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Chapter Text

Tuesday, 25 July 1995

Front Page Article of The Daily Prophet

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Boy-Who-Leaves: Is This The Best Thing For Wizarding Britain? by Rita Skeeter

Yes, my dear readers, today is the day that you are either dreading or looking forward to. Today is the day that Harry Potter is to leave the British Isles.

Throughout the last month when it became known that The-Boy-Who-Lived was to leave, opinions have been varied. And why shouldn’t they be. After all, the boy that we’ve all been hearing about ever since he did whatever inexplicable magic that caused He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name’d downfall all those years ago, has been uppermost in our thoughts. Many of our children have grown up reading about our Hero, Harry Potter. He captured our hearts and minds, more so because he disappeared so quickly after saving us all.

And then, as you know, dear readers, he only resurfaced briefly when he was due to start Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when he was eleven. Yes, back then, we were all eagerly waiting for our hero to re-join us. Many speculated on where he’d been, what held been doing, what he’d been learning.

The answer of course, surprised us all for Harry Potter hadn’t been learning advanced magic, he hadn’t been off having wonderful, magical adventures, being the hero we dreamed that he was. No, my dear readers, Harry Potter had been with his muggle relatives, relatives who forbade his attendance at Hogwarts.

As I’m sure that you’ll remember, there was an immediate outcry up and down the Isles when his rejection letter was sent in. Many demanded our leaders do something to counter that, to bring him to us by force if necessary. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be the case. Instead, our oh so wise Leaders decided that they couldn’t rescue poor Harry, instead being bound by the very laws that they swore to serve.

Thankfully, our wishes were finally answered eight months ago when, in a bizarre twist, the Goblet of Fire, the ancient magical object tasked with choosing the Champions that would compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament between Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Beauxbatons Academie and the Durmstrang Institute, chose not three Champions, but four! And who should be that fourth? Why, no other than our boy Hero, Harry Potter.

But was this really for the best? One does have to wonder.

For no sooner had young Harry returned to the magical world and Hogwarts, than he began upsetting the natural order of how things in the magical world were always done. Our traditionalists especially, were incensed at some of the things that Harry Potter brought with him. And I’m not just talking about material items either, dear readers. No, I’m talking about his ideas.

This was no more pronounced than at the Yule Ball, held at Hogwarts for the three magical schools to celebrate the Yuletide. We were all suitably impressed when the whispers emerged from Hogwarts that young Harry was to escort the heiress of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass, Daphne. But that was until Harry Potter spat in the face of our traditions! Instead of wearing traditional robes to the Ball, Harry Potter decided to wear muggle fashion, an insult to not only the beautiful Daphne Greengrass but to our entire society.

Of course, you, my dear readers are fully aware that this was only the tip of the wand of The-Boy-Who-Lived’s many snubbing of our society. The way that he tackled the three Tasks of the TriWizard Tournament provides even more proof.

Ah, yes, the TriWizard Tournament. I have already written countless articles on Harry Potter’s so-called attempts at the Tasks (see pages 7, 8, 9 and 11 for a reprinting of those aritcles). But for those of you who have been living under an obscurus curse, let me recap!

The First Task. For this, the Champions’ ingenuity, magical prowess and cunning were tested as they fought their way past a dragon to retrieve a golden egg. Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts, Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons and Victor Krum of Durmstrang all proved that they were indeed worthy of their titles of ‘Champion’, performing admirably. But Harry Potter? No. Our so-called ‘hero’ chose to mock the Task by deciding to paint a picture of the dragon! And if that wasn’t enough, he then proved that he has command of one of the darkest skills imaginable: parseltongue. Yes, my dear readers, Harry Potter talked the dragon into handing over the Golden Egg.

That brings us to the Second Task. For this Task, a hostage, someone special to each of the Champions was placed in an enchanted sleep and hidden at the bottom of the Black Lake for them to retrieve. Do you think Harry Potter used a bubble-head charm like Mister Diggory or Miss Delacour? Or perhaps transfiguration like Mister Krum? No, he did not. Instead, he went fishing and bribed one of the merpeople into retrieving his hostage for him.

Finally, we have the Third Task. A maze filled with magical enchantments and creatures to truly test the Champions. Not that Harry Potter lasted all that long. No, at the first opportunity, he fashioned some type of footwear to walk over the top of the maze before jumping out.

After hearing all of that, I’m sure that, like me, you are thinking ‘good riddance’ to The-Boy-Who-Lived. Someone like that should be cast from our society for the way he acts and treats our traditions and up-and-coming children.

Ah, but here’s the bludger that you didn’t see coming: Harry Potter is indeed as powerful as we all imagined that he could be, a fact that he proved on his second day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where, without any formal training under his robes, he was able to demonstrate wandless magic the likes of which hasn’t been since in the British Isles since the great Merlin himself!

With that sort of talent and power, surely we want to keep The-Boy-Who-Lived here with us, if nothing else to merge his bloodline with the rest of us. Surely, he could be taught his place and to respect our society and traditions?

Unfortunately, that decision has been taken out of our hands. And by who, I hear you ask? Why, no other than the combined Dragon Reserves of the world. Inexplicably, they value his parseltongue ability! In fact, they want to use it! Thus, they have offered Harry Potter as a ‘dragon consultant’ and have even agreed to pay for him to complete his education!

Which brings us to today. Today is that fateful day when Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, will leave our shores to take up his post with the Dragon Reserves. I leave it to you, dear readers, to decide if this bodes well or ill for us as a society and for the Wizarding World as a whole.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witcraft and Wizardry, dropped his copy of The Daily Prophet on to his desk in disgust. Savagely, he spun his chair about, away from the offending paper, almost overspinning away from the calming view that could be seen from his window and back to face the paper once again. A judicious hand, flung out to the side to catch the edge of his desk, was enough to stop his momentum and to turn him back to the direction that he’d originally intended.

He had been dreading this day, a day that he had never in his wildest dreams – nay, not dreams nightmares – would ever come to pass. Harry Potter leaving England! The very thought was absurd. But apparently, despite his best efforts, the boy was indeed leaving.

“You are the child of the prophecy, Harry. And it is time that you began to ready yourself to fulfil your destiny. When Voldemort returns, it will be here, in Britain, and you will be needed here.”

Albus remembered saying those very words to young Harry right here in this very office not so long ago. In hindsight, his thoughts on how that meeting went were greatly in error.

He’d thought that he’d gottren through to the boy. He’d even told him of the prophecy, the one that bound Harry and Tom together. At the time, it’d seemed that Harry, however initially incredulous, had understood: Harry and Tom were entwined in fate, that nothing either did would prevent it and that here, at Hogwarts, was Harry’s very best chance to prepare.

Even that, getting Harry to Hogwarts in the first place had not been as easy as he’d first thought. Indeed, like countless children, Harry’s place at the greatest school of witchcraft and wizardry had been ensured, written in the book when he was born. A letter had been sent to him at the appropriate time, inviting him to attend when he was eleven.

Alas, the fact that Albus had had to send Hagrid to personally deliver Harry’s letter when it became obvious that none of the others were reaching the boy’s hand should have been Albus’ first clue that there could be some problems in his grand plan for the Greater Good of the wizarding world.

And then had come the letter that had stunned not just Albus himself, but Magical Britain as a whole. Harry Potter’s relatives declined the invitation! Oh, it wasn’t unheard of, muggleborns rejecting the invitation to Hogwarts. But for The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter to decline via his muggle relatives, was completely unexpected.

The matter had even made its way to the Wizengamot, where, despite Albus’ best efforts, his hands had been tied by the very laws that governed the world: the wishes of the guardians must take precedent. Oh, how Albus rued the day that he’d left young Harry with his last living family.

It took three additional years for Albus to manoeuvre events into place to ensure that Harry would finally be able to attend Hogwarts. Thus had come about the TriWizard Tournament, albeit with a slight alteration on Albus’ part. Even today, Albus was still surprised how much power he had had to pour into his confundus charm in order to get the Goblet of Fire to choose not three Champions as it was supposed to, but four. Of course, with Harry Potter’s name being the only one submitted for that fourth school, it was assured that Harry would come to Hogwarts or lose his magic.

And come he had. There’d still be challenges, the boy being more headstrong and stubborn than Albus had expected but the main thing was that Harry was at Hogwarts. He’d been sure that with a year at the prestigious school, making friends, learning about magic, that Harry’s place at Hogwarts would be assured for years to come.

Alas, that wasn’t to be. The boy had openly defied him! Him, Albus Dumbledore! And, even with the knowledge that Albus had been forced to share with the boy, he’d simply left! Without even letting anyone know that he was leaving the school.

That had been a month ago and, try as he might, Albus had been unable to locate the boy since. He’d even suspected that he’d already left Britain altogether before this. Again, however unexpectedly, Albus was proved wrong.

No, today was the day that Harry was leaving Britain and Albus was forced to, once again, begin searching for a way to get Harry Potter to the one place that he needed to be: under the roof of the greatest school of magic in the world and under the tutelage of its venerable Headmaster.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Augusta, the Lady Dowager Longbottom, paused in the entry to the small dining room of Longbottom Manor and observed her grandson. Neville had changed over the course of the past year away from home at Hogwarts. He’d lost much of the baby fat that he’d been known for as a child and was beginning to grow into his looks. And, as much as Augusta hated to admit it, there was more than a touch of his mother in his face.

As Neville had grown, she’d been tough on him, striving to instil in him the qualities that Augusta saw in his father. Frank had been an auror, full of power, loyalty, strength and determination to do what was right. He had excelled at Defence and Transfiguration, both necessary skills in his line of work. But, try as she might, young Neville had always disappointed her, showing barely a hint of what made his father, her son, such a great man.

No, Neville seemed determined to follow in his mother’s footsteps. Herbology and Charms, the soft subjects. Those, as much as she hated to admit it, he had an affinity for. And it was for those subjects that young Neville had been chosen this past year to become a peer tutor to Harry Potter. Augusta could only assume that Neville’s rise in confidence was directly related to the friendship that he had made with Lord Potter.

That thought was enough to cause Augusta to frown.

Harry Potter should still have been exactly like Neville, a fourteen, nearly fifteen year old boy, not an adult through emancipation. That adulthood had been bestowed upon him with the best of intentions, as a way to entice young Harry back to the magical world so that he didn’t lose his magic, was understandable, however lamentable.

But the ramifications for the Potter line, ramifications that effected not only the Wizengmot of Magical Britain but also the Board of Governors, both of which Augusta was a member of, continued. Currently, both of the Potter seats within those bodies were being held-in-trust by Elphias Doge, an appointment that had been made by Albus Dumbledore, someone who should have had no say in such things.

Even now, Augusta was uncertain whether Harry Potter even knew of the responsibilities that he had within Britain. Theoretically, Sirius Black – and there was another who was shirking his duties as far as Augusta was concerned – should have told the boy but whether he had done so or not was anyone’s guess.

A small nod of Augusta’s head confirmed that she would add those concerns to the next visit that she had with Amelia Bones, after all, the two of them had much to discuss and strategies still to decide upon based upon the letter that Harry had sent to Amelia via young Susan.

The soft breeze blowing through the open window caught the edge of The Daily Prophet, flapping the paper and catching Augusta’s attention. While she couldn’t read the headline from this distance, the picture of Harry Potter on the front page was clear to see. And that, combined with the morose look on Neville’s face, reminded her of what the date was: the day that Harry was to leave Britain to become a dragon handler of all things.

As she took her place at the head of the table, Neville began pouring her tea for her, just as she liked it and she nodded approvingly.

“Thank you, Neville,” she said, inclining her head. Seeing that the boy barely acknowledged her, she did something that she rarely did – she reached out and patted his hand. “I am certain that your friend will write to you.”

Neville looked up and a smile appeared.

“Harry did promise that he would,” Neville replied. “He even said that he’d send me some magical plants from around the world!”

“That’s very nice of him,” Augusta acknowledged. “Make sure that you thank him properly if he does.”

“Yes, Gran,” Neville nodded and Augusta could see Alice shining in those eyes.

Perhaps it was time that she acknowledged her daughter-in-law in her grandson more instead of just trying to make Neville into a man like Frank was? It was something that Augusta decided to think more on.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Daphne Greengrass woke from a dream that felt so real that she automatically touched her lips with the tips of her fingers before she’d even opened her eyes. Unfortunately, she was forced to admit that it’d been nothing but a dream. Still, at least she’d experienced the real thing. Twice, even.

The first time that they’d kissed was just before the start of the Third Task of the TriWizard Tournament. Then, it’d been she who’d initiated it, catching the boy by surprise. It’d been worth it, though, feeling him respond, his hands coming to rest on her hips even as she cupped his face and kept him close.

The second time had been a mutual kiss. This one had lasted longer but had meant so much more. Their kiss had been filled with words that neither had been able to say, out loud or even, at least in Daphne’s case, to herself. The one thing that she most definitely did not want that kiss to say, was ‘goodbye’. Even if there was definitely an element of it in there.

No, saying goodbye to the boy who she’d come to care so very deeply for was not something that she was ready for. Back then or even today. Not that she would get a chance to today.

To be perfectly honest, she never expected to fall for him the way that she had. The very idea of him, of Harry, had intrigued her when Professor McGonagall had approached her to be one of his peer tutors. The-Boy-Who-Lived. The boy who never came to Hogwarts, instead remaining in the muggle world.

She’d expected him to be arrogant and uncouth, steeped in the muggle life with no idea of how to act within magical society. ‘Culture clash’, Harry’d called it. And indeed, there’d been quite a bit of that and it had led to some very intense discussions with Harry.

The first inkling of it had been the day after he’d arrived, when he’d called Malfoy on his ideas of purebloods being better, magically stronger than half-bloods and muggleborns. And there was no doubt that Harry’d been right – birth meant nothing in terms of magical power. Even Professor Snape had been forced to concede that point.

No, thinking back, Daphne realised that she was wrong there. The first inkling of Harry’s naivete of magical culture was when he blurted out the fact that he was a parseltongue with no regard for how witches and wizards with such an ability were viewed in magical society within Britain. And then, even after the warnings to keep his ability secret, what did the great lump go and do? Talk to a dragon using parseltongue in front of the entire school, journalists and magical Britain as a whole!

But the biggest ‘culture clash’ that the two of them had encountered was at the Yule Ball. Daphne’s dream had come true when Harry’d asked her to be his date to the Ball. What she hadn’t been expecting, was for him to turn up in a muggle tuxedo instead of proper wizarding robes. She’d had to endure the ridicule and embarrassment of his appearance, not to mention the argument that followed between them for weeks. Even her own parents had weighed in, demanding that she distance herself from Harry.

Somehow, they’d managed to work their way through it, to gain a greater appreciation for each other and the culture that they came from. In fact, they’d come to such an understanding and appreciation for each other that they’d become more than friends. Not that Daphne could define exactly what they were. Regardless, what they were was all but over. Harry was to leave for the dragon reserve soon.

No, not soon.

Today.

Rolling over, Daphne buried her face in her pillow, unsure whether she wanted to scream or cry. In the end she did neither.

She’d known that this day was coming. And as much as she willed it otherwise, it was always going to come, which was a large part of why she’d kissed Harry in the first place, because she knew that if she didn’t, that she’d always regret it, always wonder what it would have been like.

Sure, they’d exchanged a couple of letters already since Harry’d left Hogwarts and there were promises that letters would continue back and forth. But really, she had to wonder at the reality. Could they keep even a friendship alive over such great distance and time apart?

Instantly, Daphne threw back the covers, slid from her bed and padded across to her desk. The only way to ensure that she remained connected to Harry was to connect with him, to keep writing to him and hope that he kept writing back.

Pulling a sheet of parchment to her with one hand, she grabbed a quill with the other and dipped it into the inkwell.

Dear Harry …

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

The dragon tooth continuously spun in his hands as he fiddled. His eyes remained fixed on this singular object. It wasn’t all that large, measuring just a little less than half the length of his hand but what it represented … that was another matter altogether.

“You ready, pup?”

Instantly, Harry’s head whipped up and around even as his fist closed around the tooth and gripped it tightly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he replied.

But even with that answer, he remained seated on the lounge. The way that Sirius’ expression morphed from one of excitement to something softer, gentler, one of concern told Harry that all of his own doubts had come out in his voice.

“What’s up?” Sirius asked as he moved across the room to sit beside him, a large hand coming to rest on his back.

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged.

And that was the truth. He really wasn’t sure why he was suddenly feeling apprehensive when, for the last month, he simply couldn’t wait to go, to leave England, to start this new adventure, to see and talk to dragons again.

“Hey, it’s alright to be nervous,” Sirius said softly. “This is a big change. You’re leaving everything you know to go to a brand new place that you’ve never been to before. But you survived when you left Surrey to go to Hogwarts. And it’s not like you’re going alone, and won’t know anyone there.”

Harry looked up from the floor and attempted a smile for his godfather.

“You’re sure that you want to come with me?” he asked. “You’re still getting your life back in order after all those years … away.”

“We’ve been through this, Pup,” Sirius reminded him. “England and Magical Britain can go hang as far as I’m concerned. You are the most important person in my life; where you go, I’m going too.”

Harry made a face at him.

“Not everywhere, I hope.”

“Yep, everywhere!” Sirius emphasised with a nod and a great grin. “You’re never going to get rid of me. I’ll even be there when you go on dates.”

Instantly, Harry’s face fell. Dates. Just the word was enough to bring to mind a certain black-haired girl that had filled his mind – both waking and sleeping – for quite some time now. And there was the crux of the matter. As much as Harry was looking forward to leaving England and going to the Dragon Reserves and the amazing adventure that it would be, she was the one thing, the one person, that he was reluctant to leave.

The decision though, had been made long ago and they’d parted on extremely good terms. Of course, that didn’t stop Harry from wondering what the future may have held if he stayed, if they could have become something … more.

“You can still write to her, you know, every week or day, if you want. And there’s nothing stopping us from coming back every now and again for a visit,” Sirius said.

Harry looked up at his godfather, surprised that he’d been able to read his thoughts, and nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Harry replied. “I can write. And visit. And not just Daphne but all my friends – Nev and Hermione and Susan.”

“Exactly,” Sirius agreed, slapping him on the back. “Now, do you have everything?”

Harry patted his pocket where his trunk containing everything in the world that he owned was safe and secure, including Hedwig.

“Yep.”

“In that case, we better go; don’t want to arrive late and Romania is two hours ahead of jolly old England.”

Together, the two stood and Harry held out the dragon tooth to his godfather. With both of them holding an end of the tooth, Harry took a final deep breath.

“Ramaranth,” he said.

Instantly, the two were whisked away in a flash of light, leaving the shores of England, destination: the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.

Chapter Text

6:45am

Tuesday, 25 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

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Laughter. Snickers, full-bellied and barking. All three different types were in abundance above him as Harry lifted his head, spitting out the dirt and grass from his rough landing.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Harry snarked.

“Portkey. I did warn you,” Sirius replied, still laughing.

“At least you didn’t throw up, eh, Harry?” a vaguely-recognised voice said cheerfully.

Harry looked up and around even as he pushed himself to his feet. The man who’d spoken was mostly hidden in the glare from the sun directly over his shoulder. What the sun did highlight, though, was his red hair, making it appear as though his whole head was ablaze.

“Charlie?”

“The one and only,” Charlie Weasley said, stepping forward, grasping Harry under his arm and hoisting him to his feet.

“That was some impressive landing, son,” the owner of the great belly laugh said. “Don’t rightly think I’ve ever seen anyone spinning that fast from a portkey ride and throw themselves near ten metres away to land face first in the dirt.”

“I’m glad that I could entertain you, Mister Velios,” Harry replied sarcastically before immediately regretting speaking that way to his new boss.

Thankfully, it seemed to have been taken the right way as, once again, Alexander Velios, the Head Dragon Handler of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary burst out laughing again.

“Alexander, Mister Potter, call me ‘Alexander’. We’re going to be working together quite closely for quite some time.”

“In that case, call me ‘Harry’,” Harry replied with a smile, shaking the offered hand.

“Mister Black,” Alexander said, shaking Sirius’ hand as well.

“Sirius,” he corrected.

“Right, well, we’ll get the two of you settled and then Charlie here can give you a tour before lunch. Afterwards, the four of us’ll get together and go over a few things,” Alexander stated.

“Sounds like a plan,” Sirius nodded.

“Thanks,” Harry agreed before turning to Charlie.

“Come on, this way,” Charlie grinned, throwing an arm out in the direction of a cluster of small log cabins.

Before he’d even gone two paces, Harry thrust his hand into his pocket, letting out a sigh of relief that firstly, his miniaturised trunk was still there and secondly, that it hadn’t been damaged in his fall. Mind you, with the plethora of spells, charms and enchantments on the thing, Harry would have been quite surprised to discover otherwise.

“Now, you two said that you don’t mind sharing, right?” Charlie asked.

“Yep, we’re good,” Harry replied, having glanced at Sirius.

“Good. Only, there’s a rule here that a cabin can only be assigned to a dragon handler, or at least, someone who works for the Sanctuary,” Charlie stated. “Any family or visitors have to stay with the worker that they ‘belong’ to.”

“I’m just happy that I’ve been allowed to tag along,” Sirius said. “And technically, ‘family’ does cover it, although I’ll also be one of Harry’s tutors.”

“I know all about that, but that’s something that we’ll discuss later,” Charlie replied.

As they talked, Harry’s eyes stayed fixed on the cabins that they were approaching, taking them all in.

Most of them – maybe two dozen in all – appeared to be a simple one-story building. Not only the walls but also the roof were made of rough-hewn logs which, considering the thick forest that Harry could see surrounding the Sanctuary, made perfect sense. There were two small windows in the side and a tiny porch over the door.

Harry knew woodworking. He knew design and was quite good at eye-balling dimensions. And these cabins, he could tell, were tiny. Definitely far too small for a single person to live comfortably in. They looked far too small for there to even be anything more than a simple open-plan room inside with the bedroom – or at least bed against one wall – living room, dining room, everything, all in the same space. He just hoped that there a separate bathroom in there: he’d hate to have to traipse from the cabin to a communal shower block in the middle of winter, especially this far north.

“This one’s yours,” Charlie exclaimed proudly. “I’m right next door if you need me and the big building at the end of the lane,” here Charlie pointed down the stone-lined gravel path to a log building that reminded Harry of something that he’d seen in a book once of a Viking Great Hall, “is where most of the work that isn’t with the dragons gets done. There’s offices at one end and the mess in the other.”

Harry merely nodded, again, not quite seeing how everything that Charlie was describing could fit in the building despite its larger size.

And then Charlie opened the door to their cabin.

“Ah,” Harry said in understanding, his jaw dropping.

Magic, of course. How had he forgotten magic?

Just like the trunk in his pocket, the cabin was much smaller on the outside. Inside, the dimensions resembled that of an ordinary house. A rather large house at that.

The front door opened into a rather large open-plan room. Much of it was a living room with a couple of large double-seater couches and single armchairs placed around a low coffee table. A fireplace built of large stones, including the chimney which he could see jutting out from the wall dominated one side of the room. The floors, as expected, were a deep, highly polished reddish-brown wood – Rosewood, Harry identified it as – which complimented the soft, cream walls quite nicely.

On the far side of the room was a small dining table with four chairs. Just beyond it, a servery sat at the bottom of a large rectangular opening in the wall. Shifting slightly to one side, Harry looked through it to see benches and cupboards and part of a stove which led him to believe that, even though most meals were most likely expected to be had in the communal mess of the Big Hall, the cabins were designed for people to cook their own food if they wanted.

“Feel free to rearrange the room if you want,” Charlie was saying. “I know that you’re going to have most of your lessons here, so you might want to make one part of the room more ‘classroom-like’.”

“I’ll keep that idea in mind,” Harry nodded.

“Bedrooms through here?” Sirius asked obviously rhetorically as he headed straight for the door-less opening set in the middle of the back wall leading further back into the cabin.

Quickly, Harry crossed the room after his godfather, interested in seeing the rest of this magically-expanded cabin.

He wasn’t disappointed. Space expansion charms seemed to be some of the most amazing magic that Harry’d ever heard of. Instantly, he decided that he needed to learn how to cast them and then apply them to his woodworking creations.

There were five doors down the hallway, two to either side and the last at the very end. The first door to the left was already open and through it, Harry could see the kitchen that he’d thought he’d seen earlier. It was larger than he’d thought, but then, he considered, the fact that one wall was mostly not there allowing easy access to the dining area over the servery probably accounted for it.

Directly opposite the kitchen was a bedroom. While it wasn’t super large, it was definitely a drastic improvement over what he’d once had at Privet Drive. A double bed was set against one wall with built in cupboards with sliding doors on the opposite wall. Between the two was a simple desk under the window and a bedside table beside the bed, leaving much of the floor space open.

A second bedroom, identical to the first sat next door to the door. And opposite that and beside the kitchen, was the bathroom. Harry was surprised to see that it even came with a bathtub as well as a shower. But then, if these were set up for families as well as the single dragon handlers, it made sense.

The final room through the door at the end of the hallway was a bit of an enigma. It spanned the length of the cabin but was only two metres wide. Currently, it was completely bare. Harry cocked his head at it, trying to imagine what it might be used for. The best that he came up with was either as a storage room or perhaps for kids to room in or play in. For now, he guessed that they’d simply leave it be.

“Which room you want, Pup?” Sirius asked.

Harry shrugged as he looked back to see his godfather lounging in the doorway of the first room.

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“Great! Then I claim this one! After all, it is closer to the kitchen,” Sirius laughed before disappearing into his newly claimed room.

“I’ll give you guys half an hour to get settled, then I’ll be back and we’ll take that tour,” Charlie said.

Harry’s eyes lit up at that. The tour. That would, without a doubt, bring him face to face with some dragons. Maybe even Ramaranth herself!

“Sounds great!” he replied.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

8:00am

Tuesday, 25 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

The small settlement, if one could call the two dozen cabins plus the Big Hall and the half dozen extra storage huts as such, was placed a fair distance from the dragons themselves. To get from one section of the Sanctuary to the other required a bit of a hike up and over a hill, through a section of dense forest that helped to screen the dragons from the humans.

“The whole Sanctuary is warded quite heavily,” Charlie was saying as he led Harry and Sirius through the forest. “It’s unplottable, of course, and has multitudes of both muggle-repelling and even wizard-repelling wards in place as well. The only place in or out of the Sanctuary is right where you arrived and even that can only be done by registered portkeys.”

“That reminds me,” Sirius piped up. “I’m guessing that you’ll want this back.”

Charlie glanced at the dragon tooth that Sirius held out to him before waving it away.

“Nah, we’ve got loads of teeth as it is. Keep it.”

“But the portkey …” Harry began before Charlie interrupted.

“Used. All our portkeys are one-time affairs,” Charlie explained. “That’s nothing now but a simple dragon tooth. And a small one at that.”

“Here, Harry,” Sirius said, offering him the tooth. “Put a hole in it and a leather thong and wear it around your neck.”

Charlie nodded. “My brother, Bill, has a smaller one he wears as an earring.”

Harry stopped, his hand on a pine as he blinked at Charlie.

“Exactly how many siblings do you have?”

“Six,” Charlie replied with a grin. “You’ve met my youngest four siblings, yeah?”

Harry nodded, picturing the ones that he’d met at Hogwarts: the twins, Fred and George and Ron who was the same age as Harry himself. And then there was the youngest and apparently only girl, Ginny, who he’d never met but had only heard about as she’d died a couple of years before.

“Well, there’s also Bill; he’s the oldest of us all. Then there’s me and my next brother down, Percy. He works in the Ministry. Bit of a stick-in-the-mud, to be honest,” Charlie replied. “Come on, we’re almost there and I’m betting that there’s someone who’s anxious to see you.”

With an excited grin, Harry pushed off, quickening his pace up the final part of the hill and reached it right alongside Charlie. At the sight before him, Harry stopped dead, his jaw slackening as he took in the awesome sight before him.

If he’d been asked what he expected a dragon sanctuary to look like, he wouldn’t have been able to answer. Even in his wildest dreams, he doubted that he’d pick this. What he saw before him had him itching for a brush in his hand and a canvas before him and he knew that, before too long, he’d be here, painting the sight.

The first word that sprang to mind was that it was valley. That, though, wasn’t quite right. Canyon, might be closer. It was long, easily ten or fifteen kilometres long before it jerked sharply to the right and Harry lost sight of it. Deep, too. Currently, they were standing on the edge of a cliff that dropped a hundred metres down steep rocky cliffs at its shallowest and twice that at its deepest part. The bottom of the canyon was wide as well, easily a few hundred metres across, allowing for a bright blue river to meander through the middle of it.

