These islands were home to all kinds of magical creatures.
Among them, the most powerful—
were dragons.
And this time, they were here to legally hunt one.
The island's caretaker was a man named Martin.
He was overjoyed to see Lockhart's group—visitors were rare here.
"Finally, some living people! Welcome!" Martin greeted them warmly.
Martin's entire family lived on the island, tasked with guarding the dragons. Clearly, there wasn't enough space to house so many guests, so Lockhart's group set up their own tents nearby.
After checking the Ministry-issued documents, Martin said:
"Oh—you're here to kill a dragon? Honestly, why just one? I wish you'd wipe them all out so my family and I could finally go home and live comfortably."
"Unfortunately, that's not possible," Ollivander said, glancing at him. "We understand the danger and hardship your family endures. Thank you for your service."
"Yeah, yeah…" Martin waved it off. "So when do you start?"
"As soon as possible. Tomorrow."
"Alright," Martin said. "Let me brief those of you who've never been here. There are over a dozen dragons on this island—all black dragons. They're the most common type, but also extremely aggressive."
He looked around seriously.
"So aside from the scouting team, everyone else stays near camp. No wandering off."
His gaze lingered briefly on Lockhart.
"Even if some of you are powerful Ministry supervisors with a taste for adventure—dragons aren't easy prey. Especially under the restriction that you can't harm them prematurely."
"We only have one authorized kill. No solo actions."
The team leader added:
"Once we locate the target, we'll need to secure the surrounding area. If the dragon calls for help and others respond, things could get messy."
This wasn't the thrilling adventure Lockhart had imagined.
He spent several days bored out of his mind in a tent near Martin's house, waiting for updates from the scouting team.
If not for a certain devoted female fan keeping him company, he might've gone insane from the monotony.
After several days of searching, the scouts reported multiple dragons:
The first: a breeding female—unsuitable
The second: too young
The third: finally, a viable target
"Let's get moving already!" Lockhart urged.
"Lead the way!"
The entire team mounted their brooms and flew toward the target location.
"So… what exactly are we supposed to do?" Lockhart asked.
Though he'd written countless exaggerated stories about dragons, this was his first time seeing a wild one—let alone hunting it.
"I've 'fought' plenty of dragons," he added, "but I'm not sure how to kill one while preserving the most materials."
"Gilderoy, just supervise," Tonks said from the side. "Leave the hunting to us."
"Exactly," one of the hunters added confidently. "You're here as oversight. We're the professionals."
"…Alright then," Lockhart shrugged. "I'll enjoy the show."
The operation was scheduled for the next day.
They needed time to confirm no other dragons were nearby.
That evening, after dinner, Tonks quietly slipped into Lockhart's tent.
"Gilderoy, once this is done, we'll head back. Got any plans?"
"Maybe the Quidditch World Cup," Lockhart said. "I can probably get tickets."
"You watch Quidditch?" Tonks looked surprised. "That's boring. I thought you'd go on another adventure!"
"Ahem… getting old."
"Get lost. You're not even thirty," Tonks scoffed. "And you've already lost your sense of adventure?"
"If you're not going adventuring," she added, turning to leave, "I might as well go back to Auror training."
"Good night."
"Night."
The next day, after lunch—the sun was high.
The patrol team confirmed the area was clear.
The hunting team roasted a deer.
The rich aroma filled the air, making everyone hungry again.
"ROOOAR—!"
The black dragon smelled it.
It emerged from its lair.
The hunters immediately launched the roasted deer toward the ambush point using magic.
The dragon spread its wings and swooped down—
snatching the deer in one bite.
It swallowed, satisfied—
then looked at the tiny figures around it.
Too late.
The trap activated.
Massive trees nearby suddenly came alive.
Branches and vines shot out like claws—
binding the dragon tightly before it could react, pinning it to the ground.
The black dragon roared in fury.
Flames gathered in its throat—
preparing to burn away the restraints.
But at that exact moment—
two wizards unleashed Ice Spells:
One at its mouth.
One at its throat.
Extreme heat met extreme cold—
and exploded.
A deafening blast echoed.
White mist engulfed the dragon.
Its mouth was injured.
Its throat frozen shut.
The dragon howled in agony, struggling violently, snapping vines apart.
Then—
a Quagmire Spell formed beneath it.
The more it struggled—
the deeper it sank.
Half its massive body was buried.
Its wings flailed uselessly.
Now—
the execution team moved.
They cast a Mountain-Moving Charm—essentially an enhanced Levitation Spell.
Huge rocks and chunks of iron rose into the air—
and came crashing down onto the dragon.
The black dragon screamed in pain.
Its cries pierced the sky.
It was calling for help.
Lockhart winced.
"Why not just use the Killing Curse? Wouldn't that be simpler?"
Tonks gave him a look.
"Gilderoy… that's a pretty basic question. You're the second person in history to survive the Killing Curse—you should know better."
"The Killing Curse's effectiveness varies between wizards," she explained. "It works on humans because our bodies and souls are fragile."
"But dragons?"
"They have extremely high magical resistance, incredibly tough bodies, and are protected by a dragon's soul."
"A normal wizard's Killing Curse would barely affect it."
"And if you use a large number of Killing Curses to force a kill," she added, "you'll damage the quality of the corpse."
An elderly man from the International Wandmaking Committee chimed in:
"More importantly, letting the dragon struggle before death keeps its magic circulating through its blood. That results in stronger wands."
Bloodied and battered—
after struggling in vain—
the black dragon finally closed its eyes in despair.
"All hands! Process the body and move out!"
Lockhart's face twitched.
That's it?
All those stories he'd written—epic battles lasting days, dramatic duels with dragons…
To these professionals—
they were just stories.
He had truly been nothing more than a spectator.
Under the team's efficient work, the dragon was quickly dismembered, packed into enchanted storage bags.
In the distance—
other dragons roared.
Several massive shapes appeared in the sky.
Everyone immediately mounted their brooms.
"Retreat!"