Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

143. atop a dragon.

There was no means of steering; the dragon could not see where it was going, and Harry knew that if it turned sharply or rolled in mid-air they would find it impossible to cling on to its broad back. Nevertheless, as they climbed higher and higher, London unfurling below them like a grey and green map, Harry's overwhelming feeling was of gratitude for an escape that had seemed impossible. Crouching low over the beast's neck, he clung tight to the metallic scales, and the cool breeze was soothing on his burned and blistered skin, the dragon's wings beating the air like the sails of a windmill. Behind him, whether from delight or fear he could not tell, Ron kept swearing at the top of his voice, Antheia was laughing as hard as she ever had, and Hermione seemed to be sobbing.

After five minutes or so, Harry lost some of his immediate dread that the dragon was going to throw them off, for it seemed intent on nothing but getting as far away from its underground prison as possible, but the question of how and when they were to dismount remained rather frightening. He had no idea how long dragons could fly without landing, nor how this particular dragon, which could barely see, would locate a good place to put down. He glanced around constantly, imagining that he could feel his scar prickling ...

How long would it be before Voldemort knew that they had broken into the Lestranges' vault? How soon would the goblins of Gringotts notify Bellatrix? How quickly would they realise what had been taken? And then, when they discovered that the golden cup was missing? Voldemort would know, at last, that they were hunting Horcruxes ...

The dragon seemed to crave cooler and fresher air: it climbed steadily until they were flying through wisps of chilly cloud and Harry could no longer make out the little coloured dots which were cars pouring in and out of the capital. On and on they flew, over countryside parcelled out in patches of green and brown, over roads and rivers winding through the landscape like strips of matt and glossy ribbon.

"I can't believe we're riding a dragon!" Antheia shouted gleefully. "Weren't we just riding a Hippogriff a few months — or years ago?"

The other three laughed hysterically, although they weren't so sure why; Hermione even took a short break from sobbing.

"What do you reckon it's looking for?" Ron yelled, as they flew further and further north.

"No idea," Harry bellowed back. His hands were numb with cold but he did not dare attempt to shift his grip. He had been wondering for some time what they would do if they saw the coast sail beneath them, if the dragon headed for open sea: he was cold and numb, not to mention desperately hungry and thirsty. When, he wondered, had the beast itself last eaten? Surely it would need sustenance before long? And what if, at that point, it realised it had four highly edible humans sitting on its back?

The sun slipped lower in the sky, which was turning indigo; and still the dragon flew, cities and towns gliding out of sight beneath them, its enormous shadow sliding over the earth like a great, dark cloud. Every part of Harry ached with the effort of holding on to the dragon's back.

"Is it my imagination," shouted Ron, after a considerable stretch of silence, "or are we losing height?"

Harry looked down and saw deep-green mountains and lakes, coppery in the sunset. The landscape seemed to grow larger and more detailed as he squinted over the side of the dragon and he wondered whether it had divined the presence of fresh water by the flashes of reflected sunlight.

Lower and lower the dragon flew, in great, spiralling circles, honing in, it seemed, upon one of the smaller lakes.

"I say we jump when it gets low enough!" Harry called back to the others. "Straight into the water before it realises we're here!"

They agreed, Hermione a little faintly: and now Harry could see the dragon's wide, yellow underbelly rippling in the surface of the water.

"NOW!"