boyutpedia Chapter 15 The Curse of the Greengrass Family
Chapter 15 The Curse of the Greengrass Family
King's Cross Station, September 1st.
Viserys stood before the partition wall between Platforms Nine and Ten. Dumbledore had said that every new student took the train to Hogwarts; it was tradition. He had been at Hogwarts for two months, but today he was a first-year student, not the headmaster's guest, not a sheltered exile. Daenerys had stayed at Hagrid's hut; the Iron-bellied Dragon would only eat the meat fed to two people—him and Daenerys. She chose to stay; he had come alone.
Steam billowed from the red engine of the Hogwarts Express, and the platform was packed with students and parents, hooting owls incessantly. A few older boys leaned against the exterior wall of a carriage in the middle of the train, chatting softly, but the steam couldn't muffle their conversation.
"...My father said the Gringotts story is true. The goblin told the Ministry of Magic himself. He had silver hair and purple eyes, and he flew out riding the old dragon from the vault. Even the mysterious man couldn't stop him."
"Isn't the mysterious man dead? And if he was really that powerful, why would he still be in school? He could have just gone straight to the Ministry of Magic."
Someone glanced at him, lingered on him for a moment, and then looked away. His reputation in Gringotts had spread throughout the pureblood community, but no one knew how to greet someone who had burst out riding a dragon.
Viserys didn't look back at anyone, and walked towards the back of the train, intending to find an empty compartment.
"You're Viserys Targaryen, right?"
A girl stood before him, with light blonde hair and grey eyes. She hadn't changed out of her robe yet, and a small badge he hadn't seen before was pinned to her collar. She didn't seem to have emerged from the crowd; she had been standing where he was going to pass by all along.
"The Gringotts incident has spread throughout the pureblood community. You faced two powerful adult wizards all by yourself, one of whom was a mysterious figure, and then you flew away on a dragon. How did you do that?"
Her tone revealed pure, undisguised interest. Of all the onlookers, she was the first to stand directly in front of him.
She smiled and turned her head toward the middle of the train. "Our compartment is C23. There are still empty seats inside. We can talk when you get on the train." After saying that, she turned and walked back the way she came, her steps slow, as if she was certain he would follow.
Viserys didn't follow. She took a few steps and then looked back, as if to confirm. He didn't move. She smiled again and continued walking, her figure quickly swallowed by the steam.
He remembered the box number, C23, but he didn't go there immediately.
He relived those two minutes from the beginning. She emerged from the crowd with a clear direction and unwavering steps. She said, "The Gringotts affair has spread throughout the entire pureblood community," then jumped directly to "How did you do it?" without asking "Is it true?" She assumed it was. She knew it was true; she had a source. She lingered on "How did you do it?"—dragon, dagger, philosopher's stone—not touching any of them, choosing the safest angle. She was trying to get him to talk. Then she said, "We'll talk in the car," making the decision for him, agreeing to sit in the same compartment as her.
Viserys took the dagger from his waist and tucked it into a more convenient spot inside his robe, then walked toward C23.
He opened the door to the private room. Daphne was sitting by the window, the seat opposite her empty. When she saw him, she raised an eyebrow and gave a knowing look to her lips.
"You're slower than I thought," she said.
Viserys sat down opposite her, the door sliding shut behind him automatically. "You knew I'd come, just as you knew the Gringotts story wasn't just a rumor."
Daphne leaned back in her chair, without denying it.
"Have you seen that dragon?" She leaned forward slightly, her grey eyes shining as if she genuinely wanted to hear an adventure story. "The Ironbelly Dragon in Gringotts, locked up for many years. I heard its scales are all pale white, and its eyes are afraid of light because it has never seen sunlight since birth. Then you appeared, and it bowed its head before you—"
"What do you want to ask?" Viserys interrupted her.
She paused, her smile still on her face, but her eyes changed, from excitement to assessment.
"How did you manage to make it obey? Those people said it turned to you without you casting spells or using your wand. Was it bloodline? What special connection do Targaryen bloodlines have with dragons?"
She stopped asking "How did you do that?" and started asking about the connection between bloodline and dragons. This wasn't aimless curiosity; she was confirming a hypothesis.
"You know that the Targaryen bloodline is connected to dragons," he said.
"Everyone knows that after the Gringotts scandal broke, anyone with a brain would investigate." She spread her hands, her tone matter-of-fact. "My father found something similar in old archives in France. Hundreds of years ago, there was someone who could ride dragons; she was a witch. The dragon she rode wasn't from this world, but from another world."
She paused and looked at him.
