1949
The scales of a hatchling were surprisingly soft. Not yet hardened against the elements. Victoria Malfoy scratched the chin of a newly hatched Welsh Green dragon in a dark basement on the Margate coast. A humidity clung to the room with all the heat needed to hatch the dragons. Vinny Bulstrode leaned over the scorched stone table, greased curls of dirty brown hair hanging around his face. Being a third son, he made his own way with less than modest means.
“They're growing well,” he said, a roughness to his voice from a cough. “I'll be able to sell this clutch soon, they're best for trainin’ at this age.”
“The European elite are going to love them.” Victoria smiled, letting the little green dragon crawl onto her hand. “Nothing says wealth like a pet dragon.”
Their agreement was simple. Dragon breeding and selling had been made illegal by the Ministry of Magic in 1709 which naturally drove the prices of British dragons up exponentially. Vinny could spend the time in illicit circles, procuring and hatching the eggs and selling them on. The Malfoys had the legitimacy and sway in the Wizengamot to keep eyes off all their more secretive activities. Together, Victoria, Vinny, and Abraxas could make a mountain of galleons every few months.
“And I've got something else,” Vinny said, pushing himself up.
He stood and moved across the dark room, firepits lighting his way. The smell of charcoal lingered in the air, mingled with the slightly chemical scent of dragon fire. On his return, Vinny wore a thick, dragon hide glove with a small, snapping beast clutched within it.
Victoria's eyes widened as the baby dragon roared and erupted with flames that raged from its mouth and engulfed its body.
“Is that a Highland Terror?” She asked, standing and flinching back as a burst of flame shot towards her. “How did you get it?”
“With more burns than I would have liked.” Vinny told her, pinning the dragon's head so that she could have a better look at it. “But hard work is money.”
“That it is. He'll be good for the fighting rings.” Victoria lifted the Welsh Green in her hand up to her face and let it nuzzle at her cheek. “But you're too beautiful for that, aren't you? Too precious.”
Vinny chuckled and moved back to force the Terror back into its cage. They were looking at a good sum. There were no regulations when breeding was illegal.
“I have to go back to London,” Victoria said, putting the dragon back down onto the table. “I just wanted to check on everything before you make the sales. Remember, double the price and let them negotiate down but do not go below what we agreed.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Vinny nodded, reaching over to grab the Welsh Green from the table. “I will be seeing you then.”
“I'll see you when necessary.”
#####
Candlelight was the only illumination in the Riddles’ small terrace house in Knockturn Alley, the fire flickering gently on a wick. Beige wallpaper with wooden floors and braces, flicking in shadow as Tom Riddle returned home from his shift at Borgin and Burkes. He had bags under his eyes and his cheeks looked hollow as he closed the door behind him. Victoria sat in a brown leather chair, book in hand with her hair cascading in waves over her shoulder. She did not turn at the sound of the door and Tom let out a deliberate sigh to try and gain her attention. Victoria stayed as she was.
"Don't worry yourself, my love," Tom groaned, rolling his shoulders. "My day was fine, I feel greatly accomplished."
"That's good to hear," Victoria said dryly, turning the page of her book. “The eggs have hatched and Vinny should be able to sell them in a few days.”
YOU ARE READING
The Fearsome Name of Riddle
Fanfiction"I had to sit in this house and watch him destroy her. Do you really want to hear all of that?" ##### In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, an old photograph is found, revealing the life of a young witch that had been lost with the memories of...
