“Well, it’s time to say good-bye, Potter,” he hissed. “ Avada Kedavra! ”
“ Crucio! ” shouted another voice, exactly at the same instant. The red sparks clashed with the green, and Harry flattened himself on the ground to avoid them. A low, whooshing sound was heard. Fog settled in the area, making it impossible to see anything beyond two feet. A scream suddenly rent the air and the fog started receding gradually.
Harry got back on his feet again, trying to regain his bearings. He was unsure as to what had happened when the spells had collided; everything around him looked the same. However, he was mistaken. Everything around was not the same; Lord Voldemort was missing.
Tom Marvolo Riddle found himself lying facedown on the ground. Realising that this was somewhat of an embarrassing position, he immediately raised himself to a standing posture. There was something seriously wrong. Before the duel, he had been in the Forbidden Forest. Now, however, his surroundings did not resemble that admirably useful forest in the least. Admittedly, there were a lot of trees; but a handful of trees do not make a forest. The area seemed to be surrounded by mountains. However, the frost-covered ground beneath him certainly appeared flat enough and seemed to stretch for miles, covered with frost. Scratching his head, Voldemort tried to analyse the situation. He was sure that it had something to do with the clashing of the spells. But where was he, and why was he here?
“Oi, you! Get to work. This is not the time to be loafing around and sight-seeing!” The speaker was a short, stout man wearing an extremely thick cloak. He approached our unfortunate protagonist with the air of a mother finding her son with his hand in the cookie jar (given that the son has been forbidden from sticking his hand in cookie jars, of course).
“Hey, buddy, if you think you can skip all the hard work when we’re getting roasted there, I think you’re jolly mistaken!” The lover of thick clothes was apoplectic with indignation. .
“Where am I? Speak, you filthy vermin!” rasped Voldemort.
“You dare insult me? I’ll show you that it does no good to be messing around with the manager of this reservation. Follow me!”
Lord Voldemort was shocked. No one had ever dared to address him in this fashion. He quickly made to draw his wand but-
“My wand! It’s missing!” cried He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
“Perfect. Firstly, I land a feller who’s not only new to the place but also rude to me. Secondly, he doesn’t have a wand! Now, how is he supposed to tame dragons?” said Mr. Lal, the abovementioned admirer of thick cloaks.
“Dragons?” repeated You-Know-Who, rather faintly.
“Now, don’t tell me you don’t even know what you are here for!” exclaimed the exasperated Mr. Lal.
Half an hour later, Lord Voldemort was standing before a sign that read Dragon Reservation of South-Western Tibet
“Hey, Vritra! Over here, girl - there’s a new member for the team. Give him the preliminary instructions,” said Mr. Lal to a tall woman whose face was heavily scarred.
“Right, chief!” she replied, turning to greet Voldemort, while Mr. Lal strode away in the direction of his private cabin.
“Hi there! I’m Shubadhra Vritra, a trainer for junior members in our reserve and your new trainer! Well, you haven’t introduced yourself...” she said.
“Er...I’m Lord Voldemort-” began a rather confused Dark Lord.
“Lord? You English are funny people, aren’t you? Lots of titles and stuff. Anyway, you come along and I’ll introduce you to our team members,” she said, as the sound of distant roars mingled with her voice.
She continued talking as they slipped and stumbled over the frost towards a large, open space bordered by fences.
“You’ve been assigned to the CFT.” Seeing the blank look on Voldemort’s face, she added, “That’s the Chinese Fireball Team.”
Voldemort was positively alarmed when he learned that he was expected to subdue a Chinese Fireball ...without a wand! He began contemplating the possibilities of escaping from the reserve. I have no wand, so I can’t Apparate. I might try stealing a wand”but the people here might be too careful about their wand considering that dragons lie in wait all around to reduce them to ashes. Travelling on foot away from this blasted place might not be such a good idea, either, what with the frost and the vastness of this area. And there might be tight security for the protection of Muggles from dragons. Having mountains surrounding me doesn’t help. All in all, it doesn’t pay to leave those confounded dragons out of my plans, especially now that they live quite close to me! There’s got to be some loophole. Damn! I’ll have to plan an escape route rather meticulously. First things first, I need a map of this place...
“You don’t have your what?” cried the blonde youngster.
“I am no longer in possession of my wand. A fine wand it was, too”“
“Cut the small talk. What are you going to do now?” interrupted the blonde, rather rudely.
“In such a case, we shall have to assign him secretarial duties, of course,” said Shubadhra. “Come on, Voldy - you don’t mind me calling you that do you? It’s kind of easier to pronounce - I’ll give you details of your job.”
