- Text Size +
The Dragon Bomb


James leaned out of the compartment as the train chugged along, having given it about an hour to get out of downtown London and away from some of the denser muggle landscapes. He looked both directions up and down the aisle, but other than the sweets trolley witch coming down the center, far off and several train cars away yet, the corridor was mostly empty. Everyone was busy catching up in their compartments, too distracted by one another to be wandering around much.

“C’mon,” James waved for Peter to follow.

Peter was gingerly carrying the firecracker, a small, bright red box that looked like the least dangerous of the explosives James and Sirius had purchased in Diagon Alley. James couldn’t recall which ones were which - they’d carefully peeled the tags all off them, hoping that Filch might believe they were sweets boxes if they didn’t have labels. But surely this little box couldn’t do much damage. He was fairly certain it was just a noisemaker - they’d got a couple of those.

“You’re certain nobody will get hurt?” Peter asked.

“Of course. Look, nobody’s even in the corridor anyway. Besides, that sort doesn’t really do much except pop and smoke. We’re just trying to give them a good scare, that’s all.”

“And why are we doing it to the girl’s compartment again?” Peter asked.

“Because Evans called me thick,” James replied. Besides, the cracker would be a thing of legend, he thought - people would talk about the time somebody set off a Filibuster on the Hogwarts Express for eons - just as they still talked about the time Bilius Weasley had set fire to Mrs. Norris’s tail (an image that only became funnier the more run-ins with Mrs. Norris that James had over the years). He pictured Lily rolling her eyes, but smiling in amusement, telling people that yes, it had been her compartment James Potter had set that infamous firecracker off by and it had indeed been the thing that had got her attention turned to him. He’s just so funny and daring, she’d say, he imagined, Whoever else would ever dream of setting off a firecracker on the Express! and then she’d kiss him to show them all how bloody adorable he was for thinking up such madness.

He was grinning stupidly at the thought of it.

“Prongs?” Peter whispered, “We’re there.”

“Oh right.” James ducked down low, like Peter was until he was kneeling beside the door of the compartment. “Cracker,” he requested, holding out his hand, like he was a muggle doctor asking for a scalpel. He’d seen it a hundred times on the telly and the analogy made him grin.

Peter handed over the firecracker box and James positioned it on the floor directly before the compartment door and took out his wand. “Ready?” he asked Peter. Peter covered his ears and nodded. James aimed the wand at the cracker’s wick. “Incendio,” he murmured. It sparked and started hissing, the sparks crawling up the wick toward the detonation.

James grinned and they got up and backed a few feet away as he covered his ears and watched the sparks.

“What are you lot doing?” Severus Snape asked, stepping out of a compartment a few doors behind them. Regulus Black peeked ‘round the frame behind him.

James looked back at him.

Severus’s eyes landed on the firecracker. “Are you MAD?” he demanded and he took a step forward, drawing his wand -- but before he could do a thing with it, the sparks hit the detonation and with a deafening bang, one that James would hear in his ears for weeks as a tiny ringing - the little box exploded and a jet of colorful light, shaped like a dragon burst out, sweeping toward James, Peter, and Severus. They all jumped back, Peter tripping and knocking into Snape, both of them falling to the floor. The fiery dragon looped back, roared loudly, and swept the length of the train, bursting windows as it went.

“Oh. My. Merlin.” James stared after it as window after window after window exploded, glass flying everywhere, popping and cracking and banging miniature fireworks flicking off the end of the fiery dragon’s tail as it went.

Compartment doors were opening - though the occupants merely had to stick their heads out the glassless windows if they really wanted to - and looking about. Lily stepped gingerly over the shards of glass littering the corridor as she came out, followed by Frank Longbottom. There were screaming voices, yelling along down the length of the train, some of the first years were crying.

Lily looked at James. “What have you done, Potter?”

James smiled sheepishly as the brakes of the train started to screech to a halt.




Remus tumbled through Dumbledore’s floo at precisely ten o’clock in the morning, after saying an awkward goodbye to Sirius at the Leaky Cauldron.

They had spent the morning taking down the tent, stamping out the firepit and dousing it very well with the aquamenti charm. Sirius had shrunk the tent down very small and stuffed it into his bag with everything else he was carrying and they’d headed back to Diagon Alley together. For the first time ever, neither was particularly looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts. Sirius was already missing the freedom of doing whatever he wanted in the woods, and Remus was feeling so miserable with the full moon approaching, his eyes dark circles and his bones aching, that he didn’t fancy the ride aboard the Knight Bus back to London that he was about to endure. They dawdled, taking their time in the little village near their campsite. Finally, it was getting on in the morning and they had to get on their way so Sirius had stuck out his thumb and off they’d gone, Remus clutching his stomach the whole ride.

“You’ll be there tonight? At the Shrieking Shack?” Remus asked for about the hundredth time as they stood by the floo in the Leaky Cauldron, he looked imploringly at Sirius.

“Yes,” Sirius said, “I promise. I’ll be at the Shrieking Shack.”

