Chapter 13: On the Possibility of a Fire Dragon Attacking a Thestral Carriage
The Thestral Carriage Station of Diagon Alley stood tucked behind Gringotts, positioned conveniently for old families to gather their wealth and send glittering stacks of Galleons down into the goblins' underground vaults.
Serenise Grey paced back and forth across the station hall, her steps sharp and restless.
She was the niece of Bod Grey, head of the Grey family. Though young and a woman, her talent was undeniable, and the family's finances had long been placed in her hands.
Under normal circumstances, four carriages from different regions would have arrived by now. At this hour, she should have been in the VIP lounge, calmly counting gold.
Instead, half an hour had passed beyond the scheduled time.
Not a single carriage had arrived.
That was not normal.
A wizard with a bulging beer belly and a greasy face hurried toward her, his brand-new embroidered robes stretched tight. He wiped the sweat from his brow, forced himself to stay composed, and spoke carefully.
"Miss Grey, we've confirmed it. The sixteen Thestrals that returned empty earlier today were the very ones assigned to your family's carriages. There's a high probability that something happened to all four."
"That's impossible!"
Serenise snapped, anger flaring in her eyes.
"Four carriages departed from four different locations. How could they all suffer an accident at the same time? Investigate again!"
Her voice was commanding, but inside, her heart had already gone cold. The display of fury was deliberate—insurance claims would be easier later that way.
After all, the Thestral Carriage Station belonged to the Ministry of Magic.
Possible or not, one fact remained.
The Grey family's carriages were gone.
Hydrus Lestrange pushed open the front door and bounded upstairs.
Rick was still in his workshop, bent over sheets of music, revising a melody. Hearing movement, he glanced up.
"Hydrus, you're back?"
"Yes, brother!"
Her voice danced like a sprite skipping through flowers.
"There were so many little creatures—I had so much fun!"
"That's good," Rick said, hesitating before adding, "This song was yours, wasn't it? Want to help me revise it?"
Hydrus shook her head.
"I just hummed it randomly. I don't even know if I can really compose, so don't count on me!"
"Alright," Rick said with a small smile. "Go rest for a bit. If you're bored, you can watch some television downstairs, though the programs these days aren't very—"
The door slammed shut with a loud bang before he could finish.
"…interesting."
Rick stubbornly finished the sentence to the empty room, then shook his head and buried himself back in the notes.
Upstairs, Hydrus locked the door.
Her heart pounded wildly.
She dropped to the floor and, in one breath, pulled out four heavy chests.
When she lifted the lids, golden light spilled out, dazzling her eyes.
So happy.
Truly happy.
Happy enough to take flight.
Her Galleons.
Her precious Galleons were back.
One coin, two coins, three—
…
Six thousand nine hundred forty-three.
Six thousand nine hundred forty-four.
Nearly seven thousand Galleons.
She was rich.
Hydrus hummed cheerfully and started counting again from the beginning, her voice growing louder with each pile of gold.
Next door, Rick paused mid-edit.
"Her creative talent really is something… She's written another song already."
"It's cheerful, but the style's strange…"
"And that language—definitely not English."
"…Focus. I need to finish revising Picture to Burn. Recording starts in a couple of days."
The Grey Manor.
Bod Grey stood rigidly before the window, his face dark as iron.
Behind him, Serenise lowered her head, unease written in every line of her posture.
"You're telling me," Bod said slowly, "that all four of our hired carriages were attacked by fire dragons, the Galleons vanished, and our people were killed in the fall?"
"Yes, Uncle," Serenise replied. "That is the Ministry's official conclusion."
"Absurd!"
Bod exploded, slamming the tip of his cane against the marble floor.
"Utterly absurd!"
"Fire dragons? Four of them, attacking our carriages at the same time? And you expect me to believe that?"
The cane struck again and again, the echoes booming through the room.
Serenise ventured cautiously, "Could it have been some organized force?"
Bod exhaled heavily. His breath fogged the glass, frost blooming across the window.
"As far as I know, there is no power in the British magical world capable of controlling four fire dragons at once."
"What about families that raise dragons?" Serenise asked. "Like the Malfoys?"
Bod turned back, disappointment plain in his eyes.
"Dragons raised in pens are livestock—food, materials. They do not obey commands."
"And those large dragon reserves are all outside the Isles. Smuggling four dragons in without anyone noticing—do you truly think that's possible?"
Serenise muttered, "If someone bribed the right Ministry officials…"
"Idiotic!"
Bod roared.
"Spend a fortune bribing the Ministry, risk everything smuggling dragons, all to steal a few thousand Galleons from us?"
She fell silent at once.
For revenge, some would indeed spare no expense—but the Grey family had always kept a low profile. The only enemy they had was that Lestrange girl still on the run.
Her uncle was right.
Fire dragons made no sense.
Either the Ministry was targeting them—or someone within it had been bought.
There were no other explanations.
After venting his rage, Bod finally calmed.
"That girl," he asked coldly, "any news yet?"
Serenise shook her head. "The Aurors have found nothing."
"That won't do," Bod said flatly. "Hydrus must die."
"Yes, Uncle…"
Seeing her hesitation, Bod snorted.
"Whether it's the carriages or Hydrus, everything leads back to the Ministry."
"Go to Gringotts. Withdraw three thousand Galleons."
"All of it for… connections?" Serenise asked.
"Yes. Every last coin," Bod said viciously. "Those leeches covet Lestrange wealth and use such underhanded tricks. If they're not fed, this won't be the last time."
"After the payment, push them harder. The murderer of our people must be caught—quickly."
Serenise hesitated. "Uncle… is three thousand enough?"
"Enough?"
Bod slammed his cane down. Sparks of lightning burst from the tip, crackling violently.
"They already swallowed nearly seven thousand Galleons today! Another three thousand, and they still dare to complain?"
His gray hair stood on end as he roared.
"Ten thousand Galleons! That's ten thousand!"
"Yes," Serenise said quickly. "I understand. I'll go to Gringotts immediately."
After she left, Bod turned back to the window.
Early September was still sweltering.
Yet the frost on the glass refused to melt.