Chapter 137: The Ukrainian Ironbelly
Nick Flamel and the young Albus Dumbledore followed the massive footprints, making their way toward the mountain peak.
“Your great-grandfather, young Brian... how was his life?” Nick Flamel asked as he leaned on his cane, slowly climbing.
“He passed away thirty years ago, before I was born,” young Dumbledore said softly. “But I believe it was of old age. After all, not every wizard can possess the near-immortality you do.”
“Is that so?” Nick Flamel sighed. “Truthfully, eternal life can be a dreadful burden. You must shoulder your responsibilities while watching everyone around you die, one by one... Sometimes, I even think about destroying that damned Stone—if only I had the courage...”
“Is that so?” young Dumbledore replied awkwardly, nodding.
“A hundred years ago, Nick had already thought about destroying the Philosopher’s Stone,” the older Dumbledore beside Jon sighed. “Over a year ago, he finally found the courage. You were with me at his funeral then—you must remember.”
“Of course I remember, Professor...” Jon quickly nodded.
“At the time, I didn’t fully understand... but now I do.” Dumbledore continued quietly. “Sometimes, death truly is a release. Living means enduring the pain and responsibilities that come with it.”
“You don’t need to think that way...” Jon said cautiously. “You’re still young. You have many years ahead of you.”
“Is that so?” Dumbledore chuckled. “Let’s hope so.”
But in the memory, Nick Flamel and young Dumbledore both suddenly stopped.
...
“There’s a cave here!” young Dumbledore exclaimed excitedly. He bent down, sniffing the earth around the opening. “No doubt about it, Mr. Flamel... the soil reeks of dragon musk. This must be a dragon’s lair. Fire dragons usually mark their territory near their nests with urine to drive away other creatures and Magical Creatures.”
“Is that so?” Nick Flamel frowned, eyeing the cave, which was only wide enough for a person to squeeze through. “A fire dragon that could pass through such a small opening... could it really capsize a sailing ship?”
He pulled a small vial of pale yellow potion from his pocket and poured it around the entrance.
“Albus, step back... This potion will draw the dragon out.”
Dumbledore supported Flamel as they quickly retreated into the nearby bushes, carefully watching the cave.
Minutes later, an ugly head poked out of the opening. A hulking reptile crept outt onto the potion-soaked earth, sniffing around. Within half a minute, two more followed.
“They’re hatchlings,” young Dumbledore said grimly. “That cave was only a nesting chamber... The real dragon...”
“Caw...” A flock of birds suddenly cried out overhead.
Then, half the sky was suddenly swallowed by shadow.
“Oh my god!” Jon, watching from the side, clapped a hand over his mouth. “That’s really a dragon?”
“Yes... I was just as surprised at the time,” the older Dumbledore beside him said with a faint smile.
A colossal lizard descended from the sky, its size dwarfing Jon’s imagination of any dragon. It stretched at least thirty meters long—several times larger than the biggest dragons he had ever heard of. (Ordinary dragons rarely exceeded ten meters.) Its scales gleamed a metallic gray, its eyes burned deep crimson, and its claws were long and deadly, radiating ferocity.
“Mr. Flamel, what should we do?” young Dumbledore shouted in alarm.
Nick Flamel seemed just as shaken by the creature’s size. His hand trembled as he raised his wand... but against such a massive target, he couldn’t aim.
“Damn it!” Nick Flamel muttered, his voice quivering. “How can a dragon be this big... These old bones haven’t fought in two hundred years!”
The dragon had already noticed them and began closing in.
“Ah!” Dumbledore sighed, then dashed forward with startling speed.
At that moment, Jon finally understood why Headmaster Phineas Black had called the twenty-something Dumbledore the finest Hogwarts graduate in a century.
With a light flick of his wand (not the Elder Wand, but another), a stone on the ground transformed into a falcon, which swooped at the massive beast.
The falcon caught the dragon’s attention, distracting it. At the same time, several streaks of orange-gold light shot straight toward its eyes.
“The Conjunctivitis Curse?” Jon whispered.
“Yes... I’ve slowed it down for now,” the older Dumbledore confirmed with a nod.
The dragon bellowed in pain. Seizing the moment, Dumbledore rushed to Flamel’s side and Apparated them both a safe distance away.
“This dragon likely doesn’t breathe fire!” Dumbledore panted. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have escaped like that.”
At last, Nicolas Flamel steadied himself, raising his wand firmly.
He nodded. “It’s my turn now, Albus...”
...
The scene began to fade.
Jon felt himself rising slowly into the air as the memory dissolved, until only darkness remained.
Then, as if flipping in slow motion, his feet touched solid ground. Blinding light filled his vision—he was back in Dumbledore’s sunlit office.
“Why did it have to end there!” Jon blurted out, feeling as though he’d been abruptly cut off right at the climax of a film.
“It was enough,” Dumbledore explained with a smile. “Nick went on to defeat that dragon, and we captured the hatchlings. That was the wizarding world’s first discovery of the Polish Ironbelly. Because of the steel-like scales on its chest, I gave it that name... though decades later, it seems it was changed to the Ukrainian Ironbelly.”
“The largest dragon breed in the world, weighing up to thirty tons—more than ten times the size of ordinary dragons. They’re ferociously violent; even skilled wizards often meet their end beneath their claws. Their huge size limits their fire-breathing ability and makes them slower in flight, but they remain immensely dangerous. Gringotts keeps one in its deepest chambers, guarding the most important vaults.”
Dumbledore glanced up at the large clock on the wall.
“It’s already ten. I think your detention is over,” he said kindly.
...
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