Harry Potter and the Shattered Ring Chapter 30 (The Four-Winged Dragon)

Harry watched as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed to Charlie's bedside, their relief palpable. Mrs. Weasley's hands hovered over her son as if afraid touching him might prove he was merely a dream, while Mr. Weasley kept adjusting his glasses in that nervous way he had when emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"Charlie, dear, how are you feeling?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice trembling slightly despite her obvious efforts to sound calm.

Charlie flexed his arms experimentally, a look of wonder crossing his freckled face. "I feel... fine, actually. Better than fine. Whatever Harry did yesterday--" He paused mid-sentence, his eyes widening as they found Harry standing near the window with Melina. "Blimey, Harry. What was that magic? I've never seen anything like it in my life, and I've worked with some of the most unusual magical creatures on the planet."

Harry felt heat creep up his neck under the scrutiny of Charlie's curious gaze. Around the room, the other members of Charlie's team were stirring, their attention also turning toward him with expressions ranging from grateful to deeply curious.

"It was just a new kind of magic I learned last month," Harry said casually. The last thing he needed was to launch into a detailed explanation of Grace magic and the Erdtree while standing in a Romanian hospital with half a dozen dragon handlers staring at him like he'd just performed the magical equivalent of pulling a rabbit from a hat. "Nothing too complicated."

Charlie's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline in an expression that clearly communicated his opinion of that massive understatement, but before he could press further, Harry redirected the conversation.

"Can you describe this white dragon in more detail?" Harry asked, moving closer to Charlie's bed. "Everything you remember about it."

The color drained from his face, leaving his freckles standing out like ink spots on parchment. His gaze drifted past Harry to the two empty beds that should have held teammates, and his throat worked visibly as he swallowed.

"Tomas and Marta," he whispered, his voice rough with grief. "They're really gone, aren't they? It wasn't just a nightmare."

Arthur's hand came down on his son's shoulder, gripping firmly. "That dragon will pay for what it did, Charlie. I promise you that."

But Charlie was shaking his head, his expression troubled in a way that went beyond simple grief. "I'm not sure about that, Dad. I'm not sure we should even try."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked sharply, exchanging a quick glance with Melina. Her golden eye had narrowed thoughtfully, clearly picking up on the same undertone of uncertainty in Charlie's voice that Harry had noticed.

Charlie ran a hand through his ginger hair, making it stand up in spikes that reminded Harry of Ron. "The thing is... the dragon didn't attack us right away. When we first spotted it, it was just hovering there, maybe three hundred meters up. Watching us. We'd just finished subduing a Swedish Short-Snout--beautiful specimen, perfect for the Tournament--and we were celebrating, getting ready to transport her back to camp."

What Tournament? Harry almost asked, but caught himself. Whatever tournament Charlie was referring to clearly wasn't relevant to the immediate problem of a four-winged lightning-dragon from another dimension prowling the Romanian countryside.

"Can you describe the white dragon?" Harry pressed instead. "Every detail you can remember."

Elena, one of the Spanish handlers Harry had met briefly when they first arrived, pushed herself up on her elbows in her bed. Her dark hair was disheveled, and there were still faint red lines on her arms where burns had been before Harry's healing.

"It was massive," she said, her slight accent making the words sound even more ominous. "Ten times the size of the largest dragon ever recorded. We've handled Norwegian Ridgebacks that seemed enormous, but this thing..." She shook her head. "It made them look like garden lizards."

"Two sets of wings," her twin sister Isabella added from the next bed. "Four wings total, which shouldn't be possible according to every text on dragon anatomy ever written. White scales that seemed to glow, and--" She paused, her brow furrowing as memory surfaced. "Thorns. It had thorns on the back of its head."

Dmitri Petrov, the burly Russian team captain, rumbled from across the room. "When it saw the downed Short-Snout near us, it roared. Not the normal dragon roar we're used to--this was different. Angry. Like we'd committed some unforgivable offense."

"And then the lightning came," Charlie said quietly, his hands clenching into fists on the bedcovers. "A bolt of crimson lightning struck its front claw. At first, I thought it had been struck by a storm, that maybe it would be wounded and we'd have a chance to escape. But instead..." He swallowed hard. "The lightning took the shape of a red spear. The dragon gripped it with its claws like a weapon and hurled it at us."

