Fifteen Years

Part Thirteen

A group of them had flown to the edge of the woods. Despite being the leader, Harry Potter stood a little further back, considering his options. He could ignore it, and let George carry on with whatever he was up to. Harry doubted whether George would be planning anything too terrible, and he had always been a friend, after all. The only time George had ever interfered with Harry's schemes had been during his third year at Hogwarts -and it was only to help him out. Harry had been trying to sneak in to Hogsmeade when George and Fred had pulled him up and given him the Marauders Map.

Then again, George was flying across the country with ten boxes of explosives trailing behind him. That couldn't be good.

Pressure began building up as his employees turned towards him, waiting.

"What's yer plan, 'Arry?" a gruff man named Abelard Acelin was leaning back on a tree trunk. The tree almost seemed to be tilting beneath his weight.

Harry wasn't sure where to start. He knew he had to do it. He had to find George, question him, and possibly arrest him. The little hairs on the back of his neck shuddered. "We form a line and apparate every fifty metres or so. Remember, if you find him, don't use any offensive spells. We only need to talk to him."

The Aurors were nodding and had started backing away from their circle to form a rigid line.

"Are you sure you're alright to do this Harry?" someone squeezed his elbow gently. Averting his gaze from the trees and squinting through the darkness, he discovered Bathilde Bell looking up at him with curious eyes. "We can handle this," she said, "if you don't want to be involved. I won't let anyone hurt him. I know he's your friend."

Harry looked back towards the forest, and spoke in an undertone. "It's fine. I can do this."

He had to do this.

It was like a test. All of his employees were watching him, waiting for him to back out. To turn away from doing what was right for fear of discovering that a friend was doing something wrong.

If these explosives had the slightest connection with George finding the Deathly Hallows, Harry had to stop him. The protection of the wizarding world depended on the permanent disappearance of the Hallows. If George found the Resurrection Stone, everyone's interest would be sparked. Power-hungry wizards similar to Tom Riddle would surface. And the world would be thrown in to turmoil.

Stepping forwards, Harry was the first to enter the woods. "Lumos," he said, and a faint glow appeared at the tip of his wand, lighting the undergrowth before him.

"Let's go!" he shouted, and the others hurried in after him.

---

The lemon-coloured eyes were washed-out and unfocused. The Scottish Sharptail did not seem to recognise George. Nor did it seem interested in attacking him.

In fact, it didn't even lift its head.

"Come on buddy," George said in the most encouraging voice he could muster, "we're going to get you out of here." The dragon grunted and closed its eyes. Gritting his teeth, George edged closer and nudged the Scottish Sharptail with the tips of his toes. As the beastly creature opened its eyes again, George's foot retreated instantly. A tendril of smoke curled up from the dragons nose. Eyes narrowing, George began his ascent. Using the horns as hand-holds, he quickly found himself atop the dragon, legs flung out on either side of its meaty neck. The dragon shook its head uncomfortably, then rested its chin back on the ground.