Magic dragon the dragonstone

BOOM. They knocked again. Lighting Dust jerked awake.

“Where’s the cannon?” she said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Wind rider came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hooves — now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

“Who’s there?” he shouted. “I warn you — I’m armed!” There was a pause. Then —

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a yack was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

“Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey. . . .”

He strode over to the sofa where Lighting Dust sat frozen with fear.

“Budge up, yeh great lump,” said the stranger.

Lighting Dust squeaked and ran to hide behind her mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Wind rider.

“An’ here’s Spike!” said the giant.

Spike looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. “Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby,” said the giant. “Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.”

Uncle Wind rider made a funny rasping noise.

“I demand that you leave at once, sir!” he said. “You are breaking and entering!”

“Ah, shut up, Riders, yeh great prune,” said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Wind rider’s hooves, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Wind rider made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

“Anyway — Spike,” said the giant, turning his back on the Wind riders, “a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.”

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Spike opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Spike written on it in green icing. Spike looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, “Who are you?”

The giant chuckled.

“True, I haven’t introduced meself. Prince Rutherford, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Celestia School of gifted creatures.”

He held out an enormous hoof and shook Spike’s whole arm.

“What about that tea then, eh?” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.”

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn’t see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Spike felt the warmth wash over him as though he’d sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Lighting Dust fidgeted a little. Uncle Wind rider said sharply, “Don’t touch anything he gives you, Lighting Dust.”

The giant chuckled darkly.
“Yer great puddin’ of a missy don’ need fattenin’ anymore, Lighting Dust, don’ worry.”

He passed the sausages to Spike, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn’t take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know who you are.”

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hoof.

“Call me Rutherford,” he said, “everyone does. An’ like I told yeh, I’m Keeper of Keys at Celestia's School — yeh’ll know all about Celestia's School, o’ course.”

“Er — no,” said Spike.
Rutherford looked shocked.
“Sorry,” Spike said quickly.

“Sorry?” barked Rutherford, turning to stare at the Wind riders, who shrank back into the shadows. “It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Celestia's School, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?”

“All what?” asked Spike.
“ALL WHAT?” Rutherford thundered. “Now wait jus’ one second!”

He had leapt to his back hooves. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Wind riders were cowering against the wall.

“Do you mean ter tell me,” he growled at the Wind riders, “that this boy — this boy! — knows nothin’ abou’— about ANYTHING?”

Spike thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren’t bad.

“I know some things,” he said. “I can, you know, do math and stuff.”

But Rutherford simply waved his hoof and said, “About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents’ world.”

“What world?”

Rutherford looked as if he was about to explode.

“RIDERS!” he boomed.

Uncle Wind rider, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like “Mimblewimble.” Rutherford stared wildly at Spike.

“But yeh must know about yer mum and dad,” he said. “I mean, they’re famous. You’re famous.”

“What? My — my mum and dad weren’t famous, were they?”

“Yeh don’ know . . . yeh don’ know . . .” Rutherford ran his hoovf through his hair, fixing Spike with a bewildered stare.

“Yeh don’ know what yeh are?” he said finally. Uncle Wind rider suddenly found his voice.

“Stop!” he commanded. “Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!”

A braver Stallion than Wind rider would have quailed under the furious look Rutherford now gave him; when Rutherford spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

“You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Star swirl left fer him? I was there! I saw Star swirl leave it, Rider! An’ you’ve kept it from him all these years?”

“Kept what from me?” said Spike eagerly.

“STOP! I FORBID YOU!” yelled Uncle Wind rider in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

“Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,” said Rutherford.

“Spike — yer a magic dragon.”

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

“I’m a what?” gasped Spike.

“A magic dragon, o’ course,” said Rutherford, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, “an’ a thumpin’ good’un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An’ I reckon it’s abou’ time yeh read yer letter.”

