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Dragon Fire


“Carefully.”

“You’re stepping on me.”

“Ouch.”

“Dex, stop those are my toes.”

“Sorry.”

“Shhh guys, or they’ll hear us!”

Dexter, Wally, and Liam were under the invisibility cloak, trying to smush their way between the students streaming out the door of Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, carefully gripping the cloak so that it covered the three of them as they snuck along. They’d already made it past Filch and were on the grounds on the way toward the gates in the early morning sunlight.

“Whoa, guys, I can’t believe we’re invisible, this is so cool.”

“Really cool.”

“Guys shhh.”

A Hufflepuff girl had turned and looked about, but shrugged and moved on when she didn’t see anybody behind her.

Suddenly they were nearly bowled over by Mulciber, who was pushing his way through the crowd. He glanced over his shoulder at the castle, made sure none of the staff were in sight, and grabbed onto the robes of a third year Ravenclaw. He raised his wand to the smaller kid’s neck. “You have spending money?”

“Y - y - yes, I ---”

“Give me your coin purse.”

The poor kid surrendered it quickly.

“That’s not fair!” Dexter cried and Wally covered his mouth with his palm as Mulciber turned about, trying to spot where the teeny little voice had come from. He scowled, then turned to Avery, who was standing beside him as he dropped the robes of the Ravenclaw boy, who ran as quick as he could to disappear among the crowd ahead of him, the further from Mulciber he could get, the better.

Avery was doing the same thing to a Hufflepuff girl and a few steps away was Severus Snape, who was being more clever than brute - being smaller than Mulciber and Avery, he was using magic, tearing holes in the pockets of students passing by and collecting the coins that fell periodically from the ground.

Liam motioned for them to give the three Slytherins a wide berth and they stepped off the path into the new grass, circumventing the danger zone of Mulciber, where he had caught up a another student to torment…

Its not right, thought Wally angrily.

Suddenly, Severus Snape looked up and his eyes moved about the gateway area, his eyes travelling through the crowd, his senses keened. He let the students flow past him a moment, oblivious to their passing, trying to find what it was he’d heard… seen….


First years.




The sun was dazzlingly bright. James felt blinded by it. He stumbled along the path across the grounds towards Hogsmeade, Sirius’s palms on his shoulder, directing him along. He felt sick with nerves and had twice tried to turn back to the castle to throw up. “Bloody hell. What if this doesn’t work out? What if I annoy her? What if she hates me? What if we can’t be friends anymore after this and she never speaks to me again?” James asked frantically as Sirius pushed him along, Peter peering eagerly into his coin purse as he ran alongside them, Remus slow but steady, taking up the rear…

“Then it’ll be just like every other day with Evans,” said Sirius. “She used to not speak to you as a norm. Remember those days?”

“No.”

“I do.”

“I can’t go back, Sirius. I’ve opened my fat mouth too many times, confessed too much of how I feel. Oh Sirius. If she hates me today, I’m done for. If I mess up today, I’ll never -- I’ll never get another chance. I can’t breathe. Is this what a panic attack feels like?”

“Yes,” supplied Remus.

“I’m having one, then,” James complained.

“You’ll do brilliantly. Repeat after me, Prongs -- I’m a fucking sexy beast and I’ve got on the lucky jacket and therefore I cannot fuck up.”

“I am a fucking sexy beast and I’ve got on the lucky jacket and therefore I cannot fuck up,” James repeated.

“Excellent.” Sirius grinned.

The four Marauders were just arriving to the gates of the castle, where they would cross into Hogsmeade from the grounds of the castle, when Remus heard his name being called from behind. He paused and looked back to see Oliver running down the path. “REMUS!” he yelled.

“What’s he doing? I told him to rest,” Remus murmured. “Hey guys, go on, I’ll catch you up, alright?”

Sirius nodded. “See you.” And he continued on pushing James along, afraid if he stopped that James would never make it into the village.

Peter looked back, “You’re alright, Remus?”

“Fine, just going to see what Oliver Kent wants then I’ll catch you lot up. Go spend your galleons, Pete. I’ll be fine.” He smiled as Peter gleefully turned and rushed after Sirius and Peter as Oliver ran toward him, breathlessly panting.




It was exactly the sort of thing Severus Snape needed.