All around the clifftops were the only source of green that Harry could see: forests of pines, beech, oak and elm were easily identifiable, as well as half a dozen others that Harry wanted to get a closer look at later. To the very right, however, through a sparser patch of forest, Harry thought that he could see forests of grass on rolling green hills dotted with something white.

Movement down below caught his attention and he focussed on it.

And then he saw one.

The distance made the dragon look smaller than Harry knew it to be. It had a deep bluey-grey hide making it hard to see against the cliffs. The fact that it’d emerged from a darker patch – a cave, Harry realised – hadn’t helped. But now that he’d seen one, he began to see dozens, both dragons and caves, most often, together.

“The dragons live in caves,” Harry noted.

“Good eye,” Charlie nodded. “Come on, this way. We’ll make a quick stop at one particular cave before we head back for lunch and your meeting with Alexander.”

“Um, how dangerous is it to be going down there?” Sirius asked as Charlie led them to an obviously well-trod path that snaked its way down the side of the cliff.

“Ordinarily, very,” Charlie replied, glancing back. “It’s very rare that you’ll ever find a dragon handler approaching the dragons by themselves. And we’d never go into the canyon without at least five others; normally, we monitor them from brooms, well above the canyon and we’re ready to get out of there at the first sign of them taking to the air.”

“Then what are we doing?” a clearly startled Sirius asked, stopping dead in his tracks.

“Well, I’m betting on something that we’ve never had before,” Charlie replied over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“You,” Charlie grinned at him. “You can talk to them. I watched you at the First Task; a bunch of us did, actually. We still can’t get over what happened that day. That single event taught us more about dragons than we’d learnt in years of working with them. And that’s why you’re here, Harry. Now, get up here and lead the way; I want you ready to tell them that we mean them no harm if they don’t like the fact that we’re here.”

Quickly, Harry changed places with Charlie before setting off down the track.

It wasn’t easy going. The path was steep and there were patches of loose scree that occasionally had their feet slipping out from under them. Harry kept his head down almost the entire way, watching his footing, thus, he was surprised when the ground suddenly flattened out.

As he stuttered to a stop, he looked back and then up, past Charlie and Sirius who were both still picking their way down the path. A low whistle escaped him as he saw exactly how far down they’d come. Instantly, he knew that he wasn’t looking forward to climbing back up there. He was glad that, back in his trunk, he had his Nimbus for future trips.

“Harry!” Sirius’ sharp, fearful, whispered warning was barely loud enough for Harry to hear.

But hear he did and immediately, his eyes darted to Sirius’ face. What he saw there was pure terror, directed at something over Harry’s left shoulder. Slowly he turned and instantly swallowed. Hard.

The very ground shook slightly as the sixty-foot-long, six tonne mass of metallic grey dragon stalked towards them. Its wings were currently mostly furled, only standing slightly away from its body, increasing the look of its bulk. But even with all of that mass of muscle behind it, it was the Ukrainian Ironbelly’s head that had Harry’s whole focus and really, why would it not? It was, after all, larger than Harry was himself!

A pair of jet-black eyes stared at him even as its lips curled back, showing teeth that were decidedly yellow and immensely sharp.

“Harry! Talk to it!” Charlie hissed. “Tell him we mean them no harm.”

§Um, hello? My name’s Harry, Harry Potter. We’re sorry for disturbing you, we mean you no harm§.

At once, the dragon stopped, its long sinewy neck the only part of it that kept moving as it snaked towards him.

§You are a Speaker§! the Ironbelly observed, clearly surprised.

As with Ramaranth and the other dragons that Harry had spoken to back at Hogwarts during and after the First Task, he noted that the dragon had a distinct accent. This one was especially hard to understand because of it but by listening carefully, Harry was able to make out what the dragon was saying.

§I am§, Harry replied. §Do you know Ramaranth, by any chance? I met her a number of months ago and I was hoping to see her again§?

Harry didn’t think it was possible for the Ironbelly’s long neck to stretch any closer to him. He was wrong. As the dragon’s neck came within two armlength’s of Harry, it turned its head slightly so that Harry could all but see his own reflection in the great eye.

§You are The Speaker§!

Harry blinked. Even with the great voice of the massive dragon, it was easy to hear that the dragon had all but whispered the statement. Not to mention the capitalisation.

Before Harry could respond, the Ironbelly reared back onto his hind legs, stretched his neck and snout high into the sky and trumpeted. Instantly, Harry clapped his hands over his ears at the deafening sound. The great bugle went on and on for an incredibly long time, not unsurprising considering the lung capacity that a dragon that size would have.

And then, interspersed throughout the great trumpeting, Harry heard it: §The Speaker has come! The Speaker has come! Ramaranth’s Speaker has come§!

Even before the Ironbelly’s trumpeting had finished, they started arriving. Most came by air, soaring down the canyon, their wings spread wide, their necks extended. Others lumbered along the rocky ground, causing the very earth to shake and rocks to tumble down the cliffs. And then there were a few who simply appeared at the mouth of their cave, their great heads turned in their direction, watching.

But it wasn’t just the appearance of dozens of dragons of all sizes and breeds bearing down on them that unnerved not just Harry but the two men behind him. No, it was also the sound that accompanied them. More and more dragons joined in with the Ironbelly’s trumpeting, making a great symphony of bellows that echoed up and down the canyon, making the very rock walls sing with their music.

For it was music, Harry decided. The dragons were happy, celebrating. He wasn’t sure exactly how he knew that, but he did. He was certain of it.

It didn’t take long for Harry’s entire field of vision to be filled with dragons, dozens of dragons even. Looking about he found three more Ironbellys, as well as Norwegian Ridgebacks, Swedish Short-Snouts, Romanian Longhorns, Hungarian Horntails and even a lone Portuguese Long-Snout. And every single one of them was staring at him, trying to edge out their fellows to get closer, weaving in their long necks to see him.

Glancing back, Harry found that both Sirius and Charlie had retreated. Already they were nearly halfway back up the cliff and if didn’t look as though they were likely to stop anytime soon.

A hissing from the back of the ‘crowd’ had dragons big and small shuffling sidewards, creating an aisle amongst them. And through this corridor, a Horntail strode, looking quite majestic and pompous. That was until she saw him and all pretence left her as she lumbered forward before coming to a sliding stop in front of him.

§Speaker, it is truly you§.

§Hi, Ramaranth§, Harry grinned. §I did promise that I’d come visit you one day§.

§You did indeed, Speaker§, she replied. §How long will you stay§?

Harry looked around at all the dragons and could see the eagerness in all of them. It was their eyes, he finally decided. While it was impossible to read a dragon’s body language, their eyes were the most expressive. He was sure of it, not that he knew how he knew it.

§I have agreed to live here for quite some time§, Harry told not only Ramaranth, but all of the dragons. §The two-legs who look after you would like me to teach them about you and you about them so that you can all get on better§.

§You speak truly, Speaker§? Ramaranth replied and Harry wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.

Nevertheless, he decided to answer her anyway.

§I do. I will even eventually be visiting all the dragons of the world where they live, to meet them and to learn about them as well§.

§But you will spend most of your time here, in our canyon§, the Ironbelly that Harry had first encountered said, and again Harry was unsure if it was a question or statement.

§Yes§, Harry replied. §I’m sorry, I do not know your name. It was very rude of me not to ask§.

The Ironbelly seemed to puff himself up, standing taller, his head lifting as well

§I am Grouleth§, he said.

Harry inclined his head. §It is a pleasure to meet you, Glouleth. It is a pleasure to meet you all§.

All at once Harry was bombarded by dragons talking to him at the same time.

§Speaker, Ramaranth has told us of ‘painting’, can you show us§?

§Speaker, you must come see my cave§.

§I am Damrath, Speaker, we are all happy that you have come§.

§Speaker, my hind foot has been aching, can the two-legs help§?

§Speaker, make the two-legs feed us more often§.

§Enough§! Ramanranth bellowed, lifting herself up onto her rear two legs.

At once, the thunderous dragons stilled, their heads turning to look at the great Hungarian Horntail. And it wasn’t just the dragons that were watching her. Far above her head, on the cliffs above, it looked to Harry as though the entire complement of dragon handlers of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary were lined up, staring down at a sight that they had never seen before.

§The Speaker will come under my wing§, Ramaranth stated. §I will escort him to my cave where he will meet my fledglings. Afterwards, I will show The Speaker our canyon§.

Instinctively, Harry knew that there would be only one correct response.

§I would like nothing better§, he replied with a bow.

Chapter Text

2:10pm

Tuesday, 25 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

“He’s late,” Alexander groused, not for the first or even the tenth time. “You did tell him that we were meeting straight after lunch, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, Boss, I did,” Charlie replied, fiercely keeping his desire to roll his eyes firmly in check.

“He was kinda occupied,” Sirius put in. “Those dragons had him surrounded and then the big one – Ramaranth, you said, right? – she did lead him off deeper into the valley.”

“With all the other dragons following,” Charlie finished, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen dragons act like that before. Merlin, I’ve never heard of dragons acting like that before.”

“True enough,” Alexander grunted. “Still, when I say there’s a meeting at one o’clock, I expect my people to be there on time, not an hour late and counting.”

“I’m not sure that dragons can tell time,” Sirius quipped.

Alexander shot the man a hard look and Charlie opened his mouth to say what he knew not, but something that would hopefully smooth things over. Alexander was, for the most part, an easy man to get along with but when it came to the smooth running of the Sanctuary, he simply had no patience for anyone not following his rules. Not that Charlie could blame him, this was a dragon reserve after all, people who didn’t follow the rules more than likely ended up dead.

“Boss!”

The panicked yell from outside had the three seated at the table whipping their heads towards the door just as the door crashed open. The wizard standing there was wide-eyed, his chest heaving and his hair was a flying every which way.

“Boss! One of the dragons has broken from the canyon!”

“Damn!” Alexander swore, standing so quickly that his chair was knocked backwards and sent clattering to the floor. “Breed? Size? How high’s it going?”

“The wards’ll keep it from escaping,” Charlie stated, also now on his feet.

Alexander shook his head. “Those wards might be strong and can give a nasty shock to a dragon but a determined one could bust through them. Well?”

This last was said to the handler who was quickly backing out of the door as his Boss strode towards him.

“Hungarian Horntail. Fully grown. Female by the size of her,” was the reply.

“Ramaranth? Mikos, is it Ramaranth” Charlie asked urgently.

“Could be,” Mikos shrugged.

“Boss! The dragon’s headed this way!” another handler yelled.

“Wands out! Take cover!” Alexander roared, his wand already in hand even as he broke right, dashing towards the side of a building.

All around the small compound, handlers were doing the same, running for the nearest cover, be it building, tree or, in the case of one fast-thinking man, behind the stone wall that he’d just conjured all around him.

Sirius and Charlie, though, simply shared a look and Charlie could see his own thoughts mirrored in the other man’s eyes. If this was Ramaranth …

And then the great black and bronze dragon appeared from over the treetops. Her wings were outstretched, barely flapping as she soared towards them. She was easily sixty feet long, although with her tail stretched behind her and her head and neck stretched out in front, she seemed much larger. From this angle, it was easy to see her four legs tucked up against her great belly. That was until she extended them.

At the same time, the Horntail’s head swivelled down and around and seemingly targeting in on the two of them with her great yellow eye. Her wings flared and Charlie and Sirius took one last look at each other before breaking away, one left, the other right.

Wands everywhere raised taking careful aim, although, with the Horntail’s massive bulk, she would be extremely hard to miss.

It wasn’t until she’d landed right in the middle of the compound, causing the ground to shake and great clouds of dust to swirl up and around that anyone realised that there was more to this odd occurrence than they’d first thought.

The Hungarian Horntail seemed to shift awkwardly, lowering her front right side in a strange lean but the small figure that revealed itself as it shifted about on the back of the dragon accounted for it. Men and women, handlers that had worked for years and in many cases decades with dragons could only stare in bewilderment as a teenaged boy awkwardly swung his leg over the back of the dragon and then slid down the mountain of black flesh, somehow missing every single bronze spike in the process.

The boy, Harry, landed roughly, stumbling and wands that had been lowered snapped back as the great dragon head twisted about to come snout to body with the teen. Everyone there could hear the hissing that was typical of dragons coming firstly from the Horntail and then from the teen. What was even more unbelievable was the way that Harry had laughed, reached out a hand and patted the dragon before stepping back and giving her a short bow.

The great dragon head dipped in reply before she crouched slightly and leapt, her wings flapping hard as she fought for height. Handlers everywhere came out of hiding to watch as she twisted about and flew back towards the forest in the direction of the canyon from which she’d come.

“Harry!” Charlie called as he strode towards the boy. “Are you alright?”

“Only you, Harry, only you,” Sirius laughed as he, too, joined them.

“Yeah, sure, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” a puzzled Harry replied before looking at his watch. “Damn, I’m late. Sorry about that. Good thing Ramarath gave me a lift, hey? Can you imagine how long it would have taken me to climb back up out of that canyon?”

“You rode a dragon,” Alexander stated as he joined them, his eyes fixed on Harry.

Charlie noted that their Boss wasn’t the only one staring. Near as he could tell, every one of the thirty-two dragon handlers at the Sanctuary had now surrounded them, each and every one silent and staring at the boy who had just done the impossible.

Dragons were the most dangerous creatures on the planet. It was a well-known fact. Even subduing one took, at minimum, eight wands and a good dose of luck. They weren’t creatures that anyone could take lightly. You didn’t go near one by yourself. You didn’t attempt to touch one unless you knew that they were unconscious and you had serious back up standing by. And you never, ever even considered sitting on one. Except in every dragon handler’s dreams, there every one of them had soared high and far.

“You rode a dragon,” Alexander repeated with a shake of his head. “How?”

“Well it wasn’t easy,” Harry replied. “Not exactly the most comfortable – I kept thinking that I was going to slip off. Thankfully Ramaranth didn’t mind when I grabbed onto the spike that was right in front of me.”

“But how’d you do it?” Demmy, one of the younger handlers, blurted. “How’d you get her to let you ride her?”

“I didn’t exactly have much choice,” Harry shrugged. “She kinda insisted. And I get the impression that what Ramaranth says, Ramaranth gets.”

“She insisted?” Alexander repeated faintly before shaking his head and clearing his throat. “Right. She insisted. You, lad, are going to shake things up around here. But next time, tell us before you do something crazy and impossible like that.”

“I’ll do my best, Sir,” Harry replied. “Um, if it’s not too much trouble, could I get something to eat? I kinda missed lunch and I’m starved.”

Charlie wasn’t the only one to laugh at that.

“Sure, Potter, one condition,” Alexander replied. “You tell us about your time in the canyon this morning.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

2:40pm

Tuesday, 25 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

 “… and then I spent the rest of my time in Ramaranth’s cave,” Harry finished.

“So, you would have seen her fledglings?” Dena, Alexander’s second, asked eagerly, leaning across the table from where she sat beside the Boss.

Harry looked up and nodded as he spooned up some stew.

Currently, the entire population of the Sanctuary was surrounding the table that he was seated at. Everyone was staring at him, focussed intently on what he was saying. To be completely honest, he found it a bit disconcerting, something akin to when he first entered the Wizarding World. Or his first few weeks at Hogwarts. The fact that some of the handlers were even taking notes on what he was saying was enough to make him shake his head.

“The Handbook says that at this age they’ll be starting to determine dominance,” Mikos stated, lofting a dog-eared book and waving it around.

“Handbook?” Harry asked.

“Dragons, the Complete Compendium,” Alexander answered. “Charlie’ll get you a copy.”

“Okay, thanks,” Harry nodded. “Um, dominance? Let me think. Well, I guess you could say that there was a pecking order. Spekith definitely had the biggest personality, I’d say – barely let her brothers and sister get a word in and always wanted my attention. Painzz is the quiet one. I had to go over to her before she’d speak to me. As for Potteth and Harreth … hmm, they’re definitely somewhere int the middle, too alike to differentiate after a first meeting. Kinda like your brothers, Charlie.”

“Wait wait wait,” Sirius exclaimed, holding up his hands, his whole body turned to face Harry a look of immense amusement on his face. “Potteth? Harreth? Spekith? Painzz? That’s Ramaranth’s baby’s names?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied feeling his cheeks heating up.

A couple of slaps on Harry’s shoulders accompanied the laughter that rang through the great wooden hall.

“You, lad, are going to do some good here,” Alexander said. “It’s obvious the dragons already love you. And having you to translate means that you’re going to be worth your weight in gold. Dena. Grab a crew and see about that Ridgeback’s hind foot. Left, wasn’t it, Potter?”

“Will do, Boss,” Dena said, rising from her seat.

A gesture was enough to have a team of eight following her from the room.

“Jacob,” Alexander continued. “Head down to the flocks and do a count. If the dragons are getting hungry, we better make sure none of them have been doing some ‘poaching’.”

A short, heavyset man with a great handlebar moustache nodded once and promptly disappeared along with two others.

“The rest of you know your jobs. Get to them.”

In a pack, the rest of the dragon handlers and support personnel dispersed, most out the door, although a few disappeared into different parts of the Great Hall.

“Well, you’ve definitely made an impression, Harry,” Charlie grinned at him. “Riding a dragon! Wait until that news gets around! There’s been a few parselmouths over the centuries working in one Reserve of another, but none have ever attempted to ride on the back of one!”

Harry stared at Charlie’s bemused and shaking head. Apparently, what he’d just taken as a quick, awkward way of getting up out of the canyon was a bigger deal than he’d realised.

Alexander slid the folder that was in front of him across the table to Harry who took it, pushing away his now finished bowl in the process.

“Your schedule,” Alexander said simply. “You can go through it properly later. In basic terms, your mornings are for the Sanctuary. Charlie here’ll be your Master.”

“Master?” Harry asked quickly, looking up from the opened folder.

“Yeah, Charlie’s the Master, you’re his Apprentice. Means he’s the one responsible for teaching you how the Sanctuary works, the tricks of the trade, everything that you need to know to work with dragons,” Alexander replied. “If you’ve got a problem, go to him. But if everything goes the way we expect, you’ll finish our contract with a Magical Beasts Master Certificate under your belt.”

“What about when Harry goes to the other Reserves?” Sirius asked.

“Charlie’ll be going with you,” Alexander replied. “Which is a bonus for us as well. He’ll be learning about the types of dragons that we don’t have here and will bring that knowledge back to share with us. He’ll also help to tie the Reserves closer together.”

“And my afternoons are for my lessons?” Harry asked, looking at the piece of parchment that detailed his timetable.

“And evenings, too,” Alexander nodded. “’Cause this is just how we’d like things to go. If situations crop up, then it’ll get altered, sometimes with little to no warning.”

“I believe the muggle expression is ‘never work with animals or kids’,” Charlie said.

Harry blinked at him. “That’s in showbusiness. But I get your point. Animals, dragons don’t work to a schedule. Like today when I was supposed to be back here for lunch but ended up being really late.”

“That’s it exactly, lad,” Alexander beamed. “Doesn’t mean that I don’t expect you to follow my rules as much as possible – you work for us, not the dragons.”

“You sure about that, Boss?” Charlie grinned.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

4:55pm

Tuesday, 25 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

For the most part, Harry’s magical trunk which now sat in the middle of the wall across from his desk, had been unpacked. Most of his clothes had been hung in the cupboard or placed in the shelves that he’d found on the left side of the cupboard behind the sliding doors. Above the inside of the door to his room, Harry had found a pair of short, wooden poles – the perfect place to store his Nimbus Two Thousand.

The desk, Harry’d decided, had had to move. No longer was it situated directly under the window. Now, it was off to one side, still allowing a view if he sat at it but also ensuring that there was plenty of room for a very special someone.

“This is a brand new country,” Harry said, stroking Hedwig’s chest as she sat on the perch that he’d built for her. “There’s no telling if there are other owls around or dangers that you’re not used to, so be careful going out there. Oh, and keep away from the dragons – I don’t think they’d try to eat you, but better safe than sorry.”

Hedwig gave a soft prekk and nipped at his ear. Then, with a short hop, she jumped, spread her wings and soared out through the open window.

Turning about, Harry took in his room. It still felt very bare to him, even with the perch, trunk and broom in their places. With a quick decisive nod, he crossed to his ebony trunk, opened the third compartment and raced down the stairs. Within minutes he was back, two pieces of furniture in his hands. The bedside table went between bed and desk while a focussed, wandless sticking charm was used to apply the shelf to the wall above his bed.

One more trip down and back up had the last of the items that he was after at that moment – his carving tools, a handful of different types of small blocks of wood and the figurine of Ramaranth that he’d once carved. All were placed on the shelf above his bed, so as to be close to hand in case he wanted to do some carving at any point.

The figurine had been a last minute decision. Normally, it resided in the special cabinet that he’d made and attached to the wall of his workshop with all of his other figurines. But after a moment’s consideration, he decided to have it up here – after all, there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that a whole host of dragon figurines would soon be carved to add to his collection.

“Unpacked?” Sirius asked.

“Still want to bring up my easel and some paints, but that can wait until tomorrow,” Harry replied, glancing across at his godfather lounging against the doorframe.

“Good, come on out and we can fill in the rest of your timetable with your subjects for each day,” Sirius said.

“Magical as well as normal,” Harry reminded him.

Sirius simply nodded before stepping out of the way and leading Harry to the dining room table. There, Harry found two pieces of parchment, one much smaller than the other.

“My timetable?” Harry asked, head cocked as he touched the largest piece.

“Yep. Well, it will be,” Sirius replied. “Basically, it’s an enlarged copy of the one that Alexander gave you, but with enough room now to fill in timeslots for the subjects that you agreed to take in the Contract that you signed.”

This last was said as Sirius pointed to said contract – the second piece of parchment on the table.

“You’ve already put some thought into this,” Harry noted.

The timetable had columns for all seven days of the week with every morning blocked out with the words ‘Dragon Stuff’ written across them. Monday to Friday afternoons were divided up into two, two-hour blocks, the first from one until three; the second from three thirty until five thirty. There was also a block in the evenings between seven and eight thirty.

“I thought that you could do two magical subjects every afternoon and then one of your muggle subjects in the evening. Weekend afternoons and evenings are free time or catch up,” Sirius suggested. “What do you think?”

“I don’t see a problem with it,” Harry replied. “But what about my tutors? Do we know who they are or even if this will work for them?”

“Apart from Remus – who should be arriving the day after tomorrow – I don’t have a clue who the Reserves have hired for you,” Sirius replied. “But I can’t see it being a problem, after all, Alexander gave you this set up, so you’d assume that he’d worked something out with whoever he’s hired already.”

Harry nodded absently as he ran his eye down the list of magical subjects on his contract. There was nothing there that was new to him, not after his spending the past year at Hogwarts studying them. Most of them he’d really enjoyed, like Ancient Runes, Charms and Transfiguration. Others, like History of Magic and Astronomy were okay as far as he was concerned, but not something that he loved. The rest – Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy – fell somewhere in the middle.

“Obviously, Remus and I’ll fit in around the others,” Sirius continued. “And the fact that we’re going to be teaching you two subjects each should make it easy for us as well. But I was thinking that we spread out your wand classes so you only have one of them a day.”

“Makes sense,” Harry nodded. “Uh, Sirius? You’ve got five evenings blocked out for my normal subjects but I’m only taking four – Art and Design, Fine Arts, Mathematics and Biology.”

“I figured that you could you the extra one as a spare in case something comes up. Or for your language classes,” Sirius replied.

“Languages, right,” Harry replied, only just then remembering that there was a clause in his contract saying that he was required to learn the four main languages of the different Reserves around the world. “Forgot about them.”

Over the next quarter of an hour, the two of them debated which slots to assign to each subject. After all, if they were asked for their preferences – which they assumed was quite likely – they actually wanted to be able to answer the question. Finally, they had something that they were both happy with.

“Right, that’s done,” Sirius said as he finally laid his quill down. “And just in time, too – it’s just about time for dinner and I’ve been told that it’s the one meal that everyone around here is required to attend.”

“But I had a late lunch,” Harry half-protested. “I’m really not all that hungry.”

Sirius gave him a non-plussed look. “I thought you were supposed to be a teenaged boy? And they’re always hungry!”

Then, before he could reply or dodge, Harry felt Sirius’ hand close around his bicep, yank him to his feet and pull him towards the door.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

6:35pm

Tuesday, 25 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

Introductions, names and faces, had come at a steady pace all through dinner. Every single person who worked at the Sanctuary, it seemed, had made it their duty to come over to talk to them. From beside him, Charlie had done an amazing job with the introductions but by the fifth, Harry had already been feeling overwhelmed; by the tenth, names had begun to blur and faces to jumble.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Charlie whispered, leaning close as the last of them – as far as Harry could tell – left to return to their own seat. “It might seem that there’s a lot of us, but really, there isn’t.”

“There might not be a lot compared to Hogwarts or something,” Harry countered, “but I’ve got more than just human names and faces to memorise.”

Charlie cocked his head at him, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Dragons, Charlie, dragons,” Harry explained. “I had dozens of them telling me their name this afternoon as well. And I do not want to find out what an insulted dragon is like if I forget their names or get them wrong.”

“He’s got a point,” Sirius said from Harry’s other side.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Charlie agreed. “Never thought of it like that – it’s not like we’ve ever known the dragon’s names in the first place in order to have to learn them. That’ll be something for all of us to learn, something that you’ll have to teach us.”

The idea of making some kind of book with every dragon’s name and description or better yet, a photo, flashed into Harry’s mind, but before he could pursue it, a loud knocking on the table that Alexander was now standing at interrupted him.

“Right, you lot, listen up,” Alexander said causing the Hall to quiet within moments. “I’ll start tonight’s announcements with giving a Welcome to the Sanctuary to Harry Potter and his godfather Sirius Black. If you haven’t already done so, make sure you introduce yourselves before you leave here tonight. Lad, you’ve already proven to us that we made the right choice in getting you here and you’ve already done two things that we never thought possible with dragons by going into their Canyon alone and then riding on the back of one. We look forward to working with you.”

The Hall instantly erupted with not only applause but also with whistles and yells of welcome and encouragement.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Alexander said after a minute and once again, the Hall quickly settled for him. “Assignments for tomorrow. Nothing new apart from the fact that Charlie here’s now got himself an Apprentice. But if things go the way I expect, be prepared for things to change up as we start learning more about our dragons. That’s it from me. Delilah?”

A woman who looked to be in either her late twenties or early thirties with long, light brown hair and a slim figure rose with a bundle of envelopes in her hand which she held up for all to see.

“Delilah’s pretty much in charge of a lot of the daily running of the Sanctuary,” Charlie explained quietly.

“But I thought Alexander was in charge,” a confused Harry said.

At that, Charlie shook his head. “Alexander’s in charge of the Sanctuary in terms of the dragons. Delilah looks after all the other stuff that keeps things running smoothly – food, housekeeping – we don’t have any house elves here – portkeys, correspondence, …”

“Correspondence?” Sirius asked. “Don’t owls just bring their letters straight to whoever it’s for?”

“Not here,” Charlie replied. “Too dangerous to us and the owl. Just think what it’d be like if we were working with a dragon when an owl turned up. Either we’d get distracted and potentially hurt or the owl would get eaten. No, all mail goes to Delilah, both in and out and she hands them out once a day.”

“Harry Potter!”

Harry looked up, blinking.

“Harry, you’ve got a letter, come up and get it,” Delilah called.

“I’ve got a letter? But I only just arrived,” Harry protested even as he was pushing his chair back to get up.

“I’m guessing you’re going to want this one,” Delilah said with a huge grin on her face. “It’s obviously been sent by express portkey and the writing … that’s a girl’s handwriting if ever I saw it.”

A few jokes were already being thrown Harry’s way at Delilah’s comments but when she lifted the letter up to her nose and smelt it, the whole room, it seemed joined in on the teasing.

“Thanks,” Harry said as he took the letter.

He knew that his face was red and that he’d all but run the last few steps but the moment that he’d glanced down at the writing on the front, he didn’t care. He recognised it. Delilah was right, it was a girl’s.

Daphne, Harry thought.

Chapter Text

5:50am

Wednesday, 26 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as Harry trudged up the hill behind Charlie. Exactly why he was walking instead of flying, he wasn’t sure, especially as he had his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. But apparently, this was how it was done to ‘wake you up and get your blood pumping ready for the day’.

Right at the top, under the trees where he’d first seen the great canyon the day before, Charlie stopped and rested his own broom against a trunk.

“Right, first things first,” Charlie said. “Dragons, the Complete Compendium. This is everything that every dragon handler throughout history has learnt about dragons. It covers everything about dragons – different breeds, keeping them healthy, different illnesses and what to do, even what to do with the body if one dies, if you can think of it, it’s in here. Read it, learn it. Most of us can all but recite it from memory.”