She led him to a tent pitched on one corner of the field. “This is where you’ll be working. All stationery items have been placed in that desk there. Your living quarters are located in the tent on the other side of the field; meals are served in the same place. The tents are pretty big, you see, and we didn’t want to erect too many of them. And, erm...where’s your luggage?”
Voldemort started - if he was going to stay here a while, he would definitely need a change of robes. “I...I lost them on the way here,” he managed to stammer.
Scrutinising him closely, Shubadhra asked, “Are you sure you’re in the right place? You sound like you don’t know a thing about dragons...”
Glad that he had received an opportunity to explain his misfortune, Voldemort prepared to tell his tale. To his consternation, he found that Shubadhra had started talking once more. “We’ll get you some spare clothes. You don’t have to worry. Meet me tomorrow near the Manager’s cabin. I’ll show you where we work then.”
“Now, your job is not very taxing,” she continued. “We are expecting to take a new delivery from China. The dragon’s only hatched and we thought it was best to get it transferred here before it starts becoming dangerously violent. Easier to transport them when they are babies, you see. All you have to do is jot down details of this dragon, its breed, its height, its weight and things like that. The reason you are being given such an easy job is because you don’t have a wand. But do try and do justice to your work. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow at eight sharp!”
All this while, “Voldy” as I shall now refer to as it is indeed easy to use, had been gaping at Shubadhra as she spoke. He had no doubt that he had to stick around this place for a few days before zeroing in on an action plan. Walking along the fence, he pondered his rather unfortunate situation and the possible disasters set in store for him the next day.
***
“Arghhh! The bloody thing nearly got me!” shouted the very same blonde youngster who had earlier shared his thoughts on Voldemort’s wandless state.
“ Stupefy! ” cried one dark-haired girl. “God, this thing is vicious, even for a baby!” she yelled.
Voldemort was, meanwhile, observing with mild interest as the dragon keepers tried to stun the creature that they called a ‘baby dragon.’ He noticed that it had the ugliest face he had ever seen. It was red and appeared scaly. It had wings which it flapped at regular intervals and breathed fire at anyone within the range of two feet. But all of these interesting features did not attract Lord Voldemort’s attention for more than a second. This was the state of matters until the dragon attacked the dangerous Dark Lord. His fingers became a victim of the dragon’s fiery breath. After this incident of singed fingers, Voldemort was cautious enough to keep out-of-range of the vicious Chinese Fireball...Suddenly, the dragon attacked the Dark Lord, and our wandless protagonist became another victim of the dragon’s fiery breath.
“I’m taking a break!” exclaimed Voldy, yelling over the chaotic noise which had ensued as soon as his team-mates had begun tackling the dragon. The dragon had refused to give in, and thus the drama had been going on for two hours. He edged his way out of the fenced area and set off in the direction of his tent. An icy blast of mountain air whipped his face and numbed his body. However, Voldemort cold-shouldered the wind and trudged on, determined to obtain some first aid and refreshment. But, unfortunately for our protagonist, nothing seemed to be going right.
Unknowingly, Voldemort had taken a wrong turn earlier and had been progressing eastwards rather than west. This meant that he was now miles away from his destination. As he stood staring into the space before him, he made a mental note to kick himself for being so blind. For there, right before him, stood a fifty-foot tall creature breathing fire. It was commonly known as a ‘dragon.’
The dragon stood in place, staring back at Voldemort; the look on its face spelled ‘Danger, run away!’ Fortunately, he was protected by the high fences that stood between them. The precise thoughts running through the mind of our formidable friend can be summarized thusly, Here comes a human. He looks delicious. Voldemort soon figured out that the dragon considered him to be a member of the “Edible Human Community for Dragons.” This was why he began to run, keen to put some distance between him and the man-eater. Understandably, however, the dragon did not like his food running away from him. He tried to go after Voldemort, but was unsuccessful because he was restrained by rusty iron chains. It also became clear that the dragon liked his meal well-roasted; Voldemort deduced this rather remarkable observation based on the fact that the dragon was currently erecting a wall of fire behind him. Voldy ran like he had never run before. He felt something hot scorch his back. This feeling was accompanied by the smell of burning cloth. Screaming, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. With an almighty sigh, he finally sank to the ground, clutching his side. He could make out shapes running towards him and then he promptly fainted.
He was floating in the air; the dragon had picked him up from the ground. It was going to eat him. He was moving faster and faster. Its mouth was wide open, ready to swallow him, to taste him and to crush his life out of him. But how could the dragon have reached him when it was so many yards away from him? It must be some other dragon, yes. This place was filled with those infernal creatures.
