Harry Potter and the Dragon

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Crying Over You

A rising sun, pale but shiny, was generously spreading the most lucid and brightest of his rays over half the world, sparing some for the cities and some for the countryside. Those that were bathing the village of Hogsmeade had to work hard to find a crevice through the fluffy, cotton-like clouds that had come to rest above the town, which seemed to be thinking that the green of the hills and the red of the roofs were in need of a little bit of snowy white to make the landscape look as the perfect setting for a corny, bucolic romance.

Inside the local pub, Madame Rosmerta was moving among the tables with a cup of hot tea in her hands. She had an early group of customers. Once facing the one the cup was for, she said in baby tones: "Aw, come on Gilderoy, it couldn't have been that bad! You look alright to me! Are you sure you're not just sulking?"

"I'b tellin' the truth!" he replied through an obstructed nose. "Why nobody believes me? Why - aahh - aaaaaaahhhh!!!" he started to cry like a three-year-old boy.

"He said he could count up to thirty-nine curses! If you'd seen him when he got to my house, you'd passed out, I bet!" said a very serious Peter, alias Wormtail.

"But he says Harry did it? Harry Potter?" hissed Madame Rosmerta with a doubtful look in her face, looking at Wormtail.

"Yeah, sure! We all know he did it! Gild got an invitation to go to his house last night, since his... well, his 'father-in-love' was out of town..." Wormtail sniggered, but catching the glare coming from Gilderoy, he pulled a concerned face. "Gilderoy came to my dwelling early this morning, totally covered in mud. And sore all over. He says Harry Potter set him a trap, that lured him into the cabin with... well, dark purposes, and then attacked him without reason. Honest!"

"But Harry would never do such a thing! He's a good boy, he's never attacked anybody before, everybody knows that!" the landlady replied emphatically. "Are you sure you didn't have a fight of any sort? Like, let's say, you were playing cards, drank too much, got a bit carried away over money... I don't know, something like that?" she asked Gilderoy.

"No, it wasn't that... I don't know what happened... I just knocked the door... and he opened it... and then... I can't remember anything else... I must have fainted -" Gilderoy had to stop for a crying fit was in progress.

"But he just said you counted up to... how much it was, like thirty-something curses? How could you do that if you had been knocked out?"

Everyone in the table turned around to see who had spoken. Hermione Granger was at the bar, with an empty bottle of butterbeer in her hand. "I just came to ask for a bit of lamp oil, Madame Rosmerta, may I borrow some?"

"Sure, Hermione. Help yourself," said the landlady. Then, she faced Gilderoy again. "Nobody's going to believe your story just like that. I think we'll have to wait till we hear Harry's version of the tale," she concluded and went back to the bar.

"Damn bitch!" Gilderoy hissed after blowing his nose. "And damn old hag! That's why I hate women! They're nosy and irrational!"

"Well, you'll have to make up your story very well, Gilderoy. I mean, if you really want it known to the village... I can help you with that," said a middle-aged man who was wearing a ridiculous bowler hat.

"Thanks, Cornelius... I knew you'd be on my side," and then the blond wept for some time.

"But don't be sad, Gild, don't be sad... The boy's not a big deal, you can have anyone you'd want in this town, just name it, anyone would die to be with you, or to be you!" said Wormtail.

"Yes!" said an old man with a goatee. "You're far better than that Potter." He threw a sideway glance, lit by the shadow of a wink.

"Oh, friends, I know you have good interests at heart, but... but..." Gilderoy emitted a long wail followed by many spasmodic sobs, and could speak no more.

"Oh, Gild, stop crying, please! You're breaking my heart! You know Potter doesn't deserve you... I think you have to look around. Maybe... maybe there's someone you haven't spotted, maybe... who knows, you have the solution to your problem very close, like, in front of you... I mean, the one that'll make Potter come out of your head..." spoke with a honeyed voice a blond boy sitting across the table.

"You don't understand, Zacharias! Harry's the love of my life! Listen, I don't wanna talk about it... Okay... you won't understand... When I was a lad... I had this weird dream about a lightning bolt and... Well, it doesn't matter anymore... Oh -!!!" More tears.

"But what does a lightning bolt have to do with this?" asked the man of the bowler hat.

"Potter's got a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt, Cornelius," said matter-of-factly the man of the goatee.

"Really? I thought it was a twisted 'N'!" said Cornelius giggling.

"Yeah! That stands for 'NO'!" said Wormtail, laughing at his own joke.