From his pocket, Charlie pulled out a miniaturised book and tapped it with his wand, turning it into an exact replica of the Handbook that Harry had seen last night. Well, not exactly a replica. This was a brand-new copy; Miko’s was old, the edges folded up, the pages all dog-eared and the spine all-but cracked in two.

“Thanks,” Harry said, taking the book.

He took a moment to flick through it before noting that Charlie was waiting for him to pay attention again. Passing his hand over the book, Harry closed his eyes and felt his magic, just as Professor Flitwick had told him to. Instantly, the book responded, shrinking down to one sixth of its size and allowing him to stuff it into the pocket of his jeans.

“You, Harry, are just full of surprises,” Charlie stated with a shake of his head. “Wandless, wordless magic at your age with less than a year of magical training under your belt. Right, moving on.

“The first task every morning here at the Reserve is a flyby over the Canyon. This gives us a chance to have a basic look at all of the dragons, check that there aren’t any problems. After that, we give the okay to those in charge of feeding the dragons to open a section of the wards and allow the dragons out of the canyon for them to go down to the paddocks.”

Harry frowned and cocked his head at that.

“You have to open wards for the dragons to come out of the canyon? But Ramaranth brought me back yesterday without you doing anything to the wards,” Harry questioned.

“And here’s your first big dragon reserve secret,” Charlie said, stepping forward, laying one hand on Harrys’ shoulder and looking him intently in his eyes. “These reserves are almost a myth. Sure, we have wards up to stop not only muggles from stumbling upon us and from magicals getting in and gaining access to the dragons. But the dragons themselves? The wards might give them a bit of sting and encourage them to stay where we’d like them, but if they really want, they can get out. We’re certain that they only stay because they not only know that there’s a steady supply of food here but also because they know how dangerous it is out there.”

“But not all dragons live in reserves, do they?” Harry asked.

“No, not all,” Charlie replied. “There’s a handful that live in remote parts of the world, away from humans. But we keep an eye on them as well. At least as best as we can. Mind you, with you joining our ranks, that job might just become a little easier, seeing as you can talk to them.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” Harry grinned at him.

“Exactly, Harry, exactly,” Charlie laughed, slapping him on the back before grabbing his broom. “Right, sun’s getting higher which means there’ll be light starting to reach the bottom of the canyon. Our job is to fly from one end to the other and back again. Nice and slow, don’t want to miss anything. Ready?”

Quickly, Harry righted his broom and mounted, barely managing to take to the air a fraction of a second behind Charlie.

Together, the two flyers set off over the canyon, with Harry finding that his attention was being split between looking down while at the same time making sure to be aware of where Charlie was so that he kept up and didn’t fly off the wrong way or the wrong speed.

With the sun still low, the canyon was still mostly dark making it difficult to actually differentiate between shadows and the cliff faces themselves. All Harry knew was that he was supposed to be looking for the dragons and specifically, for any problems with them that had developed overnight. Not that he knew what that looked like. He assumed that if there was something, that Charlie would not only point it out but explain what the problem was.

Finally, his eyes began adjusting to the dark and he saw his first movement of the morning right up against the left cliff-face. There wasn’t the bulk that he would expect from the body of a dragon, so he could only assume that it was a head? And then it tilted upwards towards them and Harry caught sight of a glint of a dragon eye.

And then, unexpectedly, the dragon came charging out of its cave, its mighty wings unfurling the instant that there was room. A few extra steps was enough for the wings to beat downwards and the dragon to take flight, before quickly angling upwards directly towards them.

“Merlin!” Charlie swore, his broom jerking upwards erratically. “That’s not normal. Harry! We need to get out of here, away from the canyon!”

But as urgently as Charlie was barking orders, it was a different voice that had captured Harry’s attention.

§Speaker! You have returned. Are you here to see more of our valley§?

“It’s alright, Charlie, he’s not going to hurt us,” Harry said quickly before switching to parseltongue. §Good morning, Great One. I do want to see more of your home§.

The dragon wheeled about in the sky, his wings outstretched as he soared, his head now level with Harry on his broom.

§You honour me, Speaker. My name is Dirzath§, the dragon said. §May I fly with you§?

§Of course, Dirzath§, Harry replied. §You and your friends can fly with me anytime§.

Apparently, that was the exact right thing to say, for what looked to Harry like a smile appeared on the great Ironbelly’s face. And then Dirzath let loose with a trumpeting bugle that echoed up and down the canyon.

“Harry?” Charlie asked, his voice warbling as much as his broom was wobbling in the sky.

“It’s okay, Charlie. This is Dirzath,” Harry said, indicating their flying companion.

“And that bellow?” Charlie asked.

Harry laughed. “He’s happy. And letting the rest of the canyon know that we’re up here.”

“And let me guess, inviting them all to join us?” Charlie asked.

“Not exactly,” Harry replied. “That was their own idea.”

Up and down the canyon, dragons were appearing from the caves. Some came slowly, others came charging out much like Dirath had done. But no matter how they appeared, what they all had in common was that within seconds, they’d taken to the air. Dragons of all sizes and types filled the canyon, a great flight of them, soaring towards them and taking up formation around the two wizards – to either side, above, behind, in front of them and below.

And as each dragon arrived, they called a greeting to Harry or trumpeted their welcome. And then the dragons in front of them and below shifted, creating a ‘hole’ in the air in front of them and a passage from below to that spot.

§Ramaranth§! Harry called happily. §And you brought your fledglings. Good morning, Spekith, Harreth, Potteth, Painzz§.

§Give the Speaker your greetings, little ones, § Ramaranth instructed.

The air was filled with four baby dragons chirping away and Harry could only laugh at their enthusiasm for being up in the sky with their brethren.

“Um, Harry, it looks to me if all the dragons are here,” Charlie said, nervously eyeing the Longhorn that had its head bobbing up and down less than an arm’s length from him as it rose and fell in its flight. “I can see that there aren’t any problems. We probably don’t need to do this flight today.”

Harry looked at the dragon handler amusedly. “You want to tell them that?”

Charlie’s Adam’s apple visibly moved up and down as he swallowed, looking around at the flight of dragons surrounding them.

“Ah, perhaps not,” he replied, fervently shaking his head.

§Speaker, is today a day we can feast§? Dirath asked, sounding hopeful.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

12:50pm

Wednesday, 26 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

“Moony!” Sirius boomed, his arms outstretched. “You’re finally here!”

“Hello, Sirius,” Remus replied with a bemused smile on his face. “You’re looking well.”

“And why shouldn’t I? I’m away from all those stuffy fuddy-duddies back in England and in a dragon reserve of all places with my godson.”

“And where is Harry?” Remus asked, looking about the cabin that Sirius was ushering him into and seeing no sign of said teen.

Sirius merely waved a hand towards where Remus had noted a forested hill to be when he arrived. “Off with his dragons. Or is that the dragons are with their Harry?”

Remus blinked at the odd non-sequitur.

“Care to explain that?”

“Well, I guess the easiest way to explain it is to tell you about yesterday,” Sirius began. “Harry went down to where the dragons are, to see the one that he met in the First Task, you know, Ramaranth, the one that he painted a picture of.”

“Yes, I remember,” Remus nodded.

“You should have seen it, Moons. He went down into that canyon and within seconds he was being mobbed! Dozens of dragons flocked to him, all wanting to get close to him. And the noise! Every one of them was, well, Harry says that they were talking to him, but to the rest of us it just sounded like a whole lot of hissing and roars and stuff. It was hours before he came back. And get this. He was riding on Ramaranth’s back!”

Once again, Remus blinked and it was only when he felt a small amount of drool beginning to run down his chin that he managed to snap his jaw back into place.

“Humans don’t ride dragons,” was the only thing that Remus could think to say.

“Yeah, well, that’s not true for our Pup!” Sirius beamed.

“Okay, I think I understand what you’re saying,” Remus replied, shaking his head. “And you say that he’s with the dragons now?”

“Yep. He’s due back later. I think Alexander, the head dragon handler’s, with him this time. Young Charlie Weasley had that honour this morning. Almost came back a gibbering mess.”

“I think I’m going to need to see Harry with these dragons of his for myself sometime,” Remus stated. “Until then, I’m hoping that you can tell me what my lodging arrangements are?”

The fact that Sirius began looking anywhere but at him had Remus instantly on edge.

“Padfoot? You told me that you’d arranged a place for me to stay.”

“Well, it was more that I had every intention of having it sorted before you got here,” Sirius said, before continuing in a rush. “And I have a solution. You’ll stay here!”

Remus narrowed his eyes at his life-long friend. He knew Sirius. He always had the best of intentions – there was never any doubt about that – but practically … in practice Sirius had this annoying habit of always leaving things until the very last moment. Impulsive, that’s what he was. Most likely, he’d thought that arranging things today would be good enough and had promptly found that things didn’t work out the way he’d thought they would.

Instead of berating him at that moment, Remus decided to wait until he knew all the facts. With that in mind, he began exploring the cabin. Obviously, there was no place out here in this expanded common area for him to sleep, so he headed for the hallway in the middle of the back wall.

To one side were the kitchen and bathroom. To the other were two bedrooms. The first had a pair of beds, one each against an opposing wall with a small bedside table beside them and a single desk under the window in the middle. On the opposite wall was an inbuilt cupboard. With a sigh at what he knew he was seeing, Remus left that room to look at the final two doors.

The next room along was obviously Harry’s, judging by the distinctive trunk and carved figurines on the shelf above the bed. Closing that door, he went to the final room at the end of the hallway. This one was small, barely wide enough for a bed, if one was happy to have a smaller-than-average sized bed. Still …

“I’ll take this room,” he stated, knowing that Sirius was standing right behind him.

“What? But … but … but that’s not a room,” Sirius spluttered. “It’s barely big enough to be classed as a kid’s playroom. No, I’ve got you set up in with me. It’ll be just like back at Hogwarts.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Remus replied dryly.

“What? We had a fantastic time at Hogwarts!” Sirius protested.

“Most of the time, yes,” Remus replied. “But there’s no way that I’m putting up with your snoring again.”

“Snoring? Moi? You, Sir, have the wrong person!”

Deciding that it was simply easiest to ignore Sirius when he was in that sort of mood, Remus dropped his bag just inside his new room and headed back towards Sirius’ room.

“Now, while I’m moving the bed and the desk,” Remus said and ploughed right over the top of Sirius’ spluttering protests, “you can tell me more about Harry and how his schooling is going to work.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

8:35pm

Wednesday, 26 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

The frown on Harry’s face told anyone that could see it that he wasn’t happy. The way that he was cocking his head first one way and then another, not to mention pacing a few steps to one side, pausing, shaking his head and then taking a few more steps in a different direction before repeating confirmed it. Finally, after nearly ten minutes of moving from spot to spot, a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

Perfect, he thought.

And then, to ensure that he didn’t lose it, he slowly pulled his wand, taking a careful four steps back as he did so.

“Colovaria!” he intoned, imagining the precise Weasley-red of Charlie’s hair at the same time.

A beam of red magic left his wand, striking the green grass and changing its colour just as he wanted. Two quick precise swishes produced a red ‘X’. After that, it was a simple matter to pull his shrunken easel from his pocket and enlarge it, placing it precisely on the spot that he’d marked before adding one of his larger blank canvases.

A small table was added to the side, one of his own making. This one had one drawer that held his brushes, another for his palettes and a third that contained his chalks and charcoals. The top of the table was actually slightly sunken leaving a rail around its top to keep his various bottles and tubes of paints in place and easy to see and reach at the same time.

Magic, Harry truly believed, was amazing. It allowed him to carry all that he needed so effortlessly and easily, especially when he could shrink it all small enough to fit in his pockets and then quickly return them to their original size with almost nothing but a thought.

Now that he was all set up, Harry stepped just in front of his easel, considering the view once again.

From here on the clifftop, much of the canyon could be seen, giving a sweeping, majestic view. The fact that dozens of dragon caves, not to mention quite a number of the dragons currently sunning themselves in the last rays of the sun could also be seen only added to it.

Movement caught his eye and he shifted his gaze to find the black and bronze of a Hungarian Horntail contrasting perfectly with the orange-tinted sky as it flew by.

With a gasp, Harry let go of the dragon tooth, adorned with a carving of the claw mark with the stylized ‘R’ of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, that now hung from his neck by a leather thong that he’d been absently fiddling with and raced back around his easel.

Within seconds, a piece of chalk was in his hand and his hand was moving in quick, precise movements as he began capturing the scene before him.

So engrossed was he in his task that he barely even took note when three dragons landed quietly around him, their great necks extending to watch what he was doing.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

7:20pm

Wednesday, 26 July 1995

Minster for Magic’s Office, Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

The evening edition of The Daily Prophet was all but scrunched into a ball before being thrown across the room at the fireplace. Unfortunately, Cornelius Fudge had never been particularly athletic, let alone a quidditch player and thus, the paper ball, while making the required distance, was off the mark, striking the mantle above and knocking a photo of the Minister standing with the Ministers of Magic for Bulgaria and France to the floor and shattering the glass.

Thankfully, the short, stubby wand of his Undersecretary, Delores Umbridge, was out in a flash. A quick reparo put things to right before Delores picked up the photo and returned it to its rightful place.

“How could this happen?” Cornelius asked himself, his Undersecretary and the room at large as he waved his arms around. “And why is this now our fault.”

“As much as we might not like it, the public do not always see matters correctly and in the way that we, their superiors, do,” Delores replied. “It is our job to steer the misguided back onto the proper path and show them the way in which we wish them to think.”

Cornelius all but ignored her, used to her flowery way of speaking. Long ago, he’d learnt that she had a way of saying absolutely nothing even though the words she used gave one the impression that it was the most important piece of information in the world. Ordinarily, the people ate it up and fell into line, not questioning things that they shouldn’t. Which was precisely why he kept her around.

“How were we supposed to control Harry Potter? The-Boy-Who-Lived’s a ruddy teenager!” Cornelius continued. “And everyone knows that they have an infuriating habit of doing the complete opposite of whatever an adult tells them to do.”

“One would have expected the boy to be grateful to us,” Delores agreed in her high, girly, simpering voice. “After all, we practically gave him everything that he wanted: his emancipation, not to mention the right to defer enrolling in Hogwarts for a year. We even backed him on his ridiculous assertion that he didn’t have to dress as a respectable wizard. And offered him a job with proper, British dragons if that was what he desired.”

“Teenagers! Huh!” Cornelius continued. “That’s Hogwart’s domain. Dumbledore should have seen this coming and headed him off at the pass. But no, the man had to go and drop the quaffle on this one and let Potter leave the country. To work in a dragon reserve of all places! If anyone’s to blame, it’s Dumbledore, not us, not the Ministry. And certainly not me!”

“Precisely, Minister,” Delores agreed.

It was only then that something that his Undersecretary had said registered. Stopping in his pacing, he slowly turned towards her.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I was agreeing with you, Minister,” Delores replied sweetly.

“No, no, before that,” Cornelius said, waving that reply away. “You said something about British dragons.”

“Yes, Minister. I was commenting on the fact that if Potter truly wished to work with dragons, then he should have accepted our offer to work for the Ministry,” Delores replied. “We even created a whole new Subcommittee within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Animals just to ensure that he would stay within Britain, an invitation that Potter didn’t even have the courtesy to answer, if my information is correct.”

“What was it again? The Subcommittee for Dragons?” Cornelius asked.

“The Subcommittee for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain,” Delores corrected gently. “Of course, we have since disbanded the Subcommittee, reincorporated its resources back into the Department where they belong.”

Cornelius’ eyes flicked to the crumpled Daily Prophet lying on his carpet. The latest article decrying the loss of The-Boy-Who-Lived and the way the people of Great Britain were angry at their abandonment of him had detailed what was known of the contract that Harry Potter had accepted. All dragon reserves of the world. That was who he was employed with. And there was one word in that that was running over and over through Cornelius’ mind at that precise moment. All.

“Delores, who was in charge of that Subcommittee for Dragons?” he asked

“I believe that we had placed Mathilda Grimblehawk as Chair. A witch with ambition but little actual experience, I understand,” she replied.

All.

“Get her in my office first thing in the morning and clear the rest of my appointments for the day,” Cornelius ordered. “If we’re going to fix this and get Harry Potter back in England where he belongs and get the people happy again and stop them from making any more noises for my resignation, then we need to get on top of this and do things properly. And this Mathilda Grimblehawk might just be the witch that we need to accomplish that.”

Chapter Text

10:15am

Friday, 28 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

The sound of jaws snapping behind him had Harry twisting about. The fact that the dragon that his gaze pierced instantly froze in place, one front leg raised and her mouth wide told him that she knew exactly what she was doing.

§Speketh§, Harry said warningly.

§But Speaker§, the fledgling replied, §it looks so fun to play with§.

Harry’s eyes darted to the magical tape that was flitting around Painzz while the enchanted quill took notes, Obviously, the way the tape was flying about, measuring different parts of her sister emulated an insect or a bird, definitely something that would warrant a dragon’s natural instinct to snap at and – hopefully – eat.

§Just a little longer§, Harry told the eldest of the four. §The tape should be just about finished measuring Painzz so that I can see exactly how big she is. And I’m mostly through my measurements of Potteth. As soon as we’re done, we can go play§.

§Yes, Speaker§, Speketh replied but Harry noticed that her eyes never once left the tape as it moved about.

Turning back to his own task, Harry tapped Potteth on his side, reminding the fledgling that he was in the process of measuring how wide his wingspan was. Instantly, the wing that had half-furled snapped back out to full stretch.

Ordinarily, Charlie’d told him, this was a task that would involve no less than four dragon handlers. And their first task would have been to stun all of the fledglings before they’d even begun. And even then, one of the handlers would have been tasked with keeping a careful watch at the mouth of the cave to ensure that neither their mother – in this case Ramaranth – or any other dragon, came near while the others were getting the measurements as quickly as they could.

Today, though, Charlie had simply grinned, slapped Harry on the back and handed him the equipment, sending him off to do the job all by himself.

“You’re the Speaker, aren’t you? Not to mention a sort of surrogate uncle to those fledglings,” Charlie’d said. “I’m sure you won’t have any problems.”

Snap!

Harry spun, expecting to see the magical tape cut in two by sharp dragon teeth. But that hadn’t happened; the tape was still happily doing its job, in this case, measuring the length of Painzz’s tail. His eyes darted to Spekith and, seeing the end of a feather dangling from her snout, he sighed and looked across the cave.

§Spekith§, Harry said, trying hard to keep his voice even, §I needed that quill§.

§I’m sorry, Speaker. It was too tempting and you’d said not to eat the flying worm-thing§.

The sound of Harreth’s hissing laugh did not help matters.

§I guess that I can do the rest by hand§, Harry sighed, §but we won’t have as much time now to go flying together§.

The light from the entrance to the cave disappearing combined with the sound of heavy footsteps turned Harry’s head. But instead of Ramaranth, who he expected, it was a Ukrainian Ironbelly blocking the entrance.

§Grouleth§? Harry questioned after his eyes had adjusted enough to the dim light to let him recognise the first dragon that he’d met when he’d first arrived here. §Is something wrong? Did Ramaranth send you§?

§No, Speaker§, Grouleth rumbled in his deep voice. §I was sent to bring you to the Weyr Council§.

Harry blinked and cocked his head at the unfamiliar term. ‘Weyr’, he knew was the dragon’s name for their group that lived here at the Sanctuary. But ‘Council’? That didn’t make sense at all. He’d never picked up on their being an official hierarchy amongst the dragons, let alone something like a … a government?

The fact that all four fledglings had stilled, their eyes appearing larger than normal as they stared between the Ironbelly and Harry told him that they, at least, knew what this Council was and that they knew that it was a big deal

§What Council, Grouleth§? Harry asked, deciding that gathering more information was required, and quickly at that.

§Come, Speaker, you will see§, Gouleth replied.

§Can it wait until I’m finished here§? Harry asked.

§No, Speaker§, Grouleth replied, moving his great head from side to side. §You may return here and complete your task after. The Council must come first§.

Harry’s eyebrows all but disappeared under his fringe at hearing that. Here was the first time that his wishes hadn’t been followed by any dragon. Whatever this was, it was huge. A tiny part of him considered stalling and letting Charlie or one of the other Handlers know what was going on but his curiosity was simply overpowering that feeling.

§Alright§, Harry said, snatching up the two pieces of tape – the one that he was using and the one still moving about Painzz – and the parchment and stuffing them into his bag. §Lead on, then§.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

10:40am

Friday, 28 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

At Grouleth’s urging, Harry found himself walking into one cave that seemed no different or special than any other.  The only thing that might be considered special was the fact this particular cave was one of the very last ones in the valley and that it was the farthest cave from the human settlement at that. That was, of course, until he’d walked ten, twenty, thirty metres into the cave with still no end in sight.

Really, ‘cave’ was a misnomer. Tunnel would be more accurate.

The fact that not only Grouleth but also the four fledglings were following him didn’t help either. Conjuring one of his balls of light and willing it to follow just above and behind him solved the problem of not being able to see where he was going.

It felt like ages but could really have only been no more than ten minutes of steady walking before the tunnel ahead started to become lighter. Unconsciously, Harry’s steps quickened. That was before he stepped out of the tunnel. What he found stopped him dead.

Cave was too small a word. Cavern really wasn’t much better. Amphitheatre in the middle of a mountain might be the closest that he could come up with.

And it was. A great big domed space that stretched up so high that Harry couldn’t actually see the roof from where he was standing at the bottom. The walls, though, weren’t perfectly smooth. Instead, there were dozens and dozens of ledges all around. And on each and every one rested a dragon.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure exactly where the light was coming from. His best guess was some sort of strange crystal embedded haphazardly into the walls all around the chamber. Whatever it was, the soft golden glow that each produced provided more than enough light to see by.

A nudge in his back propelled him forward before he stumbled to a stop. The flap of wings beating down behind him accompanied by the gust of air that ruffled his clothes told him that Grouleth had taken to the air, quickly followed by the fledglings.

Eyes wide, Harry turned in a circle to take it all in.

Dragons of every size and species found at the Reserve peered down at him, their great eyes all fixed on him. Harry didn’t need to count; every dragon in the Reserve was obviously present.

§Speaker, we welcome you§.

Harry turned to his left to find the largest Hungarian Horntail that he’d ever seen stepping forward from where he’d just stepped from one of the lowest ledges.

§Great One§, Harry said, giving a bow while ensuring that he also dropped his eyes.

This was one dragon that Harry had never encountered at the Sanctuaary and before this, he would have sworn that he’d met every dragon that lived here.

§May I enquire what your name is§? Harry continued.

§I am Memzath§, the dragon replied, lowering his head until the bottom of his snout all but rested on the ground and even then, the top of Harry’s head was still nearly a metre below Memzath’s eye.

§What is this place? Why am I here§? Harry asked

Memzath lifted his head, his neck curving up before his head twisted to look back down at the single human.

§This is the Weyr Council§, Memzath replied. §It is here that the good of the Weyr is determined§.

Harry blinked at the Horntail. This was completely foreign territory. While he’d known that the dragons were intelligent, with him being the only parselmouth at the Reserve, no one really knew much about the social structure of the dragons that lived here. Or in any of the Reserves around the world.

§And you are here, Speaker, because you do, in fact, Speak. You are Speaking to us but before you may Speak for us, we need to be certain that you will Speak the words that we want§, Memzath stated.

Once again, Harry wasn’t sure exactly what to say. In the end, he decided that he could only try to assure not only Memzath but all the dragons here that he could be trusted.

§I have only ever wanted to be your friend§, he said. §Even from when I first met Ramaranth and the others at the TriWizard Tournament, I never wanted to hurt dragons or do anything that you would not like§.

A short bugle from high to his left had both Harry and Memzath turning to look.

§Speak, Ramaranth§, Memzath commanded.

§I vouch for the Speaker and the truth of his words§, she stated.

Four tiny bugles from around her told Harry that her fledglings were adding their support for him as well.

§Your voice is noted§, Memzath acknowledged. §And if it was not for the darkness that has been sensed, then that would be enough§.

§Darkness§? Harry asked, confused.

He had no idea what Memzath was referring to but it sounded suspiciously like the great Horntail was implying that he, Harry, was dark. Or bad. Evil, even.

§Darkness§, Memzath repeated. §There is a smell of darkness within you, Speaker§.

§Within me§? Harry squeaked through the sudden lump in his throat.

He certainly did not like the way that Memzath was currently looking at him.

§Perhaps ‘within’ is the wrong word§, Memzath said, his great head turning slightly and lowering so that he was now looking at Harry’s face more closely. §Perhaps attached to you is the correct term§.

That, Harry decided, didn’t sound any better. Attached to him?

§So, this darkness that you … smell? It’s not a … a part of me§? Harry asked, trying to understand.

§It is and it is not, Speaker. Perhaps it can be dealt with§.

And before Harry could comprehend what was being said, Memzath’s front paw lifted, his claw extended and he swiped straight at Harry’s face.

Instantly, intense pain blossomed in Harry’s head and he let out a piercing scream that reverberated around the cavern. His hand slapped wetly against his head, directly over where his lightning bolt scar was.

And then the pain intensified, ten, a hundred, a thousand-fold. Darkness closed in and the world around him vanished as he collapsed into unconsciousness.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

11:10am

Friday, 28 July 1995

Weyr Council Cavern, Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

The bellows and roars that erupted all around the cavern would have deafened any human there. The fact that the body of the only human there had just shut down meant that he didn’t hear any of it.

And then, in an instant, the protesting dragons stopped. But where one would expect complete silence, there was, instead an eerie, unearthly wail.

From the Speaker’s forehead where he now lay unconscious on the hard stone, a wisp of vile poisonous green mist erupted. The mist twisted and tuned about itself, as though it was attempting to keep every part of it together. And from this mist came that strange cry.

Memzath’s head shifted upwards in line with the mist, his eyes watching, his senses tasting. Yes. This was the source of the darkness that he had sensed from within the Speaker. Whatever this was, it was wrong, evil, a darkness that did not belong.

When Memzath judged that the mist had risen high enough, he let loose with a long, thin, blue-white flame. The intense heat enveloped the mist before it simply ceased to be, as all things touched by dragon flame were wont to do.

That was the cue for the great bellowing roars of the assembled dragons to begin once again, only this time, the dragons were rejoicing, trumpeting and bugling being liberally mixed from many in attendance.

Memzath allowed it to go on for some time before his deep trumpeting bugle brought the Weyr back under control.

§The darkness that had a hold of the Speaker is no more§, he announced, perhaps unnecessarily.

§The Speaker§? Dirath asked.

Before answering, Memzath lowered his head so that his snout was close to the Speaker’s face. A puff of air, while nowhere near the intensity that it could be, was still hot enough to leave the Speaker’s forehead glowing red. The blood and black gunk that had poured from the scarred wound dried instantly. Memzath’s long tongue washed it clean and he tasted that the Speaker’s magic was entirely his own.

§He lives and is whole§, Memzath declared.

§And how do you judge him, Memzath§? Ramaranth asked.

After taking one final sniff, taking one final sense of the Speaker’s magic and self, the Weyr leader lifted his head and took in the dozens of dragons all eagerly awaiting his verdict.

§I judge the Speaker worthy§.

Once again, great trumpeting bugles echoed around the cavern, declaring the Weyr’s agreement and celebration of the pronouncement.

Only after the dragons had settled did Tyriath, the eldest of all dragons at the Weyr slowly step down from his ledge and plod across the centre of the bowl.

§Tyriath§? Memzath asked, bowing his great head in respect.

§The Speaker has been declared worthy. I ask what we intend on telling him? How much of our great history? How much of Dragon Lore? What ancient secrets is he truly worthy of? Forget not, he is still a two-leg and one who is still young in years§, the ancient dragon stated.

There was a distinct rumbling around the chamber as dragon discussed with dragon these important questions. None, it seemed had given much thought to what having a Speaker with them meant beyond that of having a two-leg who they could talk to and who would listen to them and Speak for them.

§The Speaker has shown that he wants to learn§, Memzath stated slowly.

§There is much truth in your words, Memzath§¸Ramaranth said. §He has listened to us and told the other two-legs what we want and need. And they have begun changing their ways§.

§The Speaker flies with us§.

§He made them give us more food§.

§The ache in my hind foot has been healed§.

§The Speaker carries two-leg writings, a book he called it§, Damrath added. §He tells words from this and asks what is truth and what is dung. He remembers what we tell him and has promised to teach the two-legs§.

§How many moons will the Speaker remain in Weyr§? Tyriath asked.

§The Speaker will visit all Weyrs§ the tiny voice of Spekith volunteered.

§All Weyrs? That I do not believe§, Tyriath said, moving his head slowly from side to side. §All Weyrs that the two-legs have created, perhaps, but not all Weyrs that contain dragons§.

§What of the other Weyrs§? Memzath asked. §Should the Speaker not be told§?