Spike stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. S. Drago, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:

CEIESTIAS SCHOOL for GIFTED CREATURES

Headmaster: Star Swirl

(Order of Celestia, First Class, Grand
Alicorn., Chf. Alicorn, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of creatures)

Dear Mr. Drago, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Celestias School of gifted creatures. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your bird by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Granny Smith, Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Spike’s head like fireworks and he couldn’t decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, “What does it mean, they await my bird?”

“Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me,” said Rutherford, clapping a hoovf to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an eagle— a real, live, rather ruffled-looking eagle — a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Spike could read upside down:

Dear Professor Star swirl,
Given Spike his letter.
Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.
Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well.
Rutherford

Rutherford rolled up the note, gave it to the eagle, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the eagle out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was normal as talking on the telephone.

Spike realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

“Where was I?” said Rutherford, but at that moment, Uncle Wind rider, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

“He’s not going,” he said.

Hagrid grunted.

“I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him,” he said.

“A what?” said Spike, interested.

“A Muggle,” said Rutherford, “it’s what we call nonmagic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.”

“We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,” said Uncle Wind rider, “swore we’d stamp it out of him! Magic dragon indeed!”

“You knew?” said Spike. “You knew I’m a — a magic dragon?”

“Knew!” shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. “Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!”

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

“Then she met that Drago at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as strange, just as — as — abnormal — and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!” Spike had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, “Blown up? You told me they died in a chariot crash!”

“CHARIOT CRASH!” roared Rutherford, jumping up so angrily that the Wind riders scuttled back to their corner. “How could a chariot crash kill Firestone an’ Lava Drago? It’s an outrage! A scandal! Spike Drago not knowin’ his own story when every creature in our world knows his name!”

“But why? What happened?” Spike asked urgently.

The anger faded from Rutherford’s face. He looked suddenly anxious.

“I never expected this,” he said, in a low, worried voice. “I had no idea, when Star swirl told me there might be trouble gettin’ hold of yeh, how much yeh didn’t know. Ah, Spike, I don’ know if I’m the right person ter tell yeh — but someone’s gotta — yeh can’t go off ter Celestia School not knowin’.”

He threw a dirty look at the Wind riders.

“Well, it’s best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh — mind, I can’t tell yeh everythin’, it’s a great myst’ry, parts of it. . . .”

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, “It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but it’s incredible yeh don’t know his name, everyone in our world knows —”

“Who?”

“Well — I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”

“Why not?”

“Gulpin’ gargoyles, Spike, creatures are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went . . . bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was . . .”

Rutherford gulped, but no words came out.

“Could you write it down?” Spike suggested. “Nah — can’t spell it. All right — Tirek.” Rutherford shuddered. “Don’ make me say it again. Anyway, this — this creature, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ’em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ’cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, Spike. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange unicorns or creatures . . . terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. ’Course, some stood up to him — an’ he killed ’em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Star swirl’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then, anyway.

“Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a creatures an’ creatures as I ever knew. Head boy an’ girl at Celestia School in their day! Suppose the myst’ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get ’em on his side before . . . probably knew they were too close ter Star swirl ter want anythin’ ter do with the Dark Side.

“Maybe he thought he could persuade ’em . . . maybe he just wanted ’em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’— an’— ”

Rutherford suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

“Sorry,” he said. “But it’s that sad — knew yer mum an’ dad, an’ nicer creatures yeh couldn’t find — anyway . . .

“You-Know-Who killed ’em. An’ then — an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing — he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin’ by then. But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer Cheek? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an’ dad an’ yer house, even — but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous, Spike. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ’em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best creatures of the age — the Skulls, the Hoofers, the kites — an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.”

Something very painful was going on in Spike’s mind. As Rutherford’s story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green fire, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before — and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Rutherford was watching him sadly.

“Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Star swirl’s orders. Brought yeh ter this lot . . .”

“Load of old tosh,” said Uncle Wind rider. Spike jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Wind riders were there. Uncle Wind rider certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Rutherford and his fists were clenched.

