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The dragon model plunged through a thick bank of clouds. Moisture beaded on its imitation scales, freezing instantly in the cold, turning into a hard, glittering shell of ice. It reflected the sunlight—first beautifully, then with a blinding, painful glare. The ice also introduced a new layer of sound: a rough, grating friction accompanied every movement. The tail, used for steering, let out dangerous, splintering creaks. The joints where the wings met the body groaned ominously.
Charlie shouted a warning over the wind. "Be ready to jump! At any moment!"
"But we're over a city!" Anthony yelled back. "We can't just jump!"
"Why not?" Charlie countered. "If this thing explodes or falls apart, we will jump. One way or another!"
"Because—because of gravity? Or the Statute of Secrecy?" Anthony argued. "We'll find out which one matters first!"
Despite the chorus of alarming sounds from the wood-and-magic construct, it stubbornly held together. They ate two packs of bread on its back, passing around a bag of chilled juice. The wings kept beating. Creak. Thump. Creak. Thump.
Finally, with the sun a blazing disc of gold ahead, Charlie guided the model lower. All three of them saw Great Britain appear below, an island nestled in a gray-blue sea, cradled by gentle waves. The ice on the dragon had long since melted, but the unsettling symphony of groans and creaks hadn't faded. If anything, it had grown louder.
They crossed the water. Familiar British landscape unfurled beneath them. The dragon's wings beat powerfully, creaking with each downstroke. Wind roared past their ears.
"I can visit the Common Welsh Green research outpost later," Charlie said, sounding relieved. "At least they shouldn't mind me parking this thing there. Merlin, I can't believe we actually flew to Britain."
Hagrid perked up. "Really? Where? I didn't know we had a dragon reserve."
"Not a reserve," Charlie corrected. "A research outpost. Well, a so-called outpost. You know how it is, Hagrid. Greens are relatively tolerant. We don't usually need to isolate them. I visited once. Just a little grey house. Three offices. Five people—three department heads, two deputies. They liaise with the Obliviators and give directions to the odd bloke collecting scales or dung… They told me sometimes people even find a claw, a tooth, some blood, or a bit of meat."
"Oh." Hagrid sounded deeply disappointed.
Anthony asked, "Where do the Welsh Greens actually live, then? In Britain?"
Charlie looked at him, surprised. "Wales. Like the name says. Britain's also got Hebridean Blacks. We've got plenty of dragons. We just… maintain a polite and restrained distance."
They plunged into another cloud. Wales, the Hebrides, everything vanished. Only white mist and the wooden wings of a Romanian Longhorn remained.
"Britain has a lot of dragons?" Anthony said. "Right. I might need to mention that to a certain pen pal…"
…
The sun sank lower. Flying west, they almost felt like they were chasing it. The clouds beside them shifted color: from snow-white to gold, then to pink and pale lavender.
Charlie pulled on a woolen hat and brought the dragon lower.
Hagrid grumbled something about sitting too long and flat buttocks, shifting uncomfortably in the saddle. The setting sun gilded his coat, and his hair and beard shone as if about to catch fire. Charlie's red hair did the same. The Longhorn's golden horns gleamed, a second, painfully bright sun upon its head.
"We should be close," Charlie shouted over the model's groans. It was unclear if he was trying to reassure Hagrid. "If we're not, this thing is about to fall apart anyway!"
It didn't. Groaning in protest with every fiber of its magical being, it stubbornly followed its pre-programmed flight path.
The sky darkened. They flew over villages. Windows lit up, one by one. Streetlamps flickered on. From above, roads became rivers of light, cars with their headlights on flowing like luminous particles.
"What's that?" Charlie asked sharply, craning his neck to look down. "That doesn't look right."
"What?" Anthony followed his gaze. He saw only the steady glow of electric lights.
"Something's coming up at us—" Charlie began.
BOOM!
For a second, Anthony thought the dragon had finally exploded. But their flight remained steady. Orange fire slowly dissipated beneath them. FSSSSSS-BOOM! A cluster of green stars erupted not far away.
"Fireworks!" Anthony yelled. "It's New Year's Eve!"
BOOM! A silver flower bloomed right before his eyes. After the brilliant flash, countless tiny golden sparks continued to crackle and pop, cascading down like a waterfall. Further away, a perfect red sphere burst, fading to purple as it vanished.
"Oh, right!" Charlie said.
They climbed, seeking refuge in the clouds again. The mist around them flashed with stolen colors from the fireworks below—orange, green, silver—as if they were flying through a silent, colorful thunderstorm. Moving from one cloud to the next, Anthony caught glimpses of the towns beneath, constantly launching new volleys of light into the sky.
Leaving the fireworks behind, they glided over silent marshes and moors. The silver moonlight was starkly bright now, etching the shadows of trees and hills against the darkness. Hagrid, seated ahead of Anthony, dozed, his head nodding with the dragon's rhythm.
They flew on. Suddenly, Charlie cried out, "Look! Hogwarts!"
Hagrid jerked awake. "Where?"
"Right there! By the lake!"
Anthony looked where he pointed and recognized the familiar silhouette of turrets and towers. The castle slept, only a few lonely windows showing pinpricks of light.
"We need to skirt Hogsmeade," Charlie decided. "Too many wizards. They might think it's a real dragon attack. Let's see… We'll go around the back of the mountain. I can set you down at the Astronomy Tower. You get off, I ride this thing back and continue the range test. Sound good? That way, we won't leave dragon prints on Hogwarts grounds."
"Aren't you going to rest at Hogwarts?" Anthony asked, concerned. "It's been a full day."