Again, there was much rumbling debate within the cavern before Tyriath stamped one of his feet. While Norwegian Ridgebacks were not as large or as heavy as Horntails or even Ironbellies, Tyriath had the gravitas to instantly claim silence from all dragons.

§I propose that the Speaker be only told what he needs to know, when he needs to know it§.

Memzath, though, decided to add to the proposal.

§Our smallest brethren and near-cousins should remain Weyr secrets, even from the Speaker for now. The other Weyrs, those dragons who have established their own Weyrs apart from the two-legs, they may need the Speaker to Speak for them. That he may be told, as he needs§, he declared.

The rumbling of the dragons this time was punctuated by trumpets and bugles of some of the younger or more vocal of the dragons.

§And what of the Speaker now§? Ramaranth asked. §He is not able to move under his own power§.

Memzath lowered his head slightly in combined acknowledgement and to look at the unconscious two-leg before him.

§Ramaranth, we entrust the Speaker into your care. Return him to the other two-legs§, he said.

§Yes, Memzath§, she replied before spreading her wings and gliding down from her ledge to the floor of the cavern.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

4:05pm

Friday, 28 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

“How long do you think he’ll sleep?” an anxious Sirius asked, even as he hovered on one side of the bed that his godson was currently lying unconscious in.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Remus shrugged, his own eyes firmly fixed on the face of the sleeping teen. “The Healer said that he was fine, apart from the fact that his magic levels were all going haywire …”

“but if he rested for at least a day and didn’t use his magic at all in that time, then he’d be fine,” Sirius concluded. “I know that, Moony, I was here, too, remember?”

“Then stopping being a worry-wort,” Remus near-snapped. “Our Cub’ll be fine.”

Sirius couldn’t help but snort. “Cauldron. Kettle.”

“Black,” Remus finished, a touch of a wry grin on the corners of his lips. “I get it, Sirius, we only just got him back, we’re both overly sensitive about losing him or something happening to him.”

“But Harry won’t appreciate our hovering,” Sirius sighed, running a hand along the back of his neck. “That kid’s had a hard life, you and I both know that. He’s had to grow up way faster than he should have and he’s missed out on an awful lot. And then, when he finally came back, all that Boy-Who-Lived nonsense combined with the fame that went with the TriWiz and his Marauder-level way of doing the Tasks …”

“Marauder-level?” Remus grinned, shaking his head. “I doubt any of us would have dared to make a mockery of the TriWiz like he did.”

“I feel insulted,” Sirius replied with a mock-hurt hand on his heat. “Maybe you would have competed properly but both James or I would have done our best to make a farce of the whole thing.”

“No, you two would have made a mockery of the TriWiz while still trying to win,” Remus countered. “Harry didn’t.”

“Mister Padfoot bows to Mister Moony and concedes the point,” Sirius said after a moment’s consideration.

“As you should,” Remus nodded smugly before his eyes once more fell on Harry and his face fell. “And now he has to contend with that.”

The eyes of both men latched on to the same spot: the once-was lightning bolt scar on Harry’s forehead.

When he’d first been brought back – in the claws of a dragon no less – Harry’d been unconscious and most of his face was covered in dried blood and something else that no one could identify. Very quickly, though, he’d been cleaned up and then then they’d seen it.

The lightning bolt scar that had adorned Harry’s face for most of his life now had a vicious, straight, vertical line straight through it that started two finger widths above the original scar and finished the same length below it.

And if that wasn’t already more than enough, there was something else, something remarkable about it: it wasn’t the normal colour that one would expect from a wound; not a fresh wound or even a wound that had been healed for any length of time. No. This wound, this Mark, even after being as magically healed as possible, was a vibrant bluish-purple and stood out like no other wound or scar that any one of them had ever seen before.

About the only good thing about this new scar was the fact that it did detract from the remains of the famous lightning bolt.

Alexander and Charlie, though, the instant that they’d seen it, had nearly fallen over backwards from where they’d been crouched over Harry lying on the dirt. Neither had been able to tear their eyes away from the Mark, much like Sirius and Remus had had their eyes constantly and continuously drawn to it in the hours that they’d been standing by Harry’s bed since the Healer had left.

Both, though, couldn’t stop remembering the awed whisper that had escaped Alexander when he finally did find his voice. And not one of them, not Harry’s guardians, not the Healer and not even the dragon handlers themselves, knew exactly what it was going to mean for Harry in the short or the long term.

“The Mark of the Dragon.”

Chapter Text

9:10am

Sunday, 30 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

Unlike at most other times, Harry jolted awake. One second he was asleep, the next his eyes were wide and he was looking around from where he was unexpectedly now sitting on his bed.

His bed? He didn’t remember coming to bed. Come to that, he didn’t even remember returning to camp. A glance out of his window told him that it was daytime, what was puzzling though was the position of the sun on the trees.

Morning? How can it be morning? he wondered.

He distinctly remembered being down in the canyon with the dragons in the afternoon.

But then more of his memory returned. Yes, he’d been in the canyon, in with the fledglings until … Grouleth interrupted. And then he was taken to a secret dragon council. All the dragons had been there including a dragon that he’d never seen or met before – Memzath, the Weyr Leader.

Absently, Harry flicked a finger and, from across the room a piece of wood dislodged itself from the pile that he’d stacked beside the door and flew to him. Unerringly, he caught it before frowning down at it. Black locust wood, native here in Romania, thus why he’d picked it up. It certainly didn’t live up to its name; it wasn’t black or even a dark-coloured wood. Still, it intrigued him, having a type of wood that he hadn’t worked with before.

Memzath, his brain returned to its original thoughts even as he grabbed up his carving tools from the shelf above his bed. Memzath had been concerned with something, with … with him. The great dragon had kept saying that there was a darkness.

The memory of the slashing pain in his forehead had Harry dropping the knife and slapping a hand over his scar. But the familiar feel that he’d had longer than he could remember had changed. Lightly, he traced the scar. There, his fingers found the familiar lightning bolt, only now, it felt like there was an extra scar, a slash that went straight through it, from top to bottom.

It was definitely a strange feeling to know but not know something that was a part of you. And the extra ridges that the frown that he was wearing wasn’t helping either. A glance around his room only deepened his frown: there was no mirror in here. The best that he had was …

Snatching up his knife again, he held it so that he could look into the blade and see his reflection. It wasn’t easy or the best of mediums, but it at least allowed him to see … a weird bluish-purple line on his head, slashed straight through his lightning bolt.

“What the …!” he began just as the door opened.

“Harry! You’re awake!” Sirius exclaimed loudly.

And then his godfather was across the room and Harry had to quickly put the knife down for fear of stabbing the man as he raced to hug him.

The feeling of his hair being ruffled alerted Harry to the fact that Sirius hadn’t been the only one entering his bedroom.

“Finally awake, Cub,” Remus smiled down at him. “We thought you might miss your birthday with the way that you were going.”

“Miss my birthday?” Harry echoed. “Exactly how long was I asleep?”

“A day and a half,” Charlie replied from just inside the door where he stood beside Alexander. “Today’s the thirtieth. And, in case you were wondering, it’s just after nine in the morning.”

“I slept for a day and a half?” Harry’s exclaimed. “What? Why? What happened?”

“We were hoping that you could tell us that,” Alexander said and Harry noted that the weathered face had a distinctly interested look on it.

“I think we’d all like to hear that story, Pup,” Sirius said.

Harry looked from his godfather sitting on his bed, to Remus standing beside him with his hand now resting on Harry’s shoulder to the extremely eager looks on both Charlie and Alexander’s faces.

“I’m not sure that I completely know,” Harry shrugged.

“Tell us what you remember,” Remus said lightly.

“Well, I was in with the fledglings, getting those measurements that Charlie wanted,” he began.

“We found the parchment and tapes in your pocket,” Charlie nodded. “Looks like you did good work.”

“Thanks,” Harry grinned. “Although, I’m now a quill short; Spekith ate one of them. I was close to finishing when Grouleth interrupted. He wanted me to come to the Weyr Council.”

“Council? What Council?” Alexander asked sharply, clearly confused.

“Are you saying that the dragons have some sort of … some sort of government?” Charlie spluttered.

“Yep,” Harry grinned. “You should see it. It’s this huge cavern, so high I couldn’t even see the roof. And there are all these ledges built into the walls for the dragons to sit on. And in the middle, on the floor is where the Weyr Leader stands to talk with all the other dragons.”

“Weyr Leader,” Alexander said, shaking his head. “Which dragon’s that?”

“And where’s this cavern?” Charlie added at the exact same time.

Harry looked from one to the other, deciding which to answer first. His boss, he decided.

“The Weyr Leader is Memzath. He’s a Horntail, pretty old, definitely one of the oldest dragons here and not one that I’d met before. And as for where the cavern is, it’s at the end of a long tunnel – felt like I walked down it for at least ten minutes – inside the last cave in the canyon.”

“The one that the dragons never let us near?” Charlie speculated, looking at his boss. “On the right-hand side.”

“Yeah, reckon so,” Alexander said. “What’s the odds that this Memzath lives there?”

“Pretty good, I’d say,” Charlie nodded.

“But what happened in there, Harry?” Sirius prompted. “Obviously something big since Ramaranth had to carry you back here unconscious.”

“I’m guessing it’s got something to do with how you got that Mark,” Alexander said, stepping forward and gesturing to Harry’s forehead.

Once again, Harry’s hand rose to trace his scar, only this time, it was solely the new portion of it.

“Yeah,” Harry replied grimly. “The dragons wanted to test me. Said something about that, even though I could Speak to them, that they needed to be sure that I could Speak for them. And then Memzath started saying something about how I was dark … no, that’s not quite it. That there was a darkness attached to me. And the next thing I knew, Memzath slashed me with his claw. I think I passed out after that; at least, that’s the last thing I remember.”

“A darkness attached to him?” Sirius echoed, looking up at Remus.

“No idea, Siri,” Remus shrugged. “I may be a Master of Defence Against the Dark Arts and a ‘Dark Creature’ myself, but I’m not a dragon. Who knows what they can see or sense?”

“You are not a dark creature!” Sirius growled. “You just have a special problem at that time of the month.”

“The dragons didn’t explain more?” Alexander asked, seemingly ignoring the two men.

Harry shook his head. “No. Or, at least, not to me or while I was awake.”

“But what about the Mark?” Charlie asked.

That was the second time that Harry had heard that term and this time, he caught the capital letter, the fact that it was something important.

“Mark?” he asked.

Alexander stepped closer and pointed at Harry’s new scar.

“That is the Mark of the Dragon,” he stated and Harry wasn’t sure whether he was in awe of it, scared of it or intrigued by it.

“Mark of the Dragon?” Harry repeated. “What’s that?”

“That is something very special. Very special and extremely rare,” Alexander replied, his eyes firmly fixed on the Mark in question. “There’s been less than a handful of people in all of history that have been given a Mark. And you have to be given it. You can’t demand it or ask for it or anything. It’s completely up to the dragons themselves. We’re not even certain how it’s given. Our best guess – and mind you, this comes from some ancient writings in a language that’s long since fallen into disuse – is that it’s a combination of the dragon’s claw, saliva, breath and magic.”

“Don’t look at me,” Harry told the assembled men who were all staring at him. “I’m just as clueless as all of you. But what does it mean?”

“Legend tells us that a person who has the Mark can control and command all dragons. They’ll do your bidding. They’ll come and go as you ask. And they’ll go to war against anyone or anything that dares to try to harm you. For all intents and purposes, anyone with that Mark is considered a dragon themselves, and not just any dragon, but also their king and their champion,” Alexander stated.

Harry’s mind had all but shut down by the end of his boss’ explanation even as his eyes had only grown wider and wider.

“Champion,” Harry whispered, latching onto the last word. “Champion. Or Speaker.”

He looked up from where his head had dropped.

“They wanted to know if I was worthy enough to Speak for them,” he said.

“I’d say that they gave you your answer,” Charlie replied.

“You said that your understanding of what it means to carry this Mark of the Dragon comes from ancient writings,” Remus said. “How certain are you of your interpretation?”

“As best as we can be,” Alexander shrugged. “Of course, some of that could be exaggeration, but I doubt it’s much, if anything.”

“Harry, it might not be a bad idea for you to start keeping a record or something like a journal of all the things that you’re learning about dragons, including what the dragons say this Mark represents,” Remus suggested.

“Make it a book,” Charlie suggested. “Every dragon keeper in the world would want a copy.”

“Make it a book and sell it,” Sirius said expanded excitedly. “Dragons have always fascinated everyone. You could make quite the cauldron of gold by selling it to regular witches and wizards as well, not to mention schools. It could even become a textbook!”

Harry looked at Charlie and Sirius and then up at Remus.

“I might do that,” he said. “The writing it all down part, not writing a jolly school textbook.”

“And in the meantime, perhaps you can get the great behemoth that’s been sitting in the middle of camp to go back to the canyon where she belongs?” Alexander asked.

Harry cocked his head, not understanding.

“Ramaranth,” Charlie explained. “She hasn’t moved since bringing you home.”

That was enough for Harry. In a rush, he scrambled from his bed and raced for the door.

---

Exactly as he’d been told, his first dragon friend was crouched just outside the cabin. Her head was pointed at the door and, even though her eyes were half-lidded, Harry was certain that she was very aware of everything that was going on around her.

§Speaker§, she said, lifting her head. §I sensed you coming. Are you recovered§?

Harry skidded to a halt, blinking up at her.

§Ramaranth? You sound different. Your accent’s changed§, he said.

A rumble erupted from Ramaranth’s throat in what Harry knew to be a laugh.

§It is not I that has changed their speech, but you Speaker§, she told him. §You no longer Speak with the sound of a belly-crawler, instead you Speak truly, as you should, as Our Speaker§.

His accent had changed? Belly-crawler? Harry could only guess that she meant like a snake which was what parseltongue was most known for – snake language. And then the other part of what she’d said registered. ‘Our Speaker’ Ramaranth had said. He guessed that that meant that he’d been found worthy.

§I will return to the others and tell them of your recovery§, she said before he could reply. §Until soon, Speaker§.

With that, she spread her great wings and jumped, her long neck leading as she left the ground, beating up until she was above the cabins and the trees before wheeling away towards the canyon.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

2:40pm

Sunday, 30 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

A loud thump on the ground just through the trees had Remus wondering if he really had chosen the best place to hold his first lesson with Harry. He’d thought that this little clearing, just back from the edge of the canyon and a little inside the tree line, would be perfect, somewhat private and with the added bonus of being a peaceful, natural spot that should help this lesson in particular.

What he hadn’t counted on were the dragons. This was the second that had landed since they’d arrived and while they weren’t venturing in through the trees, they were definitely watching.

Taking a breath, Remus decided that the best thing that he could do was to ignore them and to get on with what he wanted to teach.

“When you went to the dragon council,” Remus began and marvelled at the string of words that he’d never thought would belong together, “you didn’t let us know. Why was that?”

“Well, Grouleth was quite insistent that we had to go then,” Harry shrugged. “There was no time to return to the camp to let anyone know what was happening.”

Remus nodded. “I thought that was the case. And that brings us to the point of today’s lesson. Watch. Expecto patronum.”

Instantly, a large, silver, ethereal wolf appeared from his wand. It trotted around them, its nose up in the air before coming to face Remus.

“A message to Sirius. I have begun the lesson,” Remus told it.

Instantly, the silvery ghost-like wolf bounded off, quickly becoming lost to sight.

“What was that?” Harry asked, wide-eyed.

“That was a patronus,” Remus replied. “Or more specifically, a messenger patronus.”

Lifting his finger, he cut off Harry’s likely questions.

“A patronus is a charm which manifests itself as an animal, a guardian if you will. Primarily, it’s used to defend against dementors and lethifolds – a lesson for another day. Our aim at the moment is to have you able to create your own patronus which will then lead on to you being able to use your patronus to send messages as you saw me do just now.”

“Patronuses? Patronii?” Harry shrugged and shook his head. The plural didn’t really matter. “They take the form of animals? What will mine be?”

“That we won’t know until you can successfully cast one,” Remus smiled. “However, it will be unique to you. After all, it is a part of you, something that defines you. Mine, as you saw, is a wolf. Sirius’ is a dog. Your fathers’ was a stag.”

“It was?” Harry asked interestedly. “What about mum?”

“A doe,” Remus smiled.

“Cool,” Harry grinned in return. “So, how do I cast it?”

“This isn’t an easy charm to master,” Remus warned. “There are many adult witches and wizards who are never able to produce a patronus for one reason or another. It takes a lot of power, which I believe you have, and a firm grasp of a positive, happy memory. The rest is simple. The wand movement is a simple point and the incantation is, as you heard, expecto patronum.”

“You know that I don’t always need my wand to make magic, right?” Harry asked.

“I am very aware of that, Harry, however due to the difficulty of this spell, I think the added power and control that using a wand will give you is necessary,” Remus said.

Once Harry had pulled his wand, Remus nodded and continued.

“What I want you to do is to close your eyes,” he said, intentionally keeping his voice mellow, letting the cadence of his words help to, hopefully, relax Harry. “I want you to search your memory, find a time when you were clearly happy, a time when you were most enjoying life. It’s okay to discard one memory in favour for another. In fact, I expect you to. More often than not, it takes a little trial and error. For now, though, pick a memory where you felt great joy and happiness.”

He watched as Harry’s face went through a myriad of emotions. There was the frown of concentration; the headshake and almost growl of something that he instantly discarded; contemplation and consideration; and finally, a slow grin began forming on his face and Remus knew that he had a memory that was worth, at the very least, trying.

“It looks to me as though you’ve found that memory,” he said. “Now, I want you to relive it, experience it all again. You don’t have to tell me what it is, it’s enough that you know it, that you remember it. Let the feelings that engulfed you that day, fill you now. Feel that happiness, that joy, that love if that’s a part of it. Let those feelings consume you until they fill every part of you.”

Remus continued watching Harry’s face. Finally, he thought the teen had it, was ready for the next part.

“Now, when you’re ready, I want you to raise your wand. You know the incantation: expecto patronum,” Remus said and waited, watching.

Slowly, Harry’s wand came up, his eyes still closed.

“Expecto patronum!” Harry incanted.

Not unexpectedly, nothing happened.

“Push your feelings into your magic,” Remus coached. “Feel it and push!”

“Expecto patronum!” Harry cast again.

Remus could see the strain on his face as he continued pouring his magic into the spell. And then, a stream of white, gossamer-thin magic appeared from Harry’s wand. It wasn’t much, a trickle a best. But still …

“Well done, Harry! Very well done, indeed!” Remus exclaimed.

“But I didn’t make an animal like you or mum or dad,” Harry panted, his hands on his knees. “It was barely anything.”

“Harry, I never expected you to, at least not today, not in your very first lesson,” Remus told him as he pulled a block of chocolate from his pocket and began unwrapping it. “As I told you, this is a spell that not every adult can do. It’s extremely advanced. The fact that you managed anything is simple astounding. But now that you’ve begun, we can continue to work on it.”

“But I wanted to see what my animal was,” Harry complained, even as he took the piece of chocolate that Remus had snapped off for him.

“And you will, just not today.”

“It was definitely hard, much harder than I thought it was supposed to be,” Harry said. “Are you sure that I was doing it right?”

“It may be that you weren’t using a strong enough memory,” Remus said. “And that shall be your homework. I want you to search your memories, see if you can’t find a better memory to use. Remember, it has to be one full of great, positive emotion. It can’t just be something that was positive or good. It’s the emotions that really count with this spell.”

Remus saw Harry’s eyes dart towards the pair of dragons that were still watching.

“Can I try it once more?” he asked.

“Are you sure that you’ve got enough in you to try?” Remus asked. “Producing the mist that you did took a lot out of you.”

“I’m sure,” Harry replied.

In reply, Remus simply waved his hand. He watched as Harry’s eyes darted to the dragons once again before he squared his shoulders.

“Expecto patronum!”

Once again, silvery mist appeared out of Harry’s wand. This time, though, it’d happened much quicker and was definitely a little stronger. It still wasn’t strong enough to form a shield, which came before the animal patronus itself, but there was no doubt that it was stronger.

Before long, Harry let it go and dropped to his knees, his head down and his shoulders heaving as he panted.

“That was exceptional, Harry!” Remus exclaimed, handing over more chocolate. “But I think that’s quite enough for one day.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Harry conceded. “But I really did want to find out what my patronus animal is.”

Remus didn’t reply, instead just waiting for the teen to recover enough to walk back to the cabin. His eyes slid to the two dragons watching them and he wondered if Sirius would be up for betting on Harry’s patronus form. What was he saying? This was Padfoot! He’d bet on anything at the drop of a hat. A grin appeared on Remus’ face; there could be some gold to be made here.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

7:20pm

Sunday, 30 July 1995

Studland, Dorset, England

.

“Tina! Tina!”

“There’s no need to shout, Newt, I’m right here, exactly where I was sitting the last time you saw me, not fifteen minutes ago,” Tina Scamander scolded her husband.

“Oh, of course,” he replied. “But have you seen this?”

She looked from the piece of parchment that he was waving in his hand to the owl currently sitting on his shoulder.

“Considering that looks like a letter that just arrived, I’d have to say that, no, I haven’t seen that,” she said. “What is it?”

“It’s from a friend of mine down in Tanzania, the dragon reserve there, actually,” Newt replied.

“You’re not thinking of going on a trip to the Tanzania Dragon Reserve, are you?”

“It’s The Draconian Sanctuary of Tanzania, actually, but no, of course not,” Newt replied. “I’m planning on going to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.”

Tina sighed and closed her eyes. Even after all these years, her husband’s mind was hard to keep track of.

“Leaving aside the fact that you are a ninety-nine-year-old man that should be enjoying his retirement instead of going traipsing around the world,” Tina said, “kindly explain to me why you want to go to Romania.”

“Well, you see, something extraordinary has happened,” Newt replied excitedly. “There’s a new parselmouth working with the dragons …”

“Harry Potter, yes, we know, it’s been all over the Daily Prophet for weeks now,” Tina supplied.

“Yes, yes but there’s more, you see,” Newt continued. “It seems that two days ago, Harry Potter was given the Mark of the Dragon! It’s most extraordinary; very fascinating. Imagine what he could learn, what he could teach us!”

Tina stared at her husband. He got this same gleam in his eye every single time there was the chance to learn something new about any of his creatures. And she also knew that there was no stopping him when he got like this, not that she’d ever really tried. It was a part of him, a part of what made him the great man that he was, and a large part of why she loved him so much.

“Very well,” she conceded. “But I expect you to actually tell me exactly what this ‘Mark of the Dragon’ is while we pack and exactly why it’s so special. And Newt? We’re leaving that suitcase of yours behind this time! You manage to find enough trouble on your own without adding in everything that that suitcase entails to the mix.”

Chapter Text

8:05am

Monday, 31 July 1995

Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England

.

Neville Longbottom always thought that his sleeping habits were rather strange or at the very least, backward.

During the school term, at Hogwarts, he loved nothing more than sleeping in. Sure, he was never late to class and always managed to have breakfast, no matter how fast he had to cram it in, but, on the whole, he preferred to sleep. Especially on the weekends.

But during the holidays, when everyone else he knew slept as late as they could – some, like Seamus, even until midday – Neville found himself waking at dawn. The reason was simple enough: to work in his greenhouses. Leaving them all-but-unattended for ten months of the year meant that, once he returned home, there was simply so much work to be done to get them tidied up, ensure that the plants already there were healthy and then to begin the new work that he’d planned for himself during the school term.

Neville loved nothing more than working with his plants. And, to be quite honest, even if only to himself, he was quite proud of what he’d accomplished with his plants over the years.

Thus, while on holidays, he was always on time for breakfast, even if he did have to rush to get himself cleaned up and made spotless, just as his Gran expected, on some mornings.

Today was no exception.

He was there, waiting by the tea tray for his Gran’s entry with but a bare minute to spare.

As always, she gave a slight nod and smile to him when she entered the room. Neville returned the smile and began pouring the tea, making sure to prepare it precisely the way she liked. Once it was done, he carefully walked across to the table and placed it at her right hand.

“Good morning, Gran,” he said, bending down to give her a kiss on her cheek.

“Good morning, Neville,” she replied. “My thanks.”

The ritual complete, Neville slipped into his own seat. His Gran, he knew, wasn’t really a morning person either; at least, not until after she’d taken her first cup of tea. Until then, it was best to be where he was supposed to be, doing what was expected to be doing and to not ask too many questions.

The silence, though, was broken by a tap at the window.

Placing his knife back down from where he’d just picked it up, Neville looked around and blinked at the owl that could be seen sitting on the outside ledge.

A glance at the clock confirmed the time; it was still half an hour early for the owl that brought the Daily Prophet and for the usual post owls to arrive.

“Neville? See what the owl wants, if you please,” his Gran instructed.

“Yes, Gran,” Neville replied, even as he was scrambling from his chair.

Within moments, he was unlatching the window and allowing the owl to jump inside onto a table placed just below the window. It took one careful look up at him before regally extending its leg. Neville’s eyes widened at seeing his own name written on the envelope.

For him! But he never got mail when he was home on holidays. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, he did get a handful of letters just the day before, but they were all the expected ones, from relatives who felt obligated to send him basically the same thing every year.

After taking the letter, Neville fed the bird an owl treat from the bowl that sat on the table and then watched it leave.

Then, having closed the window, he retook his seat, picked up his knife and slit open the envelope. The paper that fell out was different from the usual parchment; it felt smoother, thinner. Muggle, he decided. But that wasn’t the only thing in the envelope. Shaking it upside down, a clear, plastic bag dropped into his palm. Lifting it up, Neville peered inside to see a couple dozen tiny seeds. He frowned at the lack of recognition that they generated for him.

“What do you have there, Neville?” his Gran asked.

“Seeds,” a surprised Neville replied.

“And who are they from?” she asked.

Quickly, Neville shook open the letter and scanned to the bottom.

“They’re from Harry!” he exclaimed and then, noting the very top of the letter, elaborated. “He remembered my birthday!”

From the corner of his eye, Neville noted his Gran give a nod but his main focus was solely fixed on the letter in his hand.

Happy birthday, Nev!

Sorry if this gets to you a bit late, I’ve got no idea how fast owls are at delivering letters. I figure, better late than never, hey, mate?

You’ve probably already found my present to you? They’re seeds from a plant that’s native here in Romania. Clopotelul dobrogean (Campanula romanica) is its scientific name, if that’s any help to you. Anyway, they produce this amazing blue flower that look like a bell. I first noticed them because I saw a fairy the other day and followed it. It led me to a patch of those flowers and there were dozens of fairies flittering all over them. Guess that they love them or something. No idea if they’ve got any other magical properties, but that can be something for you to discover as you grow them.

Anyway, I hope you like them.

How are you? How’s the hols going? Doing anything exciting?

Me, I’ve begun my work with the Dragon Sanctuary as you know. These dragons can be a bit full-on. I’ve had so many requests from them to either paint them or to paint the walls of their caves or simply to go flying with them that I could be doing nothing else for the next year and still not get it all done. Unfortunately for them, I don’t have time to paint all that much and my free time is limited as it is. I’ve started a couple of portraits and a carving as well but it’s slow going, you know?

I also underwent some bizarre dragon ritual the other day. Did you know that dragons had their own Council and Leader and everything? Well, they do. Shocked the guys who’ve been working with dragons for years as well. Guess there’s benefits to being able to talk to them. Anyway, they gave me this Mark which is apparently a Big Deal, at least it is according to everyone here. I’ve yet to get a chance to ask the dragons themselves what it means. When I do, I’ll make sure to tell you.

Have you heard from Susan, Hermione or Daphne? You guys should all get together and do something over the hols, don’t leave off your friendships just ’cause you’re not together. I know what being alone is like and it’s no picnic.

Anyway, I better go, Charlie wants me for something, slave-driver that he is.

Harry.

“And what does Mister Potter have to say?” his Gran asked when Neville lifted his head after reading the letter through twice.

“The seeds are my birthday present. They’re from a plant native to Romania,” Neville said. “Apparently, fairies like the flowers. He did promise that he’d send some, but I never believed that he’d actually remember …”

“Mister Potter is a good friend. Make sure that you write him back and thank him,” his Gran instructed.

“I will,” he promised as his eyes roved over the letter again. “Actually, Gran, can I be excused to go do that now? I think I’ve got a couple of letters that I should write.”

He waited as patiently as he could, unsure what his Gran’s raised eyebrow meant. Finally, she nodded.

“You may be excused,” she said.

Like a shot, Neville was up and all-but-racing from the room, his letter and packet of seeds clutched tightly in his hand.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:15am

Monday, 31 July 1995

Greengrass Manor, Cumbria, England

.

Cyrus Greengrass couldn’t help himself but to sigh. The worst part was that he wasn’t quite as careful in keeping it to himself.

