Harry Potter - Hellion!

 

"Hey, what is that dragon doing? It is going down like a rocket!"

"It found food! It has been flying around non-stop since this morning, it is bound to be hungry! I admit it is a beauty to see it fly. It glides through the air effortlessly, seems to use the updrafts to the best. I wish I had that sense of flight when I pilot my glider. That ox is about to learn that staying in the open with that kind of predator is not conducive to long life!"

The Harrier aircrafts held station three miles off and the pilots watched, wide-eyed, as the dragon glided silently from behind the ox, suddenly grabbing it with his four paws and using its wings to climb at a steep angle.

"I wonder why the ox is not kicking around?"

"Did you look closely? The forepaws broke through his neck and spine with these long claws; and the rear paws are trying, unsuccessfully so far, to grab the rear. It died instantly. Eww! Bombs away! The dragon has dropped the mother of all turds, probably to lighten up the load!"

"If that thing lands on someone, it is going to be his shitting day."

Said dirty bomb landed on the trailer of a truck traveling the A5, rising the juncture and the pulling rear wheels of the tractor. The driver made it for the side of the road, barely missing a car and leaving skid marks across the whole length of the roadway.

"RAF DS-5 to squadron leader! Advise authorities to close A5 at kilometer fifty to fifty-two due to shitty driving conditions. Trailer truck in ditch, car in ditch."

"DS-5. Clarify."

"The dragon took a dump after scooping a bull and taking off with it. It hit a trailer truck on A5 at kilo fifty-two, westbound."

"How in hell can a turd take a trailer out?"

"That turd is the size of a bungalow, sir. It spattered across the divide. Count our blessing. No car crashed in all that traffic, only one skidded off the road. I suspect my three-year old would be laughing his pants shitty with fun, given he used his as skating rink last night while I watched TV."

"One car driver is trying to stand on the side of the road, not too successfully I might add. It is the third time he ends on his bum. Mr. Brown Face does not seem to understand he must crawl out of the impact zone."

"You heard my wingman. Conditions are not appropriate for safe driving. Black ice may be dangerous, but brown ice is worse! Call in the fire brigade. At least they can hose down the highway."

"Why is it it is always on my shift things turn bad?"

"Shitty karma."

"I will remember that one when your turn for promotion comes by, Captain!"

"There is one thing that is bothering me, Major..."

"What is it, wing?"

"How fast does a Dragon grow? It just, well, took an ox out... And, well, it is not even a day old. BRR!"

"You have a point. We will raise it at debriefing. I am sure there are people who know more about them then we do. We have fifteen minutes before DS-6 relieves us. The dragon is moving north-west and it should be over Nottingham, headed for Sherwood Forest shortly."

"I just hope it does not catch a cold. That forest is dry at this time of the year, and a couple of well-placed sneeze would light it up like a collection of christmas trees."

"Wing, are you trying to outrank me with your bright ideas in cascade?"

"Do not we all want to outsmart our lead?"

"At least, I was bright enough not to say it out loud!"

"And you also thought your lead was dumb enough not to know what you were doing when you were in my shoes. That dragon is turning around, as if it was looking for a place to land, a clearing of some sort."

After looking at the dragon, several hundred feet below them, do large circles as it moves north-west, the leader had to admit the observations of his wingman were on the dot.

"I wonder why it is not landing in an open field."

"And become an easy target for a predator? It is not that dumb!"

"A predator? Who would hunt that huge flying bag of shit?"

"A bigger bag of shit, that is who. That thing is apparently a baby. I have no idea of the size of adults, but apparently, family do not count for much outside of direct mother-whatever you would call a baby dragon, and not much even then since it is alone."

"A baby... Are you trying to tell me dragons come from whatever kind of shark produced that thing? But then, it would explain so much... It does have a respectable denture, much like the shark, and the video we saw before taking off to replace DS-4 clearly showed the shark becoming that baby. I know more about sharks than dragons, and they are not known for their mothering instincts. Hey, it made its choice, that small clearing! It is going down! Cool! A VTOL (Vertical take Off or Landing) approach! The downdraft must be terrible! Look at the branches, leaves, and dust flying everywhere!"

