Echo, Pip, Sniffles, and Shimmer materialized at the edge of the bustling array of tents, the crowd's cacophony still a distant roar. Echo, his blue hair a determined shade of indigo, focused his intent, linking his Beast Magic once more with Shimmer. The demiguise, a shimmering blur of anticipation, pressed against his shoulder, and with a familiar, almost imperceptible ripple, Echo, Pip, and Sniffles vanished from sight, cloaked in Shimmer's powerful invisibility charm.
"Alright, guys," Echo whispered, his voice a disembodied murmur against the festive noise. "First up, the Common Welsh Green."
They moved like ghosts through the throngs of excited spectators, their presence undetected, weaving between brightly colored banners and the lingering scent of butterbeer and dragon's fire. Echo navigated towards the cluster of heavily guarded tents, his heart pounding with a mixture of urgency and righteous anger. He found the tent housing the Common Welsh Green, a smaller, less ostentatious structure than some of the others, but still marked with the unmistakable Ministry seals.
He slipped inside, the invisibility charm making the canvas walls seem to part for him. The interior, as he had suspected, was magically expanded, a vast, circular space that dwarfed the tent's exterior. In the center, chained to a massive, metal-reinforced circular platform, lay the Common Welsh Green. The sight made Echo's stomach churn, a fresh wave of nausea rising in his throat. The magnificent creature that had once shimmered with verdant life now lay in a pitiful heap, its green scales dull, its segmented fin drooping. Its sapphire eyes, once intelligent and vibrant, were now unfocused, glazed over with a dazed, drug-induced stupor. Echo could see traces of vomit on the stone floor, a grim testament to Seraphina's brutal "victory."
"Ugh," he gagged, clamping a hand over his mouth. The smell of bile and dragon was overpowering.
There was only one guard, a burly wizard with a bored expression, leaning against a tent pole, seemingly oblivious to their presence. Echo glanced at Pip, who immediately understood.
"Pip!" Echo whispered, a silent command rather than a spoken word.
With a soft pop, Pip materialized at the guard's feet, a tiny, unassuming figure in his green house-elf tunic. The guard, startled by the sudden appearance of the house-elf, blinked.
"What in blazes...?" the guard mumbled, leaning down, his brow furrowed in confusion.
As the guard's face drew closer, Pip, with astonishing speed and a barely audible snap of his tiny fingers, cast a powerful, wordless, stunning spell. A bolt of invisible magic shot forth, striking the guard squarely in the chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious, with a soft thud.
"Nice one, Pip!" Echo whispered, the invisibility charm dissipating around him.
He rushed towards the fallen guard, ensuring he was truly out. Then, he turned his attention to the suffering dragon. He aimed his wand at the now familiar fighting collar around the Welsh Green's neck. "Finite Incantatem!" he chanted, a flash of white light striking the collar. With a soft click and a wisp of dark smoke, the device loosened and fell to the ground, a malevolent piece of enchanted metal.
Echo then aimed his wand at the heavy metal chains that bound the dragon's limbs to the circular platform. "Liberare Vincula!" he incanted, but nothing happened. The chains remained stubbornly in place. He tried again, a more powerful burst of magic, but the chains merely absorbed the spell, a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer briefly crossing their surface.
"Blast it!" Echo muttered, his hair flashing with frustration. "These chains… they're enchanted to resist unlocking charms. They need a key!"
Just then, Sniffles, who had been hiding in Echo's robe, poked his small head out. With a determined squeak, the niffler darted from Echo's side, a grey blur across the tent floor. He scurried to the unconscious guard, his keen eyes scanning the wizard's belt and pockets. With a triumphant little squeak, Sniffles grabbed a large, ornate iron key that had been clipped to the guard's belt and, with surprising strength, dragged it back towards Echo.
Echo smiled, bending down to pet Sniffles' head. "Good job, Sniffles! You're a lifesaver."
He took the key from the Niffler and handed it to Shimmer. The demiguise, with astonishing agility, sprang onto the dragon's massive body, a translucent blur as he zipped around, expertly unlocking each heavy chain with a series of quick, precise movements. The last chain clattered to the ground, leaving the Welsh Green entirely unbound.
Echo then pulled another small, clear vial from his satchel and gave it to Pip. "Here, Pip. Make sure it drinks all of it."