“Cyrus?” his wife, Penelope, asked, her eyebrows raised.

Deciding to bite the cauldron, Cyrus nodded out the glass-paned French doors that showed the gardens just beyond the sitting room where the two of them were currently relaxing. There was no doubt as to what he was referring to.

Their eldest, Daphne was out there, walking aimlessly about. And while it wasn’t unusual for either of their daughters to be outside enjoying the fresh air, especially in summer, her pose was most unlike her. Both of Daphne’s arms were wrapped tightly around her middle and her head was bowed allowing curtains of her dark hair to fall and all but obscure her face from sight.

“She’s moping again,” Penelope observed.

“Indeed,” Cyrus agreed. “Only this one is worse. She didn’t touch her breakfast I noticed.”

“I saw that, too. Her plate was still full when Dipsy removed the breakfast dishes,” Penelope replied. “You do know why she’s being like this, don’t you?”

“I may be male, but that doesn’t make me clueless,” Cyrus replied. “She’s pining for a boy.”

“Not just any boy,” Penelope corrected him. “Her first real crush. And today just happens to be his birthday.”

“Hmm,” Cyrus frowned.

He’d hoped by now that his daughter’s infatuation with the Potter boy would have started to wane. Not that he could completely blame her. Cyrus had seen the warning signs in her letters throughout the year. She’d begun talking about him more and more. And there were even a few letters that had been directed specifically to her mother that he still wasn’t privy to. The boy was from a good family with an impressive heritage. In other circumstances, he’d have been ecstatic with the match.

But then Potter’s upbringing had been introduced. His muggle upbringing. The boy had come into the Wizarding World full of prejudices and ideas and flaunted them in the face of tradition. He’d been hounded and degraded – rightfully so, in Cyrus’ opinion – for holding them. And his Daphne had been caught up in them as well, threatening their own family name simply by proximity.

Cyrus had tried to do his fatherly duties, to protect both his daughter and their name. He’d forbidden her from interacting with the boy – not that she’d heeded him. He’d even spoken to the boy personally in an attempt at scaring him off. Unfortunately, and most unexpectedly, Cyrus had come away from that meeting more than a little impressed.

And then, at the Third Task, he’d seen Daphne and Harry kiss. The worst part of that was seeing that it was her that had initiated it. He’d known then that she’d fallen hard for him and that she was going to be like this once he left.

“They’ve exchanged letters since the holidays have begun, you know?” Penelope said.

“I’m aware,” Cyrus replied. “She’s going to be like this for a while, isn’t she?”

To his consternation, his wife actually laughed at him.

“Oh, dear, you have no idea,” she said. “Neither of them have said the words or even had a proper conversation about their relationship but the way that she talks about him tells me not only what’s in her heart but that she’s going to be like this all summer. At the very least.”

Cyrus’ eyes followed his daughter as she ambled about, occasionally pausing in front of some flowers. As he watched, he considered his wife’s words. This was not how he liked to see his daughter. He preferred the happy, albeit studious and often serious, version of her that she normally was. But if her thoughts were going to be fixed on a boy, on Harry Potter, then maybe he ought to be having another conversation with said boy. Unfortunately, having that type of conversation was best done face to face and Potter was currently in Romania of all places.

“My dear,” he said slowly, ‘it’s been some time since the family have had a holiday overseas, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed, it has,” she replied and he didn’t fail to note the way the corners of her mouth were upturned and a smile was growing. “Four years, to be precise. Not since Spain.”

“What would you think about us going on holiday this summer? Perhaps even leaving within the week?”

“I think that would be a splendid idea,” she said. “Would you like me to begin organising? I can have Dipsy begin packing as well. Oh, and if we’re going, we really should tell Daphne and Astoria the news. Where should I tell them that we’re going?”

Cyrus could see what she was doing and decided that it was simply easier to play along.

“How about Romania?” he said. “After the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, I seem to have developed a fascination for dragons and I believe that we could learn a lot by seeing them in their natural habitat.”

“That sounds like a marvellous idea,” Penelope replied. “I’ll go tell the girls now.”

He watched as his wife quickly rose and exited into the garden. He saw her get Daphne’s attention and then the two of them begin talking. The loud, excited squeal that rang through the closed doors told him precisely when Daphne received the news of their impending holiday.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

12:00pm

Monday, 31 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

“Happy birthday to you!”

As the last words of the traditional song ended, Harry leant down and blew out the candles on the cake. And promptly had the candles explode, covering his face with something that Harry didn’t know if he wanted to know what it was.

Straightening up, he blinked and then scowled at the sudden, raucous laughs that erupted from all those standing around the table. Touching his fingers to his cheek, he looked at them. The tips of two were bright yellow, another pink and the fourth green with some sort of coloured powder.

A small round mirror was thrust into his hands and Harry stared at his face. His eyes widened at the vast array of colours he could see. It was as though a rainbow had thrown up on his face. Every colour imaginable and some that he’d never considered mashing together were there. And it wasn’t just his face, he discovered as he moved the mirror slightly. The front part of his hair had been equally covered in the multicoloured powder.

Looking up, Harry noticed that, while everyone was either still chuckling at him or at the very least had a huge grin on their face, the one who was laughing the hardest was his godfather.

“I assume that you’re responsible for the trick candles?” Harry asked lightly as he shifted his position slightly.

“I saw them in Gambol and Japes,” Sirius laughed. “Couldn’t resist.”

That was good enough for Harry.

All at once, he leapt at his godfather, managing to get his hands around the man before he realised what was happening. And then it was simply a case of rubbing his face and hair everywhere that he could reach. Sirius’ shirt, face, neck, hands., everywhere. Over and over, Harry moved his head about, making sure to cover as much of his godfather as possible.

Finally, after the two had tipped over, landed on the floor and rolled about and incidentally caused everyone else to scatter, the two rolled apart, panting hard from all the laughing that they’d been doing.

Harry looked across to see that it’d worked and his grin grew even larger. Most of the top half of Sirius was now multicoloured. He was a riot of colour and looked completely ridiculous.

A hand reached down and Harry grabbed it, allowing Remus to haul him to his feet.

“Good one, Cub,” Remus laughed. “Padfoot here needs to be taught that others can prank just as well as he can.

“Couldn’t agree more, Moony,” Harry said.

He rubbed his hand over his face, glanced down to ensure that, yes, it was indeed covered in a kaleidoscope of colours and ruffled the Marauder’s hair, the exact same way that Moony liked doing to him.

“I think, together, we can teach him his place,” Harry grinned.

“If you three have finished being today’s entertainment for the rest of us, I think we’d all like to get ourselves a piece of this cake before we have to go back to work,” Alexander laughed.

“Sure thing, Boss,” Harry grinned. “Where’s that knife?”

In short order, the large rectangular slab of chocolate cake with the dragon motif done in icing that adorned it was stabbed and then sliced into two dozen pieces. For a second, Harry had half a thought of mashing a piece of that cake in Sirius’ face but on second thought, decided that wasting cake that tasted so good was a bad idea. As was the thought of what Sirius would do if a food war was started.

“I think that there’s just enough time left for presents before we have to get back to work,” Charlie said a little later. “Here, you go, Harry. Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Harry replied happily taking the parcel.

Quickly, he ripped off the wrapping to find a blue-grey coat. Reverently, Harry ran his hand across it even as he stood and held it up. It was long and would easily reach to mid-calf with a slit up the back that would make riding a broom easy.

“Swedish Short-Snout?” Harry guessed.

“Yep,” Charlie nodded. “Good eye.”

“Well, I do know my dragons,” Harry grinned.

“Here, Harry, this is from a few of us,” Alexander said, giving him his next present, the first of a small pile as it turned out.

This was definitely turning out to be his best birthday yet. And he still had the presents that had arrived by owl waiting for him still sitting on his bed: Neville, Susan, Hermione and Daphne. That last one he was especially looking forward to opening.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

1:45pm

Monday, 31 July 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

Harry raced down the canyon on his broom, delighting in the speed and the feel of the wind whipping through his hair. He laughed as the first dragon began scrambling from her cave at the sight of him before racing along the canyon floor below him, her wings spreading and finally taking to the air to soar after him.

Four more dragons, including Ramaranth and Grouleth were soon in the air along with him all flying in formation. Harry, of course, waved to each and every one of them, plus numerous others on the ground who bellowed out greetings to him but otherwise he decided to save speaking to them until after he’d reached his destination.

It took a little less time than usual to fly the length of the canyon but he attributed that to the fact that he was becoming more familiar with it, where all the different turns were and the ease that he had with knowing what to expect.

Finally, the end of the canyon came into view and he swooped down to land right in front of one particular cave.

§Speaker? Are you here to Speak to Memzath§? Ramaranth asked as she too landed.

§I am§, Harry replied. §There’s a few questions that I have for him that I need answers to§.

Ramaranth bowed her head. §I will lead the way§.

Harry nodded and waited for his first dragon friend to make her way into Memzath’s cave. The fact that it also happened to be the entrance to the Dragon Council Cavern, he was sure was no accident.

The walk was long but this time didn’t seem to take as much time, a fact that Harry attributed to knowing where he was going and what to expect this time around. Finally, after nearly ten minutes of walking, Ramaranth moved to the side and Harry could see the great amphitheatre hidden inside the mountain. Once again, he looked to try to discover the source of the light; again, he failed.

The Weyr Leader, he found, was standing in the exact centre of the floor, watching, waiting.

§Memzath§, Harry greeted the ancient dragon with a bow. §It is good to see you again§.

§It is pleasing to see you as well, Speaker§, Memzath replied, inclining his great head as well. §What is it that I can help you with§?

§I had some questions§, Harry replied, §about what happened the last time that I was here§.

§It was expected. Ask§.

Once again, Harry bowed, thinking that it would be the right, the honourable thing to do.

§I guess I really have two big questions and perhaps some smaller ones§, Harry began. §The first is to ask what happened when you scratched me? You said something about a darkness§?

§The first question you ask, I cannot fully answer, Speaker§, Memzath replied. §I will do my best to find the words that a two-leg would understand§.

Harry watched the great dragon pace backwards and forwards, his head bowed. Finally, he stopped and faced Harry once again.

§There was a darkness attached to you, of that we are all certain. It was easy for a dragon to sense when they thought to Look. The power and magic of my claw scratching you was enough to release the darkness from where it was being held. My fire consumed it§, Memzath said slowly.

§But what was it§? Harry asked.

§Something beyond dragon ken§, Memzath replied and Harry understood that there was no point asking that question again.

§Thank you§¸ he said instead. §My other biggest question is to find out exactly what having the Mark of the Dragons means§.

§It marks you to all dragon-kind as our Speaker§, Memzath replied simply.

§Okay, I can get that§, Harry replied. §But what does being a Speaker mean? Are there any special responsibilities? Duties? Privileges, even§?

The great rumbling that came from Memzath’s belly and throat Harry knew to be a dragon’s way of laughing.

§It means what it means§, Memzath stated. §You Speak for us. You are our voice to other two-legs. The trust of all dragons is in your paws. We have faith that you will only Speak to our good and that your words will defend us, just as our fire and claws will defend you if you ever need us§.

§That’s all§? Harry asked.

§What more could it mean, Speaker? To Speak for all dragon-kind is a great honour that is bestowed very rarely. The Mark that I gave you will ensure that all Dragons know you for who you are when they see it§.

“I’m an ambassador, not a king,” Harry muttered to himself. “I knew that book had to wrong.”

§Do you have other questions that you wish to ask§? Memzath asked.

§Not at the moment, but probably later§, Harry replied. §Thank you for helping me understand§.

§Of course, Speaker§, Memzath replied with a bow of his head. §Until soon§.

§Until soon§, Harry replied.

Then, after giving one final bow, he turned and headed back into the tunnel

Chapter Text

11:20am

Wednesday, 2 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

The buildings rapidly grew in size as they approached. Harry found that, even squinting, it wasn’t easy to focus on them, not on exactly where they thought that they’d land. But then, that wasn’t unexpected. Firstly, he wasn’t the one in control of the flying. And secondly, as fast as a Nimbus Two Thousand was, a dragon was faster still. And Ramaranth in particular, especially when she was trying to show off was exceptionally fast. Which he suspected that she was.

Her wings flared and he was forced to grab on to the ridge spike in front of him quickly so that he wasn’t tipped off backwards as she slowed and her back went almost perpendicular to the ground, her tail towards the ground.

Having regained his balance, Harry leant out slightly, looking past her wing and down at the ground.

There were quite a number of people down there, more than he would have expected. And some of them looked to be wearing dresses? Or more likely, robes. Unless there was something official happening, none of the female dragon keepers wore robes. No, it was strictly pants for everyone regardless of gender. They were simply much more practical.

A waving arm directed up at him focussed his attention and Harry recognised Sirius. Grinning, he waved back.

And then Ramaranth dropped, adjusting her wings so that they could land. Harry waited and made sure to lean back. He’d learnt that trick after the first couple of times riding her. She tended to land on her back legs first and then come down heavily on her front legs and, if he wasn’t careful, then he was in danger of being flung head over heels off of her. It’d been a very close thing that first time.

Finally, she was down and Harry was able to relax his grip.

§Thanks for the lift home, Ramarath§, he said, giving her a pat on her neck

§It was my pleasure, Speaker§, she replied.

Then, after making sure that he had a firm grip on her ridge spike, Harry swung his leg over and allowed his body to slide down her side. Once he was fully extended, he felt around, finally found the front leg that Ramarath had cocked for him and let go. A short jump later and he was back on the ground.

“That never gets old, seeing you do that, Pup,” Sirius said.

“I’m sure that I could get one of the dragons to take you for a flight if you want,” Harry said, turning to face him.

“You know, one day, I might even take you up on that,” Sirius half-laughed.

“I’d go for a ride on the back of a dragon, that is if I could hold on to you,” a voice that Harry instantly recognised said.

Quickly, his eyes wide, Harry stepped out and around his godfather.

“Daphne?” he asked.

“Hi, Harry,” she said, a huge smile on her face. “Surprise!”

“What are you doing here?” he asked before quickly continuing. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that you’re here but I had no idea that you were coming. You never said anything in your letters to even hint that you were coming.”

A cuff over the back of his head stopped him with his mouth half-open.

“You’re babbling,” Sirius admonished. “Just hug the girl.”

Harry didn’t need any more prompting than that and instantly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. His face buried into her hair and he breathed in that oh-so-familiar smell that he hadn’t smelt in what felt far too long. Feeling her arms around him brought a large smile to his face.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered back.

A pointed clearing of a throat broke the two apart.

Harry turned towards where the sound had come from to find a man that he recognised standing there, a frown on his face. Harry couldn’t help it. He gulped.

“Lord Greengrass,” he said, having gathered his courage, and stepped forward with his hand outstretched.

“Mister Potter,” Lord Greengrass replied giving his hand, what Harry felt was a particularly vigorous shake.

This time it was a dainty cough that broke the moment.

“Ah, yes, may I present my wife, the Lady Penelope Greengrass and my youngest daughter, Astoria,” Lord Greengrass introduced.

A slight movement from Sirius reminded Harry that there was a particular way that one greeted a lady and while he hadn’t had many lessons yet on pureblood customs, this was one that Harry had had.

“Lady Penelope, it is a pleasure to meet you,” he said and bowed over her hand, lightly brushing her knuckles with his lips.

“Mister Potter,” she replied. “It’s very nice to meet you after everything that I’ve heard about you.”

Harry gave Daphne a sidelong look but her face remained distinctly impassive and he got nothing from her.

“Astoria,” he said, giving the younger girl who looked almost like a carbon copy of her sister, albeit with hazel eyes instead of dazzling blue, a nod in greeting.

“In answer to your question, Mister Potter,” Lord Greengrass said, “we are here for a holiday. It was a spur of the moment decision, you understand, thus why Daphne did not inform you that we were coming.”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry grinned, trying to address him however much his eyes kept being drawn back to Daphne. “Where are you staying?”

“There is a small area designed for visitors at the base of the mountains,” Lord Greengrass replied.

§Speaker, are these two-legs important to you§?

Harry turned back to Ramaranth who had remained remarkedly still exactly where they had landed.

§Yes, my friend, they are, especially Daphne§, he replied.

§I would be interested in meeting the two-leg. They may approach, I will be gentle§, she said.

§I never doubted that you would be§, Harry said.

“You do remember how disconcerting that sounds for those of us who have no idea what you’re saying, don’t you?” Daphne said when he’d turned back.

“Yep,” he grinned. “And I also remember someone telling me off for speaking in parseltongue.”

“I may have not had all of the facts when I offered that advice,” she replied, her nose slightly up and her head turned away.

Harry, though, wasn’t fooled. He could see the smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m guessing that’s your way of apologising?” he asked.

“You can take it that way if you like,” she replied.

But it seemed that that was too much for her as she dissolved into giggles.

“What did she say to you?” Daphne asked.

“Actually, she asked to meet you. All of you,” he added, encompassing the entire Greengrass family. “She’s promised to be gentle.”

“Really?” Penelope asked. “We can go over there and touch her?”

“Of course,” Harry said, and grasped Daphne’s hand. “Come on.”

He led the four of them and Sirius over to Ramaranth who was watching, her neck curled up and around so that her head pointed down. One by one, with Daphne going first due to the fact that Harry simply pulled her hand along with him, they each reached up and stroked the great dragon.

“Wow! Oh, oh wow!” Astoria exclaimed. “None of my friends are going to believe this!”

“The number of people who have touched a dragon in the world is incredibly low,” Lord Greengrass said. “Subtract dragon keepers from that number and you would be lucky to be able to count them on the fingers of two hands.”

“Well, now you can add your entire family to that list,” Harry told him.

“My thanks, from all of us, Mister Potter. This experience alone has made this holiday extraordinary,” Lord Greengrass said.

“You’re very welcome,” Harry said. “I can even introduce you some of the others later. I can think of four in particular that would love to meet you.”

§Speaker, I think it best that I return to the Weyr§, Ramaranth said.

§Of course, my friend. Until soon§, Harry replied, using the dragon expression that he found he quite liked.

Then, after getting everyone to back up, he watched her take to the sky and wing away.

“Come on, Daphne, I want to show you everything and you can tell me what you’ve been doing,” Harry said.

“Father?” she asked.

“You may go with Mister Potter, just ensure that you are back in time for dinner,” Lord Greensgrass said.

That was enough for Harry to squeeze her hand and pull her away towards the hilltop from where they could see the entire canyon.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

3:55pm

Wednesday, 2 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

“Harry, Daphne,” Sirius said as they two ambled out of the trees still holding hands. “I thought you two’d be back ages ago.”

“Lord Greengrass said that we didn’t have to be back until dinner,” Harry replied.

“True enough and to be honest, I’d feel a bit of a hypocrite telling you off for spending time with your girl,” Sirius said.

“We’re not …” Harry began but stopped as he felt Daphne squeeze his hand, and also noted that Sirius was pointedly looking at their joined hands as well.

“You can sort that out between you later,” he said. “Right now, there’s something else more important for you to be doing.”

“What? Has something happened?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Sirius replied. “It seems that the Greengrasses aren’t your only visitors.”

“Someone else has arrived?” Harry asked. “Who?”

“Newt Scamander and his wife,” Sirius replied simply.

“Who?” Harry asked at the same time that Daphne gasped. “I’m guessing that you know who that is?”

“Newt Scamander!” Daphne repeated. “He’s probably the most famous magizoologist in the world. He even wrote one of our textbooks. Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them.”

“Oh, I’ve read that,” Harry replied brightly. “I quite liked it, very interesting. Not quite accurate in his section on dragons, though. But I’m finding that not many books are. I’d never paid attention to who wrote it.”

“Well, you’re about to meet him,” Sirius stated. “They turned up not long after the two of you wandered off. It was all we could do to stop him trying to follow you down to the canyon.”

“The dragons wouldn’t have hurt him,” Harry defended his friends.

“Not all of us can talk to dragons, kiddo, which means that, for the rest of us, we need to be careful in case we do something that they don’t like,” Sirius said.

“Where is Mister Scamander now?” Daphne asked.

“He’s in the main Hall. I best take you there now,” Sirius replied.

Together, the three of them walked the length of the camp. Sirius lengthened his stride just before they reached the main Hall so that he could open the door for the teens.

Almost hesitantly, Harry stepped inside, not quite sure what to expect.

Finding that three of the tables had been pushed together and all those not currently working were sitting around it, looking in rapt attention at an ancient man with white hair as he told some tale, was certainly not expected. Especially when one of those there was Alexander.

“Ah, Harry, you’re finally here,” his Boss’ voice boomed upon seeing him.

Instantly, the old man, Newt Scamander, Harry supposed, stopped his story and rose to his feet. He was a fair thin man with a distinct stoop, as though he’d developed the habit of trying to negate his height and to make himself appear smaller than he actually was.

“Mister Potter,” he said, coming forward, his hand extended. “It is so very, very nice to finally meet you.”

“Um, yeah, it’s nice to meet you, too, Mister Scamander. I’ve read your book, it’s very good. And please, call me Harry,” he replied, shaking the man’s hand.

“Harry, then,” he replied and Harry noted that his eyes never met his own for more than a second at a time. “Please, call me Newt.”

Harry glanced at Sirius and received a brief nod. If the old man who surely deserved respect for his accomplishments and great age wanted to be called by his first name, then who was he to argue?

“Sorry that I wasn’t here when you arrived,” Harry said.

“Nonsense,” Newt waved away his apology. “You were with the dragons, I suspect. Of course, they would demand your attention.”

“Not everyone gets caught up with creatures as you do, Newt,” an elderly lady admonished as she came up behind him.

“Harry does,” Sirius laughed.

“Not much can tear him away from his dragons,” Charlie added as he entered the room behind them.

“They don’t understand what it’s like, do they?” Newt whispered conspirically.

Harry grinned at him. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

“I’m Tina,” the elderly lad said, introducing herself. “Newt’s long-suffering wife.”

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” Harry replied. “And this is Daphne.”

“Come, my boy, we have much to talk about,” Newt said, drawing Harry back across to the table.

It took very little time for everyone to be seated once again with Harry and Daphne having been given seats beside Newt and his wife.

“I understand that they call you ‘Speaker’,” Newt continued. “What does that mean?”

“That part merely means that I’m a parselmouth; that I can speak their language,” Harry replied.

“And the Mark?” Newt asked, gesturing to his new scar.

“The ancient books were wrong about that,” Harry replied. “In short, it basically means that I’m like an Ambassador to the Dragons. There’s maybe a little extra to it, but not by much.”

“Ha!” Newt exclaimed. “I knew those books were wrong. No creature or species would promote one from a different class into becoming their king.”

“I didn’t even ask them about that,” Harry admitted. “Seemed too disrespectful.”

“Exactly! You have the exact right attitude for working in this field. Not many understand,” Newt stated. “Now, before we go any further, there’s an important question that I need to ask.”

“Yes?” Harry asked, suddenly nervous.

“How much of my section of dragons is complete dragon dung?”

Harry glanced down, trying to decide how to answer without hurting the man’s feelings.

“That much, hey? Well, good. I’ve always loved learning new things about animals,” Newt smiled. “I would very much like it if you could teach me everything that you know. Maybe even translate for me if I have questions that you don’t know the answer to?”

“I could do that,” Harry replied.

“And then you two can write that book that we’ve been telling Harry that he needs to get started on,” Alexander interjected.

“Book? That’s a marvellous idea. The more people who read about creatures, in this case, dragons, the more that they understand and learn to treat them the way they should. Yes, yes, I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Newt nodded. “What say you, Speaker of Dragons?”

Harry looked at those around him. Sirius, Alexander, Charlie, Daphne, all the other dragon handlers. There was no doubt in his mind what any of their answers would be.

“I think that we could do that,” he finally said.

“Wonderful, simply wonderful,” Newt replied.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:10am

Thursday, 3 August 1995

Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

Mathilda Grimblehawk, chair of the sub-Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain, looked around her office with some bewilderment. It didn’t seem all that long ago that this sub-Department – committee, back then – had been abolished and she herself had been demoted and shuffled back into her old desk job within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures itself.

But then, exactly one week ago, she’d been summoned to the Minster for Magic’s office and told that they’d made a terrible mistake in dissolving the committee that they’d put together earlier that year. Phrases like ‘we didn’t give you enough time’ and ‘you were understaffed’ or ‘you deserved more support from this office’, etcetera were bandied about until, finally she was simply told that she was being promoted once again and that the committee was even being upgraded to sub-Department status.

Of course, she understood what was really happening. She’d read the Prophet, she’d seen which way the wind was blowing. She knew exactly what it all stemmed from, what the real aim was. To get Harry Potter back in Britain. If that happened, then the Minister’s job wouldn’t be being threatened.

And, to be completely honest – if only to herself – she didn’t actually care about the ‘real’ reason or even the ‘excuse’ that she’d been given. She’d show them that she could do this job, that she was worthy of being a department head instead of a simple parchment pusher.

Giving herself a shake, she brought herself back to the present. There was a job to be done.

Before she’d even left home this morning, she’d sat at her kitchen table for a solid hour, finally putting quill to parchment to create that list that she’d had floating about in her head ever since she’d been given this job. The list was fairly long and exhaustive and Mathilda was sure that there would be many more items that would need to be added to it.

After reading through it, she returned to the top, specifically to the first six items on it.

1. Find out what the sub-Department’s budget is
2. Get furniture to outfit the sub-Department
3. Hire a staff through a proper application process
4. Get a full map of the British Isles (as big as possible)
5. Find a tract of land (or an island, perhaps?) that can be warded from muggles to become a new Dragon Reserve
6. Find and survey all dragons currently living within the British Isles

The memo she’d found in her inbox yesterday had resulted in a long, long meeting with the Finance Department. Eventually, she’d come out of it with the numbers that she’d needed to know.

And while the figure that she was given wasn’t quite as much as she’d hoped, it was enough to be going on with. Mathilda figured that if she could get the sub-Department working well enough to get even a consultation from The-Boy-Who-Lived, especially if that consultation happened on British soil, then that should result in additional funding down the track. It was simply a case of getting to that point.

Before she’d left the office yesterday, Mathilda had put out the job descriptions that she wanted filled. A staff of four, including her, wasn’t great, but it would work. Just that morning she’d seen the Wanted Ad in The Daily Prophet as well as the bright yellow memo-planes flying about the Ministry itself. Which took care of one item on her list. At least as much as possible for now.

The Furniture Requisition Form she’d filled out in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep. Sure, she could transfigure something herself but that would only be a temporary fix – the magic would eventually wear off if it wasn’t strong enough and Mathilda had no illusions as to her magical power.

And half-way to work that morning she’d had a brainwave which caused her to be nearly late. Thankfully, her stop at the magical travel agency hadn’t taken overly long. The map that she’d bought from there she now pulled out of her pocket before cancelling the shrinking charm that she’d applied. A map three feet square grew on the table before her. It was an awkward size, but that was what magic was for. A simple levitation charm followed by a permanent sticking charm had the map glued to the wall precisely where she wanted it.

Taking out her quill and ink pot, Mathilda happily drew a line through that item on her list of things to do. Then, taking out three more pots of different coloured ink, she approached the map.

Green ink for the locations of known Common Welsh Greens; purple for known locations of the second type of dragon native to Great Britain: the Hebridean Black; and lastly, the red ink for possible locations for their new dragon reserve, perhaps even one of the islands of the Hebrides where she was sure some dragons already lived. It’d just be a case of finding an uninhabited one and getting it suitably warded.

There was a lot of work to be done, of that, there was no doubt. But if there was one thing that Mathilda Grimblehawk was not afraid of, it was hard work.

Chapter Text

3:35pm

Friday, 4 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

The table was spread with books, all of them about dragons. Some were more general, giving an overview of the species. Others focussed solely on a specific breed. A couple narrowed in on one specific aspect of dealing with dragons, for example hatching an egg or how to render a deceased dragon down to get the most profit out of it. That last one had been pushed far away, the abhorrence that it was deemed worthy of only the trash heap.

The most prominent of all the books, the two that were being used and referred to the most, were Harry’s copy of Dragons, the Complete Compendium and Newt’s own Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them.

Of course, even these two were superseded by copious amounts of parchment, notebooks, pens and quills.

“So, you’re saying that dragons have their own government?” Newt clarified.

“Definitely,” Harry nodded. “They call it a ‘Council’ and have their own Weyr Leader and Elders. The Council chamber is tiered and the dragons only speak when the Leader, who remains on the floor in the centre where everyone can see him, says that they can. I’m not sure whether the ledges that the dragons sit on are hierarchical or if it’s a ‘first come, best seated’, type of thing.”

“Not unlike some human governments, then,” Newt mused. “I’d always wondered. I’d definitely noted that they seem to defer to some dragons if they roared louder but I had just taken it to be an alpha dominance type structure.”

