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The Dragon Chronicles	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money from this.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
I apologise for the one week delay in updating. As I wrote on my tumblr page, I have been in the hospital again and thus, I didn't have the energy to update. But now you all have an extra long chapter to enjoy!
Special thanks to Randombitsofstars for betaing this fic! You deserve all the cookies for pushing me to be a better writer!
For those of you who have left reviews, you can find your reply on my tumblr page: theladymiya.tumblr.com
Enjoy!
Chapter 12
Hermione would have never guessed how much work was required of the Headmistress. After a hectic morning of planning how a Hogsmeade outing could be organised, she’d had to go over and approve of Draco Malfoy’s teaching plan.
Malfoy didn’t even have the courage to bring it to her personally. Instead, when Hermione opened the door, it had been McGonagall delivering it.
Although, Hermione had to admit that it was nicer to go over the teaching plan with McGonagall than with Malfoy. Hermione probably knew more about study plans than anyone her age, but she had nothing on McGonagall’s experience.
Before she knew it, the school day had come to an end, and Hermione was unsure what to do next. She hadn’t run into Voldemort yet, but she needed to see him and get him to release Kara. She also wanted to see Ginny and talk to her about the students.
In the end, she decided to go to Ginny first. It wasn’t that she was avoiding Voldemort, she told herself as she walked up to Gryffindor tower. It was just that she wanted to spend the rest of the night with Kara once she got him free of the shackles. She didn’t want to have to leave early just to get a chance to speak with Ginny.
The Gryffindor common room looked exactly as she remembered it. The merry fireplace was heating up the room as the red armchairs and sofas looked as inviting as always.
Nevertheless, the feel of the common room was completely different. There was no loud laughing or bangs of students pranking each other. No running around, flaunting various magical skills, or letting out the screams of playfulness.
No, the students in the common room were all sitting down. They were either studying or talking in low voices, their heads crowded close together.
When she had been a student, Hermione would have loved to have the common room this quiet and controlled. Now, however, she wished nothing more than see someone throwing a Fanged Frisbee from one side to the other, and to hear the laughter when an unfortunate soul got bit in the backside.
Sighing, she walked over to Ginny. The redhead was busy sitting with some other girls, who she was patiently helping with their homework.
“Hi, Hermione,” Ginny said, as she looked up to notice her approach. “How are you?”
“Busy,” Hermione said with a defeated sigh. “But I needed to speak with you. Is it okay if I join you?”
Ginny moved over on the sofa, clearing a spot for Hermione to sit down.
The other three girls around the coffee table eyed her curiously. Hermione remembered them from her time as a student. Amanda McDonald and Patricia Simmons were one year younger than Ginny, while Clare Timothy was the same age. They seemed to have been going over Charms homework, and alternated between staring at the scribbles on their paper and Hermione.
“How are the other students doing?” Hermione asked in a low voice. “I ran into a first year earlier who was quite upset because her father had been sent to Azkaban. I realised there had to be a lot of other students with similar stories.”
The other girls shared several looks, but wouldn’t meet Hermione’s eyes. Instead, they dove back into their homework, staring down at their parchments. For a moment, Hermione couldn’t understand why they were looking so uncomfortable in her presence.
Then it hit her. She was the Headmistress now, not just another student. Dumbledore had never just stepped into a common room. Before she could think of a reason to leave, Ginny finally answered her question.
“It’s bad, Hermione,” she said, her voice serious. “All students know someone that’s either dead or in Azkaban. If it isn’t their parents or siblings, it’s their aunts and uncles, or even grandparents. Not even Slytherins are spared, even though most of them at least have their parents in good health.
“Sometimes they even come for a student, and then we never see that person again. I think they use them as blackmail when they have run out of other family members, but they may as well be killing them off.”
Hermione sighed. She had of course known it would be bad, with the war going on, but she just hadn’t realised the magnitude of the problem. “Do you think students would dare to meet their parents or any other relatives in Hogsmeade if I were to invite them?”
“You could do that?” Amanda McDonald blurted out suddenly, her eyes welling up with tears.
Hermione was a bit taken aback. “Er, I don’t know yet, but I think so. I’m the Headmistress, after all.”
“Yes, but we thought it was only in name, like with the Minister,” Patricia Simmons interjected, and then flushed scarlet. “Er, not that I think … I mean, I know who you are, and I didn’t think you’d be working together with him, but it just … it was a bit strange.”
