Chapter 344: Voldemort's Location
Dragon meat… for eating?
In the British wizarding world, where dragon breeding was tightly controlled by Romania and outright illegal elsewhere, dragon meat was widely believed to be poisonous. Strictly speaking, that belief wasn't wrong. Untreated dragon flesh was toxic—but Romanian dragon handlers had long since learned how to remove its harmful properties through special preparation.
The problem was that dragon meat wasn't particularly delicious compared to ordinary livestock. As a result, knowledge of its edibility rarely spread beyond Romania's borders.
Harry, unsurprisingly, belonged to the vast majority who believed dragon meat was lethal.
"I think Draco means that dragon meat is poisonous," Harry said quickly, noticing the conversation drifting dangerously toward a discussion of how to raise a stronger spider. "Is it really okay for Alaspade to eat that?"
Hagrid answered by lifting the Acromantula into his arms as though cradling an infant.
"Dragon meat ain't that poisonous," he said confidently. "I've even used it before—to ease pain. Just slap it right on a wound."
As he spoke, Hagrid picked up a slab of green dragon flesh and pushed it straight into Alaspade's glossy black mandibles.
Crunch. Crunch.
Green blood splattered across Hagrid's trousers as the spider tore into the meat with unsettling enthusiasm.
Hagrid, either oblivious or uncaring, didn't react at all.
Unfortunately, not everyone in the room shared his composure.
"Well—Hagrid," Ron said stiffly, staring fixedly at the floor, "if everything's fine… I think we'll be leaving now."
"Ron," Hagrid said reproachfully, "this is a perfect chance to overcome your fears. Otherwise, you'll miss out on seeing true beauty."
"Look at it," he added fondly. "Ain't it beautiful?"
The beautiful Acromantula stretched its eight long, hairy legs, each one brushing dangerously close to Ron's boots.
Ron visibly shuddered.
"By the way!" Harry cut in hastily. "Hagrid, were you watching the match earlier?"
"A match?" Hagrid blinked. "What match?"
Then his eyes widened.
"Oh! Quidditch?" He scratched his head, puzzled. "But the Ravenclaw team hasn't arrived yet, have they?"
"So you didn't see it?" Draco asked, his expression darkening.
"Wait—was it a Ravenclaw match?" Hagrid muttered. "Or did the schedule change? Or did I remember the time wrong?"
Unaware that Draco had already joined the Slytherin team, Hagrid began doubting reality itself.
Harry quickly stepped in before things escalated. "Draco's on the team."
"Oh! Thank Merlin," Hagrid exclaimed, exhaling in relief as he pressed his cheek affectionately against Alaspade's head. "I nearly thought I'd lost track of time completely."
Then he paused.
"I'm sorry, Draco. You know you're the only kid on the Slytherin team I like."
"Oh—wait," he added nervously. "Slytherin didn't win, did they?"
"No," Draco replied flatly.
"That's wonderful—ah—I mean, terrible," Hagrid corrected himself hastily. "How could our Draco's debut end like that?"
"He didn't lose," Ron muttered. "Draco caught the Snitch. Slytherin lost after that."
His eyes never left the floor.
"That's brilliant!" Hagrid slapped the table.
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Hagrid," Harry asked casually, as though discussing the weather, "what have Ron and his father been busy with lately?"
"Them?" Hagrid frowned. "Arthur's been watching Azkaban. There's a new prison under construction. I'm not sure about Sirius. Lupin's been contacting the werewolf cubs—Greyback's dead, after all—"
He froze.
"Merlin's beard!" Hagrid gasped. "Those aren't things you should know!"
Hagrid didn't notice Ron's panic. Instead, Ron launched straight into recounting Harry's dream, his words tumbling out in a rush.
"You-Know-Who's been resurrected again… Greyback died because of it… then You-Know-Who disappeared again… there's a mysterious wizard hunting Death Eaters—Antonin Dolohov is next—"
"All because of that report," Ron added, "the one from Lovegood."
Hagrid stared at them in disbelief.
"Greyback's dead? And Dolohov's next?" he whispered. "What's happened to the world? Has Voldemort started doing good deeds?"
He swallowed hard.
"So Arthur ordered a new prison because of that man? And Sirius suggested building more in Yorkshire—the Galloping Gorgon—"
His eyes widened in horror.
"I shouldn't have said that!"
He clapped a hand over his mouth and stood up abruptly, causing Alaspade to tumble to the floor. The spider clicked its mandibles in irritation.
"Yorkshire?"
"Prison?"
"The Daily Prophet," Harry and Draco said simultaneously.
Ron opened his mouth to speak—but froze when Alaspade crawled into his field of vision.
"…I'm just guessing," Hagrid muttered at last, defeated.
"So Professor Dumbledore already knows where the church is?" Harry asked, spinning around in excitement.
That meant Dumbledore and the others had been laying traps all this time.
Maybe Voldemort would be caught by next Saturday.
"Harry?" Draco said slowly. "Don't you see the problem?"
"What problem?" Harry demanded. "This means Voldemort's already trapped! Dumbledore must've been preparing for this for months!"
But Draco didn't smile.
"I don't think so," he said quietly.
"The Daily Prophet article Sirius released mentioned the Elder Wand—my father's wand. It's in Dumbledore's hands now."
"If they truly planned to capture Voldemort, they'd never leak that information. They'd have laid a trap at my house instead."
Draco's voice grew thoughtful.
"I've always suspected… that last year, in the fourth-floor corridor, Dumbledore wasn't trying to catch Voldemort at all."
"He simply couldn't."
"And maybe," Draco said slowly, "he wanted Voldemort to resurrect."
"Only when he has a body," Draco finished, "can he truly be killed."
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