He ran up the path, back toward the castle, practically skipping for joy. He raced along, searching the crowd as he passed through them, his pockets rattling with the stolen coins, until he saw her. Lily Evans, coming down the stairs of the castle with Frank Longbottom, Ali Prewitt, and Andy Woodhouse, who carried a cane which he swung about before him, checking the way for debris he might fall over, even as Frank Longbottom had his arm hooked through his mate’s arm, keeping him safe. Lily was whispering to Ali, dressed in a nice corduroy skirt and light sweater, which hugged her every curve in the prettiest ways…

Severus felt his mouth run quite dry and he had to pause a moment to collect himself before he ran up to Lily Evans and grabbed a hold of her wrist. “Lily.”

She pulled back, “Sev, stop. Don’t grab me like that, you know I hate that!” she protested.

“I’m sorry,” Severus said, “It’s urgent.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked, seeing his eyes were flashing.

“Your first years…” he panted, “Three of your first years… James Potter’s given them his cloak.”

“What?” Lily looked at him confused, then, “Severus Snape, if this is some ridiculous story to tell me to stop me going to see James Potter today --”

“Lily!” he cried, “I swear to you. Their names are Dexter, Wally, and Liam. They’re going to end up killed.”




Charlus Potter woke slowly, a cough that gripped his chest rocking his body as he hacked, dragon fire alive in the pit of his belly, his lungs tearing. There was blood staining the knee of Dora, as she knelt beside him, her hand on his forehead, holding him… “It’s okay, my love, shhh, deep breaths…” she pleaded, coaxing him into calming the coughing.

Charlus blinked up at her, dizzy from the horrible fit… smoke leaking from his mouth.

“Alastor… he’s… is he?” Charlus choked on the smoke.

“Alastor is alright,” Dora whispered, “You got him out in time, love. You got him out in time.” She ran her hand over his head, wishing there was more to do to calm his coughing.

On 14 April, well really very early on 15 April it had been, the patronus of Kingsley Shacklebolt had awakened the Potters - a lynx. The lynx had told them of the fires, warning them to stay in their home, but to prepare - just incase - for some might soon be there to seek refuge… telling them that Resistance members and Ministry workers all across the country were victims in a mass attack… It was Charlus who thought of Alastor Moody, still recovering in his home, Charlus who thought of the struggle Moody might have to escape an attack like that… and he’d run from the safety of the Potter house’s fidelus charm, followed by Dora, and they’d disapparated to Moody’s house. The house was engulfed when they go there, thick green flames that licked the white wood, rising, climbing, a huge Dark Mark burning in the sky above the building.

“Alastor!” Charlus Potter had not hesitated. He had run into the building, his wand drawn, even as he choked on the smoke, his lungs burning, Dora screaming from outside… a siren wailing somewhere in the distance… Charlus had pushed his way through fallen beams, using his wand to protego overhead as bits of wood and plaster, flaming hot, fell from the ceiling… and there, amidst the smoke and the ash and the burning was Alastor Moody, trying desperately to pull himself up from the floor with his crutches. “Alastor!”

Outside, Walburga Black had taken hold of Dora Potter and disapparated with her, struggling back to Malfoy Manor, even as Dora screamed for her husband’s safety… and when Charlus had dragged Moody from the flames, Abraxas Malfoy was there to take him… and there Alastor Moody was, in front of his house, severely burned, left to die…




Ten days… Ten days it had been and Charlus was worse than ever, the medicine he needed back home in the Potter’s house, unattainable here… he was dying slowly as the dragon pox intensified. He had fresh scales growing along his arms and lips, and his eyes were so heavy that they could barely open. He’d begun to fade in and out of consciousness and this - this wondering about Alastor Moody, this was the most coherent he’d been in three days.

“Dobby has gotten Mr. Potter some water, Dobby has,” the house elf came over with his palms cupped, water pooled within them. There were no glasses in the house elves quarters. Dora helped Charlus to sit up and Dobby the house elf carefully poured as much of the water from his hands into Charlus’s mouth as he could, though quite a bit spilled over the man’s cheeks and onto his wife’s knee, or the straw below them. “Dobby will get some more for Mr. Potter, sir,” he squeaked and he hurried back across the dismal little room.

Harold Minchum sat staring from a corner, staring… one black eye, missing an ear and a finger… his clothes dirty… “He must get out of here,” he said thickly. This is no place for him.”

Dora ran her palm over her husband’s forehead nervously. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

Harold Minchum stared up at the trapdoor that led up, out of the house elf quarters…