Pip, with a soft pop, reappeared beside the dragon's head, holding the vial. The Welsh Green, still dazed, instinctively lowered its head as Pip poured the shimmering solution onto its tongue. The dragon swallowed, and almost immediately, a visible tremor passed through its large form. Its muscles relaxed, its dull scales regained their verdant luster, and the unfocused glaze in its sapphire eyes began to clear, giving way to a dawning awareness.
As the dragon's senses returned and it realized it was free, Echo stepped forward. He focused his Beast Magic, projecting a powerful wave of calm directly at the creature, a silent reassurance amidst its confusion. Then, with a series of intricate wand movements, he murmured, "Sanare Bestia!" A gentle emerald light enveloped the dragon, mending its wounds, regrowing its torn scales, and erasing all traces of the brutal encounter.
The Common Welsh Green blinked, its now clear sapphire eyes sweeping over its healed body. Then, fixed on Echo, a profound sense of relief washed over its magnificent face. Echo, too, felt a wave of relief, his blue hair softening to a contented green.
Suddenly, a gruff voice from behind him shattered the peace. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing, boy?!"
A second guard, burly and red-faced, materialized from a hidden entrance, lunging forward and seizing Echo's arm in a vice-like grip. "You are in serious trouble! This is a Ministry event, and you've just interfered with official proceedings!"
The entire tent seemed to freeze. The Common Welsh Green, which had just found its freedom and healing at Echo's hand, instantly tensed. Its intelligent sapphire eyes narrowed, locking onto the guard who was manhandling its savior. A low, guttural snarl rumbled deep in its chest, a sound that vibrated through the very air. When the guard didn't release Echo but instead tightened his grip and continued to yell, a fierce, verdant light began to build in the dragon's throat. Its eyes glowed with an ominous green, and a low hiss, thick with aggressive intent, filled the tent, clearly threatening to incinerate the offending wizard with a blast of its potent, emerald fire.
The guard, his face already red with anger, looked up at the enraged Common Welsh Green. His eyes, wide with sudden terror, registered the gathering emerald fire in the dragon's throat, the imminent, fiery death about to descend upon him. A desperate, choked scream tore from his lungs, but before the dragon could unleash its blast, a massive, scaly hand shot through the tent flap. It clamped around the guard's ankle with bone-crushing force.
"Aaaargh!" the guard shrieked, his eyes bulging as he was yanked violently backward, dragged through the tent opening, and out into the bustling, unaware crowd. Echo, still gripped by the guard's other hand, was pulled along with him, tumbling out into the open air.
He landed in a heap, momentarily disoriented, before scrambling to his feet. His eyes immediately darted to what had intervened. Standing tall amidst the now-panicked spectators was the magnificent Chinese Fireball, its molten golden eyes blazing with fierce determination. In its powerful jaws, still miraculously intact, was the guard. The Fireball, with a powerful flick of its head, tossed the screaming guard through the air like a rag doll. The man landed with a sickening thud somewhere in the distance. Then, the dragon let out a deafening, earth-shaking roar, a sound of pure, untamed power that ripped through the festive atmosphere, instantly turning the distant cheers into terrified screams.
It launched itself onto the tops of the tents, its fiery scales a blur against the canvas. It swiped at startled onlookers with its tail, sending them scattering, kicked down other tents with its mighty claws, tearing through the fabric with ease, and flapped its vast, leathery wings, creating powerful air currents that sent people and debris flying. Stunning spells, bright streaks of red and yellow, shot from dozens of wands, striking the dragon's shimmering hide, but it merely bucked and roared, seemingly unfazed, never once biting, clawing, or breathing fire on anyone.
Echo, catching the dragon's molten golden gaze, saw it. It wasn't aimless destruction; it was a carefully orchestrated diversion. The Fireball met his gaze for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them, before turning its attention back to the throngs of screaming people and confused wizards trying to fend it off.
A small smile touched Echo's lips. "You really are a good dragon, aren't you?" he murmured, a warmth spreading through him. He then turned and ducked back into the Common Welsh Green's tent.
"Pip!" Echo whispered urgently, his voice filled with renewed purpose. "Take Sniffles. Go around to all the other dragon tents and grab every single key. We need to free them all."
Pip, his tiny green eyes gleaming with understanding, gave a sharp nod. "Yes, Master Echo!" Pip will do it!" With a soft pop, he vanished, Sniffles a blur of dark fur at his heels.