Hermione snorted. “I can’t blame you for thinking it’s strange, and yes, I think that in some way, I’m a figurehead, even though I’m not working with him. We have come to an arrangement. I’ve removed myself from the war to protect all students from it. By doing that, I want you to be as happy as possible and that means not having to worry too much about your parents.”
“Everyone that knows you knows you’re doing the best you can, Hermione,” Ginny said, sending a hard look towards the other girls. Hermione realised that Ginny was reminding them who they were speaking to. It also made her realise that once again, she was hardly acting the way a Headmistress should. These were her students, not her classmates.
Ginny continued, interrupting Hermione’s line of thought. “And if you can make this come to pass, I think that everyone will know that you’re working for the students. I mean, you have already gone a long way to express it by firing the Carrows. But we weren’t allowed to go to Hogsmeade at all last year.”
Hermione considered this. “I guess we’ll have to make sure no one thinks we’ll use it to smuggle stuff into the castle. I’ll talk it over with … my husband.”
“So you are really married to him?” Patricia whispered, horror showing on her face.
“I’m afraid so,” Hermione muttered darkly before she could stop herself. She shouldn’t be talking this candidly with her students, and it was probably a bad idea to show any displeasure towards Voldemort publically.
Before she could make more of an arse of herself, or let slip something else about her married life, she excused herself from the group.
She wasn’t sure how she’d get Voldemort to agree to have the students meet their families in Hogsmeade. No doubt, she’d have to bargain with the Dark Lord. Perhaps it would be best to wait a couple days before broaching the subject. He would still have this morning’s burning session fresh in his memory.
Hermione had made up her mind. Once Voldemort proved to be in a good mood again, she’d bring it up.
When she returned to her chambers, he wasn’t there. She didn’t know if she should be relieved or not. Probably relieved, since this gave her the opportunity to instead focusing on freeing Kara. It was the least she could do after forcing him to hurt her yesterday. She could feel through their bond that he was worried about her, despite knowing that she had already healed.
She decided to just go down and show him that she was okay, and then try to free him from his shackles. Voldemort’s only request had been that she created a ward that would keep Kara inside of Hogwarts’ grounds and she had found one suitable that morning at breakfast. It was now up and running so Voldemort couldn’t fault her for freeing Kara on her own.
He had probably meant that she should wait and let him release Kara when he had the time, but since she had her new secret passage down to the Chambers of Secrets, she might as well use it.
Kara was sleeping when she came down, but when Hermione came closer, he lifted his head and smiled at her.
Or, well, in her mind Hermione could tell that he was smiling. On the outside though, Kara was merely stroking his tail over the ground and letting out a sort of relaxed purring sound.
How are Hermione? Kara asked and leant in towards her. She reached out, gently stroking the scales on his neck.
“I’m good. Have you got something to eat?”
She had sent a house-elf down with food for Kara earlier, warning the creature to leave the food at the entrance and hurry away. Otherwise, Kara might think it was the food.
Yes. I do like hunting for myself more, Kara said, sounding almost like he was sulking.
Hermione chuckled. “I’ll going to try to release you now, alright? That way you can hunt as soon as possible.”
She set to work, telling Kara about her day as she went.
“What about you? Have the other dragons been here?” she asked, once finished with her own accounts.
Yes. I hate them, Kara replied fiercely.
“What did they do?” Hermione asked, worried that she’d have to tell Voldemort to control his dragons.
They are young and annoying. If I was free, I’d be able to show them how stupid they are, Kara muttered.
Hermione snorted. “I’m sure you will. But they already know that you are a stronger dragon than they are. Remember when we freed Harry and you confused them so we could escape?”
Kara let out a barking laugh that sounded more like a threatening hiss. Stupid baby dragons.
“Aha!” Hermione finally exclaimed as the shackles fell open some half an hour later.
Kara roared in happiness, stretching his wings out in triumph.
Want to fly around? he asked.
“No, but you go ahead. Just remember that you can’t leave Hogwarts’ ground. You’ll feel when you are close to its magical border.”
Kara stretched his wings and with a last nudge against her, he took flight. He flew around the chamber for a minute, before he started to gain speed. Using the force, he threw himself at the ceiling.
Hermione almost forgot how to breath for a second. He was going to crash!
