermione said gently. “You know you can’t keep Norberta here on Hogwarts grounds. Headmaster Merlin may have a soft spot for dangerous creatures, just like you, but even he won’t turn a blind eye to a contraband dragon. And you can’t possibly think you can keep it a secret from him…?”
Hagrid sat rigid for a long moment, chewing his lips and staring hard at Hermione. Then he slumped back again, producing a strained creak from his chair. “I know,” he admitted sadly. “I’ve known all along. It’s daft, it is. I guess I was just hopin’ that, once th’ deed was done an’ she was here…”
“It’s better this way,” Harry nodded. “For everybody involved.”
“Not fer Norberta!” Hagrid exclaimed, lifting his shaggy head again. “She’ll go crazy, all cooped up with them Romanian Longhorns!
They’re not compatible with Ridgebacks, an’ they’re powerful territorial creatures, those Longhorns! Norberta’s already half-lame, what with ‘er bad wing! They’ll sense weakness an’ make mincemeat out o’ the poor old girl!”
“It’s already settled,” Ron said, finally looking up from the table.
“If we can get Norberta out of the city on your ship, we only have to get her as far as the wizard port in Bruges. We’ve arranged an airship that can get her the rest of the way to Charlie in Brașov, no questions asked, cash on the barrelhead.”
“An’ whose payin’ fer it?” Hagrid demanded, clearly groping for any excuse to deny the plan.
“We all pitched in,” Hermione said, watching Hagrid closely, letting him see her eyes. “And you can, too, if you want. It’s less than you might think. And it’s the least we can do. After all, we really are partly responsible for this whole thing. Even if some of us did try to act as a voice of reason before the fact.” Here, she glanced up at Ralph and offered a small, commiserating smile.
Hagrid drew a huge, quaking sigh, and then nodded slowly. “I suppose yer right. But I won’t let any o’ yeh lot pay a single knut for th’ transport. I’ve plenty o’ money put away, an’ no other ideas what t’ do with it. This is as good a way to spend it as any. The best way of all, prob’ly.”
Hermione nodded and relaxed in her seat.
Ralph asked, “So, if the first job is to find Norberta, how exactly do we do that?”
“There’s no ‘we’,” Harry countered, looking up at the big boy, and then at James and Rose. “You three have done enough already. All we need you for now is to help us pinpoint precisely where Norberta was headed. We’ll take it from there.”
“Thank you,” Ralph said again, finally collapsing into Hagrid’s huge armchair before the fire.
“But Mum—!” Rose protested, but her mother was alread
y shaking her head firmly.
“Not a chance, Rose,” she said, brooking no argument. “You have school tomorrow. No way I’m allowing you to stay out to who knows what hour tonight, even if I can keep my eyes on you this time.”
James blinked in surprise. “We’re doing it tonight?”
“We are doing it,” his father clarified patiently, nodding aside at Ron and Hermione. “We can’t afford to wait any longer. Norberta won’t stay hidden forever. We need to find her now, and get her out of the city immediately, before this whole mess goes total disaster and we’re all on the hook for it.”
“Some more than others,” Ron pointed out quickly, glancing around the table. “Just so we’re clear on that. Yeah?” He turned his gaze apologetically to Hagrid, who nodded sadly.
Rose crossed her arms sullenly. “She was headed southwest,” she admitted in a taut voice. “Low, skipping over cars and rooftops. She couldn’t have gotten far.”
Ron leaned past Hermione and kissed his daughter on the top of her head. “Thanks love. And for what it’s worth, I wish you could come along. But your mum’s right. What kind of dad would I be if I took you out dragon-hunting on a school-night?”
“A bloody brilliant one?” Rose suggested, glancing up at him from beneath her eyebrows.
“Spot on,” he nodded gravely. Hermione elbowed him aside with a roll of her eyes.
“So where will she be hiding?” Ralph asked from the armchair.
“The sewers, maybe?”
Hagrid shook his head. “Nah, nah,” he sighed, “Norwegian Ridgebacks are powerful good at hidin’, but they’ll always look fer someplace that feels recognizable to ‘em. Someplace that reminds ‘em o’ their ancestral homeland, all comfortin’ and familiar.”
“Charlie says the same thing,” Ron agreed. “He says they have strong memories burnt into their instincts of the lands and places they originally came from. He says all we have to do is find someplace that looks and feels like it might fit right into the Norwegian countryside, a hundred years ago.”
James frowned at his uncle. “In modern London?”
Ron shrugged. “Well… sure. You know. Something that feels Norwegian-like. So…” He looked around at the others, “what do things look like in Norway, then?”
“There’s lots of fjords,” Ralph suggested. “My dad’s always going on about the fjords. Says he means to take us there to see them someday. Says they’re a wonder of the world.”
Rose gave a brisk sigh. “There aren’t any fjords in central London.”
“All right, then,” Harry said with a nod. “So, buildings and things. What would look Norwegian enough to attract a scared and homesick dragon?”
Ron sat up and pointed at Harry in inspiration. “Moss on roofs!
With, like, trees growing on top. Right? All fairy-tale and heavy wood and fancy cut-outs on the doors, that sort of thing.” He glanced aside at Hermione. “Er, right?”
“This is definitely a problem,” Harry said, “if none of us has any idea what architectural details might look Norwegian enough to attract a wayward dragon.”
“Um,” James said, his eyes going wide as an idea materialized, fully formed, in his head. “Will you let me come along tonight…?”
“No,” Hermione repeated, putting her hand down on the table.
“We’ve already been over this— ”
“IF,” James interrupted, glancing from his aunt to his father, knowing that he was severely pressing his luck, “if I can find us an expert on all sorts of architecture?”