The pilots watched the dragon make short work of the ox carcass, their on-board videos recording every stage of the mastication, however short that stage was.

"Eww! Table manners seem to be in short supply!" said the wingman, as he saw the dragon dive head-first in the innards of the ox. Spattering blood everywhere, tearing legs, and eating the head whole.

"The next time my wife presents me with head cheese for breakfast, I will head for the bucket!"

"I am with you on that one, Captain."

A short ten minutes after landing, nothing was left of the ox, and the dragon seemed to be looking for a place to lie down.

"DS-5, DS-6 within sight. You are relieved!"

"You guys are early!"

"Rear wind. Where is the target?"

"On the ground, in the clearing at 53° 12’ 14" North 1° 06’ 00" West."

"Major, it is digging a den for the night. Look at the dirt fly."

"Wow! Ok guys, we are leaving! Good shift. Wingman, starboard, and let us try to make a roundabout without bringing its attention! It might be sleepy from that ox, but I will not it beyond the beast to have a temper the size of its wingspan. Be safe guys, and stay out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say. Never tickle a sleeping dragon, and all that!"

"Major, maybe Robin Hood was not so fake. We just escorted a dragon that is taking a nap in Sherwood Forest, of all places."

"You need to review your history. Baron Robin of Huxley, aka Robin Hood, really lived during King John’s reign... He signed the Magna Carta, right below the King’s own signature and seal. Let us plot the shortest route. Fuel is getting low. I do not think the guys on the Hood would like to float a tanker up these streams."

---

Off near Godric’s Hollow, a dog, ignorant of the day’s events, tracked its target, one Peter Pettigrew. As he got closer, he heard the sure sign of apparation, and he ran toward the source. Missed again, by a hair! Time to follow the magical trail! So the dog transformed into Sirius Black and apparated right on Pettigrew’s back, in a street full of muggles, of all things!

For some unknown reasons, the muggles did not react as expected. Instead of panic, they ignored the two wizards, except for a couple of bobbies, that pulled their guns out and called out.

"Stop! You are suspected of belonging to a terrorist organization! Lay down your wands and hit the pavement or we open fire!"

Pettigrew freaked out and sent out a spell, hitting one bobby with a cutting curse, earning him a bullet that grazed his left hand, taking out the small finger. Then he turned quickly to hit on Black, missing him as Sirius had converted back to his dog form in order to present a smaller target, but hitting a gas tank behind Sirius. The following explosion knocked Padfoot against a garbage bin, taking him out, and killing twelve by-standers. The bobbies dove for cover behind a big construction refuse container and escaped the majority of the debris, but preventing them from seeing Pettigrew change into his rat shape, Wormtail, and make his escape by the now open sewers.

Five minutes later, a group of a dozen hit wizards made their way to the bloody mess, intent on finding out what happened, but they found themselves faced with over fifty military, of which twenty were muggle-born wizards. Their we-control-everything attitude made them rather unpopular, and the lead of the investigation team, one Cornelius Fudge, got hit behind the head with a baton, stripped right on the street, manacled, and thrown in the rolling cage, en route for Scotland Yard.

"Why strip him in full view of everyone? There are some kids on the street!" hollered one wizard. "This is indecent!"

"This is Piccadilly Circus, you moron. Most of the ‘kids’ here are selling their asses for a place to stay or some food. And from what we discovered, they are your rejects, the squibs you so despise, you hypocrite! So shove your holier than thou attitude where the sun never shines." thundered the Master-Sergeant, one of the many, oh so many muggle-born thrown out of the wizardry world after losing seven years at Hogwarts. "If people knew what you do to your own kids, the populace would lynch you and I would supply them with piano wire to do the job! Now drop those wands or you will not have the opportunity to explain your sudden appearance here!"

"Master-Sergeant, we have forty-eight wounded, sixteen critical, twelve dead. Gas tank explosion, an AK that went astray, coming from there, and hitting the tank at an angle consistent with a shot from thirty-five yards. The target, or the source is unknown, but from the angle, it was from a person of small stature, five foot four inches, five foot five inches."

"Master-Sergeant?"

"Yes, officer?"