But instead, he simply flew right through the ceiling and Hermione relaxed, feeling foolish. Part of the ceiling was just a magical illusion. On the other side, the bottom of the lake was, and the dragons could just fly in and out through it. It was just hard to remember sometimes all the laws of physics that magic seemed to break.
Happy that her dragon was free again, Hermione went back up to her chambers, only to find that Voldemort had returned. She froze in the doorway of the bathroom, just staring at him.
Once again, she forgot how to breath as a mixture of emotions shot through her.
He was sitting by the fire, reading the Daily Prophet, clad only in a bathrobe. His hair was damp – he had clearly just taken a shower. She found herself wishing that she had got back a few minutes earlier. Perhaps he would have still been in the shower? Her mind flashed back to how exquisite he looked naked.
The moment she realised what she was thinking, she forced herself to breath normally. She scolded herself silently. Just because he looked completely normal right now didn’t mean he was in actuality. Of course he wasn’t. He was still Lord Voldemort.
Deciding that the best course of action was just to ignore him for now (if she ignored him, she couldn’t accidentally end up in a fight with him that would ruin any chance for a Hogsmeade meet-up), she went to get ready for the night.
It really was utterly exhausting to be a Headmistress.
Or maybe it was living with Voldemort. He made all aspects of life so much more taxing.
Thankfully, Voldemort ignored her in kind, and for the second night in a row, she wasn’t tortured until she lost conscious. Instead, she got to brush her teeth and crawl into bed on her own.
Alas, she soon noticed it was pretty hard to go soundly to sleep with Voldemort in the room. The night before, she had been exhausted enough to just fall asleep despite him being there, but this night, she wasn’t as tired.
She lay tossing and turning, tensing up at every sound he made. Would he attack in her sleep? Force her to tell him everything she knew about Harry? Would he throw her in prison and laugh at her for even thinking that he would allow her to be Headmistress in the first place?
Would he feed her to his dragons, like he had with Snape?
After maybe an hour, he came to bed as well.
“I hope you won’t keep turning so much all night,” he said in a bored tone of voice.
She sighed. “I just can’t sleep.”
“And why is that?” he asked, though she doubted he was asking out of concern. Most likely, he wanted to tease her for it.
“Just have a lot on my mind,” she said vaguely.
“Thinking about different ways of how I can kill you in your sleep?” he asked, sounding amused.
“Among other things,” she muttered.
He put a hand on her stomach, and she tensed up again.
“What if I told you that killing you is the opposite of what I want to do to you in your sleep,” he purred.
“That doesn’t help me get any more rest,” she growled.
Even though his hand was on her sleeping t-shirt, the heat from his skin seeped through, making her skin tingle. It was just the stupid potion, she reminded herself for the hundredth time.
“I’m sure it would,” he whispered, slowly stroking down her stomach, towards her navel.
She had a hard time breathing. The tingling sensation was spreading, making her nipples harden, and her sex throb.
“All you have to do is ask and I’d be happy to help you,” Voldemort whispered.
He was torturing her. It felt much better than the other kind, but it was torture nonetheless. She wouldn’t be able to look herself in the mirror if she gave in to her bodily urges.
“I’m good, thanks,” she breathed back.
He chuckled. “I’m sure.”
Thankfully, he removed his hands and turned so his back faced her.
It took at least another hour for Hermione fell asleep, but when she did, her dreams were haunted by him and his skilled hands.
xxx
Voldemort woke up to the sounds of his wife moaning. He sighed. In many ways, it was amusing to see Granger battling the effects of the lust potion, but right now, it was more inconvenient than anything else.
Even though he was more than a mere human, he still had some sexual urges. Usually, he simply ignored them if it didn’t suit him. Now, however, it was taxing to lie next to a horny woman who smelled of sex.
If he wanted to, he could have her right there and then. If he started, she wouldn’t have the power to stop him. But raping her was not part of his plan. He wanted a very different type of power over her. He wanted her to want him. Yearn for him. Beg for him to take her.
When she did, he would have an even greater power over her than he did now.
In her sleep, Granger was rubbing her thighs together. She would break soon, that he had no doubt of. In the meantime, he would just have to ignore his own needs. Or take care of them himself.
Voldemort rarely masturbated. He saw it as a waste of time, but maybe he would need to indulge himself to better stand against the temptation she offered. His main project wasn’t to just bed her. No, he needed Granger to crack and give into him, body and soul.