Yes, he could see it hovering above him. He neared its mouth and then in he went. However, he was surprised to find that he did not feel sharp teeth piercing his body, nor did he feel any slimy tongues about him.
He opened an eye feebly. A face slowly came into focus. It was speaking to him; he hadn’t realized that dragons spoke English. It was saying, “He seems to have fainted. He’ll come around in no time.” Perhaps dragons didn’t like eating unconscious prey?
Lord Voldemort faintly muttered his favourite phrase, “Ava-a-da Ke-ke-da-v-ra...”
“Come on, he needs some rest,” said a voice. It seemed to be speaking from within a tunnel of some sorts. He heard the shuffling of feet; did dragons wear boots? At any rate, this dragon was not going to eat him now. Plus, he could probably plan his escape upon awakening. He thought that this was a very nice and considerate dragon. Sighing to express his contentment, he fell asleep.
***
“What do you reckon happened?” asked Mr. Blonde Youngster, already mentioned twice in this story.
“According to Mr.Sinha here, he saw this feller moving in the direction of our dangerous breeds section. Apparently, a few moments later, he began running away from the place, but the dragon’s breath got him. Scorched his back, but he’ll live. Foolish fellow! He should’ve known better than to go into that area,” said Ms.Vritra. They had just left Voldemort in a tent.
“Well, let’s hope we don’t have any more of these accidents!”
An hour later, Voldemort woke up. He perceived his surroundings and It also became clear that the dragon liked his meal well-roasted; Voldemort deduced this rather remarkable observation based on the fact that the dragon was currently erecting a wall of fire behind him.” came to a single conclusion: He had to get out of here.
Voldemort knew that this was not the time to be cautious and act prudently, though he was on unfamiliar ground. Wincing, he lifted himself off the bed on which he had been laid earlier. A dark-haired boy rushed to Voldemort’s side immediately and tried to prevent him from straining his injured back. Voldemort shoved him aside roughly, however, and scanned the room swiftly for any tool which would assist him in getting out of the reservation. Having found nothing, he focused his attention on the young boy beside him. He could have been no more than nineteen, yet here he was, getting entangled with dragons.
“Who are you?” he rasped.
“I’m supposed to make sure you don’t go anywhere near the dragons, mister. Don’t move or you’ll get me into trouble,” replied the boy, sounding rather irritated.
“Do you have a wand?” asked Voldemort.
“Why do you ask?” was the question thrown back at him.
Voldemort realised that getting a wand from the pestilential kid standing before him was going to be a difficult job.
“All right, boy, I think it’s time for me to confess. I’m no dragon-keeper, but I just came here looking for gold hidden beneath this very place. I need a wand to retrieve it. Unfortunately, I lost mine”“
But before Lord Voldemort could finish, he was interrupted by the boy.
“Oh, yes? Then I’m afraid you’re highly mistaken. There’s no gold here. This reservation was built only after it was inspected for valuables that might have been here.”
Voldy lost his imagination now. He had reached the conclusion that the boy knew too much for his own good and therefore would not be helpful in his attempt to gain a wand. He balled his hand into a fist and, raising it, let it collide not-so-gently with the boy’s left cheek. The boy let out a yell of pain and collapsed onto the floor. Punching him once more to ensure that he couldn’t move, Voldemort groped his pockets for the wand. And there it was his ticket to freedom, jammed amongst other ordinary items such as sweets, quills and an inkpot.
Voldemort used his newly acquired wand to tie up the boy with magically conjured ropes and walked out of the tent. Nobody was to be seen in the vicinity. As Voldemort had been here for almost a day, he knew that the reserve ended just about five minutes away from the tent. He ran with all the strength he could muster. There was no time to waste - they might find out about his absence any minute. The gates before him were being guarded by a tough-looking man over six feet tall. As Voldemort ran towards the gates, they burst open. The startled security guard tried to stop Voldemort, but one flash of green light later he lay dead on he ground.
Once outside the reserve, Voldemort knew he would be able to Apparate. His back was burning as though it was on fire and he just wanted to fall asleep. But, shaking aside the weak moment, Voldemort tried to concentrate on Apparating. He could hear the distant thunder of feet rushing in his direction. He stepped forward and turned on the spot.
Thud!
He was lying face down on the ground. But it was no longer frost-covered - his Apparition must have been successful. He lifted himself onto his feet and turned, only to face a large, greyish-purple creature regarding him austerely. It had two sharp-looking horns. Voldemort observed that it was a Graphorn at once and also realised that his Apparition had been unsuccessful. He was not in the Forbidden Forest, and he knew that he was facing an extremely dangerous creature.
He merely gulped and thought, I wish I were Hagrid now!