Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Communication is Key

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

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Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 22 – Communication Is Key

9:10am

Monday, 22 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

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Half a dozen photos were laid out around him, all with the same subject. Being magical, the angle that they'd been taken from didn't matter so much, after all, the subject did like to prowl around, showing off both sides as well as the view from the front. Unfortunately, those photos also showed that the subject was behind bars which was not the optimum arrangement for getting a complete, unobstructed view.

Thus, Harry was busy sketching. The charcoal moved deftly over the page, capturing in every stroke more and more of not only the look of the bunyip but also gave strong hints of its essence, its power and savageness.

For the most part, he was drawing from memory, the photographs were only there as a guide in case they were needed. His eyes remained fixed on his work, determinedly not on the spot, just twenty metres away where the creature had last been.

There was no point looking there now, not unless he wanted to see a scorched piece of dirt and sand-turned-glass, and the twisted, melted blob of unrecognisableness sitting in the middle of it.

The dragons had been more than reasonable. They'd even given Harry and Newt a couple of extra hours to study the bunyip, but in the end, they'd kept their word.

Cantrum and Dankrum, along with the three females whose clutches had been stolen by the bunyip, Boolym, Lundsum and Vestrym had landed in a circle around the caged bunyip. Dragon handlers had scattered, disappearing as fast as their legs would carry them until only Harry and Newt had remained. Dankrum had looked at Harry for a long few seconds and Harry was sure that he was being judged but Harry knew that this was going to happen, that there was no way to prevent it and, if he was honest with himself, a part of him wanted it to happen and so, he remained perfectly still and just watched.

Finally, Dankrum's long neck turned back to the caged bunyip and then, on some unspoken cue, all five of them had sent jets of white-hot tongues of flame at it. The magical protections that had been erected to keep the bunyip in lasted less than a second, the cage and the bunyip itself, not much longer.

Once it was done, the three mothers-that-should-have-been, raised up onto their back legs, extended their necks to the sky and roared their anguish and fury and revenge. The sound rocked Harry back on his heels and, as tempting as it was to slam his hands over his ears, he resisted the urge, instead sharing in their grief as best as he could.

When they were done, Dankrum inclined his head towards Harry, a gesture that he returned with a bow, before all five dragons took to the sky, winging back towards their weyrs.

A rattle, a bump and thump brought Harry back to the here and now and he paused in his sketching. The creak of the lid opening had him looking towards the old, tatty brown suitcase laying on the ground not far away. He waited, expectantly and wasn't disappointed.

A head of thinning white hair appeared, quickly accompanied by a hand and then the old, stooped body of the suitcase's owner. As always, Harry watched fascinated as Newt Scamander squeezed himself out of the confines of the suitcase. He shook his head; it looked near impossible that someone as thin as Newt could get in and out of there and yet, Harry had been assured that the opening was quite wide enough to accommodate almost anything. Anything but a dragon, of course.