Seconds later, muffled pops and the faint sounds of wordless stunning spells could be heard from various distant tents, interspersed with the growing pandemonium outside as the Chinese Fireball continued its impressive, non-lethal rampage. In an astonishingly short amount of time, Pip reappeared beside Echo, Sniffles clinging to his shoulder. The Niffler's pouch, now comically bulging, clinked with the distinct sound of many heavy, ornate keys.
Echo quickly put Sniffles into his robe pocket, the Niffler nestling comfortably amidst his other treasures. Shimmer, meanwhile, zipped onto his shoulder, his translucent form shimmering with renewed urgency. Pip tucked himself neatly under Echo's arm, his tiny frame almost imperceptible.
Echo turned to the Common Welsh Green, its sapphire eyes bright and alert. "Go," he whispered, his voice firm. "Fly free. Find your own way, far from here."
With a magnificent unfurling of its verdant wings, the Common Welsh Green let out a triumphant roar, a sound that resonated with newfound freedom. It burst through the canvas wall of the tent, tearing a gaping hole in its wake. Outside, the scene was chaos. The Chinese Fireball, still causing a glorious distraction, was now being overwhelmed, dozens of wizards surrounding it, pelting it with stunning spells. One too many hit its mark, and the Fireball stumbled, a low whine escaping its throat.
Seeing its comrade in distress, the Common Welsh Green didn't hesitate. With a powerful beat of its wings, it soared into the sky, a streak of emerald against the pale morning. It breathed a long, arcing line of fire, cutting off the circling wizards from the Chinese Fireball, creating a fiery barrier that forced them to scatter. The Fireball, momentarily relieved, let out a grateful snort. Now, with the Common Welsh Green circling overhead, raining down defensive fire, and the Chinese Fireball, battered but resolute, snarling from the ground, the two dragons formed an unlikely, formidable alliance.
Echo, seeing the desperate fight, turned to Pip. "Alright, Pip," he commanded, his voice sharp with purpose. "Apparate us to each tent. We're freeing them all. Now!"
With a series of rapid pops, Echo, with Pip, Sniffles, and Shimmer still in tow, apparated from tent to tent, a whirlwind of invisible motion. Each appearance was brief, precise, and executed with a ruthless efficiency born of righteous anger. Pip, a blur of green, would swiftly stun the lone guard in each tent. Echo, his wand a streak of light, would sever the fighting collar with a sharp "Finite Incantatem!" Sniffles, with an excited squeak, would locate the right key in his pouch, which Shimmer, now a seasoned expert, would use to unlock the heavy chains with astonishing speed. Then, Pip would administer the healing potion, and Echo, with a final, powerful "Sanare Bestia!" and a projected wave of calming Beast Magic, would restore the dragon to its full health.
"Fly free!" Echo would command, his voice echoing in each magically expanded tent, filled with a raw, fierce joy.
And each time, with a triumphant roar, the now-healed dragon would burst through the canvas, tearing a gaping hole in its wake, and launch itself into the sky.
The Ukrainian Ironbelly, its metallic scales gleaming, soared upward with a deafening shriek, joining the fray. The Romanian Longhorn, lean and horned, erupted from its confinement, letting out a booming roar that shook the very ground. Then came the Antipodean Opaleye, with its pearly scales and multi-colored eyes, followed by the majestic Norwegian Ridgeback, its spiky back a fearsome sight. The Swedish Short-Snout, with its silver-blue scales and powerful breath of clear flame, joined its brethren. The Peruvian Vipertooth, small but incredibly venomous and swift, zipped into the sky, a green blur. And finally, the remaining breeds—the Hungarian Horntail, the most dangerous of them all, a truly fearsome beast with bronze scales and a tail tipped with deadly spikes, exploded from its tent, letting out a terrifying bellow.
Soon, the sky above the Forbidden Forest and Hogwarts was a breathtaking, terrifying spectacle. Nine magnificent dragons, their scales gleaming in the morning light, soared and swooped, a kaleidoscope of colors and forms. They were no longer chained, no longer drugged, no longer forced to fight. They were free.
What remained of the crowd below was in utter pandemonium. Ministry officials, aurors, and staff ran in every direction, their faces a mixture of terror and disbelief. Their stunning spells were now utterly useless against the sheer number and coordinated movements of the dragons. The Chinese Fireball and the Common Welsh Green, battered but resolute, were now joined by their newly freed kin, a living, breathing testament to Echo's defiance.
Echo, watching from the relative calm of the now-empty tents, felt a profound wave of relief wash over him. His blue hair shimmered with a triumphant, joyful green. It was done—all of them, all nine.