Especially soul.
Since his Horcruxes were gone, he would need a new way to gain immortality. A better way. His dragons secured him, but he wanted more.
Granger was perfect for what he had in mind. Ever since he made his Horcruxes, he had been extending his research. That original Horcruxes had come with side effects. At the time, he had seen them as necessary, but now when he once again found himself with a whole soul, he was hesitant to go through the process again.
Thankfully, he had made progress with his research and now he had found a new way to latch onto this world forever. Or rather, two ways. One would keep his body and mind here forever. It would take some time for that to come to pass, though, he had to wait for the twin’s Mother to show up.
The other way was to make himself indestructible, his soul forever out of the reach of those who wanted to kill him. That, Granger would help him with. Granger would be his new, modified Horcrux. But instead of carrying a piece of his soul, she would simply hide it.
Potter wouldn’t be able to kill him without killing his friend first – not that he would know that was what was required. No one would know. And once Granger died of old age, he would simply find a new person to store his soul.
But to do that, she needed to open up to him - by her own free will
Before he had that security, he didn’t want to confront Potter.
Not that he believed Potter would be able to kill him, but the boy did have an unnatural amount of good luck. Voldemort was not one to take unnecessary risks.
Granger moaned again, a higher pitch this time. Her right hand had moved down between her legs, and she was rubbing her sex unconsciously. She pressed her lips together in a grimace and he found himself fantasising of her lips around his cock.
Well, that wouldn’t do. If he had to be sexually frustrated, then she would be as well.
He nudged her on the shoulder and she woke up immediately, her already red face darkening several more shades.
“Please do that quietly, I had hoped to get a couple more hours of sleep,” Voldemort drawled.
Granger didn’t say anything. For a few seconds, she just lay there, frozen, her eyes wide with horror. Then, she carefully moved her hand from her sex and took a few shuddering breaths.
“What time is it?” she asked, and he could hear that she was forcing herself to sound as nonchalant as possible. She only sounded strained.
“A bit after six o’clock,” he answered.
“I think I’ll just get up then. Get ready for the day,” she said. Slowly she rolled off the bed.
“Yes, I assume you’ll need a cold shower to be able to focus on the job,” he remarked sweetly.
She didn’t answer, but marched to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Voldemort chuckled, and then turned onto his other side, having no problem falling asleep now that temptation had left the bed.
xxx
Hermione didn’t know quite how to handle her situation with Voldemort when he wasn’t torturing her. And he hadn’t tortured her for over a week now.
She would leave as early as possible and start taking care of the school. She was very thankful for that. There was always something to do; classrooms that needed extra repairs after a magical incident which meant giving Mr Filch the equipment to do so; parents that had questions about their children’s education; students that required a personalised study plan due to a disability; teachers that wanted special permission to do a demonstration in class and so on.
The school board also wrote to her with suggestions on how she could improve the school, although, McGonagall had told her that they didn’t bother her quite as much as they had with Dumbledore. It seemed that their fear of Voldemort often overpowered their need to nag.
Even with McGonagall’s help, Hermione was swamped from morning to night. She would often not leave the office until her eyes went blurry with tiredness.
When she felt like she really needed a break, she would go to Kara or Ginny and talk to them. Kara was quite bored and had taken to chasing Thestrals over the Forbidden Forest. Professor Wimble, the teacher in Care of Magical Creatures, was quite distressed over it, but more often than not, the Thestrals got away before Kara had a chance to catch them.
When the weekend came around again, Hermione felt that she needed to talk with Voldemort about allowing the students to meet their family. They hadn’t argued, and hardly talked for that matter, since she accidentally burned his shoulder, so she hoped he would be in a better mood now.
After lunch, she came back to her chambers only to find that Voldemort wasn’t there. Deciding to wait, she picked up a book on dragon care that she had been meaning to read. Usually, Kara would be able to tell her what he needed, but Hermione thought that it wouldn’t hurt to read up on dragons from a scientific point of view.
It was several hours later when Voldemort returned.
“I’m not used to seeing you here at this time of the day,” Voldemort remarked casually as he undid his travelling cloak.
“Yes, well, I need to talk with you. Do you want some tea?” she asked, gesturing at the teapot she had put under a stasis charm.