"There were two men that suddenly appeared in the middle of the street. My colleague ordered them to stop, but one opened fire with a stick, hitting him badly, but not before my colleague managed to open fire on the individual. Apparently he hit him because the guy yelped. I sam him turn on himself quickly and fire a sickly green light at the other man, who hit the pavement while... err... changing shape into a dog?"

"Oh, an animagus. We have a dog animagus that got targeted by the fucker that blew the gas tank. What a calm evening this is turning out to be. Put these assholes in the crab basket, nude, and bring them to Scotland Yard. I suspect the Queen’s Bench will be flooded with magical cases come morning."

"There is a dog, a huge black dog, near that garbage can. It is unresponsive. It is bleeding from the nose and the head, sir."

"Ah, our animagus, maybe? Do we have a vet in the area? Is there a veterinarian in this crowd of nosey on-lookers? We have a dog that needs emergency care!"

One elderly man made his way to the Master-Sergeant, and identified himself.

"I am Doctor Steven Mac-Arthur, of the Royal Veterinarian Society of London, and these two boys are my grandsons. Where is the dog?"

"On that blanket, doctor. Can you look at it? It might be vital for our investigation."

"Sure. Boys, stay away, okay? Hurt dogs are notoriously nervous and tend to bite at the first brisk move."

"Okay grandpa. Do you have what you need?"

"You know I always carry my bag, Billy."

After a few minutes, the doctor signaled the military officer.

"It has a commotion, a few broken ribs and a bloody nose. Nothing life-threatening, if it is moved carefully. The ribs did not move, so it should heal fine. I will wrap its thoracic cage tight and bring it to the trauma centre. I put it under so it would not feel pain while I do the procedure. Can we get access? My car is off on a side-street."

"I will do one better, doctor. Put it on that military ambulance, it is under military protection. You and your boys follow the ambulance. It will be driving all sirens blaring and lights flashing. Lieutenant, you know where the doctor works?"

"Yes sir. The police department uses their facilities for their own dogs. I am working to get my license."

"Lead the ambulance with your patrol car. Hey! You! Help the good doctor retrieve his car and join the convoy."

The patrolman almost wanted to bite the Master-Sergeant’s head off for calling him Hey You, but then not everyone knew his name.

A few minutes later, an ambulance in camouflage color left with a baffled driver and first-aid nurse carrying, of all things, a dog strapped on its side on a stretcher. The driver was busy following a police patrol car, all lights flashing and horn honking toward a veterinarian hospital.

"What we have to do to earn a living!"

"You tell me. I wonder what is so special about that dog for it to warrant a military ambulance, a police car and his private doctor? All that is missing is air evacuation!"

"If becoming nuts is a pre-requisite to Master-Sergeant, I do not want a promotion!"

The evening continued in the same vein. Wizards and witches were picked up everywhere, some because they acted violently, others because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. All in all, Scotland Yard’s fish tank got filled to the brim. One Mundungus Fletcher was picked up trying to rob evidence at a blown-up property located in Godric’s Hollow, earning him a broken arm and a confiscated wand, much to his surprise.

---

In Hogwarts, the students made their way to their dorms after dinner, subdued by the scene in the Great Hall. As they entered their respective dorms, they noticed the muggles had taken position around their common room. What did that mean? Slytherins were particularly nervous, and it showed. They felt nude without their wands, which had been confiscated by the muggles as they left the dining hall.

"Luckily, I left my spare wand under my mattress," whispered one boy to his friend.

A muggle officer made his way to the arrogant tart and pulled out a wand. "Is that yours, Mr. Nigel Blunt?" as he showed the boy a wand.

"How?"

"Oh, we searched all the dorms, from floor to ceiling, and opened anything locked. You guys are so naïve. Magical spells do not hold a candle to a good lock pick. By the way, does no anyone in that house wear undergarments? We found nothing! Well, except for a pair of see-through muggle string bikini that must do more to show off the tube steak than hide it. The guy must need all the help he can get, given the size of said string bikini. We have microscopes and tiny pinchers to help you jack off, Mr. String Bikini. If the lady with the nine-inch rubber dick is your girlfriend, I understand why she needs it! Now, strip! Since you like to show off, time to do it! By the way, broom closets are not extensions of brothels. We found they smelled of badly washed ass, fresh cum, and cunt juice. I wonder where you guys learn your morals? In barns?"