“Hmm, maybe there is some of that, too?” Harry replied slowly. “I don’t know how the Weyr Leader is chosen? Elected? Appointed? Some kind of battle or challenge? But it’s definitely not the oldest, at least, not here.”

“Perhaps something to ask, young Harry,” Newt suggested.

“Right,” Harry agreed and promptly jotted some notes on his pad.

“Now, tell me about the time you got to go into the Weyr Council Cave,” Newt asked eagerly, leaning forwards.

“Well, I didn’t know what was going on,” Harry began. “One of the other dragons came and got me. It’s actually hidden deep inside the mountain and you can only get to it by going into the Weyr Leader’s cave and then through a really long tunnel. The dragons were already in place. I almost felt as though I was there for a job interview, which, when I think about it, wasn’t too far from what was happening.”

“What do you mean, Harry?” Newt asked and Harry noted that he picked up a quill and inked it at the same time.

“There were all these roundabout questions about me being the Speaker but them needing to see if I was worthy enough to Speak for them,” Harry explained. “There’s a difference, you see. I can speak to them in parseltongue but because I could, it also meant that I could translate for them to other two-legs … er, humans. The dragons needed to test that I could be counted on to say exactly what they said and to speak up on their behalf when needed.”

“I’m guessing that they decided that you could be,” Newt smiled, nodding pointedly at his Mark.

“Yep,” Harry grinned and lifted his fringe up and away so that Newt could see it properly. “I asked Memzath what it meant, bearing this Mark of the Dragons. It basically means that I’m an ambassador.”

“Which you told me before,” Newt nodded. “And makes so much sense. Dragons are such sophisticated creatures, it’s easy to see that they have their own social structure to go along with their intelligence. At least for anyone who’s willing to take the time to look.”

“Which most don’t,” Harry agreed.

“No, unfortunately, they don’t. But we’ll change them yet, won’t we?” Newt exclaimed. “Tell me about getting your Mark.”

“It was the weirdest thing,” Harry frowned. “I still don’t completely understand everything that happened. The dragons … sensed that there was an … an evil attached to me. Whatever it was, they couldn’t explain it, they just knew that it existed. And they didn’t like it. Not one bit. Memzath slashed my forehead, right where whatever it was was located, which I’m guessing was connected to my scar. I don’t remember anything else, only waking up with the Mark in my own bed. Sirius tells me that Ramaranth brought me home; she carried me in her paws up and out of the canyon.”

During all the time that Harry’d been speaking, Newt had been busy with his quill and parchment. Finally, he placed his quill down and pushed the parchment across to Harry. Taking it, Harry looked down and blinked. If he’d thought that his handwriting was akin to chicken scratch, well, that was nothing compared to Newt’s!

It took much longer than he would have liked but eventually, Harry began to decipher the writing. And when he finally did, he blinked again. It was the story of his visit into the Weyr Council Cavern, everything about what it looked like and, added to the end, was the recount of how he’d been given his Mark, what it meant and also what it looked like.

“I know, my writing’s never been easy to understand,” Newt chuckled. “Luckily, Tina can understand my writing. She’s been doing it for years. If I know her, she’ll even rewrite it up for us, maybe make it sound a little easier for others to understand as well.”

“Um, okay?” Harry said, handing the parchment back.

Newt stared at him. “I was expecting a little more than that, Harry. What do you think? How do you imagine wizards and witches around the world will react to hearing the story and understanding that dragons have their own government?”

“I’m sorry, what? React? How will they hear it?” Harry asked, shaking his head.

“Oh, I didn’t mention that bit, did I?” Newt chuckled. “This will be your first column in The Daily Prophet. I’ve owled the editor and your godfather’s signed off, of course, assuming that you agree. A new article every two weeks.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“It doesn’t have to be anything too detailed. Actually, it’s probably better if it’s not too detailed,” Newt explained. “Just talk about your interactions with the dragons. Those hatchlings of yours will make excellent writing points. Tell the world what it’s like for dragons growing up, what they do, how they develop and become a part of dragon society. People everywhere will eat it up and want to know more and, as a bonus, hopefully learn to understand and appreciate the dragons the way you and I do.”

Harry leant over and reread the article that Newt had written, this time with different eyes.

Others would read this? They’d read about his encounter with the dragons of the Weyr and him being given the Mark and what it meant? He tried to picture Neville or Susan with the newspaper in their hands, maybe over breakfast. No, there was nothing in there that he was ashamed of. Well, maybe the part about fainting and needing to be carried home. But who wouldn’t have if they’d been in the same situation?

“Okay, I think it looks good. And it would be pretty cool to have my own newspaper column,” Harry mused.

“Excellent! Then it’s settled,” Newt beamed. “I’ll give this to Tina for her to do her magic and then I’ll send it off to the Prophet.”

“Thanks, Newt,” Harry said earnestly. “You’ll help me with the next one, too?”

“It’d be my pleasure, young Harry,” Newt smiled. “And we can use these articles to help hone the book we’re going to be writing.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

8:15am

Saturday, 6 August 1995

Headmaster’s Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, United Kingdom

.

Albus Dumbledore’s eyes read and reread the column in The Daily Prophet. This was not how he expected to hear from Harry Potter, or more precisely, how he’d hear about Harry Potter. The boy was supposed to be coming back to Hogwarts at the beginning of next month. At least, that was the plan. Albus’ plan.

This, though, this threw even more doubts on that happening than he’d originally been having.

Once again, he let his eyes run down the column and key words and phrases leapt out at him.

“A Dragon’s Tale, Living and Working with Dragons by Harry Potter … Weyr … their own Council, not unlike the Wizengamot that runs our own government … worthy … Speaker, not just to, but for dragons … Mark of the Dragon … scar.”

And then that description. Oh, that description was unbelievable. The dragons had detected an ‘evil’ attached to young Harry. Of course, Albus knew precisely what that was. The fact that they’d obviously done something to dispel it was quite …

Albus froze. He wasn’t quite sure what the right word was. Worrying? Annoying? Frightening?

In any case, it opened a whole slew of questions that Albus never in his wildest dreams imagined would be asked. If that part of Tom was no longer attached to young Harry, what did that mean for the prophecy? Was it still in play? Were these dragons the thing that Tom ‘would know not’? Could Tom feel that part of him being destroyed?

Many of the answers, Albus felt, still lay with Harry Potter or, more precisely, with getting The-Boy-Who-Lived back to England and Hogwarts in particular. It was even more imperative than ever. There had to be a way.

Albus spun from the window and threw his copy of the newspaper to the floor. He then dropped his hands to his desk and his head bowed as he thought. Unexpectedly, his eyes fell onto the stack of parchment that he’d been given as the Chief Warlock.

And right there, sitting right on top, might just be his answer: a proposal for a new dragon reserve in the United Kingdom. A proposal that already had a small sub-department attached to it.

Yes, yes, he mused. There might be a way to use that.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

11:05am

Saturday, 6 August 1995

Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England

.

Amelia Bones sipped at her tea, as was polite, before carefully placing the cup back upon its saucer and then the two down onto her lap. The pleasantries had been observed, even the small talk. The game had been played. It was time to get down to business, to find out why she’d been invited here, to Longbottom Manor, in the first place.

“It has been quite some time since the two of us have been able to talk without interference,” she opened.

“There has not been a need before this,” Augusta replied.

“You’re saying that there is one now?” Amelia asked.

“I am,” the Dowager Lady replied. “Tell me, what do you know of Albus Dumbledore’s … interference with the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter over the past decade?”

Amelia blinked but otherwise she knew that her face remained impassive. It was hard to surprise the Head of the DMLE; Augusta had just managed it.

“I know of some,” she replied cautiously. “Perhaps if I knew to what specifically you were referring to, I might be able to answer more fully?”

“Pish, Amelia, enough with the games,” Augusta said, leaning forward and placing her own cup and saucer on the table between them. “We’re never going to get anything accomplished if we keep to the script.”

One side of Amelia’s mouth curled up in amusement. The two might not be quite the same age, but both were considered formidable women in their own right. For Amelia to suggest that they needed to simply ‘get down to business’ meant that there was definitely something very wrong.

“By all means,” Amelia said, bowing her head in acknowledgement. “In that case, shall I open with the fact that I received a very interesting letter written by Mister Potter himself, delivered by my Susan which had some, shall we say, very damaging allegations against the Hogwart’s headmaster in it?”

“Indeed?” Augusta replied, with a raised eyebrow. “If that letter contains even half of what my Neville relayed to me about this past school year, then it would make for some very interesting reading.”

“Augusta, you don’t know the half of it,” Amelia stated dryly. “If I thought that I could get away with it, I’d be putting Albus Dumbledore on the stand to answer some very choice questions about some very illegal activities. Unfortunately, Dumbledore has built himself a web of support that spans decades and I know that, not only would he get off with, at best, a ‘slap on the wrist’, I’d be committing career suicide.”

“That bad?” Augusta asked. “That does sound a little more comprehensive than Neville’s own version.”

“It’s possible that he didn’t know the whole story,” Amelia replied. “I know that Susan didn’t. May I call for my house elf?”

Augusta raised an eyebrow in surprise but otherwise merely gave her consent.

“Tolly!”

Instantly, a small house elf wearing a soft, white toga-like dress with the Bones family crest prominent on its upper right chest appeared.

“Yes, Mistress?” Tolly asked.

“Kindly go to my personal study and retrieve the muggle envelope sitting in my top righthand drawer of my desk,” Amelia instructed.

“Yes, Mistress,” Tolly replied with a small curtsey.

Dual pops in the space of thirty seconds indicated Tolly popping out and then back in with said envelope in hand.

“Thank you, Tolly, that will be all,” Amelia replied.

As the house elf popped away, Amelia leant forward and handed over the envelope.

“I’ll need it back, obviously, but I don’t believe that Harry would mind you reading it.”

She leant back then and retrieved her tea to sip it while she awaited the Dowager Lady Longbottom to read the three-page letter.

“You’re right,” Augusta said a short time later. “Quite damaging indeed and, if all correct, much of it is illegal. Stealing a piece of paper with Harry’s name on it and entering him in the TriWizard Tournament; not to mention this prophecy, both are highly suspect before you even begin to consider the rest. And you’re right, there’s little that you can do about it. ‘He said, she said’. Not exactly useful in a court of law.”

“No,” Amelia frowned. “Even the man’s interference in the Tasks for the TriWizard Tournament, how he created favourable conditions to ensure that Harry not only survived but had a chance of being competitive would be considered as being anything but good by those old fuddy-duddies. Anything that should ensure a British win, would be applauded, even.”

“Not that young Harry exactly went along with those plans,” Augusta chuckled. “Painting and fishing!”

“Yes, he did make the Tournament out to be a bit of a farce,” Amelia agreed. “At least our own young ones had the opportunity to becomes friends with him, as they always should have done.”

“And there’s another problem to lay at Dumbledore’s feet, placing the scion of a Most Ancient and Noble House in the hands of muggles, I ask you?” Augusta near-growled.

“Indeed,” Amelia nodded. “I take it by your original question that you have something additional to what is in Harry’s letter to me that you wish to discuss?”

“I do,” Augusta replied and closed her eyes for a moment as though she were gathering her thoughts. “The House of Potter has been one that has been most prominent within our society for more centuries than most others. It may not be one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but that is mere quibbling in this day and age when so many of that number have become extinct.”

“You won’t hear any argument from me,” Amelia agreed. “I believe that both of our husbands campaigned for the Potters to be added to the number, replacing one of the fallen Houses.”

“Without success,” Augusta nodded. “However, even without that status, the House of Potter does have two major seats, in two of our most important facets of our society that it has been granted in perpetuity. Neither of which it currently sits.”

Amelia frowned. Obviously, Augusta was referring to the Wizengamot as one of those seats, but for the life of her, she couldn’t recall what the second was.

“The Wizengamot and the Hogwarts Board of Governors,” Augusta continued. “I have done a little investigating, especially in light of what Neville has told me. Young Mister Potter has no knowledge – as far as I am aware – of the place that the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter holds, nor of the seats that he should be sitting.”

“Should be sitting?” Amelia repeated, her mind whirling.

Harry was the same age as Susan – fifteen – and one age could not take their place on either seat until such time as they came of age, at seventeen. But then it clicked. Harry was already ‘of age’. He’d be emancipated when he agreed to participate in the TriWizard Tournament.

“I would think that Sirius Black would be educating Harry on his duties and the role of his House,” Amelia said carefully.

“Hmph,” Augusta snorted. “You know Sirius Black even better than I do but my opinion of him was never high, not even before his years of incarceration. One can always hope that he is doing his duty.”

“I’m certain of it,” Amelia replied.

“Whether he is or not,” Augusta waved away her assurances, “there is a matter that should be addressed.”

“Which is?” a curious Amelia asked.

“Those seats on the Wizengamot and the Board of Governors,” Augusta stated. “Both are currently occupied by proxy, the same proxy that has been in place for nearly fourteen years and I’d bet the entire Longbottom vault that Harry Potter has neither met Elphias Doge who sits in both of those seats, not appointed him at any time whatsoever!”

“Doge is sitting the Potter seat,” Amelia repeated, her eyes wide.

Augusta was right. And the fact that Doge had been there so long meant that she’d never questioned it, nor considered what seat he was sitting in.

“Dumbledore,” she whispered.

“Correct,” Augusta replied smugly. “Dumbledore. He appointed Doge to those seats as the Potter Proxy.”

“He needs to be ousted. But the only one who could do it is Harry Potter himself,” Amelia stated slowly, understanding exactly what Augusta was saying. “And replacing Doge would also take away a major part of Dumbledore’s voting power which would then give me more leeway to do my job rather than constantly being hamstrung by the number of second chances that Dumbledore seems determined to give to every Tom, Dick and Larry that turns up in front of the Court on any charge you can imagine.”

“I’m glad that you see my point,” Augusta smiled.

“What do you have in mind?” Amelia asked.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

4:55am

Sunday, 7 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

Harry grinned, enjoying the feeling of Daphne’s arms around his waist, her body pressed against his back as he flew through the trees up the side of the mountain. Her breath against the back of his neck also seemed to have this interesting response in his own breathing, making it faster and shallower.

The dim light didn’t make it easy to see the trees but even after such a short time here at the Reserve, Harry knew the way well. Side to side, he swayed, never a jerk or a jolt, simple movements so as not to alarm or worse, dislodge his passenger.

At last, the trees thinned before disappearing behind them altogether. The ground below also vanished, dropping deep into the canyon.

Their timing, though, was absolutely perfect.

Just as Harry brought his broom to nothing more than a gentle hover, the first rays of the sun peeked over the edge of the far mountain. A soft burnt orange filled the sky before changing into yellows that dissipated as the dark blue of the sky began to lighten.

“This is beautiful, Harry,” Daphne whispered into his ear.

“Just wait,” Harry told her.

His eyes dropped down into the darker patch below their feet, searching for what he knew was coming. A hint of movement further out was his first sign and he smiled. Two more emerged from the depths of the canyon, the suggestion of great wings beating, bearing them upwards.

“Look,” he said, leaning back into her and pointing down.

And then they began appearing. More and more dragons, flying up to meet the start of the day. A few Harry recognised instantly, knowing their names even. Others took a little longer but they, too, were friends. They were all friends. And now his dearest friend was going to get to go flying with his biggest friends.

Willing his broom forward, he shot them towards the dragons and was instantly recognised.

§Speaker§!

§Speaker§!

§Good morn to you, Speaker§!

§You have brought your two-leg mate to fly with us, Speaker§!

Harry blushed at that last comment. He was so glad that Daphne wasn’t a parselmouth. His mouth even opened to tell Ramaranth that no, Daphne wasn’t his mate, only his friend, well, maybe more but they’d deliberately stayed away from labelling what they were. Dragons, though, didn’t understand that concept, despite how much he’d tried to explain.

“Harry? Why has the back of your neck gone red all of a sudden?” Daphne asked.

“No reason,” he replied quickly, desperately hoping that she’d drop the subject.

To help with that, he increased speed, zipping in and around the dragons as they flew ever higher. He felt her arms tighten and he smiled, loving the feeling.

All at once, they reached the spot where the sun become fully visible above the mountain and the dragons paused, hovering where they were, their great wings lazily flapping just enough to hold them in place. One by one and then together, they trumpeted, creating a noise that was both extremely loud while being melodious and in harmony with each other.

“What are they saying?” Daphne near-yelled in his ear.

Harry leant back and half-turned his head to make it easier for her to hear him.

“It’s not so much words, although there are some in there,” Harry replied. “They’re greeting the day. The best approximation that I’ve ever come up with is that this is like singing to them.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Daphne’s head cocked, her eyes closed as she listened.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Yeah, beautiful,” he replied, knowing that he meant more than just the dragon’s song, more than just the rising sun over the mountains below.

“Thank you for bringing me up here, for sharing this with me,” she said, her now-open eyes sparkling at him.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “There’s no one else I’d want to share it with.”

He felt more than heard her sigh as she laid her head against his back.

Soon, it’d be time to return to the world below and start the day the human way but this, this was something special that he’d come to love. And today far more than he ever had before.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

2:31am

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

Harry jolted away. His heart was pounding. There was a roaring in his ears. Sweat poured off of him. Even before his eyes opened, he knew that he was sitting up, the blankets half tangled around him.

Jerkily, his eyes wide, he searched around his room. Black, pitch black. The middle of the night.

Something had woken him. He was sure of it. And not a dream. It was real.

§SPEAKER!§

The roar of a hundred dragon voices calling for him all at once was loud enough even from this distance for Harry to need to clamp his hand over his ears. Not that that drowned it out, the sound even reverberating inside his very head.

§SPEAKER! WE NEED YOU!§

Instantly, Harry was up and scrambling for the door, one single thought burning in his head: get to the dragons!

Chapter Text

2:34am

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

Harry raced through the door of the hut, his feet skidding on the dirt as he changed direction.

“Harry! Wait!”

He heard Sirius’ voice, but ignored it. Waiting wasn’t an option. The dragons needed him. Even now he could hear their roars echoing from the valley or was that inside his head? Viciously, he shook his head. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to them as quickly as he could.

A sharp stone dug into the ball of his foot and he hopped a couple of steps, glaring daggers at the ground itself. He hoped that he didn’t step on anything else that he couldn’t see.

And then it hit him. What in the world was he doing running in the first place? He was a wizard with a flying broom and everything.

Harry thrust out his hand behind him even as he kept running forwards, willing his magic to summon his broom to him.

The darkness was something else that a wizard shouldn’t have to put up with either. A flick of the wrist of his off-hand conjured a ball of light; a push-flick of his fingers sent it sailing ahead of him.

A whistling of wind behind him had Harry twisting about to see his broom shooting straight at him from behind. Unerringly, he snagged it straight out of the air even as he jumped and threw a leg over it. Even before his feet found the stirrups, he was laying low over the Nimbus Two Thousand and willing it to speeds even faster than he’d ever flown before.

He raced at the trees that forested the mountainside. Flying through that, especially at this speed, at night, he knew, was akin to suicide. Harry did the only thing that made sense, he pulled back on the shaft and soared straight up. Even at that angle, his feet still clipped a few high branches, sending a rain of leaves falling to the forest floor below, not that Harry even noticed.

His ball of light may have been moving fast but with the speed that Harry was urging his broom to, it meant that he nearly overtook it.

And then the end of the trees was directly below him and Harry dived. The wind whipped at his hair and pants and his bare chest and he was forced to squeeze his eyes into slits. He passed the edge of the cliff and kept going, shooting straight down the side of the canyon.

Even with the light from his light ball, it was near-impossible to tell exactly where the floor of the canyon was. Harry strained his eyes, searching for it. And then it appeared as if out of nowhere at the very edge of the light and Harry pulled up sharply. The nose of the broom barely cleared the ground, as did his toes and a whirlwind of dust was kicked up in his wake behind him.

§SPEAKER!§

§SPEAKER! WE NEED YOU!§

The roar of the dragons was almost overwhelming from down here and, with the echoes that reverberated up and down the canyon, impossible to tell exactly where it was coming from. But it wasn’t just dragon roars heard through his ears, he was sure of it. It also sounded as though the voices were coming from inside his own head.

Whatever it was, all it did was increase Harry’s sense of urgency.

He knew this canyon. He’d flown down it every day since he’d been here. Multiple times. Now he used that knowledge.

It was all but pitch black, only the light from his ball that was now at his shoulder was allowing him to see anything and at that, only what was in its circle of influence. Everything outside was pitch black, hidden from him even with the small amount of light that the moon was providing.

His night vision, he realised. The ball had destroyed his night vision.

The barest of thoughts banished his ball and Harry blinked rapidly, struggling to right his vision.

Still, he flew on, faster and faster.

Left. Left. Straight and right. Down and under the rock bridge that spanned the canyon. Another left and a sharp curve to the right.

§SPEAKER! WE NEED YOU!§

§SPEAKER!§

The roars this time were so close that the sound was almost tangible. Harry had no idea how many dragons were calling for him but it sure felt and sounded like all of them.

And without question, he knew that whatever had the dragons upset, angry, furious was right around the next corner.

Harry mentally overlaid a copy of the canyon with where he thought he was.

Ramaranth’s cave! He was certain of it.

Rounding the corner Harry knew that the canyon walls were covered in dragons. Whirling eyes of red and orange stared down from all around like the fallen stars come to Earth to burn it to a crisp.

Many of those eyes were turned in his direction; most, though, were focussed on Ramaranth’s cave.

A great, dark lump on the canyon floor lay where it shouldn’t and it took Harry a moment to realise that it was a dragon.

§Who is that§? he demanded.

§Ramaranth, Speaker§.

Harry froze, staring at the body on the ground

§What happened? Is she alive§? he asked.

§Two-legs, Speaker! There are many two-legs here§.

§They snuck in when we slept. Attacked Ramaranth§.

Harry’s jaw set and his eyes narrowed; a rage roared in his ears. How dare some people come here and harm the dragons, hurt Ramaranth! He was so focussed on the body of Ramaranth and what he was being told that he wasn’t even taking the time to work out who was speaking to him.

§The fledglings§? Harry asked quickly.

§They remain inside the cave. Where the two-legs are§.

§We dare not flame for fear of harming the fledglings§.

§I will get them§! Harry snarled.

Instantly, he shot forward on his broom, directly for the cave. His body was low to give him not only extra speed but also to reduce his profile.

§Fledglings! On your bellies§! Harry yelled.

As he raced towards the cave, Harry made out a dim light inside. Obviously, the two-legs, the humans had either lit a fire or lit their wands. Which was all to the good as far as Harry was concerned – they wouldn’t see him coming out of the dark straight at them.

Harry knew Ramaranth’s cave well, better than any other and he used that to his advantage.

Just before he flew inside, he lifted one hand and sent a stream of bright balls of light sailing inside. His magic held them for a second, two and then extinguished them. The confused yells from the men inside had Harry grinning.

And then he was in.

Instantly, he flung himself off his broom to the left. He landed on a mass of flesh. The fact that it was not much bigger than himself told him that it was a human and he let loose with a blast of pure red, a stunner just as Sirius had shown him.

An ‘oof’ and a grunt of pain told him that his broom had hit another.

Harry scrambled to his feet and instantly took in the situation. Two men down; another dozen or so still standing, all with their hands over their eyes or doubled over as they rubbed their faces.

But even while glancing about, Harry wasn’t being idle.

His hands were shooting out one after the other, his magic obeying every intent, every thought that he had. Anything that he’d ever learnt, was used, no matter how obscure.

A shrinking charm hit a shirt, constricting a man, making him drop his wand.

An enlarging charm hit a hat, making it fall down over a pair of eyes that now couldn’t see to aim.

A jet of intense fire hit a pair of men, setting their clothes on fire.

A tangle of ropes and fishing line engulfed three separate wizards.

Jets of red stunning spells impacted another two.

Streams of water, strong enough to knock a witch off her feet was combined with a freezing charm to encase her in ice.

A summoning charm sent a wizard flying towards Harry, only for him to simply sidestep him and allow him to impact the rock wall behind him.

A whirlwind so strong that it lifted two wizards straight up, spinning them too fast for the eye to see only stopped when the men hit the roof, dropping them straight to the floor.

More stunning spells took out a pair that had their shoelaces tied together, toppling them over each other.

When Harry finally, straightened, panting heavily, it was to see that the cave was full of witches and wizards, either unconscious or moaning in pain. He blinked at them, assessed them as no longer being a danger and giving a single, satisfied nod.

§Speaker§?

This time, Harry instantly recognised the voice.

§Yes, Painzz? Are you four okay? You’re not hurt§? he asked.

§We are, Speaker. Can we get up now§? she asked.

§You can§, Harry replied. §Just wait here for a moment, I want to check on something outside the cave§.

§What of the two-legs§? Potteth asked.

Harry glanced around the cave once more. The fledglings shouldn’t be in any danger if he ducked outside for just a minute.

§If they look like being a problem, flame them§, he instructed.

§But our flames are not hot enough yet to do any harm. We’re too young§, Spekith complained.

§True. But they don’t know that§, Harry replied.

With that, Harry quickly ducked back outside.

§Speaker? Are the fledglings unharmed§?

This time, Harry was calm enough to recognise who had spoken to him.

§Yes, Grouleth, they are. And the two-legs won’t bother you again§, he said. §How is Ramaranth§?

§Ramaranth lives, Speaker§, Memzath declared and instantly the Weyr bugled in celebration.

Harry, though, wasn’t quite ready to join them. His closest dragon friend had still not moved from where she’d been lying when he first saw her.

§I’m guessing that she needs to be looked at by a doctor, er Healer, er one of the dragon keepers. If I summon them, you can assure them safe passage§? he asked.

§Of course, Speaker§, Memzath said, inclining his great head. §You have spoken and have our word§.

That was more than enough for Harry.

He took a deep breath. He’d never actually successfully tried this before but with how his magic was currently pumping, he was going to give it a go. Summoning his magic, he concentrated on the broom ride that he’d shared with Daphne, well, yesterday morning now and cast.

“Expecto patronum!”

Instantly, his magic burst forth from his outstretched hand in a cloud of bright silver. He watched as his magic condensed, pulling in on itself and forming into a very familiar shape. A dragon! His patronus was a dragon! That was … well, he wasn’t sure if it was expected, unexpected or something in between.

Either way, he watched, wide-eyed, his jaw slack as the silver, ethereal dragon soared out and around before returning to ‘land’, its eyes on him, watching, waiting.

“Go to Charlie. Tell him that Ramaranth has been hurt and that there’s a bunch of unconscious witches and wizards in her cave,” he instructed.

At once, his dragon patronus nodded and flew away, its wings beating once, twice, thrice before it simply soared out of sight even as the ‘real’ dragons bugled in delight at the sight.

§I’m going to send the fledglings out here§, Harry said. §You will watch over them until Ramaranth is better§?

§It is as you say, Speaker§, Memzath replied.

Harry nodded to the Weyr Leader, turned and strode back into the cave. The small fire that had been lit in the centre of it that had been providing the light had dwindled. That didn’t stop Harry from freezing at the sight before him.

One of the wizards was currently half missing, only his legs were waving about from underneath Harreth where he sat on him. Spekith had her rear end and tail in the air, her front down on her paws, her snout mere inches from another wizard who had managed to free himself from the ropes that had bound him. As for Potteth, he was currently sitting happily in the corner munching away, bits of wood clattering to the floor with every chew.

§The two-leg wanted to use his stick on us, Speaker§, Painzz defended her brother.

§Works for me§, Harry shrugged.

A number of quick accios had a pile of wands speeding towards him.

§Come along, you four§, Harry said. §But before you go out there, you need to know that Ramaranth was injured by the two-legs. She’ll be alright but she is currently sleeping§.

§We trust you, Speaker§, Spekith stated.

As the four dragons trotted past, Harry swept the witches and wizards in the cave a hard look.

“In case you lot are getting any silly ideas. Just remember, you have no wands and there are about a hundred dragons just outside that door who will roast you alive if you put so much as a nose past that entrance,” he stated.

“Who … who are you?” one of the wizards asked.

“I’m Harry Potter, Speaker of Dragons,” he stated.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

3:10am

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

“You’re sure that this is a good idea?” Sirius asked, not for the first time.

Charlie, on his broom and leading the group of six dragon handlers plus Alexander, Sirius and Remus, looked back and grinned at him.

“You heard Harry’s message just as I did,” he said. “And you also know as well as I do that Harry wouldn’t tell us to come unless he’d already warned the rest of the dragons first.”

“Dragon! A dragon patronus!” Remus crowed. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius grouched. “And I’ve already given you your gold so you don’t have to keep going on about it.”