"Don't worry about me. I'm used to it," Charlie said, sounding remarkably energetic. "No other objections? Brilliant. Alright, northwest, to the Astronomy Tower!"
He waved his wand. The dragon banked, circling the Black Lake, heading for the tallest tower.
To everyone's surprise, someone was standing on the Astronomy Tower. It was too late to turn back.
"Attention! Don't be alarmed!" Charlie bellowed ahead. "Don't panic! Not a dragon attack!"
The figure on the tower shifted but didn't flee or scream. Anthony leaned out, worried. He hadn't expected any students to be up here at this hour. He hoped their bizarre method of return hadn't terrified the poor kid.
Charlie gave his wand a sharp flourish. A massive, glowing symbol erupted into the air above them. "NOT A DRAGON ATTACK… Wait. Ron?"
"Charlie?" the figure asked. "What are you doing here?"
It was Ron. Anthony breathed a sigh of relief, finally registering the symbol Charlie had conjured. It took him a moment to recognize it: a gigantic, shimmering, golden thumbs-up.
Charlie deftly unbuckled his harness. He climbed down the dragon's neck to its head, near the tower, holding onto a horn for balance, gently bobbing with the wingbeats.
"I could ask you the same thing, Ron," he said. "What time is it? I'll bet it's past curfew." He glanced down, let go, and jumped the short gap onto the Astronomy Tower floor.
Charlie stretched, then grinned at his younger brother. "Happy New Year, though."
"You didn't answer me!" Ron said. "Why are you riding a dragon—" He took another look at the model. "Oh. Hagrid!"
"Evenin', Ron!" Hagrid called from his saddle, waving cheerfully.
"Evening," Ron said, suspicion heavy in his voice. "Is it my imagination, or is that dragon making a weird noise? Maybe I should go back to bed."
A familiar voice chimed in. "Maybe you are in bed."
Anthony peeked over. The Weasley twins appeared in the tower's stairwell entrance, a yawning Ginny trailing behind them.
Fred-or-George said, "Maybe you're talking in your sleep. Snoring. Drooling. Grinding your teeth."
"I do not do any of that!" Ron protested.
"You wouldn't know."
"How would you know what you do when you're asleep?"
"Honestly, we hear all sorts of noises from your room at night—"
"That's the ghoul!" Ron said hotly. "It bangs on the pipes—"
"Evening, Fred. George," Charlie said cheerfully. "Oh, Ginny."
He bent down, arms open. Ginny trotted over and hugged him. Charlie picked her up, pretending to hoist her onto the dragon's head, making her giggle.
"Didn't expect to see you lot, honestly," Charlie said, setting Ginny back down. "I assume you're not here to welcome me, are you?"
"Nope. We're here for Hagrid," said one twin. Hagrid was currently bent over, fumbling intently with his harness buckles.
The other twin declared, with theatrical flourish, "Hagrid, you have no idea how much we've missed you—"
Hagrid sounded surprised and deeply touched. "Oh, you boys!"
"Alright, alright, don't sulk because I only hugged Ginny," Charlie said. He grabbed a twin in each arm, pulled them into a brief, rough hug, and released them. "Move along, tall people. Ron?"
"I'm tall too," Ron muttered.
Charlie hugged him. Ron's head came up to Charlie's shoulder.
"Tall for a second-year," Charlie amended. "Happy New Year, Ron. You have no idea how surprised I was to see you."
Ron looked mildly embarrassed but pleased.
"Come on down, Hagrid, Henry," Charlie called, turning back.
"I can't get these straps loose!" Hagrid complained.
"Hold on, Hagrid, let me try," Anthony said. He unbuckled his own easily, but standing up on the gently swaying back of a wooden dragon required some skill.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Charlie said. He tapped his wand against the model's neck. "There. That should do it."
The dragon's wingbeats slowed. The harsh, grinding noises softened, fading until they vanished completely. The up-and-down swaying stopped, replaced by a gentle, almost imperceptible rocking, like a boat in a calm harbor.
"The great thing about wood is it's a fantastic magical conductor," Charlie explained. "Better?"
"Much," Anthony said. He carefully made his way to Hagrid and undid the metal clasps and knots for him.
"Thanks, Henry," Hagrid said, heaving himself up. "Ooh, my back…" He began the slow, careful trek down the Longhorn's neck to its head.
"George, do I hear Professor Anthony's voice?" Fred said.
"This must be Ron's dream," George decided. "Only he'd be daft enough to dream about a professor."
"Agreed," Fred said.
"If this is my dream," Ron said irritably, "I'd shove you both into a brick wall! Are you ever going to tell me why you dragged me out of the dormitory this late?"
"And me," Ginny grumbled, another yawn cracking her jaw.
"You got into the girls' dormitory?" Charlie asked, suspicious.
"No," Ginny said. "They sent me a letter by a very persistent owl. It kept tapping on our window. Woke Alexandra up."
"Trust us, it'll be worth it," Fred promised. "We're about to show you a truly spectacular New Year's—"
"—and then explain what those fireworks were for," a stern voice cut in. "I cannot believe it! Out of bed! And so many of you! One, two, three, four, five! Five Gryffindors, for pity's—hmm? Charlie Weasley? What are you doing here?! And you, Hagrid—is that—that cannot possibly be—"
"Aye, Romanian Longhorn," Hagrid said proudly from the dragon's head.
"Hagrid—"
"Good evening, Minerva," Anthony said, still holding tightly to a scale. "Lovely to see you. Happy New Year."
Professor McGonagall stopped.
"Henry? Is that you?" Her voice was deceptively calm, concealing a terrifying storm of anger. "Splendid. I am sure you can all explain why that appears to be a fully grown, XXXXX-class magical creature."
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