He nodded and sat down on the armchair opposite from her. She prepared the tea and handed him a cup.
“What is it you want?” he asked, sipping on the steaming tea.
“I’ve been thinking about the students. The war is very upsetting for them. They are worried about their families,” Hermione began slowly. Since she had been thinking about this talk for over a week, she had planned out almost exactly what she wanted to say. “It’s interfering with their school work and if it keeps up, more than the normal percentage of students will have to repeat a year.”
Voldemort continued to sip from his cup, looking at her with only mild interest.
“Usually, there is less than ten students who need to retake a year. This time, I fear that it will be more than a hundred. And those that will pass will do so with worse grades than previous years.
“Punishment won’t help them. It won’t make them stop worrying about their families and friends outside of Hogwarts. I think the only thing that could stem the problem is if they go to meet their family on a regular basis. Talk with them. I would suggest reinstating the Hogsmeade weekends, and have them occur once a month. Additionally, I would invite the families of students to come to the village those weekends as well. That way, students wouldn’t have to worry so much. If something has happened, the students can find out directly from their immediate families instead having to read about it in a letter.”
Voldemort regarded her closely. “And what if the students use the opportunity to smuggle in weapons that they’ll use to try and take control of the school?” he asked.
“They don’t really have a reason to take control of the school now. And even then, I doubt they’ll be able to hide them. I planned on tightening the security around the school. Every student has to be screened when they exit and enter the school, so if anyone tries to smuggle something inside, we’ll stop them,” Hermione answered. She was proud of herself on staying cool and collected.
Voldemort tapped his index finger against the teacup. “I think you are wrong about the punishment. Severus did not have this problem last year and the war was going on then as well.”
Hermione huffed. “Yes, but one of the conditions for me taking over the school was that I could protect students from unnecessary harm. I think my way of doing it will be more effective in the long run.”
He set down his teacup and leant back in his chair, pressing his fingertip against each other as he thought. “What are you willing to bargain with?”
She sighed. It was good, really, that he was willing to negotiate at all, but she didn’t have that much to bargain with in the first place.
“Death Eaters could patrol Hogsmeade, to make sure no one tries anything,” she suggested. “Not the overly wand-happy ones, though. I don’t want any of my students dying just because they hugged their mum too long or something like that.”
“Anything else?”
“What do you want?” she asked bluntly with another sigh. It was better to just get all the cards on the table so they knew where they were standing.
“A kiss.”
“What?” she asked, surprised.
“Every Hogsmeade weekend, I want you to kiss me, once, anywhere and at a time I decide.”
“What, like in public?” she asked, a bit worried.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“And it’s just kissing?”
“That’s up to you, but yes, that is the only thing I would require,” he responded with a smile. That smug bastard.
“Fine,” she agreed. “But just one kiss.”
His smile widened. “Excellent. Then we are in agreement. My Death Eaters will patrol Hogsmeade while the students are there, and you’ll owe me one kiss during that weekend.”
She nodded and they shook hands on it. It could have been worse, she guessed. Just having to kiss him for a few seconds once a month wouldn’t be that hard. The potion was already making her want to jump him every night.
Was that why he had asked for it? So she would be even more tortured by the potion?
Probably, if she knew him correctly. He was slowly torturing her until she went insane with lust.
But at least Julia Baggot would get to meet her mum, and all other students like her. That made it completely worth it.
xxx
Leaving Britain when you were Undesirable No 1 was hard. Unless you happened to know your away around the Muggle world and also happened own an invisibility cloak.
Harry and Ron sneaked onto a boat over the channel to France early one morning and by noon, they were on a train heading towards Romania.
They were still being careful, though. Under his invisibility cloak, Harry had stolen hair dye for Ron’s hair as well as a concealer for his own scar. It had been enough to make them look Muggle, and the only person that had looked at them suspiciously was the conductor on the train before Ron managed to understand that he wanted to see their ticket.
They had argued a lot about what their next step would be after Kara suddenly abandoned them in that cave by the sea. Harry had wanted to run back to Hogwarts, but Ron had reminded him that they were hardly in a position to challenge Voldemort yet. If Hermione and Kara couldn’t do it, they certainly couldn’t.
Instead, they had walked to the closest Muggle city and decided to make their way to Charlie, as they had planned from the beginning. Hermione was hardly alone. Both Ginny and their old teachers, like McGonagall and Flitwick were there to support her.