Charlie’s grin only grew as he remembered the ethereal dragon that had flown down to him. Everyone, every dragon handler in the entire Reserve had seen it. And none had seen its like before. It was a marvel and it was actually miraculous that Charlie’d caught Harry’s message when it began speaking to him.

But then the import of what that message was had hit home. One dragon was down and there were poachers in the Reserve itself. A lot of them by the sound of it. Naturally, everyone there had volunteered to go; in the end Alexander had chosen the six with the most healing knowledge along with himself and Charlie. Sirius and Remus had flatly refused to be left behind, what with Harry still down there, in his pyjamas no less., facing who knew what.

“Right, wands lit and held high,” Alexander commanded as they approached the last corner before Ramaranth’s cave.

Charlie didn’t want any ambiguity with who they were, not when they were approaching what was sure to be a whole mess of angry dragons. He slowed the group right down, his wand arm held high and his other arm ready to pull his broom around at a moment’s notice.

What he wasn’t expecting was to find six bright orbs of light hovering a couple of metres above the canyon floor with a downed dragon right in the centre of them. The fact that there were easily six or eight dozen dragons perched everywhere – on the canyon floor, ledges on the walls, even up on the clifftops, completely surrounding them was also expected.

And extremely disconcerting.

“Hi guys!” Harry called, stepping out from behind a large Horntail that Charlie didn’t immediately recognise. “Glad you finally got here.”

“Harry? You’re okay?” Sirius asked.

“Sure! Why wouldn’t I be?” Harry replied, then, “don’t worry, the dragons know you’re here to help, they won’t get in your way.”

“That’s good to know,” Alexander said, landing and instantly placing his broom on the ground. “Where’s these poachers you mentioned?”

“In Ramaranth’s cave but don’t worry about them. They’re not going anywhere,” Harry replied.

“Not going anywhere,” Remus repeated. “What do you mean, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “They had the fledglings in there, so I went in and … well, I managed to surprise them you see and used some spells to take them down. Here’s all their wands.”

Charlie blinked at the wad of wands being handed to him.

“They’re still in there?” he asked, nodded towards Ramaranth’s cave.

“Yep,” Harry grinned. “And that’s where they’re staying. I’ve told them that if they come out, the dragons will flame them.”

“Will they?” Sirius asked, looked around at the dragons surrounding them.

“I did say that they could if they wanted to and after what they did to Ramaranth, I’m betting that they’d want to,” Harry replied. “How is she?”

Derryn, one of the other dragon handlers, looked up from where he and his fellow handlers were clustered around her.

“She’s just stunned. She’ll be okay by morning, I’d guess,” he said.

Charlie started as Harry looked up at the big Horntail and began hissing at him. As often as he heard Harry speaking parseltongue, every single time it still got to him.

“Now that we know she’ll be alright; would the dragons allow us to take those poachers away?” Alexander asked.

“Just a sec,” Harry replied before once again looking up at the Horntail.

After another conversation that none of the humans could understand, Harry turned to them.

“Memzath doesn’t mind if you take them away, as long as they don’t return. If they do, then he won’t be so lenient again.”

“Lenient?” Charlie asked, half afraid of the answer.

“Yeah,” Harry replied and his green eyes were as hard has flint, something that Charlie had never seen before. “He’s only allowing it because I asked him to. He’d much prefer that they face dragon justice, not only for hurting Ramaranth but also for threatening the fledglings.”

“Dragon justice?” Sirius asked.

“Roasted to death by dragon flame and then eaten,” Harry replied casually.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

6:10am

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

Alexander rubbed his hands over his face, hiding the yawn from any who could see. His eyes felt raw and his chin scratchy, not exactly unexpected when he’d been up most of the night. As unobtrusively as he could, he gave his head a little shake and arched his back, getting some of the kinks out. Hopefully he could manage to catch a couple of hour’s sleep later, but right now, there was still a job to do.

With the letter that he’d just finished writing in hand, he stepped through the open door of his office, his eyes instantly sweeping over their ‘guests’.

Fourteen. How in Merlin’s great saggy balls the kid had got the drop on fourteen adult witches and wizards and taken them all down, he had no idea. And the magic that he used? Basic charms that any kid still in school could use, just in a way that wasn’t even out-of-the-box but out-of-the-bloody-building kind of thing.

And what’s more, Harry didn’t even have his wand with him. Forgot to take it with him, if one could believe that! Wandless! The kid was powerful, of that there was no doubt. Scarily so. That patronus of his proved that.

“Elise!” he called, seeing one of the other handlers sitting, watching the prisoners, her wand in her hand and across her knees.

“Yeah, Boss?” she asked.

“Can you take this and get it sent out, please?” he asked, holding out the letter. “The sooner the aurors get here, the better. I want this scum off the Reserve.”

“No worries, Boss,” she nodded, taking the letter and instantly turning and striding off towards the owlery.

“You’re giving us to the aurors, are ya?” one of the poachers, a man with long, stringy hair and a nose that looked like it’s been broken at least half a dozen times sneered.

“It’s better than the alternative,” Alexander retorted.

The man – the ringleader, Alexander guessed him to be – didn’t move a muscle. His compatriots, though, did, shifting about uncomfortably but whether that was because they were trying to imagine what the alternative was or because they found the muggle zip ties around their ankles and binding their hands behind their backs uncomfortable was hard to tell

“And what’s this alternative, huh? Was ya thinking you could mete out yer own justice?” the man sneered. “You’d never do that, too much a goody goody; why else would ya be here, caring for the beasts when you could be earning millions of galleons from harvesting them?”

Alexander stared hard at the man, his eyes narrowed.

“If I was you, I’d curb that tongue of yours,” he growled.

“Why? Ain’t like you’re going to do anything? And don’t bother threatening us with throwing us to the dragons. Never gonna happen, we both know that, don’t we?” the man replied with a half-laugh.

Alexander couldn’t help himself. He laughed at the poor, deluded sod. It burst forth, fully formed and was so hard that he felt tears at the corner of his eyes. Whether it was because of the absurdity of the man’s statement or because Alexander was tired or a combination of the two, he couldn’t tell and didn’t care.

“What? What’s so funny?” the poacher asked.

Wiping away the moisture from his eyes, Alexander grinned down at the man.

“You being alive right now’s got absolutely nothing to do with me,” he told him. “If things’d gone any differently last night, you would never have left that cave alive. In fact, if you’d harmed one scale on any of those fledglings, you’d be dead. And you can thank your lucky stars that Ramaranth survived or nothing in this world would have saved you.”

“Ramaranth?” one of the other poachers asked.

“The dragon that you stunned. That’s her name,” Alexander told him. “She’s particularly close to young Harry and his wrath would have been terrible.”

“The kid who beat us last night? He got lucky, that’s all, caught us by surprise. He wouldn’ta killed us neither. He ain’t a killer, one look at him’s enough for anyone to see that,” the ringleader mocked.

Alexander snorted. “Try harming one of his dragons and look again.”

“His dragons?” the ringleader asked incredulously.

“You heard him last night, Luka,” one of the others said. “He was talking to them. Like he was one himself. And they was listening to him.”

“They do more than listen,” Alexander stated. “Harry’s the Speaker to the Dragons. Every dragon. In. The. Entire. World. Every one of them will listen to him. He bears their Mark. And when he Speaks, they don’t just listen, they obey!”

Strictly speaking, that last part wasn’t true. Alexander knew that. But the poachers didn’t. And if putting the fear of Merlin, or in this case Harry Potter into this lot managed to spread to the rest of the scum like them, then Alexander had no quibbles with bending the truth just a little.

“Harry’s the only reason you’re still alive right now,” Alexander continued. “He asked the dragons to not flame you, telling them that we’d make sure that you received the punishment that you deserved. Human punishment, that is. And as I said, when the Speaker speaks, the dragons obey. You just think about that while you’re waiting for the aurors to arrive.”

Alexander swept his gaze over the fourteen of them. The fear in most of their eyes, the extreme gulping, the sweat breaking out on foreheads almost almost made him smile. But that could wait until later. For now, he was content to know that his message had been well and truly received and understood.

Chapter Text

8:15am

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

There was something different. Daphne wasn’t sure what it was but she knew it was there. Instinctively, she slowed her pace, her eyes flitting about the Dragon Reserve. No one was running. At least, not quite. But there was definitely a quickened pace to everyone that she saw.

There, a group of four Handlers were striding towards the tree line that marked the bottom of the hill. Another two walked past, their heads bent together, their speech – although not quite understood – was definitely fast. Three flew in low from just over her left shoulder and she ducked, glaring up at them even though there hadn’t been any possibility of collision. The fact that all three seemed to keep moving just as fast on the ground, their brooms now in their hands as they had been in the air, indicated that they were in a hurry.

Yes, Daphne was sure of it. Something was going on. Or had gone on or … or something. Whatever it was gave a taste of excitement, not danger, which only increased Daphne’s curiosity.

But this early in the morning? She shook her head before turning to ask her father’s opinion. She blinked at finding that he was no longer walking beside her. Where her own steps had faltered to the point where she’d nearly stopped, his had only lengthened.

With a huff, Daphne stomped off after him. At least he was easy to find – his broad shoulders in the deep grey cloak was more than halfway to the Big Hall and getting further away with every step but for all that, very easy to see.

Lengthening her own strides meant that she was able to enter the Hall not long after him. The sight of a pair of Handlers all but running at the door had her quickly sidling alongside the wall out of the way.

Here, too, that same air of urgency prevailed. There was movement everywhere, people shifting between the tables or talking animatedly amongst themselves or unexpectedly running off after being given some instruction.

No, she amended, her eyes coming to rest on the end of the far table.

A smaller body was sitting there, hunched over so that his messy dark hair was resting on his arms. There was a blanket draped over him that all but obscured him but still, Daphne knew who it was. She’d know him anywhere.

Her eyes stayed focussed on him even as she weaved her way between the tables and around bodies. Within minutes, she was sliding onto the bench beside him.

His eyes were closed, one cheek scrunched up on his bare arms. Daphne started. Bare arms? Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?

“Harry?” she said gently, letting her hand rest softly on his near side before sliding up his back and around him to curve over his far shoulder.

“Hmm, that feels nice,” he murmured even without opening his eyes. “You better be careful my girlfriend doesn’t catch you doing that.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Daphne replied, unable to hide the smile that instantly blossomed on her face. “I hadn’t heard that you’d actually asked anyone to be your ‘girlfriend’ yet.”

One eye popped open and Daphne gasped. It was bloodshot and there were deep black circles under it.

“Harry? What’s happened? Are you alright?” she asked, forgetting what she really wanted to talk about in her worry for him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he replied.

She shifted slightly as he pushed himself upright, a massive yawn escaping him. His arms stretched right out and she swore that she could hear his back popping as he arched backwards.

“Now, where were we?” he asked as his arm came down and slipped around her waist.

Harry blinked and for a second, his emerald eyes shone as his face lit up with a soft smile.

“I believe that we were talking about how remiss I was,” he replied, answering his own question. “Daphne, would you be my girlfriend?”

She stared at him, her mind oscillating between worry for his haggard appearance – shirtless, bloodshot eyes, hair more tussled than normal – and the wonder, the excitement, the brilliance of his question.

“Yes! Of course, yes,” she replied and quickly raised a finger to stop his lips in their tracks towards her own (something that she really didn’t want to do but her Merlin-be-damned curiosity insisted that she do). “Provided you tell me what’s going on. Why do you look so tired? Why are you shirtless?”

Harry pouted against her finger before pursing his lips to kiss it ever so tenderly. Thankfully, before she could give in, he relented and sat back up. The fact that he left his arm around her waist was something that she wasn’t going to complain about.

“There were poachers,” he replied simply, giving an accompanying shrug.

Daphne stared at him, waiting. But frustratingly, that seemed to be it.

“And?” she all but growled.

“And I had to go help out,” he replied.

“Harry …” she began, her frustrations rising.

“What my dear, deluded godson is not telling you is that the dragons called for him and he went to them as you see him – shirtless, shoeless and still in his pyjama shorts. Well, not quite as you see him; he didn’t have that blanket,” Sirius said appearing on the other side of the table and swinging his leg over the bench to sit down across from them.

Daphne’s head swivelled between the two.

“Called for him?” Daphne repeated. “What exactly does that mean?”

“It means that every dragon here roared at the same time, apparently in parseltongue, calling for Harry there. Woke the entire Reserve up. Surprised you didn’t hear it down where you’re staying,” Sirius replied before his gaze switched to Harry. “You know, godson, I’m most disappointed in you.”

“What? Why? What’d I do?” a clearly-startled Harry yelped, looked decidedly awake for a moment.

“Here you are, a beautiful girl with her arm around you and you have the perfect story to make her even more impressed with you and find you irresistible and charming and brave – and a story that you don’t even need to embellish at that! And here you are, refusing to tell it. No, I am most disappointed. I have failed as a godfather,” Sirius finished with a slow, sad shake of his head that Daphne couldn’t resist laughing at.

“Are you saying that I don’t know how to charm women?” Harry asked.

“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sirius replied. “Unless you can prove me wrong?”

“Firstly, godfather, we haven’t been around each other long enough for you to have failed or succeeded in teaching me whatever it is that you’re trying to imply,” Harry told him, a statement that had Sirius visibly wincing. “Secondly, I would like to point out that I’m the one with the beautiful girl in my arms, not you, so whatever I’m doing, I’m obviously doing it right.”

Daphne couldn’t help it. She laughed. Sirius’ hurt and indignant look was just too much for her.

“He’s got you there, Padfoot,” Remus said, joining them.

“He doesn’t have to rub it in, though,” Sirius grouched.

“If he didn’t, then I would,” Remus said lightly. “Now, Harry, as your honorary Uncle, I will give you this one piece of advice to do with as you will. It’s not nice to keep a lady waiting. If you haven’t told Daphne what happened last night and I’m going to assume that she’s asked, then it behoves you to do so quickly.”

“Well?” Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow, her gaze firmly fixed on her new boyfriend.

Harry sighed, dropped his head momentarily, before lifting it to look back at her.

“It’s as I said, there were poachers,” Harry began. “And yes, the dragons bellowed. They wanted, no needed me there. So, I went as quickly as I could, which meant not worrying about stopping to put on a shirt. They’d already stunned Ramaranth and they had the fledglings trapped in the cave. I suspect that the poachers were going to kill the fledglings and sell them on the Black Market.”

“I really wish they had a different name for that,” Sirius muttered but both Daphne and Harry ignored him.

“The dragons wouldn’t go in for fear of hurting the fledglings themselves, so … so,” here Harry paused and ran a hand through his hair.

“So …” Daphne prompted before her brain filled in the most dangerous, most ridiculous thing that she could think of. “Please don’t tell me that you went into a cave full of grown witches and wizards by yourself armed with only your wand!”

“Okay, I won’t, ’cause I didn’t,” Harry replied happily.

For the briefest of seconds, Daphne was happy. The Harry she knew didn’t race off into danger. No. He painted or went fishing or made weird shoes that walked on plants or something else utterly ridiculous. But never dangerous. Of that she was positive.

But hearing Remus and Sirius sniggering and seeing Harry’s smug face morph into one of near fear told her that she was wrong. For some inexplicable, idiotic reason, this time Harry had raced into danger.

“Harry,” she groaned. “What did you do?”

His eyes darted about as though he was looking for an escape before locking back on hers and dropping.

“I ran into a cave full of adult witches and wizards by myself without my wand.”

The last was whispered and it was only the fact that she was listening for it that Daphne heard it. Her hand acted on instinct, not that she would have stopped it even if she’d thought about it, after all, she’d seen her mother do the same thing to her father more than once.

“Ow! What was that for?” Harry complained, rubbing the back of his head.

“Maybe next time you’ll think before doing something so recklessly stupid!” she retorted. Then, “how are you still alive?”

“Um, because I can do wandless magic?” he replied sheepishly.

Daphne closed her eyes. “Of course you can.”

“Did a right good job of taking them all down, too. You wouldn’t believe some of the spells that he used,” Sirius supplied happily. “And then he got the baby dragons to sit on the bad guys.”

“And summoned us,” Remus beamed and Daphne was sure that there was something else there that she hadn’t been told.

“Harry?” she asked warningly.

Thankfully, he got it.

“I produced my first real patronus and a messenger patronus at that,” he replied happily. “It’s a dragon.”

“A patronus,” Daphne stated flatly. “I know you said that you’d been practicing but … a patronus? At your age? That’s … that’s …”

She finished with a shake of her head. No one that she’d ever heard of had been able to produce a patronus at fifteen. Hell, not many adults could produce one. She wasn’t even sure if her father could and he was one of the strongest wizards that Daphne knew.

And then her brain froze, her head snapping up to stare at her boyfriend.

“Yes, he did it wandlessly,” Remus supplied for her. “And no, Harry has no idea what that means.”

“Yes, I do,” the boy in question protested. “I produced a patronus just as you’d been teaching me!”

Daphne stared at him for a long moment before tearing her gaze away to stare at Remus.

“Do you want to explain it to him or shall I?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Harry,” Daphne said, turning back to him and she noted the confusion in his eyes. “Harry. Did you truly cast a patronus without your wand?”

“Yeah, I’d left my wand in my room,” he replied. “There was no other way. And to be honest, I didn’t even realise I’d done any of those spells at all without it until Remus pointed it out to me.”

“But Harry, there are only a handful of witches and wizards that are strong enough to produce a patronus in any country and, of them, none – at least that I’ve heard of – can do it without a wand.”

“They can’t?” he blinked.

“No, they can’t,” she replied in a voice that she hoped that would make him understand the importance of what he’d done. “To be honest, there are a lot of things that you can do that most adult magicals can’t do. Your ball of light for example – which you still need to teach me how to do – not to mention all of the other wandless spells that you can do.”

“I’m sure that everyone could do it if they tried,” Harry protested. “I … I just got an advantage having to learn how to control my magic without a wand.”

“She’s right, kiddo,” Sirius stated. “You’re powerful. Real powerful. Scary powerful.”

“Which is why it’s my job to help you understand how to use that power effectively and appropriately,” Remus quickly added.

“Can you … can you show me. Your patronus, I mean? I’d love to see it,” Daphne asked in a rush.

“Sure,” Harry beamed.

A strange look came over his face as he stared at her. It was a smile of pure happiness, of bliss, of something that she could only hope at. His eyes shone and the arm around her waist tightened slightly.

And then he thrust out his other hand, away from them, his eyes never once leaving hers.

“Expecto patronum!”

A streak of silver erupted from his hand in a cloudy stream before coalescing into a shining silver dragon. It flew up, its great ghostly wings beating as it soared around the room. Instantly, every voice vanished, every body stilled as everyone stared up at the sight. The dragon continued its flight around the room before returning to Harry, its wings furling as it landed.

And then, it simply faded away.

Daphne continued staring at the spot, still trying to force herself to believe what she’d just seen. That was, until she felt Harry slump slightly. She switched focus onto him to find that the bags under his eyes had grown alarmingly and his head was drooping.

“Harry?” she all-but-cried in alarm.

“I’m alright,” he mumbled. “Just tired.”

A large hand landed on Harry’s shoulder steading him and Daphne looked up to see the Head Dragon Handler standing there.

“That’s enough of that, lad,” Alexander said. “You’re all done in and pumping out excess magic like that’ll mean you’ll be sleeping for days. Not something your girl will appreciate, not after having come all this way to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I reckon you’re right,” Harry nodded.

“Good lad,” he said, patting Harry on the shoulder. His gaze switched to Daphne and she noticed that he actually had quite caring-looking brown eyes, something that she wouldn’t have expected from the rough-looking man. “How about you take him back to his cabin, lass.”

“I can do that,” she nodded. “Come on, Harry, up you get, I’m not carrying you there; you’re going to have to help me by walking yourself.”

With a nod, he complied. Then, arms around each other, they slowly began making their way towards the door that seemed such a long, long way away.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

8:40am

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

The three men at the table – two sitting, one standing – watched the teens go before Alexander turned back to the other two.

“Got a letter here for you,” he said, pulling out one envelope from the stack in his hand.

“Thanks,” Sirius said, reaching across to take it.

“Any news on how those poachers got in?” Remus asked.

Alexander’s face darkened at the question.

“Yeah. Charlie’s team found a breach in the wards,” he replied. “They used an ingenious little device that pumped out just enough magic to create a localised hole. It was big enough for a person to crawl through on their bellies, small enough to avoid sounding an alarm. Never seen the like of it before.”

“At least you’ve got it now,” Sirius said. “What are you going to do with it? Hand it to the aurors, destroy it or study it?”

“Having it doesn’t ease my mind,” Alexander retorted. “Where there’s one of these things, there’s bound to be more. No. The aurors’ll get it, right enough, but not until after we’ve found out how the thing works. If’n we can do that, then we can add extra layers to the wards so that no other poachers can get in using one of those Merlin-be-damned things.”

“That could take a while,” Remus warned.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Sirius corrected. “My family delved into ‘ward busters’ and ‘toothpicks’ and all kinds of dark devices that would get you into places you shouldn’t be. From what I remember from my dear old dad, those things are notoriously difficult to make and even harder to counter.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way,” Alexander stated before holding up the stack of letters in his hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a few more of these to deliver and a couple I’ll need to answer myself.”

“Do you have any books in the Black library that could help them work it out?” Remus asked.

“Probably,” Sirius answered although his mind wasn’t quite on the question.

“Padfoot?” Remus asked.

Sirius looked up into the eyes of his oldest friend. “Moony, why would the Regent Longbottom be writing to us? She hates us.”

“Well, after what the four of us and Frank did to her drawing room that time, I’d say her feelings were quite justified,” Remus replied and his serious tone was completely undone by the twitching in the corners of his mouth at the memory that the both of them were obviously thinking about. “As to why she’d be writing, I can think of only one way to find out.”

“You mean open it?” an alarmed Sirius asked, staring down at the letter in his hand in horror. “What if it’s booby-trapped?”

“This is Augusta Longbottom, not one of the Marauders,” Remus countered incredulously. “Just open the damn letter.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

1:05pm

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

It’d been one of the longest days that Alexander could remember and it was barely lunchtime. Still, the important stuff had been dealt with.

The hole in the wards had been repaired. The device had been taken to a magical artificer that Alexander himself knew and trusted; they’d used the man before so there was no fear that the device would be copied and used against them.

The aurors had even already left with the men and women who’d broken into the Reserve in tow not half and hour before.

Alexander had stood there, watching as the group had been roped together ready to be portkeyed to the nearest auror headquarters. The fact that four of them had visibly flinched and shied backwards nearly toppling the lot of them to the ground right before the portkey had activated had confused Alexander. That was until he realised what it was that had frightened the poachers: the sight of young Harry emerging from his cabin, one arm around that girl of his, to stand there, staring at them. Alexander couldn’t stop the smirk that appeared on his face. Yes, he’d done well there, putting the fear of the Speaker of Dragons into those men. Hopefully, that fear would spread.

Thinking of young Harry Potter had Alexander glancing back down at the letter on his desk.

Pushing aside his plate, he picked up the parchment again and read it through.

The request wasn’t unreasonable. In fact, it was down-right polite, much more polite than one he’d write if the situation was reversed. The question, though, was simple enough. Was the boy ready?

Oh, he’d picked up the basics right well. Better than most, at that and twice as fast. Of course, being able to talk to the dragons likely helped there. But it was still very early days. The boy had only been with them for a little over a week. Was it right to send him on his way already?

Folding the letter, Alexander leant back in his chair and let his eyes stare off into the distance. The tap, tap, tap of the parchment against his chin was almost soothing, the familiar action helping him to gather his thoughts.

It was an English-speaking Reserve, so there was that. Language wouldn’t be a problem, like it was here at times. Luckily, the majority of the Handlers here in Romania spoke English as a first, second or even third language, something that helped considering that they had yet to start the boy’s Romanian language lessons.

And he wouldn’t be alone, either. Black and Lupin would go. Charlie, too, Alexander decided. The two of them had a good rapport building and Charlie could benefit from visiting some of the other Reserves. He could learn some extra techniques to bring back and, as a bonus, Charlie’d be that much closer to getting his own Mastery, something that at that moment he was still a year away from.

The decision had been made. Really, there hadn’t been anything to decide. The boy’s contract made it clear. He wasn’t just contracted to the Romanian Dragon Reserve but to all the Sanctuaries and Reserves that had signed.

Alexander glanced up at the clock. Ordinarily, the boy’d be with Charlie right then, checking a couple of the dragons’ health, making sure there was no scale rot evident or cracks in their hide starting to appear, not to mention their wing membranes, teeth and eyes. Not today, though. After what the boy, Harry, had done the night before and especially with how much magic he’d used, he was on bed rest for the rest of the day.

It was just a shame that Harry was going to have to say goodbye to his girl so soon after she’d arrived. Still, that was the nature of the job and why almost all Dragon Handlers remained single.

So, talk to Harry, Black and Lupin first. Check the portkey second and speak to Charlie when he came back up from his rounds.

That’d give them plenty of time to prepare and to take a portkey first thing in the morning before breakfast. With the time difference and allowing for the half hour stop in New Delhi, that should have them arriving at the Preserve in time for breakfast exactly forty-five minutes after leaving here. Or dinner. Or whatever meal the four of them wanted to call it.

Levering himself out of his chair, Alexander tossed the letter to his desk and strode forth to get the job done.

Chapter Text

1:45pm

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

Harry had been called to the Headmaster’s office more times than he could count in his life.

Most of those times had been during his primary school days when he’d been blamed for and subsequently taken the fall for a vast array of ‘crimes’, most of them in actuality committed by his cousin Dudley. The most common had been fighting, cheating, stealing, lying and back chatting the teachers. He’d been punished with detentions and lines galore, some of them even for things that no one had done, the result of stories made up by Dudders and his gang.

Once he’d entered high school and he and Dudley had gone their separate ways – Harry to Stonewall and Dudley to Smeltings – Harry’d spent less time being hauled before the Headmaster. Of course, the fact that Piers, Dudley’s best friend, had also gone to Stonewall High had ensured that Harry was blamed for more offences than he ever committed.

Then had come Hogwarts. There, at a brand new school where there was no Dudley, no Piers and no one who knew him from his time in Little Whinging, Harry’d thought that he’d finally finally be free from visits to the Headmaster’s Office. How wrong he’d been! The only difference there had been that, instead of people his own age being the ones manipulating things to get him into trouble, it’d been the Headmaster himself!

Now, when he wasn’t even in school anymore, unless one counted his daily tutorial sessions, his fear of being hauled before the person in charge was apparently still valid.

“Harry. Charlie. Sirius,” Alexander greeted each with a nod. “Come in. Take a seat.”

Alexander’s title might be Head Dragon Handler but, really there was little difference. Just like a Headmaster in charge of his school, Alexander was the Man in charge of the Dragon Reserve.

As had become his habit, Harry looked around the room as he crossed it to sit in front of the big desk.

This was not an office like any that he’d seen before. Not even the goblin’s office at Gringotts was like this. It wasn’t neat and tidy with everything in its place. It wasn’t designed to intimidate – at least, Harry assumed not, because it didn’t.

What it did have was clutter. Piles of parchment that threatened to topple at the slightest touch or breeze rose from both sides of Alexander’s desk and the side table set against the wall. The bookshelves that lined one wall had countless books – some on their sides where their titles were easy to read, others in small haphazard stacks and a few that looked like they’d simply been tossed wherever they’d fit.

Knickknacks filled what remained of the space on the shelves and the side table, mostly bits of bone or dragon’s teeth. A long, dragonhide cloak was tossed over the back of one chair. And, to complete the décor, three big maps of the Reserve – Canyon, surrounding area and the settlement had been stuck to the wall.

Oddly, the three chairs that were set in front of the desk, behind which Alexander was sitting, were empty. Somehow, Harry suspected that Alexander had emptied them of their contents just before they’d walked in.

“Boss,” Charlie nodded.

“Hi,” Harry replied and instantly cleared his throat from whatever was stopping him from speaking properly.

“Alexander,” Sirius said, taking the seat on the left, leaving the centre chair for Harry.

“Thanks for coming,” Alexander replied.

Harry watched him smooth out a piece of parchment on his desk and take a quick glance down at it.

“We’ve got a problem,” Alexander stated.

Instantly, Harry started. It seemed that he’d been right; this was exactly like being hauled before the school Headmaster.

“Boss?” Charlie asked, leaning forward and Harry could see the frown on his face.

“I received a letter this morning,” Alexander said, tapping the parchment on the desk. “As you know, Harry, you’re contracted to work with the Dragon Reserves of the World.”

Harry nodded wondering where this was going.

“You’ve started here – and remember that this is your home base, no matter where you are in the world – because we were the ones to start the quaffle rolling,” Alexander said. “It’s here that you’ll do most of your training and, as you know, it’s where Charlie is contracted to as well, him being your Master.”

