11:30 PM, Gryffindor Tower
Harry tiptoed out of the dormitory. As he gently pulled the door shut, he glanced toward the adjacent bed. Ron's four-poster was empty; he still hadn't come back. They had crossed paths during dinner in the Great Hall, but neither had said a word. Ron was evidently still holding a grudge.
Harry had more pressing things to deal with than Ron's silent treatment, so he shook his head, closed the door, and slipped quietly downstairs.
A few people were still awake in the common room. Ron was messing around with a miniature Quidditch set on a table. The Creevey brothers, having collected a bunch of fan merchandise for the other champions, were currently trying to design support gear for Harry Potter. Unfortunately, neither of them had a knack for alchemical charms, so their progress was pretty abysmal.
Slipping past them under his Invisibility Cloak, Harry met Hermione, who was already waiting outside the portrait hole. The two of them immediately hurried toward the gamekeeper's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Once they were out of the castle and no longer had to worry about being spotted, they immediately brought up Hagrid's mysterious invitation.
"Why did Hagrid want us to meet him in the middle of the night?"
"I have no idea what he's planning."
"Whatever it is, we need to make it quick. If anyone catches two champions sneaking into the Forbidden Forest after hours, Professor McGonagall really will strip us of our champion status."
"..."
The late autumn clouds were thick, blanketing the grounds in pitch black. They followed the path toward the warm light spilling from Hagrid's cabin windows. As they walked, they could see the faint glow of portholes from the massive Durmstrang ship moored on the Black Lake. The colossal Beauxbatons carriage was also brilliantly lit, and they could swear they heard Madame Maxime's voice drifting from inside.
Hagrid opened the door after only two knocks. He had clearly been waiting. He quickly checked his surroundings.
"You 'ere, Harry? Hermione?"
Hagrid didn't wait for a response. He ushered them into the cabin, completely skipping his usual routine of offering hot tea. "I got summat to show yeh. Summat really important. Just stick close to me, an' don't make a sound, understan'?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged utterly bewildered looks.
It was only then that they noticed Hagrid was dressed up. He had a large, slightly squashed flower pinned to his chest, and he'd attempted to slick down his stiff, wiry hair and beard—though the broken teeth of a comb were still tangled in the mess.
Without another word, Hagrid marched straight toward the Beauxbatons carriage. He emerged a moment later with an equally dressed-up Madame Maxime. She wore an enormous silk shawl draped over her massive shoulders, her lips painted a soft pink that caught the moonlight when she smiled.
"Ah, 'Agrid... is it time?"
"Yeah. Evenin', Olympe."
Hagrid offered his arm with a dopey grin, and Madame Maxime took it with a smile of her own. Together, they bypassed the edge of the paddocks and headed deep into the grounds.
Their long strides covered ground so quickly that Harry and Hermione, hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, had to jog just to keep up.
"..."
So, this is a date?
Harry and Hermione were even more confused now.
The forest was dead quiet in the middle of the night, save for the occasional rustle of nocturnal creatures. The heavy footfalls of the two half-giants were the loudest sounds for miles. They quickly passed the Acromantula colony, and even crossed the clearing where Quirrell had attacked the unicorn years ago, continuing deeper into the trees.
"Where are you taking me, 'Agrid?" Madame Maxime asked playfully.
Harry and Hermione were wondering the exact same thing.
"Don' ask yet. Yeh'll love it, trust me."
Hagrid's voice rumbled low. "But yeh gotta promise... don't tell a soul I showed yeh, alrigh'? Nobody from the four schools is supposed ter know abou' this."
"I would not dream of it."
Madame Maxime batted her long, dark eyelashes. Harry and Hermione held their breath. They had both finally caught on: this had to be about the First Task of the Goblet of Fire.
They walked for what felt like hours, skirting the edge of the forest until the castle and the lake were completely out of sight. As they rounded a thick grove of trees, a sudden, deafening commotion shattered the midnight silence.
They looked up. A blindingly fierce light washed over them. It wasn't a torch. It was dragon fire.
The flames erupted toward the sky, creating violent updrafts that sent the trees whipping back and forth in the howling wind. Wizards dressed in tough canvas robes sprinted through the firelight, firing spell after spell toward the source of the flames. The magic absorbed harmlessly into thick, metallic scales.
"Watch out, this female is in heat!"
"Get Charlie over here to calm her down!"
"Keep an eye on the other caves—watch for a riot!"
"..."
Several wizards shouted from the front lines, immediately followed by an ear-splitting, furious roar. It was the unmistakable bellow of a dragon.
All four of them—Hagrid included—held their breath, terrified of drawing the attention of the massive beasts or the frantic handlers swarming around them.
It was dragons. A whole pack of dragons.
A massive enclosure had been carved out of the expansive mountain valley. The dragons were roosting in excavated caves. Several of them, startled by the commotion, had poked their heads out, letting out low, rumbling roars.
With every heavy exhale, plumes of fire leaked from their gaping, blood-red maws, glowing fiercely in the night. They reared their necks high—easily fifty feet in the air. A mountain troll would look like a plush toy standing next to them.
Harry's jaw dropped so far he practically felt his face charring in the dragon breath.
He had watched Hagrid hatch Norbert, and after spending enough time with Ron, he had learned a fair bit about dragons. He could immediately identify a Norwegian Ridgeback, an Antipodean Opaleye, a Chinese Fireball, a Common Welsh Green, a Hebridean Black, and a Hungarian Horntail...
"Peruvian Vipertooth, Romanian Longhorn, Swedish Short-Snout, Ukrainian Ironbelly, Catalonian Fireball, Portuguese Long-Snout..." Hermione muttered, listing off the other six breeds.
"Beautiful, ain't they?" Hagrid sighed in pure admiration.
"Beautiful," Madame Maxime repeated softly, her eyes slightly glassy.
Suddenly, the black dragon at the center of the handlers whipped its head around. It had vibrant orange eyes, a reptilian face, bronze horns protruding from its skull, and a tail covered in wicked spikes.
Its entire spine went rigid, spasming for a split second before it craned its neck and roared directly at the four onlookers hiding in the trees. The deafening sound ripped past their ears, followed instantly by a wave of searing, volcanic heat as it unleashed a torrent of dragon fire.
It thrashed wildly, violently swinging its spiked tail to smash against the heavy chains binding it, desperate to break the wizards' hold.
Hagrid and Madame Maxime froze. Harry and Hermione were paralyzed with terror, watching the orange flames surge right toward their faces.
But the inferno never reached them. A handler intervened just in time, cutting off the furious mother dragon. The handler, Charlie, pulled out a cluster of soft, silky blue flames. The strange fire seemed to soothe the dragon, and she finally snapped her jaws shut.
She twitched her massive wings, watching intently as Charlie placed the blue fire into her cave. With a low, rumbling purr, she crawled back inside.
"..."
Madame Maxime finally snapped out of her daze. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her knuckles white as she gripped her shawl.
"Stay right there, Hagrid!" one of the handlers called out, noticing the two half-giants while cleaning up the area. "Full moon's comin' up—these lot are gettin' a bit rowdy."
"I know!"
Hagrid wasn't scared in the slightest; he actually looked thrilled. "Melvin brought in twelve dragons! That 'un there is a Hungarian Horntail. Breathes fire up ter fifty feet, she does. Ain't she magnificent, Olympe?"
Unseen beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry and Hermione were deathly pale.