Harry's mind raced, trying to reconcile this description with what little he knew about the ancient dragons of the Lands Between. Melina had mentioned they could wield lightning, but fashioning it into weapons? That suggested a level of intelligence and control that went far beyond simple elemental breath attacks.

"How far away was the captured dragon when the white one attacked?" Harry asked.

"Maybe ten meters," Charlie replied. "We'd just finished securing the restraining nets. Why?"

Harry frowned, turning the scenario over in his mind. "It doesn't make sense. If this dragon was angry at your group for harming the smaller one, throwing a lightning spear at you lot seems like a good way to accidentally hit it instead. Lightning isn't exactly precise."

"Dragons usually don't care what happens to other dragons," Charlie said. "Unless it's their offspring or a mate, they're largely solitary and indifferent to each other's fates. That's what makes this whole thing so bizarre."

"Unless," Melina's soft voice cut through the conversation, "it believed the downed dragon was immune to lightning as well."

Every head in the room swiveled toward her. Harry watched as Charlie and his teammates seemed to notice the one-eyed woman properly for the first time, their expressions shifting from surprise to curiosity to wariness in rapid succession.

"Who are you?" Elena asked bluntly.

"This is Melina," Harry said quickly, moving to stand beside her. "She's... a friend. And a teacher. She knows more about creatures from the Lands Between than anyone."

"The Lands Between?" Dmitri repeated, his thick eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "What is this place?"

Harry waved off the question. "I'll explain later. Right now, what matters is finding this dragon before it causes more damage." He turned back to Charlie. "I need to know exactly where this happened. The precise location."

"Absolutely not," Mrs. Weasley almost shouted right away, but kept her voice slightly lower than a shout. "Harry, I understand you want to help, but tracking down a creature that killed two experienced dragon handlers is out of the question."

"Mum's right, Harry," Charlie quickly added. "I appreciate what you did for us--Merlin knows we'd all be dead if you hadn't--but going after that thing is suicide. You're not even a fourth year yet."

The reminder of his age stung more than Harry cared to admit. He'd faced down Professor Quirrell, who had an overgrown Voldemort at the back of his head, a basilisk, and Godrick the Grafted, but here in his own world, people still saw him as just a child.

"Are you a secret dragon trainer or something?" Charlie asked, genuine confusion evident in his voice. "Because fighting a basilisk is one thing--brave and incredibly stupid, but at least you were defending yourself. This is different. This is actively hunting something that outmatches you in every possible way."

"Who fought a basilisk?" Dmitri demanded, looking between Harry and Charlie with alarm.

"I can handle this," Harry said firmly, ignoring the question. "I've dealt with powerful creatures before. I just need to know where to find it."

"Harry--" Arthur began, but Charlie cut him off.

"Dad, Mum, why aren't you saying anything?" Charlie demanded, looking at his parents with disbelief. "I'm grateful Harry healed us, truly I am, but sending a fourteen-year-old boy after a creature like that? You can't seriously be considering this."

Arthur exchanged a long look with his wife before sighing. "Things have happened to Harry over the last two months, Charlie. He's... he's not the same boy who left Hogwarts for summer holiday."

"What things?" Charlie asked sharply. "Things that suddenly made him a dragon trainer? Things that give him the ability to heal wounds that resisted every treatment St. Bartholomew's could offer? Dad, what's going on?"

"That's quite enough," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice brooking no argument. "Harry will not be tracking down this dragon. Now that you're healed, we're all returning home, informing Dumbledore of the situation, and that will be the end of it."

Harry felt frustration bubble up in his chest like one of Snape's unstable potions. "With respect, Mrs. Weasley, I'm not asking for permission. This creature is most likely from the Lands Between, which means it's my responsibility to deal with it."

"What the hell is the Lands Between?" Charlie demanded, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Charlie, language," Mrs. Weasley said automatically, though her attention remained fixed on Harry. "Harry Dear, you are only a child. I understand you've been through difficult experiences, but this is far too dangerous. We will return home, inform the proper authorities, and let adults handle this situation."

Harry actually rolled his eyes, a gesture he had never done in front of Miss Weasley. The fact that she looked more hurt than angry only made him feel worse, but he wasn't backing down on this.

"Mrs. Weasley, with all due respect," Melina said, her voice gentle but firm, "Harry may be able to do something that your Headmaster Dumbledore cannot. Professor Dumbledore might be powerful here from what Harry told me, but his magic is nothing compared to Grace when dealing with creatures from my world."

