She slumped onto the edge of her bed as the information gradually sunk in. The article had implied that the disaster had been set up by a witch or wizard; someone powerful, who knew the damage it would cause. Although it had happened before dawn, she was certain that there would be footage on the internet. As far as she knew, there was no way to obliviate Youtube or Reddit forums.

Sabriel came in to comfort Britta, "Liesel's waiting in the Entrance hall for you, Britta. She's really worried about what happened." With impressive skill, she coaxed Britta out of the dormitory, while Sariah reread the article. Cold shivers travelled down her spine. She was grateful her parents lived on the outskirts of Birmingham, at least they were safe. The corridors buzzed with a physical tension as Sariah navigated her way to Defence Against the Dark Arts. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the staircase to swivel back to her. Her eyebrows were still furrowed with the news of London, when she took her seat at the back of class.

To her shock and surprise, the majority of students were still fixated on who had given roses to whom. It was surreal to her, when their Professor didn't acknowledge the matter either, but instead paired them off to build endurance of their shield charms. Sariah flexed her wrist. Hers normally just dulled the impact of any attacks. Her wand arm would be numb before the lesson was through.

The effort of maintaining Protego on command was draining, and she still had to endure for another five minutes before trading places. She could feel beads of sweat forming at her temples. Sariah could tell already, it was forming into one of those days, where not a single thing would go right. The idea of enduring a double-period of Herbology after lunch drained her enthusiasm, and her thoughts turned to the Anglia.

The car was nearly driveable now: its windscreen still had gaping holes, but Scorpius had volunteered a pair of quidditch goggles, from his brief stint on the quidditch team. The only thing she wasn't willing to risk was the car's dismally flat tires. A hesitant "Reparo" had restored their cracked rubber and tread, but they were still devoid of air. With the wheel rims in such good condition, the last thing she wanted was to ruin them by driving on flat tires.

"Expelliarmus," Rachel Skellis said forcefully, snapping her back to the present.

Sariah hadn't even noticed they'd switched partners. Before she could recast, the unreasonably strong bolt of white broke through her flickering Protego charm, and the full brunt sent her stumbling back into the wall.

She felt the stares from the pairings closest to her. Predictably, the Professor was at the opposite end of the classroom.

"Sorry," the Ravenclaw girl said, her lips pulled into a smug smirk. "I didn't think your shield would be so flimsy."

Sariah flushed angrily. They'd been instructed not to cast physically offensive spells only minutes earlier. Rachel often took this as a challenge to see how much she could get away without being reprimanded by their Professor. Sariah snatched her wand up from the floor and, ignoring her throbbing shoulder, cast again: "Protego." The projection spiralled out from the tip of her wand. It looked like an translucent umbrella being ripped at by strong winds.

From behind her shield, Sariah could see her opponent scoping out her charms' weaknesses.  As their professor turned his back to correct Liesel's stance, a gleam shot across Rachel's brown eyes, telling her that her next spell would be just as hard, if not worse. Sariah gripped her wand with both hands, to steady the shaking of her wand arm.

"Expelliarmus!" Rachel cast again.

Sariah braced herself against the incoming bolt. Instead of fracturing, her shield rebounded the spell. Rachel's eyes widened in shock, as her own spell shot back at her. She was knocked off her feet, landing heavily on the wooden floor. Sariah watched in disbelief and looked down at her shaking wand arm. Had she really done that? The rest of the class stopped to stare at Rachel's unlikely defeat. Red-faced, the Ravenclaw pulled herself to her feet and stormed out of the classroom.

"On the plus-side," Britta chirped, as they walked back from the Herbology greenhouses later that afternoon. "You were right about there being better gossip by the end of the day. But on the other hand, you may have started a new House rivalry. I mean, blasting the Head Girl's little sister across a classroom? You're lucky you didn't get detention for hexing her."

Sariah groaned, Hogwarts gossip had been at it again. "All I did was cast Protego, I swear. She did the rest."

"It's okay, Olivia Skellis is definitely evil too," Britta replied. "Maybe even worse than Rachel."

Sariah nodded half-heatedly. The news that Olivia Skellis, the Head Girl, was Ethan's Valentine had soured Britta's impression of her entirely, she noted. In a few moments she would be collecting her phone from the dormitory and heading back to the Clearing. She was itching to see how the internet-users of London were faring, post fire-breathing dragons.

When she got out to the Clearing, it more crowded than usual. A cold wind kept everyone shivering, and pulling their scarves tighter around their throats. Sariah turned her phone on, stuffed it back in her pocket to finish loading. Several students were pacing the surrounding forest, worriedly calling their families. A boy with black hair kept sniffing loudly; his red-rimmed eyes betrayed him. Sariah hoped their relatives were all okay, impatiently tapping her screen to action. When she finally got online, the amount of footage shocked her. It was all over Youtube, and flooded her Facebook feed. Whatever measures the Ministry had in place had not been enough.

The videos were definitely victims of shaky cam, but the roaring of dragons was identical in each. She watched the skyline of London burning, the blood-red flames briefly illuminating a wing, a tail, an angry snout out of the pouring smoke, like monstrous shadow-puppets. The damage looked much worse than the Prophet had reported. It sounded like the dragons had been fighting one another, with London as their crumbling Colosseum. 

The comments section worried her more. Hundreds upon thousands of muggles had seen the videos, and agreed that there was something in the smoke. Suggestions ranged from enemy fighter pilots or terrorists, to the shockingly accurate "Dragons. It's obvious."

Worried, she called home. The phone rang for an impossibly long time.

"Hello?"

"Hi mum, it's Sariah," she started.

"Hi darling, how're you?"

"Pretty good," she lied. "How're you and dad? Is everything alright?"

"Just more of the same here," her mum replied. "Did you hear about London though? There was big gas leak this morning, the poor things."

"A gas leak? That's terrible." 

"Isn't it? they think it might have been triggered by an earthquake. It'll take a while to clear up, they're saying. Not a good start to Valentine's day. Speaking of which, did anything special happen today?"

"Not really," Sariah said.

"Nothing at all?" her mum sounded disheartened.

"Well, I did get some chocolates," she admitted, hoping to raise her mum's spirits.

"Oh darling, that's lovely news!" she said. "I'm so happy for you. What's the lucky boy's name?"

"Uh, James Potter," she said, "but mum, it's not like we're going out."

"Of course, of course," she clucked, "you don't have to tell me anything. Terry, Terry! Sariah's got a Valentine, bless her!"

She blushed, as she listened to her mother relay their entire conversation over to her father. "Anyway, I was just checking you were alright. I'll see you at Easter."

"Call us more often, honey. It's always good to hear from you."

A twinge of guilt pulled in her stomach. "Love you, mum."

When she went back to Youtube, the site had crashed. She tried Facebook next, but that was down too. Sariah frowned as she tried to stream the next Supernatural, but nothing but an eternal loading screen awaited her. She glanced around at her fellow Clearing-mates, they seemed similarly afflicted. Restarting their devices did nothing to fix the issue, and with a bit of coordination, they managed to text and call one another. It was the internet. It had, impossibly and implausibly, gone down. Dragons, dragons had broken the internet. In pairs or alone, they slunk back to the castle under the cover of dusk.