The drunkard let out a loud belch and stretched out his hand, his dead-fish eyes swaying as he slurred, "Three Galleons, and I'll guarantee you a smooth ride."
Having already come this far, John and Fleur decided to pay. They grabbed what looked like an old, recently discarded leather shoe.
They held hands to avoid getting separated.
As soon as John touched the portkey, he felt a powerful hook latch onto his navel and yank him forward with unstoppable force.
His feet left the ground as he was flung into the air.
By the time his eyes could focus again, both he and Fleur were plummeting in free fall.
They crashed down hard.
John rubbed his sore waist, got to his feet, and looked around. "This doesn't look like a place where they'd hold a Quidditch match."
"I'm going to kill that damn scammer!"
Fleur's beautiful face was darkened with frustration. That had been an unstable portkey—one that had dropped them off in some unknown forest.
John frowned. The portkey was gone. That meant they were stranded—deep in the mountains, and possibly somewhere utterly desolate.
"Let's hope we can find someone to ask for directions."
...
They had arrived without issue, but now had no way of getting back.
"I can't go on. I need a break," Fleur said as she plopped onto the ground, completely abandoning any pretense of elegance.
John stopped walking too, his forehead drenched in sweat.
They had been trudging through the forest for at least three hours. And in all that time, they hadn't seen a single person—or even many animals.
John suddenly missed his flying boots terribly. If he had known they'd end up in this godforsaken place, he would've brought them.
"Point Me (PoineMe)," he muttered.
His wand pointed north. John checked the direction—so far, things weren't looking too bad.
"It's a shame I haven't learned Apparition yet, or we wouldn't have to rely on our legs."
John sat down as well and rested for a bit. He plucked some fruit that seemed safe from a nearby tree and handed it to Fleur.
Fleur buried her head in her knees and murmured, "I'm sorry, John. I shouldn't have dragged you into this."
The thought that they might not make it out was starting to weigh on her.
Being the older one, she felt she lacked the calm and reliability John seemed to possess.
John took a bite from the fruit after wiping it. The sour bitterness nearly made him spit it out, but thinking it might be their only food source, he forced it down.
"It's okay. We'll be fine. Trust me."
John's steady tone gave Fleur a strange sense of reassurance. She looked at his handsome face and, for some reason, felt that she could trust him.
She had one-quarter Veela blood, along with some of a Veela's powers.
Her beauty was part of that legacy—an almost magical allure that drove men to obsession.
Because of this, most girls disliked her.
But Fleur was too proud to bother arguing with them. As for the boys, since they only liked her due to the allure, she didn't like them either.
This left her with almost no friends at school.
When she first saw John, she hadn't intended to get close. She just thought he was interesting—he didn't fawn over her like the other boys did.
On the contrary, during their interactions, it was she who ended up being drawn to him.
This attraction had nothing to do with romance—it was trust. The kind of quiet confidence a leader radiates that makes people want to follow.
Just his presence was enough to restore hope.
Fleur looked at him and softly said, "I believe in you, John."
John smiled and handed her another fruit.
Fleur bit into it without hesitation, and the next moment her entire face scrunched up from the sourness.
"John!"
"I didn't do anything! Look, I ate it too!"
John looked completely innocent, making Fleur want to hurl the fruit at his head.
She raised it but hesitated. If they starved out here, she'd regret wasting food. With a glare, she viciously bit into the fruit again—as if she were biting John himself.
...
Night fell. John decided they needed to find a place to rest.
He built a small campfire, and the two of them sat beside it.
"This forest is huge, and not a single creature in sight. I wouldn't even mind a magical beast showing up," John muttered.
Fleur rolled her eyes. "Magical beasts in the wild are dangerous. Based on territory behavior, there's probably a powerful creature nearby keeping everything else away."
"Oh?"
That made sense to John.
Magical creatures are territorial. If anything invades their space, it usually leads to a brutal fight.
Still, they'd been walking for hours. If there was something, it should've shown itself by now.
Unless… it was nocturnal.
As he thought that, a rustling came from the nearby bushes.
Rustle, rustle.
"What's that?" Fleur tensed up.
They both drew their wands. John glanced at his empty pockets.
"I swear, as soon as we get back, I'm learning the Undetectable Extension Charm."
That spell was extremely useful—essentially like a magical storage bag. From the outside, it looked normal, but inside it could hold an entire room's worth of stuff.
John hadn't mastered it yet. Otherwise, he wouldn't be traveling with only a wand.
They nervously watched the direction of the noise. John was ready to blast whatever jumped out with a Confringo.
The sound drew closer. Thanks to the fire dragon's blood in him, John's senses were sharper now.
He heard panting—and heavy footsteps.
"A person?" he thought.
From the sound, it was someone—and they were injured. Probably on the run.
His wand remained raised. In the wild, encountering people could be even more dangerous than magical beasts.
Finally, someone emerged from the bushes.
"Stop right there!" Fleur shouted, tense and alert.
It was a young man about John's age, wearing a blood-red robe—likely a school uniform.
His face was pale to the point Fleur thought he might be a vampire at first glance.
Black hair, sharp nose—and under the messy strands covering his left eye, a flicker of gold.
If not for that glimpse of gold in his eye, Fleur might've attacked first.
The boy looked equally shocked to see students. Anyone daring to light a campfire out here was usually either an Auror or an outlaw.
"Run!" the boy shouted.
A fireball suddenly fell from the sky, igniting the trees beside him.
Fleur's horrified eyes turned upward—to see a Hungarian Horntail, black scales glinting, jaws open wide as it spewed flame.
"Ambush… trespass… die…" growled the dragon.
John stared in disbelief.
He could understand it?
Then he remembered—he had a passive Dragon Tongue enchantment.
He waved his wand, casting Leviosa, and pulled the boy out of the fire.
That saved him—but also got the Horntail's full attention.
"Run!" Fleur screamed. She finally understood why there were no other creatures in the area.
The Hungarian Horntail was one of the fiercest dragons in existence. With it around, nothing else dared come near.
John turned and ran, fast, arms pumping. Behind them, the dragon's angry voice echoed:
"Wizard… sleep… ambush… no honor… butt hurts…"
Hearing that, John gave the fleeing boy beside him a strange look.
This guy was bold. He'd tried to ambush the dragon while it was sleeping—and hit it on the butt.
No wonder the Horntail was so furious.
If someone tried to mess with him while he was sleeping, he might at least give them a slightly less painful death.