The blunt statement made many feel a little shaken. Charlie's team exchanged bewildered glances, clearly trying to process the idea that there was magic more powerful than Dumbledore's, while Mrs. Weasley's face went through several interesting color changes.

"Lady Melina has a point, Molly," Arthur said carefully. "But I think perhaps it would be better to return home first. Let everyone know we're all right, that Charlie and his team are...mostly safe. Then we can make a proper plan for dealing with this white dragon."

"I need to find this dragon now," Harry insisted. "The longer it stays in this world, the more danger everyone is in. Every day we wait is another day it could attack someone else, another day the barriers between worlds weaken further."

"Harry--" Charlie began, but Harry turned to him with an expression that made the older boy's words die in his throat.

"Where did this happen, Charlie? I need the exact location."

Charlie looked at his parents, then at his teammates, then back at Harry. 

"The northeastern slopes of the Carpathian range," Charlie said finally, his voice heavy with reluctance. "About fifty kilometers from Brașov. There's a cave system near the peak of Mount Făgăraș where the Short-Snout had made her nest. We were in the clearing directly outside the main cave entrance when it appeared."

"Charlie!" Mrs. Weasley gasped, looking betrayed.

"I'm sorry, Mum," Charlie said, not sounding sorry at all. "But if Harry's right about this creature being from whatever the Lands Between is, and if there really is magic that can handle it better than anything we've got..." He shrugged helplessly. 

Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward Charlie. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Charlie said grimly. "If you get yourself killed, Ron will never forgive me, and I'll spend the rest of eternity regretting telling you." He paused, his expression growing even more serious. "And Harry? Whatever you're planning, be careful. That thing is smart."

"I'll be careful," Harry promised.

"Mount Făgăraș," Melina repeated thoughtfully. "We should leave immediately. The trail grows colder with each passing hour."

"You're both mad," Mrs. Weasley said, but her voice had lost some of its earlier certainty. She looked at her husband helplessly. "Arthur, say something."

"What would you have me say, Molly?" Arthur asked gently. "That we should ignore a potential threat to thousands of people because the person capable of stopping it happens to be fourteen? That we should wait for authorities who don't understand what they're dealing with to fumble around while more people die?" He shook his head. "I don't like it any more than you do. But sometimes our children have to do things we wish they didn't."

The resignation in Arthur's voice seemed to drain the fight from Mrs. Weasley. She sagged slightly, one hand coming up to press against her mouth as if physically holding back protests.

"Just..." she began, then stopped, collecting herself. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Harry. Promise me you won't take unnecessary risks."

"I promise," Harry said, meaning it as much as he could while planning to track down an interdimensional lightning-dragon.

"We should go," Melina said quietly to Harry. "The sooner we investigate the site of the attack, the better our chances of tracking the creature."

Harry nodded, then paused, looking back at Charlie and his team. "Thank you. All of you. For trusting me with this."

"Just don't make us regret it," Elena said. "And if you do manage to find that thing, tell it the García twins send their regards."

"And that Dmitri Petrov does not appreciate being used for target practice," the Russian handler added with grim humor.

As Harry and Melina moved toward the door, Mrs. Weasley's voice stopped them one last time.

"Harry?" When he turned, she crossed the room in three quick strides and pulled him into a fierce embrace. "You come back," she whispered fiercely into his ear. "You come back safe, or I'll march into this Lands Between myself and drag you home by your ear."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry managed, returning the hug.

When she finally released him, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Arthur nodded to him gravely, a gesture of trust and faith that made Harry's chest tight.

As they finally left the hospital room, Harry heard Dimitri's voice carry after them.

"Who fought a Basilisk?"

"Harry,"

"You are shitting me!!"

"In the Chamber of Secrets," Arthur confirmed. "With nothing but a sword and Fawkes the phoenix."

"Bloody hell," Charlie breathed. "Maybe he does have a chance against that dragon after all."

The conversation faded as Harry and Melina made their way through the hospital corridors. Harry's mind was already planning, strategizing, trying to remember everything Melina had told him about the ancient dragons.

"You handled that well," Melina observed as they emerged into the morning sunlight.

"Did I?" Harry asked. "Mrs. Weasley looked like I'd just volunteered to wrestle a Hungarian Horntail bare-handed."