Harry studied his son, his eyes probing, skeptical but reluctantly considering. “And just who,” he asked slowly, “might this architectural expert be?”
19. – Back to London
“You told your dad!?” Millie hissed, her eyes bulging in the shadows outside the Hufflepuff common room door.
“I didn’t say any names,” James whispered defensively, glancing around to assure they weren’t overheard. The stacks of barrels along the corridor offered a nominal hiding place, and the low ceiling eliminated echoes. Dimly, a little wistfully, James remembered kissing Millie in almost this exact spot only a few weeks earlier. “I just said I knew somebody who knows architecture. And I can’t tell you what we need a person like that for. Not until you agree to come. And I really hope you will, because, well, we really do need you and your architectural expertise.”
Millie rolled her eyes impatiently. She was dressed in loose grey sweatpants and a yellow Hufflepuff Quidditch tee shirt. The hand-lettered legend across the front read WE’LL HUFFlePUFF and BLOW YOUR HOUSE DOWN!
“James,” Millie said, covering her eyes with one hand. “I’ve got exactly one book on the subject, and I’ve barely had a chance to crack it so far. What sort of ‘expertise’ do you need, exactly?”
James hedged a little, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Well. We need somebody who can recognize building styles that might look at home in… a different country.”
Millie peeked over her hand at him, and then dropped it, cocking her head. “What country?”
“Norway,” James answered, deciding to go for broke.
“I don’t know anything about Norwegian architecture,” Millie said, bracing her hands on her hips. “Not any more than the average person does.”
“I’m the average person,” James said helplessly, “and up until ten minutes ago I didn’t know Norwegian architecture was even a thing!”
“Look, I wouldn’t be any help,” Millie insisted, becoming annoyed. “Whatever you told your dad, I doubt I can live up to it.
When it comes to Norway, I can barely tell a redwood stave from a Romanesque.”
“See?” James brightened, boggling at her in the dark. “You do know what you’re talking about!”
“Those are just words I picked up while skimming books,”
Millie exclaimed in annoyance. “The sentence barely even makes sense.
If you really want someone who knows their stuff, why don’t you go talk to Blake? Poor bloke’s probably still groping around for his invisible car.” She turned away, reaching for the door.
“Millie,” James whispered, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. She halted, but didn’t turn back to him. Still whispering, he said, “I’m sorry for the way I acted that night. I’m not sorry for Blake— I still think he’s an obnoxious, scheming pikey. But I’m sorry to you that I was a jealous, suspicious duffer. And later on the train, it was stupid of me to tell Ralph what I did. I didn’t want you to find out from him. I acted like a coward.”
Millie considered this, one hand still on the latch of the common room door. “I could’ve taken it,” she said quietly. “If you’d just come and told me yourself.”
“I was on my way to do that,” James sighed. “But I kept finding reasons to put it off. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Well,” she nodded, still staring back at the closed door, “you did hurt me. But I’m a big girl. I can handle it. And I’m mostly over it.
Mostly.”
James lowered his hand. “I’m glad. I do really like you, Millie.
I just don’t…”
He stopped, knowing he couldn’t go any further without explaining his connection to Petra, and the hopeless love he felt for her.
Fortunately, he didn’t need to say anymore. Millie glanced back at him over her shoulder, and the look on her face told him she was content to leave it at that.
“This doesn’t make me know any more about Norwegian architecture,” she said, meeting his gaze.
He shrugged and sighed.
Millie turned back to him fully. “But it does make me slightly more willing to help you. If not for your sake, then at least for your dad.
I’ve been hearing about him since I was in nappies. Let me change and get my coat. It’s about time my name appeared in one of Revalvier’s books.”
Merlin came along as well.
James didn’t discover this until they were alre
ady on the ship, barreling along the subterranean tunnels en route back to London. As he and Millie clambered down the steps into the narrow hold, they encountered the headmaster seated on a crate reading a small but immensely thick book, a pair of glinting spectacles perched low on his nose.
James stumbled to a halt so quickly that Millie clambered into him from behind.
The ship rocked precipitously and groaned all around, occasionally juddering as the hull ground against the rushing tunnel beyond. Merlin seemed completely oblivious to these things, but he did clap his book shut and look up at the students, his face merely pleasantly curious.
“I doubt you two have developed your sea legs yet,” he announced, and patted a bench bolted to the sloping hull next to him.
“Do come sit down before you do yourselves harm.”
James hesitated, his mind racing with a mixture of speechless surprise and cold fear. Why was the headmaster here? What did he know? Was he a portent of official trouble to come?
After a moment, Millie pushed James aside and half walked, half stumbled to the bench. Strategically, she sat at the end of the bench furthest from the headmaster, leaving James the space right to him.
With a silent sigh and a gulp, he lurched to the bench and fell to a seat upon it.
Merlin opened his tiny book again, adjusted his spectacles, and casually said, “I trust your father, aunt, and uncle are assisting Mr.
Hagrid in piloting the ship to our destination?”
James nodded uncertainly. He knew that there wasn’t much piloting to be done once the ship was caught in the throat of the rushing tunnels, but felt there was no point in explaining it.
Instead, he asked in a low voice, “I guess we’re all going to be in trouble when we get back?”
“Trouble?” the headmaster repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before. “Whatever for?”
James blinked aside at him. “You know why we’re going to London, right? You’re not just along for the ride?”
Merlin shrugged his huge shoulders. “I know that magical safeguards in the cities have deteriorated to the point that a dragon has penetrated Muggle spaces, causing some distress to hapless witnesses.
James Potter and the Crimson Thread Page 43