Gilderoy smacked him on the head. "How can you be so insensitive, Peter?" he cried. "I've just been rejected by the boy I love, and you laugh! Listen, just leave me alone! I need to think how to win Harry's heart back, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep on breathing, or pumping blood through my veins, if I don't recover his affection... How can he be so mean! How could he have done this to me! It's the most humiliating of the rejections! Oh, he's got the beauty of an angel but the soul of a demon! He's evil, as the traitorous tiger that stalks in the woods waiting for the innocent deer... But I don't wanna talk about it, what do you know about love...?"

The four men on the table looked at Gilderoy, and then at each other, without knowing what to do or say. In this silent atmosphere, only altered by the rummaging of the bottles Madame Rosmerta was handling, Hagrid stormed into the pub.

"HEEEELP!!! HEEEELP!!! YEH 'AVE TER HELP ME!!!"

"What's that?? What's going on?? Hagrid!!" the landlady jumped in fright.

"It's Harry!! Harry!! A monster!! A monster's got 'im lock'd!! I need help!! Ter go rescue 'im!! Yeh gotta help me!!"

"Oh my God!" said Madame Rosmerta scared, with a hand on her chest.

"A monster? One of your monsters, Hagrid?" asked Cornelius, eyebrow raised.

"No! It's a dragon! A 'orrible dragon! I was in the woods an' wen' ter this manor, and then he trapp'd me, an' Harry wen' ter rescue me, the fool!! ...Lis'en, Cornelius! Gilderoy! Peter! Please!!! You gotta hel'me!!" Hagrid babbled, his eyes full of tears.

"And when did this happen?" asked the man of the goatee.

"Las' night! I just came from tha' 'orrible place! Are yeh goin' ter hel' me?"

"But... as I understand... Harry Potter was busy last night, torturing poor Gilderoy... at least that's what he says..." the man said curling his beard.

Hagrid looked at Gilderoy. This one pulled the face of a suffering puppy dog and nodded innocently.

"Bu'...bu'... I'm tellin' the truth!! Harry's there!! Lock'd!! Maybe... maybe tha' beast already... NO!! LIS'EN! Yeh gotta help me!!" Hagrid shouted desperate. "Igor, I know yeh're good at curses!! Cornelius, yeh've got important friends! Zacharias, yeh're strong an' young, please..."

The five men kept silent. Peter, the Wormtail, was holding a cackle. Igor was flaring his nostrils. Cornelius was looking at Hagrid with his mouth open. Zacharias was biting his fingernails, casting the half-giant a sideway glance. Gilderoy had his stare fixed upon the big man. Suddenly, the latter spoke. "We understand, Hagrid. Of course we do," he said in a soft, caring voice.

The other four turned to look at him. And, effectively, they understood. What Gilderoy had in mind, of course.

"Listen Hagrid, why don't you better go home and gather any equipment we may need for the raid? ... For we'll obviously raid the dragon's den, won't we?" Gilderoy asked meaningfully around the table.

"Yes, of course!!" answered the others.

"So yeh're goin' ter help me?" asked Hagrid beaming.

"I'd do anything in my power to help Harry, Hagrid. Maybe you're not aware, but the boy and I have a very close friendship..." said Gilderoy sweetly.

"Er... yeah... well... I think I'll go ter me cabin, ter collec' weapons an' stuff -" said Hagrid recovering his track of thoughts.

"NO! ... I mean... that's not necessary. Bring anything that could be useful, but leave the weapons in my hands. I have plenty..." winked Gilderoy.

"Okay... well, let's meet in the fountain, in 'alf an 'our, an'... thank yeh, mates. I'll never forget this..." said Hagrid, voice quivering and eyes flickering. And so he left the Three Broomsticks in a rush.

Once alone, the five men burst into a fit of laughter.

"You're planning to leave the big oaf waiting for us, aren't you, Gild?" asked Cornelius maliciously.

"Oh, Fudge! What mad ideas do you have about me? The man was desperate! Poor thing! No. Actually, I have a different plan in mind. I know you're acquainted with someone..."

"Oh! I know what you mean... Yes. Do you want me to owl her?" asked Cornelius.

"Please, Fudge. Express Owl. So she can pay us a visit. Along with her friends... Hahahahahhahahah!!!"

Gilderoy had a chance to show off his pearly teeth by laughing heartily, happily joined by his faithful gang. They didn't hear Madame Rosmerta swiftly leave the pub, briefly stating she had an errand to attend.