"You stood your ground without being disrespectful," Melina replied. "You acknowledged their concerns while remaining firm in your convictions. That's the mark of a true leader, Harry."

Harry snorted. "I'm not a leader. I'm just a kid who keeps stumbling into impossible situations."

"You're a Tarnished who defeated Godrick the Grafted," Melina corrected gently. "And whether you accept the title or not, people are beginning to follow you. To trust your judgment. That's leadership, whether you intended it or not."

They walked in silence for a moment, the Romanian countryside spreading out before them in the morning light. Somewhere out there, a dragon that shouldn't exist was prowling through skies it had no right to inhabit.

"Mount Făgăraș," Harry said finally. "How do we get there?"

Melina's smile was mysterious. "I have my ways. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he said.

Blue light began to swirl around them, and the hospital courtyard dissolved into motes of ethereal radiance. The hunt was on.

.

.

The world solidified around Harry in a cascade of blue light that faded like morning mist, leaving him standing on scorched earth that still radiated heat despite four days having passed since the attack. The clearing before Mount Făgăraș's cave entrance looked like a battlefield from some ancient war--which, Harry supposed grimly, it essentially was.

"Bloody hell," Harry breathed, turning slowly to take in the devastation.

The ground was cratered in places, massive gouges in the earth where something unimaginably heavy had impacted with enough force to compress soil into glass-like sheets. Burn marks scorched the landscape, their blackened traces spreading out like the skeletal fingers of some enormous hand. Trees at the clearing's edge stood as charred sentinels, their bark split and smoking, leaves reduced to ash that still drifted on the mountain breeze.

"This is where it happened," Melina said quietly, her golden eye surveying the destruction. "The scorch patterns suggest multiple lightning strikes in rapid succession. The crater there--" she pointed to the largest depression, easily twenty feet across and deep enough to swallow a person whole, "--that's where the dragon landed. You can see the claw marks."

Harry moved closer to examine the gouges she'd indicated. Four massive trenches scored the earth, each one as wide as his torso and deep enough that he could have laid down in them. The spacing suggested a foot of impossible size, and the depth spoke to weight that made his mind reel trying to comprehend.

"Charlie said it was ten times the size of the largest dragon ever recorded," Harry murmured, running his hand along the edge of one claw mark. The earth was still warm to the touch, fused into something between stone and glass by intense heat. "I don't think he was exaggerating."

They explored the clearing methodically, Melina's trained eye picking out details Harry would have missed. Blast patterns where Charlie's team had fired spells, trying desperately to defend themselves. A patch of disturbed earth where someone had fallen--or been thrown. Spots where blood had soaked into the soil, now dried to a rust-brown that made Harry's stomach turn.

This was where Tomas and Marta had died. Where Charlie and his team had fought for their lives against something that shouldn't exist in this world.

"There," Harry said, pointing to a spot near the cave entrance. "That's where they subdued the Swedish Short-Snout."

Harry studied the area, trying to imagine the scene. The dragon handlers celebrating their successful capture, unaware of the massive predator watching from above. The white dragon seeing what it perceived as an attack on one of its kind. The terrible decision that had led to two deaths and multiple injuries.

"We need to draw it out," Harry said, straightening up and looking at the sky. "It could be anywhere in these mountains by now."

"Perhaps," Melina agreed, her expression thoughtful. "But there may be a way to get its attention. Grace magic is... distinctive. Creatures from the Lands Between can sense it, recognize it as something familiar in this foreign world. If you were to use a significant display of Grace..."

Harry nodded, understanding immediately. "It would be like ringing a dinner bell."

"More like announcing your presence," Melina corrected gently. "Whether it responds with curiosity or aggression remains to be seen."

"Only one way to find out." Harry closed his eyes, reaching for the warmth within him. 

He raised his hand above his head, focusing his will, and formed a massive golden sphere that grew until it was easily the size of a small house. The clearing lit up like midday despite the morning hour, shadows retreating before the brilliant radiance.

With a gesture, he launched it skyward. The golden sphere shot upward like a comet in reverse, climbing higher and higher until it was just a bright point against the blue sky. Then Harry clenched his fist, and it exploded.