"They're free," he whispered, a genuine, heartfelt smile spreading across his face. His eyes were fixed on the magnificent, soaring creatures. "They're finally free."
Echo's eyes swept across the chaotic sky, a proud, joyful green shimmering in his hair. He counted them, one by one, tracing their arcs and dives against the pale morning. One, two, three… eight. Eight magnificent dragons, soaring free. But there were nine. He frowned, a sliver of concern replacing his triumph. The Peruvian Vipertooth. Where was it?
A sudden, pained shriek, smaller and sharper than the others, cut through the joyous cacophony. Echo's head snapped towards the sound. Below, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a shimmering cage of pure, concentrated magic pulsed around the tiny, green blur of the Peruvian Vipertooth. An Auror, his face grim, stood over it, wand still raised, holding the small dragon captive.
"No!" Echo roared, his green hair flaring to a furious red. He couldn't let them take another one! His gaze shot to the Chinese Fireball, still causing a magnificent diversion amidst the dwindling crowds, its golden eyes, even from this distance, seeming to meet his. Help it! Echo projected, a frantic torrent of his will flowing through his Beast Magic. The little one! Below!
The Chinese Fireball understood. With a powerful beat of its wings, it descended like a scarlet comet. It didn't aim for the Auror directly. Instead, with astonishing agility, it grabbed its own long, serpentine tail in its mouth, forming a fiery hoop. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, it began to roll, a crimson wheel of death, breathing searing fire as it spun across the ground towards the Auror.
The Auror, already tense from the ongoing dragon rampage, saw the impossible sight of a self-igniting, rolling dragon-wheel of fire. His eyes widened in terror. "Bloody hell!" he shrieked, abandoning his magical cage and the Vipertooth. He shot into the air on his broomstick, a desperate blur of motion, flying for his life. The Vipertooth, now free from the magical restraint, shot upwards, a grateful emerald streak joining its brethren in the sky.
But the Auror wasn't done. He turned his broom, a grim determination replacing his panic, and let loose a powerful Stunning Spell. The crimson bolt struck the Chinese Fireball square in the side. The dragon stumbled, its rolling momentum broken, its head shaking violently. It was disoriented, its vision swimming, a state of magical vertigo gripping it.
Defend yourself! Echo urged, his will a desperate current flowing into the Fireball. Fight back!
The Auror, seeing his chance, let loose a powerful Bombarda! A bright, explosive bolt shot towards the dazed dragon. Echo, eyes blazing, mirrored the spell. "Bombarda!" he yelled, his voice resonating with his Dragon Magic.
As if a single thought, the Chinese Fireball opened its jaws and, with a desperate surge of its remaining energy, unleashed its own concentrated fireball. The two explosive spells collided mid-air with a deafening CRACK! A shower of sparks and smoke erupted, momentarily obscuring both dragon and wizard.
The Auror, undeterred, raised his wand again. "Ignis procella!" he bellowed, and a vortex of swirling, scarlet flames erupted around the Fireball, trapping it in a fiery maelstrom.
But Echo was ready. Into it! Unwind it! He commanded. The Chinese Fireball, despite its dazed state, obeyed. With a burst of speed, it plunged directly into the heart of the Firestorm, its serpentine body twisting and coiling with impossible grace. In seconds, the swirling flames dissipated, absorbed and dispersed by the dragon's innate affinity for fire, leaving only a few lingering embers.
The Auror, jaw agape, let loose a flurry of spells – Stunning Charms, Blasting Curses, a barrage of pure magical energy. But Echo, a master conductor, guided the Chinese Fireball. The dragon moved like a magnificent ribbon dancer, looping and swirling as if its body were made of streamers in the wind, evading every spell with breathtaking agility, always just out of reach, frustrating the Auror to no end.
Suddenly, the residual effects of the Stunning Spell faded from the Fireball. Its molten golden eyes snapped back into sharp focus, burning with a renewed, unadulterated fury. Without a moment's hesitation, it launched itself at the Auror. The wizard barely had time to gasp before the massive dragon tackled him from his broom, sending them both plummeting to the ground. The Fireball landed on top of the Auror, its powerful, clawed wing pinning him to the earth, a low, menacing growl rumbling in its chest. Its jaws opened, revealing rows of gleaming, sharp teeth, ready to finish him.
"Stop!" Echo screamed, his voice raw with desperation.