"Her dragon is different from the Ironbelly Dragon you ride. The Ironbelly Dragon is a local dragon, while hers is from another world. It's said that dragon blood can cure diseases, even those that Saint Mungo can't cure." She tilted her head. "Can your blood cure them?"
An incurable disease of St. Mungo's, a French witch, and dragon blood from another world.
She was drawing a line from Gringotts to France, from the iron-bellied dragon he rode to a witch from hundreds of years ago who could ride dragons from another world. She asked if his blood could, but she didn't care about the answer; she knew it was no. What she cared about was whether he knew who the witch was. He knew, but he didn't intend to tell her.
"The French witch, hundreds of years ago," he repeated her words. "You know her name."
"...castor bean." When she said this name, the passion in her voice vanished, leaving only the fact: "She's dead, and the dragon is dead too."
She looked at him, the light in her gray eyes unwavering.
"The scroll says it requires Valyrian dragon blood. That witch had it; she cured a family curse when she was alive, but after her dragon died, she never had any new dragon blood. And now, the one who inherits her legacy," she paused, "is you."
Daphne fell silent. She had piled up castor oil, French rags, and dragon's blood therapy in front of him, and now she was waiting for him to reveal his last card.
"You've been leading me to say that," Viserys said calmly, then he moved.
Daphne didn't even see him draw his knife; in an instant, the tip was already pressed against her throat, without touching her skin, but the precise distance of the blade reflected her swallowing motion. The dark veins of the Valyrian steel looked like solidified smoke under the train lights.
Her back slammed against the chair back, her hands were spread out on her knees, and she was holding her breath in the bottom of her chest, afraid to exhale.
"...I didn't think I was Dumbledore." The voice was forced out of his throat, each word trembling. "My sister is dying."
She paused, swallowing her breath. "Her name is Astoria. Every few generations in our family, someone is chosen by the curse, and she only has a few years left. We've consulted St. Mungo's, every potion master with a name, but to no avail. My parents went to France and found the castor oil scroll, which proved that the dragon's blood therapy was effective, but the castor oil plant has been dead for two hundred years, her dragon is dead, and the method has been lost."
She looked at him, the light in her gray eyes gradually fading.
"The day the news came from Gringotts, my father sat in his study all night. He said that the Targaryen had taken what Castor had left behind. You have what she left behind—it could be medicine, a recipe, or even dragon's blood itself. I don't know exactly what it is. But my sister only has a few years left, so I came to find you."
After she finished speaking, she didn't lean back, but just looked at him.
"Can you put the knife down now?"
Viserys didn't sheathe his sword. "I have the antidote." Daphne's breath visibly paused for a moment. "But I won't give it to you just because you're a stranger, and I certainly won't give it to you just because you approached me this way. You've been guiding me since the platform; you've done your homework, you know what I'll react to."
Daphne sniffed, her eyes reddening, but she didn't look away.
"...Yes, I did my homework. I waited for you on the platform, I calculated the direction you would go, and I chose a topic you were most likely to respond to. I planned everything because I didn't know how to talk to you." Her voice was still trembling, but the words were getting faster and faster. "You flew out of Gringotts on a dragon, the mysterious man couldn't stop you, and neither could that priest. My sister is dying, and I bet you have something that can save her. I don't know how to ask you for help—'Help, my sister is cursed,' will you listen?"
She lifted her back off the chair, and now there was no extra space between her and the dagger.
"You just reminded me that I won't be the only one coming for you. Those people on the platform today were just watching you; they'll come for you tomorrow. Some want what you have, some want your blood. Voldemort has already found you; next time he might not be weak. That priestess—we can't find any records of her; there's no mention of her in magical history, yet she can cooperate with Voldemort on equal footing. You need people."
Her voice no longer trembled.
"The news of you riding a dragon has spread throughout the pureblood community, and you know what that means. You have what they've been waiting for for hundreds of years, what they need, and what they fear. You need them, Viserys, just as I need you now."
Viserys looked at her, his sword still inside, but the blade neither moved forward nor backward.
"...I came to see you, but my father doesn't know." Daphne's voice was softer than before, but no longer trembling. "He's still observing. After the mysterious man appeared in Gringotts, every ancient pure-blood family is realigning themselves. You have what they want, but no one can see your true position, and my father dares not take the gamble."
She sniffed, her eyes still red, but her gaze didn't leave his face.
"So I'm not a representative of the Greengrass family, I'm just me, Astoria's sister." She paused. "You have a sister too, and you know I won't let her die."
The box door was suddenly pulled open. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. His gaze first fell on Viserys' silver hair, then on the dagger in his hand, and finally on Daphne's face, her eyes still red-rimmed.
"...Did I... disturb you?" Draco said.