Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

The daggers hurled at them were incredibly sharp. No one knew what kind of metal they were forged from, but they sliced through Evan’s protective magic and even the dragon’s thick hide with shocking ease, drawing blood.

The dragon let out a shrill, furious roar of pain.

Below, the goblins rang their little bells, a sharp clanging that echoed through the tunnel, making the dragon even more furious.

It wheeled in the air, growling, too agitated to fly closer to the passageway.

Evan frowned — this wouldn’t do. He swung his wand again, sweeping it in a wide arc, casting an Unbreakable Charm on the dragon’s hide.

To his surprise, the non-offensive spell took effect almost instantly.

A dragon’s hide could withstand most spells — but enhancement charms, apparently, were not among them.

Realizing this, Evan shifted tactics and began casting every strengthening spell he could think of on the creature: Fortificus for resilience, Acerbus for sharper claws, Engorgio to enlarge it, Gravitas and Potentia to lend it weight and power, then the Ferox Charm, and finally even the savage Bloodlust Hex…

Under the surge of Evan’s enhancement spells, the dragon seemed to have been injected with pure power; it became ferociously alive.

Its body swelled, growing larger by nearly a third. Its rough hide turned harder than stone, and its claws gleamed like polished steel.

The flames it spewed out surged in temperature, reaching a hundred feet in length and lingering longer in the air.

The dragon’s eyes blazed scarlet. It drew in a great breath — and roared, unleashing another torrent of fire.

The flames exploded, burning the entire tunnel.

To avoid the flames, the goblins and guards fled in all directions. Braving a hail of hurled daggers, the dragon clawed and fought its way through by sheer force, its thrashing, spiked tail, brimming with power, swung, shattering great lumps of rock and gigantic stalactites behind it.

The small goblins, dwarfed by this monstrous creature, fled like ants before a storm.

Chunks of stone rained down, muffling the clanging of their bells. Nothing could stop the dragon now.

Smashing through the last barrier, the dragon burst out of the passage — the goblins’ earlier work clearing the tunnel now only made its escape easier. With sheer brute power, and the combined force of the spells cast by Evan, Harry, Hermione, and Elaine, they finally broke free.

The dragon soared higher and higher, breaking through the rock and entering the marble hallway of Gringotts with unprecedented force.

In the hall, the goblins and wizards conducting business, all stared in amazement at the dragon’s sudden emergence from the depths of the earth. Some screamed, some turned and fled, and some fainted, their expressions as if the world had come to an end prematurely.

Goblins and wizards trembled, shrieked and ran for cover.

The entirety of Gringotts was crumbling. The dragon stretched its wings, spewing flames once more, as if it wanted to kill every person and goblin in its sight. It wanted revenge, a vengeance for its lifelong imprisonment in that tiny space deep underground.

Evan stopped it, and the dragon stretched its wings, its horned head turning toward the cool outside air it could smell beyond the entrance.

Then, with Evan, Harry, Hermione, and Elaine still clinging to its back, it burst through Gringotts and launched itself into the sky.

Diagon Alley was shrinking fast beneath them, the dark, perilous underground, the molten magma, already seeming a distant memory. They soared higher and higher, London unfurled below them like a gray-and-green map.

Evan panted, trying to suppress the joy of having escaped a desperate situation.

The magic wore off, and the dragon shrank. It seemed a little tired, but the joy of escaping death still fueled its flight, forcing it forward, rapidly moving in the direction Evan had commanded.

Evan sat on the dragon’s broad back. Crouching low over the beast’s neck, he clung tight to the metallic scales, and the cool breeze was soothing on his burned and blistered skin from the magma beneath, the dragon’s wings beating the air like the sails of a windmill. Behind him, Harry, Hermione, and Elaine shouted and laughed in pure exhilaration.

They flew forward for five minutes or so, Evan peering down, searching for a suitable landing spot.

Their destination was Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, where they could study the newly acquired cup and deed in safety. The dragon, meanwhile, would continue flying — hopefully leading any Death Eaters in pursuit to believe the four of them were still on its back, drawing them farther and farther away.

The chaos they had caused in Gringotts was far greater than Evan had expected. He had planned to slip in quietly, take what they needed, and leave without a trace. But things had gone wildly out of control. He had no idea how long it would take before Voldemort knew that they had broken into the Lestranges’ vault.

How soon would the goblins of Gringotts find Bellatrix beneath the ruins?

And how long would it take for them to realize what Evan and his companions had taken?

Once Bellatrix woke up, she would quickly understand that they had taken the cup.

Voldemort would know, at last, that they were hunting Horcruxes. …

And he would soon discover that all his Horcruxes, save for the statue of the god of evil, had been destroyed.

Voldemort would surely fly into a rage — but then again, what need does a god have for Horcruxes? Evan thought grimly.

He urged the dragon to climb a little higher, letting thin strands of cloud shroud its body from sight, hiding them from the Muggles in the tall buildings below.

Behind Evan, Harry’s excitement was beginning to fade.

He looked around, feeling his scar prickling again.

For a moment, he felt dazed, as though he were seeing a new vision — a dimly lit room, damp and moldy, with water dripping from the ceiling.

He stood in the middle of the room, raising his wand slightly, surrounded by complete darkness.

“Nothing?” he said coldly, his voice merciless. “Still, even rubbish can have its uses…”

In the shadows before him, a figure was cowering, trembling violently; someone who had clearly just been tortured by Voldemort.

Who was it?

Harry strained his eyes, trying to see the figure across from him. It was a familiar figure. Fear pressed against him in the darkness, and Harry grew increasingly worried. He had an uneasy feeling that the least he expected, the worst, had happened.

Just as he pushed through the dense darkness and made out Voldemort’s figure, hurried footsteps could be heard in the distance.

Voldemort spun around sharply, and with a violent jolt, Harry opened his eyes again.

He found himself lying on the grass, a cool night breeze blowing gently, and the chirping of insects filled his ears.

The dragon was gone, and Evan, Hermione, and Elaine gathered around him, their faces filled with concern.

“Does he know?” Evan asked.

“Not yet, but it won’t be long. I heard footsteps; someone must’ve gone to tell him,” Harry gasped.

“What was he doing before that? When you were inside his mind…”

Harry stared blankly at Evan, as though that question itself were something dreadful.