“Okay,” Remus nodded. “Alright.”

Sirius scuffed his toe along the wood floor, “Dumbledore’s going to be wondering where you are if you don’t get a move on it, Moony,” he said.

Remus nodded, “Yeah. I know. I need to -” he turned to the floo and opened the little bag of powder they’d bought from Tom and he looked into the bag at the sparkling green color of it. He looked up at Sirius. “I dunno if I said it at all, but… thanks… for… you know, everything.”

“What’re you thanking me for? You’re the one that rescued me from Grimmauld Place. I was going mad in there. I hate that house. If I never spend another moment in those walls for the rest of my life, I’d be the bloody happiest bloke alive. I feel like the very walls attack my mind there.” He shuddered. “So thank you for getting me the bloody hell out of it.”

Remus said, “I just won’t forget that you found a way to give me refuge when my father had thrown me out. You could’ve just gone off to the Potters, but you stayed with me. So.”

“If I’d just gone on to the Potters, your dad wouldn’t have gotten angry to begin with,” Sirius said.

“Will you just tell me I’m welcome and stop trying to blame yourself for everything?” Remus asked.

Sirius laughed. “Sorry, mate.”

“No, not sorry. Try again.”

“You’re welcome,” Sirius said, his voice solemn.

“Good doggy,” Remus said, and he patted Sirius’s head.

Sirius’s eyes sparkled as a grin broke across his face. “Do I get a bone?”

Remus smirked, then turned to the floo, reaching into the pouch and pulling out a handful of powder. “See you later, then, Padfoot,” he replied, and he tossed the powder into the fire. He was just about to step into it, when he felt Sirius’s arms ‘round him in a hug from the side.

Remus blinked in surprise.

The fire roared green and sizzled, waiting for Remus to step in and the sound of it made Sirius realize that he had to go. “See you later, Moony,” Sirius said, and he dropped his arms from Remus’s lanky frame and hurried out the door of the bar before Remus could react.

Stunned, Remus had stumbled through the floo and into Dumbledore’s office, where he now stood, dusting soot from himself and looking back at the now quite regular flames in the fireplace, confused about Sirius’s sudden embrace. What was that about? he wondered. He looked around the office, but it was empty - no Dumbledore anywhere. Fawkes the Phoenix stood on his perch, his beak tucked beneath his wing, but one beady eye open and staring at Remus as he looked about, unsure if he should wait for Dumbledore to show up or just go about his business off to the Shrieking Shack.

The door suddenly opened and there was Professor McGonagall, looking a bit frazzled. “Oh good you’re here! Have you waited very long?” she asked.

“No, Professor, I’ve only just flooed in,” Remus answered, then, “Where’s Dumbledore?”

McGonagall’s lips tightened. “He had to go and take care of a bit of an emergency.”

“An emergency?” Remus asked, nervous, “Is everything alright?”

McGonagall replied, “Well… it seems that somebody was playing at lighting off firecrackers aboard the Express and it’s caused quite the ruckus. Dumbledore had to go and get everything taken care of.”

Remus very much did not like the way the word somebody had rolled off McGonagall’s lips. “Uhoh,” he murmured.

“I do believe it’s a record. Detention before they’ve even reached the school.” She shook her head, “Mr. Lupin, your friends are quite accomplished.”

He nodded.

“Well, the headmaster asked for me to come and collect you from his office and to see to it that you are well fed before you go to your dormitory,” Professor McGonagall said. Remus wondered whether she knew that he wasn’t going to his dormitory, that he was headed for the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow and off to the Shrieking Shack, but there was no indication in her eyes to tell him what she did or did not know, so he didn’t say anything. “Come along,” she said, “I’ve had the house elves whip you up a meal, it should be nearly ready to serve in the Great Hall.” She pulled open the door and held it, waiting for him to cross before her and start on his way down the stairs.

“They didn’t do much damage to the Express… did they?” Remus asked, pausing in the door.

McGonagall replied, “I do not know exactly what they’ve done, but I doubt very much the headmaster would have gone if it was merely a ding in the wall.”

Remus doubted it, too.




The Hogwarts Express had come to a stop halfway along the rails to the castle. People all along the train were talking loudly, the sound nearly deafening, filling up every nook and crannie of the compartments, seeming to be magnified by the fact that there was no glass in any of the windows any longer, all of it shattered in piles of white fragments all down the center aisle of the train.

“It was the most horrific sound, like a tsunami,” a sixth year girl was saying, “Did you hear it? Didn’t it sound like a tsunami wave?”

“I thought for sure we were all goners, thought it was You-Know-Who attacking the train engine.”

“I felt it clear across the train!”

“I saw it. It was a dragon bomb! Wings of fire! That’s what broke the windows!”

“Does anyone know who’s idiot enough to set off a dragon bomb on a train?”

“I heard it was Potter.”

“Of course it was James Potter!”

“Dumbledore’s on board the train!”

“He’s come to expel James Potter!”