“Now, you listen here, boy,” he snarled, “I accept there’s something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn’t have cured — and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world’s better off without them in my opinion — asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these creatures types — just what I expected, always knew they’d come to a sticky end —”

But at that moment, Rutherford leapt from the sofa and drew a battered battle ax from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Wind rider like a sword, he said, “I’m warning you, Rider — I’m warning you — one more word . . .”

In danger of being speared on the end of an battle ax by a bearded giant, Uncle Wind rider’s courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

“That’s better,” said Rutherford, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Spike, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

“But what happened to tir-, sorry — I mean, You-Know-Who?”

“Good question, Spike. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That’s the biggest myst’ry, see . . . he was gettin’ more an’ more powerful — why’d he go? “Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough strength left in him to die. Some say he’s still out there, bidin’ his time, like, but I don’ believe it. Creatures who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of ’em came outta kinda trances. Don’ reckon they could’ve done if he was comin’ back.

“Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. ’Cause somethin’ about you finished him, Spike. There was somethin’ goin’ on that night he hadn’t counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.”

Rutherford looked at Spike with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Spike, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A magic dragon? Him? How could he possibly be? He’d spent his life being clouted by Lighting Dust, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Wind rider; if he was really a wizard dragon, why hadn’t they been turned into warty toads every time they’d tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he’d once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Lighting Dust had always been able to kick him around like a hoovfball?

“Rutherford ,” he said quietly, “I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a magic dragon.”

To his surprise, Rutherford chuckled.

“Not a magic dragon, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?”

Spike looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it . . . every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Spike, had been upset or angry . . . chased by Lighting Dust's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach . . . dreading going to school with that ridiculous scale cut, he’d managed to make it grow back . . . and the very last time Lighting Dust had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?

Spike looked back at Rutherford, smiling, and saw that Rutherford was positively beaming at him.

“See?” said Rutherford. “Spike Drago, not a magic dragon — you wait, you’ll be right famous at Celestia School.” But Uncle Wind rider wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

“Haven’t I told you he’s not going?” he hissed. “He’s going to shadowbolt High and he’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands and —”

“If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,” growled Rutherford. “Stop firestones an’ Lava Drago’s son goin’ ter celestia's School! Yer mad. His name’s been down ever since he was born. He’s off ter the finest school for gifted creatures in the world. Seven years there and he won’t know himself. He’ll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an’ he’ll be under the greatest headmaster Celestia's School ever had, A Star swirl the beard—”

“I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD STALLION FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!” yelled Uncle Wind rider.

But he had finally gone too far. Rutherford seized his battle ax and whirled it over his head, “NEVER —” he thundered, “— INSULT — Star swirl — the bearded— IN — FRONT — OF — ME!”

He brought the battle ax swishing down through the air to point at Lighting Dust — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Lighting Dust was dancing on the spot with his hoovfs clasped over his thin bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Spike saw a curly ball’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Wind rider roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Lighting Dust into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Rutherford and slammed the door behind them. Rutherford looked down at his battle ax and stroked his beard.

“Shouldn’ta lost me temper,” he said ruefully, “but it didn’t work anyway. Meant ter turn her into a bull, but I suppose he was so much like a bull anyway there wasn’t much left ter do.”

He cast a sideways look at Spike under his bushy eyebrows.

“Be grateful if yeh didn’t mention that ter anyone at Celestia School,” he said. “I’m — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an’ get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff — one o’ the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job —”

“Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” asked Spike.

“Oh, well — I was at Celestia School meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything. But Star swirl let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great stallion, Star swirl.”

“Why were you expelled?”

“It’s gettin’ late and we’ve got lots ter do tomorrow,” said Rutherford loudly. “Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an’ that.”

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Spike.

“You can kip under that,” he said. “Don’ mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o’ dormice in one o’ the pockets.”