The detonation was spectacular. Golden light bloomed across the sky like a second sun, the shockwave rippling outward in visible waves that scattered clouds and sent birds fleeing in panic from their mountain perches. The sound echoed off the peaks, rolling back and forth across the valley in gradually diminishing thunder.

Harry waited, watching the sky, his hand ready to summon his sword at the first sign of movement.

Nothing happened.

Minutes passed. The golden light faded, leaving only normal sunlight and the faint ringing in Harry's ears from the explosion. No massive white dragon appeared. No crimson lightning split the sky.

"Perhaps something more... sustained," Melina suggested. "That was certainly impressive, but it was brief. Over in seconds. What if we need something that maintains a presence?"

Harry considered this, then smiled. "I have just the thing."

He moved to the center of the clearing, positioning himself where the claw marks suggested the dragon had landed. Closing his eyes again, Harry reached deeper into his reserves of Grace than he had since healing Charlie and his team. This time, he wasn't trying to heal or harm. He was trying to create a beacon, a signal that would be impossible to ignore.

"Minor Erdtree," he whispered, but there was nothing minor about the incantation he was channeling.

Golden light erupted from the ground beneath his feet, spreading outward. The tree took form--trunk rising from the scorched earth, branches spreading wide, leaves of pure golden light unfurling like flags. But unlike the modest healing trees he'd created before, this one kept growing.

Ten meters. Twenty. Thirty. The tree climbed toward the sky with single-minded purpose, its roots spreading through the clearing and healing the scorched earth wherever they touched. Grass sprouted in the tree's wake, flowers blooming, life returning to places that had been burned lifeless.

Forty meters. Fifty. The tree finally stopped growing, towering over the clearing like a monument to hope itself. Its light was visible for miles in every direction, a golden beacon that proclaimed the presence of Grace magic to anything capable of sensing it.

Harry stood at its base, breathing heavily from the effort. That had taken more out of him than he'd expected, but the effect was undeniable. If the dragon was anywhere in these mountains, it would know something from the Lands Between was here.

Melina moved beside him, her expression mixing awe with concern. "That was... considerable, Harry. How much did that cost you?"

"I'm fine," Harry assured her, though he was grateful for the tree's trunk at his back providing support. "Just need a minute to--"

The roar cut him off mid-sentence.

It started low, a rumble that Harry felt in his bones before he heard it with his ears. Then it built, climbing in pitch and volume.

"There," Melina said, pointing skyward.

Harry's hand went to his belt, and his Lordsworn's Greatsword materialized in his grip. Above his head, seven golden daggers formed in a protective constellation, rotating slowly as they awaited his command to strike.

Multiple bolts of crimson lightning struck a point in the sky perhaps three hundred meters above them. The air itself seemed to tear, reality parting like a curtain to reveal something massive beyond comprehension.

The white dragon appeared.

Charlie's description hadn't done it justice. Couldn't have done it justice, because words failed in the face of such terrible beauty. White scales that gleamed like polished marble covered a body that dwarfed anything Harry had ever seen. Four wings spread wide enough to cast the entire clearing into shadow, each one tipped with claws that looked capable of piercing castle walls. Crystalline thorns crowned its head in a jagged corona, catching the light from Harry's golden tree and refracting it into rainbow patterns.

But it was the eyes that held Harry frozen. Ancient, intelligent eyes that regarded him with curiosity rather than mindless animal rage. This was no beast acting on instinct. This was a thinking, reasoning being that had chosen to appear.

The dragon stared down at Harry and Melina for a long moment, those impossibly old eyes studying them with interest. Then it roared again--a sound that made Harry's golden tree shudder and sent rocks tumbling down the mountainside--and dove.

The impact as it landed shook the earth like an earthquake. Harry stumbled, nearly losing his grip on his sword as the ground heaved beneath him. The dragon's massive bulk settled onto the clearing with surprising grace for something so large, wings folding against its sides, tail curling around its body.

Up close, it was even more impressive and fearsome. Harry's entire body would fit inside its mouth with room to spare. Its smallest claw was longer than he was tall. This close, he could see that the white scales weren't uniform--some had a pearlescent sheen, others were marked with patterns that looked almost like writing in a language he didn't recognize.

The dragon lowered its enormous head, bringing one eye--each easily the size of a dinner plate--level with Harry. When it spoke, its voice was female and resonated with power that made the air vibrate.

"Why is a Tarnished here?"

.

.

Chapter 31 will come out tomorrow.