They slept on the train from France and the very next morning, they were in Romania, close to the headquarters for the dragon keepers of Europe.
“At least I think it was here,” Ron said nervously as they walked around town, hoping to see something that would lead them the right way.
“All we need is to find something magical and ask our way,” Harry said. “If we are in the wrong place, we just have to borrow a Floo.”
Finally, when they had been walking around a couple of hours, Harry saw a small little restaurant that looked a lot different from the posh boutiques around it. The windows were dark, and the plaque hanging in front of the door was shaped as a roaring dragon. What more, no one else seemed to notice the dark red door. Just as with the Leakey Cauldron, the people around them seemed to look past it.
“Let’s try,” Ron muttered. “If nothing else, then maybe we can get some food. I’m starving, Harry.”
Inside was as dark and gloomy as the outside, but Harry recognised it as magical at once. It wasn’t just that the customers were all wearing robes, or that there was no electric lamps, only torches on the wall. The place just felt magical.
“Excuse me,” Ron said to the overly hairy barkeep. “Do you speak English?”
“Yes. Beer?” the barkeep asked, reaching for a mug.
“Er, no thanks, not yet. We are wondering if you know the way to the dragon keepers’ headquarters.”
The barkeep stroked his wild brown beard as he inspected them. It was bushy and voluminous, and looked as though it hadn’t seen a comb in a long time. “You runaways?” His accent was as thick has his beard.
Harry carefully moved his right hand closer to his wand.
“No, no,” Ron said quickly, his ears red under the newly black hair. “My brother works there. He was supposed to meet us here, but he must have forgotten.”
“Huh. Lots of runaways want to work with dragons. Dragons not for little boys,” the barkeep warned them. His beard brushed his burly chest as he nodded.
“We know,” Ron said. “We just want to meet my brother. So do you know where it is?”
“Eh, Danut!” the barkeep called to a man sitting at a table in the back, having just finished his meal. “These boys want to see dragons.”
The man rose. He seemed to be close to seven feet tall and very muscular. Just like Charlie, he had a lot of burns on his arms and hands.
“No we just want to meet my brother,” Ron said again, taking a step closer to Harry. “He is a dragon keeper.”
“What’s your brother’s name?” Danut asked, his English having the same accent as the barkeep.
Ron and Harry exchanged a look. Harry nodded. They would have to take a risk and reveal whom they knew.
“Charlie Weasley,” Ron said.
Danut laughed. “Oh, you are Charlie’s brothers? Come here, come here! Charlie told us to keep a look out if one of you ever ran around here. But he said you would be red-haired?”
Ron shrugged. “Hair dye. Got tired of seeing red all the time.”
Danut laughed and put a hand on Ron’s shoulder, steering him towards the fireplace. Harry trailed after, hardly believing their luck.
Throwing Floo Powder into the fire, Danut said: “Just say ‘the Dragon Nest’!”
He mentioned for Ron to go first and then Harry followed him, his hand resting on his wand. It didn’t feel like a trap. Danut seemed friendly enough, but he wouldn’t relax until he saw Charlie.
They didn’t land in another fireplace like Harry was used to. Instead, they came through a huge outdoor fire, roaring with untamed flames.
He gaped at what he saw around him. If the dragon have in the Forbidden Forest before the Triwizard Tournament had impressed him, it was nothing like this.
There were dragons everywhere. Some lying asleep on the ground, smaller ones flying around under close guard of wizards, and a huge magical fence in the distance where he could see even more dragons resting.
Dragon keepers were also everywhere, talking, laughing and cautiously working with the dragons.
“Ron!” Charlie ran towards them, embracing his brother in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you are here! I haven’t heard any news in months! What’s happened?”
“It’s a long story,” Ron said, looking as relieved as Harry felt at the sight of his brother. “But we hope you can help us.”
“Of course, I have just been waiting for new orders,” Charlie said.
“Well, we don’t really have orders,” Harry said, stepping forward. “But considering You-Know-Who’s new allies you seem like the obvious solutions.”
Charlie frowned. “What new allies?”
“Dragons,” Harry said. “You-Know-Who has got something called the Dragon Chronicles and according to Hermione, he has bonded with two.”
Charlie’s smile disappeared and his face paled under his smattering of freckles. “Oh no.”
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The Dragon Chronicles