The dragon paused, its golden eyes still fixed on the terrified Auror beneath its claw. Echo poured his will into the creature, a desperate plea. Let him go! Please! This was the crux of Beast Magic, he knew. It was a relationship, a connection of wills, not absolute control. The dragon heard him. It understood his desire. But it didn't have to listen. The collar, the pain, the forced aggression – it demanded retribution.
But then, the Fireball looked at Echo, at the genuine desperation etched on his young face, the raw plea in his eyes. Slowly, reluctantly, it looked back down at the whimpering Auror. It curled its claws, a low rumble still in its chest, and brought its magnificent snout close to the wizard's face. With a deafening roar that vibrated through the very ground, it released the man, then launched itself back into the sky, joining its now fully free brethren.
Echo sagged with relief, his red hair softening to a gentle, exhausted blue. He raised his wand, holding the tip to his mouth. With a sharp, penetrating whistle that seemed to echo from every direction at once, a pure, magical sound cut through the air. And then, a new, magnificent figure appeared in the sky. Wick, echo's own Hebridean Black dragon, larger and more formidable than any of the others, descended with a powerful beat of her leathery wings. Her dark, obsidian scales gleamed as she moved, circling the now nine free dragons, her presence exuding an undeniable authority.
The dragons, as if recognizing their leader, began to group around her. Nine magnificent creatures, now joined by the fearsome Wick, circled high above, a breathtaking and terrifying sight. Spectators, those who hadn't fled, stood frozen in awe and fear, their eyes wide as they witnessed all ten types of dragons soaring majestically. With a collective roar, Wick and the other dragons breathed fire into the sky, a spectacular display of unique colors and shapes – the searing white of the Chinese Fireball, the verdant emerald of the Welsh Green, the clear, powerful flame of the Swedish Short-Snout, the dark red and smoky fire of Wick, a magnificent, untamed ballet of raw power.
Take them, Wick, Echo projected, his will clear and strong, a father's plea to a loyal child. Take them far away. Past the Scottish Highlands. To the distant mountains. Let them live in peace. Keep them safe.
Wick, leader of this magnificent, newly freed flock, let out a deep, resonant roar that echoed her acceptance. She turned, her massive body arcing gracefully. With a powerful beat of her wings, she led the other nine dragons into the great distance, a magnificent, soaring spectacle fading into the pale morning sky, a promise of freedom and peace carried on the wind.
Echo watched them go, a wistful smile on his face, the last fiery speck of Wick and her liberated flock disappearing into the horizon. He stood there for a long moment, the silence of the arena suddenly profound after the cacophony of dragon roars and terrified screams. The adrenaline that had fueled him through the entire ordeal began to ebb, leaving him utterly spent yet undeniably triumphant.
The quiet, however, didn't last.
From all sides, the sounds of frantic footsteps, shouts, and the unmistakable crackle of Disarming Charms grew rapidly closer. Echo's head snapped up. Emerging from the edges of the arena and tents, the Forest, were dozens of Ministry officials and Aurors, their faces grim and furious. Wands were raised, pointed directly at him. Spells, aimed not to stun but to incapacitate, whizzed past, narrowly missing him as they targeted the now-empty air where the dragons had been.
"Echo! By order of the Ministry of Magic, you are under arrest!" a stern-faced Auror bellowed, his voice amplified by a Sonorus Charm. "For reckless endangerment, unauthorized use of magic, interference with a Triwizard Task, and the illegal release of dangerous magical creatures!"
Echo watched them surround him, forming an impenetrable circle. He saw Barty Crouch Sr. among them, his face a mask of incandescent rage, his thinning hair almost standing on end. Dumbledore was also present, his blue eyes still holding that unsettling, knowing glint, but also a hint of something unreadable, perhaps even a flicker of approval.
Echo sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of resignation. His blue hair, which had been a joyous green moments before, settled into a dull, defeated grey. He slowly, deliberately, reached into his robe pocket, pulling out his wand. He looked at it for a moment, then dropped it onto the soft grass. The wood hit the ground with a soft thud, a tiny sound swallowed by the angry murmurs of the approaching wizards.
He then slowly raised his hands, palms open, a gesture of complete capitulation. His gaze swept over the angry faces of the Ministry officials, the furious Aurors, and the bewildered, terrified Hogwarts staff. There was no escape this time.
"Alright, alright," Echo said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "I surrender. But for the record, they were being tortured. And I'd do it again."