Faces glowed red, from both boys and girls.

"Now, strip! Right here, right now! Given how things are designed around here, I suspect you have seen each other nude so much you probably have a mental image everyone burned in your mind for jack-off fantasy reference!"

Robes dropped to the floor, confirming the observations of the officers. No one had a stitch of underwear. Seven boys and five girls wore the dark mark on their left arm, and were sweating profusely as they remembered what had happened in the Great Hall.

"Those with the dark mark, step forward. You will be brought to Scotland Yard."

"Will we be killed?" asked a young voice, shakily.

"That depends on what the Queen decides, young man. If you willfully, fully participated in the acts that allowed you to earn that mark... From what that idiot’s mind dangling outside by the ankles revealed, it is likely the axe will be busy. Rape, torture, child molesting, murder... high treason, all are, according to the Laws of Camelot, penalized by death. You should have learned your own laws before doing such heinous acts. King Arthur was not bothered by ‘modern’ well-thinkers that created the habeas corpus, such as the Magna Carta can be considered a modern compendium of laws. You will be brought in state in front of the Queen’s Bench, the highest court of the land. Her decision is final and without appeal. If I were you, I would prey for forgiveness to whatever god you honor, for the Queen is in no mood for forgiveness toward a group that has promoted insurrection against Her and Her throne. Interrogations will be done under veritaserum, under the control of wizards that have been working under Her Majesty for years. Yes, there are some, quite a few in fact. What do you think happened to the muggle-born mages you so callously threw on the street once you had extracted their assets to the last pence for a schooling that did not open them any doors in your world due to your narrow-minded view of things? They turned to us, and their training was recovered in our police, military, spy and even medical facilities. Yes, your backward potions, that taste like shit, have been perfected, purified, and improved upon so now, many military units are equipped with them in the field. We do not blow our horn on these contributions. After all, they are considered state secrets, and we do not want to give terrorists, including death-eaters, information they do not even bother trying to gather."

"Then why tell us?"

"Use your brain, or what is left of it, that is. Death-eaters, march forward, transport is waiting for you at the doors of Hogwarts."

"But we are nude, shoeless, and it is cold!"

"It is still warmer than the steel of the axe, baby prick! Must be you with that string bikini. Wonder how you got it? I am surprised you visited a muggle triple-X store."

"Took it as war loot. I found it cute in that eleven year old drawer’s stuff. He did not need it after I gutted him."

"Thanks for the information. You just spelled your own condemnation."

"Why bother hide anything? Veritaserum will reveal a lot more, of which I am proud of. I will die my head held high."

"That is unlikely. Heads dangle on the side of the block before the axe makes them fall in the basket. Maybe the Queen will have a through for rolling heads rather than a basket. It would speed things up. We might need to import spikes to display heads if the number of death-eaters and betrayers continue to grow as quickly as it does. Pray the executioner’s arm is not too tired when your turn comes. I heard a misplaced axe hit can be painful."

The students being taken out from Slytherin joined others from the other houses. By the time all four houses had been purged, thirty-two students were in the crab basket, packed tightly.

"See, you will not be cold! Body heat will keep you warm on the way to London. Try to sleep standing, it is a fourteen hour drive from here to the crab pen in Scotland Yard, downtown London."

"What if we need to pee or..."

"Do it where you stand. Pee can keep you warm... if smelly. Would fit your minds if minds smelled. See you in London."

The officer slammed the outer door shut, and slammed on the truck’s side, giving the driver the signal to be off.

---

"Did you tell them we have cameras and microphones in the crab basket?"

"Why? I am sure the discomfort will open mouths as well as veritaserum. They will begin to recriminate, blame each other, point fingers at each other, and blame parents or friends. We will find more death-eaters that way than in any veritaserum interrogations. Veritaserum is good if you know what questions to ask, but if you do not ask the right ones, you learn very little."

"You are devious!"

"I am, am I not? And it is fun! I was Slytherin while at Hogwarts and they made it their goal to make my life as miserable as possible for seven years. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Let us go back inside. The night is cold. These bastards better practice belly dancing if they want to stay warm until they reach London."