Again, Harry nodded, this time noticing that Sirius’ eyes were slightly narrowed at Alexander.

“Originally, it was our intention to give you a really good grounding of dragon lore and what it took to take care of dragons before you would begin your rotation through the rest of the Reserves in maybe six months or so,” Alexander continued.

“Harry’s further along than any of us guessed that he would be,” Charlie offered.

“How far?” Alexander asked, his eyes switching between his Handler and Harry.

“Hard to say,” Charlie shrugged. “Maybe a month in some things; years beyond the rest of us in others. No one predicted how Harry being able to talk to the dragons would impact his regular training.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Alexander nodded. “You’ve been doing as much teaching as learning, from what I’ve seen, Lad. Which is why this,” and here he sharply tapped the parchment in front of him, “has come at both a good and a bad time.”

“Another Reserve wants him?” Sirius more stated than asked.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Alexander replied.

“I’m guessing that there’s a problem?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, there is,” Alexander replied grimly.

“There’s a problem with some dragons? How can I help?” Harry instantly asked.

Unexpectedly, Alexander threw his head back and laughed.

“And that’s why we wanted you so badly,” Alexander stated. “You’re a Dragon Handler through and through!”

Harry wasn’t sure whether to be proud or embarrassed, after all, getting praised for anything was still so rare an occurrence.

“We’ve been requested by the Australian Dragon Preserve to send Harry along to talk to their dragons,” Alexander said, once again tapping the parchment. For an instant, he looked thoughtful before slightly shaking his head. “They haven’t said much about what the problem is in here and I think that I’ll hold off on telling you even as little as they have. They’ll explain it to you when you get there.”

“Hold on!” Sirius exclaimed. “The Australasian Dragon Preserve? That’s what? On the other side of the world?”

“In Australia, yes,” Alexander replied. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be sending you along this early in your training, Lad, but when it comes to you and dragons, nothing is ‘ordinary’. Harry, you can talk to the dragons and they’re teaching you just as much as you’re learning from the rest of us. Add in the fact that Australia is an English-speaking country, so language won’t be a problem, and I’m happy to send you along.”

Harry sat back in his chair, completely flabbergasted. Australia? Until a couple of weeks ago, he hadn’t even been out of the United Kingdom! Now he was being sent to the other side of the world! At least he’d get to meet some more dragons …

His mind shut down for an instant and when it rebooted, he had a massive grin on his face. He’d be meeting more dragons! Maybe even a different breed from the ones here in Romania. He’d get to talk to them and see how they lived and learn about them …

His mind was spinning so fast, that he almost missed what Alexander was saying.

“Both of you will be going with Harry. Harry’s your Apprentice, Charlie and this’ll be a learning experience for you as well. Learn everything that you can and bring it back to teach the rest of us. It’ll be experiences like this that’ll get you your Beast Mastery Certificate in a year, if not less. Sirius, I know that you’ll be wanting to go with Harry; Remus, too, I’m guessing. That’s all being arranged. I’ll have your portkey ready to go in two hours.”

“Two hours!” Harry blurted. “That’s not enough time!”

Alexander’s steely gaze landing on him had Harry swallowing.

“I … I mean, I have to tell Daphne – Daphne! She hasn’t been here all that long and now I have to say goodbye?” Once again Harry swallowed, dreading that conversation. “And I’ll need to tell Newt as well. And then Ramaranth and the rest of the dragons! Believe me, that alone is going to take way more than two hours!”

Alexander stared at him, seemingly weighing his words before nodding.

“You’re probably right there, Lad, especially when it comes to those dragons. I do not want a mob of angry dragons swooping up out of that canyon at us trying to find you. How’s eight hours?”

Considering all the conversations that he knew he had to have, Harry wasn’t sure if eighteen hours would be enough. Still, he’d take what he could get.

“It should do,” he replied.

Now, all he needed to do was decide which conversation to have first!

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

2:30pm

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

Of the three, there was really only one choice; of that, Harry was certain.

One particular talk might leave him even more excited than he would be when he started the conversation.

Another might have him being growled at or flamed or dropped from a thousand feet up with no wings or broom to catch him.

The last option was Daphne. Harry shuddered at what she might do to him when he told her that he was leaving. Or worse, what she’d do to him if he told her last.

His steps faltered. Maybe telling the dragons first might be the safer option?

With a shake of his head, Harry resumed walking. He still had no idea what House he would have been Sorted into if Dumbledore had gotten his way and this situation was no help whatsoever. Was he simply being brave like the Gryffindors or was it self-preservation that he was exhibiting, a decidedly Slytherin trait? Perhaps he was simply being as smart as a Ravenclaw or being loyal to the girl he … had … strong … feelings … for?

Whatever the reason or motivation, this was still the best thing to do.

As he stepped up to the cabin at the base of the mountain below where the Reserve was, he raised his hand and knocked, a lot more confidently than he felt.

Almost as though someone had been standing directly on the other side of the door, it was instantly yanked open and Harry came face to face with a younger version of his girlfriend.

“Hi, Astoria!” he said.

“Hiya, Harry!” she beamed, almost bouncing on her toes. “Are you here to see Daphne?”

“Please,” he said in a strained voice.

“Oh, Daphne! Harry’s here to see you!” Astoria yelled in a sing-song voice, a massive grin on her face.

Unfortunately, the person who next appeared in the doorway wasn’t Daphne.

“Mister Potter,” Cyrus Greengrass greeted.

“Excuse me, Daddy,” Daphne said, pushing her way through the crowded doorway. The frown on her face aimed at her father and sister morphed into a wide smile at the sight of Harry standing there. “Come on, Harry, let’s go for a walk.”

Harry barely managed a nod to Mister Greengrass and a slight smile to Astoria before he felt his hand being grabbed and he was led away at rather a rapid pace.

Before long, they’d rounded the corner to take them out of view of the cabin and Daphne slowed her near run to a gentle amble.

“Sorry about that, Harry,” she said, glancing at him. “You’ve no idea how annoying having a sister can be at times.”

“Why? What’s Astoria been doing?” he asked.

“It’s not so much what she’s been doing, it’s more what she’s been saying,” Daphne replied. “And no, before you ask, I’m not going to tell you.”

Harry looked at her askance. She’d just really piqued his curiosity but if there was one thing Harry knew about her, it was about how stubborn she could be. Reluctantly, he decided to drop it.

“You surprised me today, Harry,” Daphne said, clearly changing the topic. “I thought you were working down in the canyon today and that I wouldn’t get to see you until dinner?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to be,” Harry replied, running a hand through his hair. “I got called in to see Alexander and it’s …”

Harry trailed off, unsure how to continue.

Beside him, Daphne stopped, her hand giving a sharp tug on his that forcing him to spin about even as he went to take that extra step. He came to a stop facing her. Her eyes, so brilliantly blue bored into his and he was sure that she was trying to read his very thoughts out of his expression.

“Harry? What’s wrong? Why were you called in to see Alexander?” she asked.

Harry sighed. There was no getting around this, as much as he wanted to.

“I’m being sent away. To another Reserve in another country,” he rushed, so fast that even he could barely understand the words coming out of his own mouth.

He watched the frown on her face as she obviously replayed his words. He knew the instant that she understood – her eyes narrowed and her lips grew thin.

“Repeat that!” she snapped. “This time, slower and with more information!”

“I’m being sent to the Australian Dragon Preserve,” he said quietly, his eyes dropping to look anywhere but at his girlfriend’s eyes. “Apparently there’s some problem there and they’ve requested that I go help.”

“They can do that?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s part of my contract that I visit every Reserve; they all signed it,” Harry replied, his eyes darting back up to meet hers. He hated seeing the sad look in her eyes but there wasn’t much he could do about it. “Alexander said that I wasn’t supposed to start moving about between the Reserves for a while yet but this is exceptional circumstances.”

“And the fact that it’s an English-speaking one doesn’t hurt either,” Daphne stated.

“Right,” Harry agreed. “I’m so sorry, Daph. I know you and your family came here especially to see me and you haven’t been here all that long and now, with us just beginning to explore an actual us is, the timing couldn’t be worse. If I could change it, I would …”

Daphne’s finger came up to rest against his lips, stopping him mid-sentence.

“It’s okay, Harry, I get it,” she said before frowning. “Well, no, it’s not okay, but I understand. It’s completely out of your control. When do you leave?”

“Late tonight,” Harry replied. “The time difference, you know? And I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for. Could be days, could be weeks.”

“But either way, we’ll be back in England before you get back,” Daphne sighed before straightening. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make the most of this afternoon then.”

Harry smiled as he stepped forward and let his hands land on her hips before sliding around towards her back. He kept his eyes fixed on hers even as he brought his lips to hers in a long, lingering kiss that resulted in both of their eyes drifting closed.

When finally they parted, Harry let his forehead rest on hers.

“Well, Miss Greengrass, any thoughts on what you’d like to do for the rest of the day?”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

4:15pm

Monday, 8 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania

.

§Why have you brought an outsider here, Speaker§?

While Memzath’s question was asked in what could be thought of as a light tone for a dragon, Harry could hear the undertone of warning in the Weyr Leader’s voice.

§Memzath, this is Daphne, my girlfriend§, Harry replied, looking down at their linked hands even as he tugged her closer from where she lingered behind him. §I wanted to introduce you to her before I left§.

§Left, Speaker§? Memzath asked, his long neck swinging around and angling downwards so that his great head was all but resting on the ground, his eye as close to Harry’s as possible.

§Yes, Weyr Leader§, Harry replied. §I have been told that there are dragons in Australia that are in trouble. I’m being sent there to help them§.

Memzath eyed him for nearly a minute before his head unexpectedly rose, forcing Harry’s head to tilt right back.

§Which dragons live in this Weyr that you are going to§? Memzath asked.

§Antipodean Opaleyes§, Harry replied. §I’ve never met any dragons like them before§.

§No, there are none of their kind here in our Weyr§, Memzath stated. §If these dragons are suffering, then it is only right that you go to them, Speaker, and Speak for them§.

Harry nodded. He honestly didn’t know what the problem was and doubted that they were suffering but the sentiment sounded right.

§The thing is, I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone§, Harry told the Weyr Leader, §but I will be coming back. This is my home Weyr and even when I visit the other Weyrs, I will always come back§.

§It is right that you go, Speaker. You bear our Mark and will be recognised by all dragons, even the hidden ones and our silent cousins§.

That wasn’t the first time that Harry’d heard mention of the ‘hidden ones’ or the ‘silent cousins’. But exactly who or what they were or where they were was still a mystery to him. Every time that he’d questioned Memzath or Ramaranth or one of the other dragons about it, all he’d be told was that he wasn’t ‘ready’ yet. Whatever that meant.

§As you say, Memzath§, Harry replied in lieu of questioning.

§Go, Speaker. See to the dragons of this far Weyr§, Memzath said before his great head dipped once more, only this time for the great eye to settle on Daphne.

Harry felt her pressing up tight behind him, a small whimper escaping her and he reached around and gave her as reassuring a squeeze as possible.

“Harry?” she whispered, fear clear in her voice.

“It’s okay,” he replied. “Memzath is just looking at you, he’d never hurt you.”

§Worry not for your mate, Speaker§, the Weyr Leader stated and continued right over the top of Harry’s protest at Daphne’s designation. §She is known now and will be watched over while she is here§.

“Harry?” Daphne asked.

“It’s okay,” he repeated. “Memzath is just saying that you’re welcome here.”

There was absolutely no way that Harry would ever tell her exactly what Memzath had said. Mate? Really? He guessed it was a cultural thing, girlfriend being a foreign concept to dragons. The two of them had enough cultural differences to work out between them without adding a third culture into the mix. Especially when one of them wasn’t even human!

§Thank you, Memzath. Until soon§. Harry said, giving the great dragon a bow before turning and with one arm around Daphne, heading for the exit to the Chamber.

There was still a little time left before dinner and then when he set to leave and he intended on spending every second of that time with his girlfriend.

Chapter Text

3:50pm

Tuesday, 9 August 1995

Just outside the Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

He tried. Really, he did. He knew what he was supposed to do; after all, not only had both Remus and Sirius been instructing him all day but he’d also experienced it twice already that day. And this time should have been easier, being the shortest of the three trips.

But, despite his attempts, he failed. Spectacularly.

Harry felt his body being flung forward as the portkey released him. His arms and legs flailed about as he tried to stop himself only for him to taste dirt and grass as he landed face first and skidded to a stop.

“That’s your worst landing yet!” Sirius barked with laughter.

Spitting out the last of the grass, Harry glared around and up.

“Really, Harry, it’s quite simple,” Remus added, not even appearing to hide the broad grin on his face. “Keep your legs moving when you feel the portkey approaching its destination and you’ll stay on your feet.

“Easy for you to say,” Harry groused. “I think magical travel just hates me.”

“You did fine between England and Romania,” Sirius commented. “Maybe you just need more practice.”

Harry speared him with as loathsome a look as he could manage as he climbed to his feet. It was only then that he noticed that the three of them weren’t alone. Nor were the other two the only ones seemingly amused by his less-than-graceful landing.

“G’day. Welcome to the Australasian Dragon Preserve. I’m guessing you’re Harry Potter? And you two are Sirius Black and Remus Lupin,” the man said. “Charlie Weasley, good ta see ya again.”

Harry gave the man a once over as Charlie stepped forward and shook the offered hand.

He was a small man, much shorter than any of the other three there and wiry. But even with that, he gave off a feeling of strength, as though his sim build, thinning grey-streaked black hair and dark leathery skin was but a façade that most people would be fooled by.

“Guys,” Charlie said, turning back to look at them. “Meet Andrew Wululu.”

“Call me Andy,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” Sirius said. “How do you two know each other?”

“I did a stint over in Romania a few years back as part of my Mastery,” Andy replied, slapping Charlie on his shoulder. “Guess it’s your turn now, hey?”

“I guess it is at that,” Charlie grinned. “Although I’m mainly here with Harry.”

Andy’s coal-black eyes settled on Harry then and he had an urge to shudder at their intensity.

“I’ve been hearing stories about you, Harry Potter. ‘Speaker’ they call you.”

“That’s what the dragons call me,” Harry shrugged. “At least the ones in Romania. I haven’t met any dragons from any other Reserve so I’m not sure what they’ll think of me.”

“You’ve got that Mark,” Andy said, nodding at Harry’s forehead. “I’m betting that’ll give you all the ‘in’ that you need.”

“Besides, you can talk to dragons, Harry,” Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll be right.”

“Why did you need me to come? Is something wrong with the dragons here?” Harry asked.

“That’s for tomorrow. Let’s get you lot settled and grab some grub,” Andy said. “Here. Put these on.”

Harry reached out and took one of the leather thongs that Andy held out to him and looked it over curiously. The piece of wood that dangled from it wasn’t one that he’d ever encountered so he assumed that it was native to Australia. It was a deep reddish-brown and felt coarse to his fingers.

“Eucalyptus,” Andy stated and Harry looked up and nodded at him.

He’d heard of eucalyptus, usually in relation to koalas. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going get a supply of it while he was here; probably even see about using it to carve a native animal as well.

“Woah!”

At Sirius’ exclamation, Harry looked up and felt his eyes instantly widen.

He’d thought that they’d arrived on top of a grassy hill. On one side had supposedly been forest that stretched as far as the eye could see; the other ocean, although from this vantage point he couldn’t see the beach itself.

Now, though, now the forest was gone. In its place were miles of undulating hills and valleys, most made from sand and grass. And just to one side was a cluster of half a dozen buildings, all with wide verandas and plenty of windows.

“Where’d the forest go?” he blurted.

“Magic,” Andy chuckled. “This entire section of the coast is blanketed in wards and charms that’ll stop everyone – magical and not – from seeing this place or wanting to go anywhere near it.”

“These key us into the wards?” Remus asked, touching the piece of eucalyptus that dangled from his neck.

“Sure do,” Andy beamed. “Come on, then.”

A bare half dozen metres down from the top of the hill, Harry felt a tingle wash over him – the magic of the wards, he reasoned. Shortly after that, their feet encountered the path that meandered down towards the buildings below.

Once past the wards, the dirt path that they’d been treading morphed into cobblestone, a much more practical material than the dirt and gave infinitely more assurance when walking compared to the sandy hills that surrounded them.

The walk down took a surprisingly long time and Harry found himself sweating, a phenomenon that he simply couldn’t reconcile.

“I know that it’s winter here,” he commented, “and I also know that it doesn’t snow here in Australia but I honestly didn’t expect it to be this hot!”

“Temperature’s relative,” Sirius laughed. “I’m sure that the natives think this is cold, whereas, from our perspective of England, Scotland and even Romania, this is almost balmy.”

“And you aren’t quite correct about the snow, Mister Potter,” Andy said. “It snows in this country, just not up here. Head a couple of thousand kilometres south and you’ll find plenty.”

“A couple of thousand?” Harry goggled. “Just how big is Australia?”

“To put it in a perspective that you’ll understand,” Remus said from the rear, “you could easily fit the United Kingdom into Australia more than thirty times over.”

“Woah!” Harry replied, his eyes wide.

“Thus why it’s not so hard to hide this Reserve here,” Andy commented.

Harry’s eyes were drawn once more to the great undulating hills of sand and grass that stretched as far as the eye could see, all the way to the ocean. There were dragons here. There. He was certain of it, even if he couldn’t see them.

There were no obvious caves for them to sleep in but Harry knew that they’d still want to have a nest or a patch of ground, a place that they called ‘home’. It was an integral part of who they were.

“Where are the dragons?” he asked.

“Tomorrow, Mister Potter,” Andy replied and Harry could hear the smile in his voice.

Knowing that he had no choice, Harry tore his gaze from the horizon and focussed on the here and now.

The small settlement wasn’t greatly different from the one at the Romanian Reserve. There was a cluster of a dozen buildings on one side of a great green area; another grouping of huts opposite it and a huge building at the far end. But where the Big Building in Romania resembled something out of the time of Vikings, this one was much more open and airy with a wide veranda that spanned the length of the building.

The barest of thoughts was enough for Harry to understand and approve, not that his approval meant anything. In Romania, the cold prevailed, even in the height of summer and thus, the warmth that the close stone and thick walls of the Great Building would be needed. Here, where even the winters were warmer than some English summer days, the lighter, airier design of this building made perfect sense.

“We have set aside the building on the edge for you, Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin. As you you, Charlie, you’re in the hut beside them,” Andy stated, pointing out the cabins that he meant. “I understand that the time difference for you means that it’s likely that you won’t be hungry right now, however, once you’ve settled, please come up to the Lodge and meet the rest of the Handlers.”

“We’ll do that. Thank you,” Remus replied for them. “Thank you.”

With that, Andy nodded and walked on, leaving the three of them standing on the edge of the settlement.

“Come on, you two, let’s see how different it is here in the Land Down Under,” Sirius grinned before striding off along the path.

Quickly, Harry followed. Much like the now-named Lodge, these small cabins also had a veranda attached and Harry paused to run his hand over the wood. Pine; he’d thought so.

As with the cabin back in Romania, the inside of this one was not reflected in the outside dimensions. It had been magicked to be the size of a house approximating the house on Privet Drive, if Privet Drive had been a single level instead of two.

Noting the candles set on sconces at regular intervals around the walls and the lack of a fireplace, Harry willed fire and beamed when every candle in the large open-plan living room burst into flame. Professor Flitwick would be so proud of him if he could see him now.

“There are three bedrooms and a bathroom back here,” Sirius called. “Shotgun the master!”

“Don’t you think that Harry should get first option of that room?” Remus replied with a frown. “After all, without him, none of us would be here.”

“It’s okay, Uncle Moony; he can have it. I don’t need much,” Harry replied.

Harry knew that Remus was frowning at his back but he chose to ignore it in favour of finding a room for himself.

After wandering along the corridor and noting which room Sirius had appropriated, Harry decided to choose the one furtherest away. It wasn’t that he was deliberately picking the smallest, not at all. The truth of the matter was that he was deliberately choosing the room furtherest from Sirius’ snoring. Really, for a grown wizard, one would think that he could put up a simple silencing charm!

The room was simple: bed, dresser, side table, large window. Adornments were also simple: light blue curtains, an oval mirror over the dresser, and a painting of a dragon in flight.

Unsurprisingly, Harry was instantly drawn to the painting. Oil, he recognised before he’d even taken a single step. And not magical he realised before he’d taken the second; after all, it neither moved nor had a magical ‘feel’ to it.

The dragon it depicted was unlike any dragon that he’d ever seen at the Reserve or even at the TriWiz (the Chinese Fireball and Welch Green both being dragons that the Reserve didn’t house.

No, this dragon was, in a word, breathtaking. Its scales were the purest shades of pearl, giving off soft pinks and creams primarily with a hint of reds and orange where the artist had captured the reflection of the unseen sun. Its wings were spread wide as it glided over the ocean, its head pointed down as though it was examining the waves below. And its eyes! They were stunning! Multifaceted in both design and colour.

Slowly, he reached out a hand, stroking the dragon’s back, the feel of the oil beneath his fingers textured enough to fool him into believing that he could, in fact, be touching the actual dragon.

“Ah, there you are, Harry.”

Remus’ unexpected voice startled him and had him jumping out of his trance with a shake of his head.

“Hi. Yeah. Sorry. Were you calling me?” he babbled.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Remus smiled, coming to stand beside Harry and gaze at the painting with him. “And to think that, tomorrow, you’ll get to meet some of its kind! Very few wizards in the world get to see dragons at all, even fewer get the opportunity to experience an Antipodean Opaleye up close. You are extremely lucky.”

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?” he grinned. “I’ll have to get a camera or something sometime.”

“Camera?” Remus asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I mean, you know that I’ll be painting an Opaleye while I’m here; probably even carve one too but I can’t exactly send a painting or a carving back to Daphne or Neville, can I? Photos, though, that I can do!”

“You do know that there are magical cameras that, when mixed with the right potion during developing, allow the pictures to move?” Remus asked.

“Magical cameras?” Sirius asked from the doorway. “Are you picking up another hobby, Pup?”

Harry blinked at the idea. “Maybe?”

“Well, that’s something that we can look into another day,” Remus said. “The reason that I was calling you was so that we could go up to the Lodge. Are you about ready?”

“Sure,” Harry shrugged, giving one last look around the room.

It wasn’t as though he needed to put his bags down; they’d be safe in his pocket for a while longer. A glint of red from the dying sun hitting a vial on his nightstand caught his attention and Harry frowned.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at it.

“Ah, that,” Sirius grinned. “The wonders of magical potions. That, my dear Harry, is an elixir which will allow you to get a proper night’s sleep tonight and banish the concept of ‘jet lag’ – that’s what the muggles call it, isn’t it? I remember Lily correcting me on it once – when you wake in the morning.”

“It does that?” Harry asked, eyeing the vial with surprise. “Cool!”

“Make sure you take it just before you’re ready for bed,” Remus instructed. “It’ll allow you a full eight hours’ worth of sleep. Now, are we all ready?”

Harry nodded and led the way towards the door and thence to the wider world. After all, the sooner that he’d met everyone and got this evening over with, then the soon he could sleep and bring on tomorrow when he’d finally find out why he was there and, most importantly of all, get to meet some new dragons!

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

6:05am

Wednesday, 10 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Harry awoke all at once, ready and more than eager to face what the day would bring. As he sat up in bed, he assessed himself. No headache, no sense of still being exhausted. He felt full of energy combined with a gnaw of hunger in his belly.

Idly, he attempted to work out what time it was back home. This part of Australia was … ten hours ahead of England. Which meant that it would be … Harry’s brain froze.

Home.

England.

But was England Home?

He guessed that it was. After all, that’s where he’d spent the first fifteen years of his life. That was where Daphne and Neville and Hermione and Susan were. His friends. His best friends. But did that make it Home?

He had friends, too, in Romania – human and dragon. Not something that many people could say. True, he hadn’t been there long but he felt a definite affinity for the place and a real connection. Idly, his hand reached up and traced the Mark on his forehead. That Mark connected him to all the dragons of the world but, most especially, to the Weyr in Romania.

That Mark, his Mark, had garnered quite a lot of attention the previous night. He’d caught everyone staring at it, not just the dragon handlers but every person there. It seemed that they’d all heard about it and wanted to see it for themselves. And it was the Mark that they were looking at, Harry was certain of that. Not the famous lightning bolt, but the Mark of the Dragon.

If it hadn’t been for Sirius and Remus doing their best to distract both him and everyone there, Harry was certain that he would have either gone mad or run screaming from the room.

Sirius and Remus. They, too, were special. More than friends. Family, in an odd sense of the word. And family meant Home.

Which brought him back to his original question: where was Home? England? Romania? Wherever Sirius and Remus were? Somehow, he suspected that the answer was all of those places. And anywhere a dragon was. He might not have met many yet, but Harry was sure that, if a Home was wanted, a dragon, a Weyr, would provide. 

With a shake of his head, Harry shoved the question from his mind, instead deciding to keep it simple.

A flick of his wrist at the same time that he ‘burst’ his fingers open produced a flash of yellow-gold magic that quickly morphed into a set of numbers.

Six oh nine.

It was still early, maybe too early, but Harry didn’t care.

Shoving his blankets aside, he rolled out bed and began to get ready for the day.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

8:25am

Wednesday, 10 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Harry’d always been a fast eater, a consequence of his upbringing; after all, if food remained on his plate too long, then it was always guaranteed to be gobbled up by a baby killer whale. Or moustached walrus. Not even a year at Hogwarts where you could eat as much as you liked and, provided you stayed away from one particular redhead at the Gryffindor table, food was always readily available had completely changed that.

Today, though, today Harry ate even faster than normal. He was simply far too excited to get his chance to see some new dragons to waste time eating.

“Morning, there, Mister Potter,” Andy said.

“Good morning, Sir,” Harry replied, looking up eagerly into the smiling face of the dragon handler looking down at him from across the table.

“It’s Andy, Harry, remember?” Andy laughed. “May I?”

At his gesture at the seat across from Harry, he nodded quickly, not even bothering to check with Sirius and Remus on his left and Charlie on his right.

“By the look of it, you’re quite eager to get started,” Andy observed, nodding at the empty plate that Harry had pushed aside.

“Yes, I am,” Harry replied. “You said that I had to wait until this morning until you’d tell me why you asked me to come to the Australasian Dragon Preserve.”

“Well, you would have always spent some time here, young Speaker of Dragons, even if the circumstances pushed up that timetable quite considerably,” Andy replied.

“Alexander mentioned that you were having a problem with the dragons,” Charlie put in. “Something about having difficulty getting close to them?”

“That’s it in a nutshell,” Andy replied.

“I’m guessing that there’s more to the story?” Charlie guessed.

“Indeed, indeed,” Andy replied before turning to face Harry. “As you probably would have guessed on the walk here, our dragons don’t live in caves like they do in Romania. Instead, they create for themselves giant nests in the sandy hollows between the dunes. It’s much hotter here and the sun heats up the sand quite nicely during the day for them. Normally, that makes it much easier for us to keep an eye on our dragons.”

“I’d imagine that it would,” Charlie stated, making notes in a blank book that he’d pulled from his pocket and resized. “A simple broomstick flight over the top and you’d see them all.”

“Correct,” Andy nodded. “Normally.”

Harry cocked his head at that. Dragons, he knew, loved flying, in fact, today was the first day that he hadn’t greeted the sunrise with his dragon friends as he had done for the past week. They’d never minded that he had to use a broom while they used their wings. And he’d never had the impression that they had a problem with any of the other dragon handlers flying over the canyon either.

“Normally? I’m guessing that they’re stopping you from flying over now. Is that what they’re doing?” Charlie asked.

“Indeed they are,” Andy confirmed.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Harry frowned.

“How long’s this problem been going on?” Charlie asked.

“The better part of a month now,” Andy replied. “Any time that we approach them on broomstick, they converge and force our flyers away from their nests.”

“And you’ve never had this problem before?” Remus asked.

“Never,” Andy replied with a shake of his head.

“How old is this Preserve?” Sirius asked.

“Coming up on one hundred and twenty years,” Andy replied proudly. “Of course, my people, the Aboriginal people have known of dragons for thousands of years and lived with them and respected them. Not that there were many dragons here for much of that time: Antipodean Opaleyes are actually native to New Zealand. But when the white men came, they very quickly encroached on the dragon’s natural habitat. It took many years but eventually, instead of Australia being an extra hunting ground for the Opaleyes, they were relocated here in this area that my people had always declared off-limits to man and as sacred to the dragons where they could spread their wings with less chance of the muggles seeing them.”

“This Preserve was created that long ago?” Sirius asked, looking incredibly impressed. “The wards here must be impressive!”

Andy laughed. “While it’s true that this Preserve is one of the older ones, our wards aren’t that old. The ones that we have now are fairly new – installed by a team of goblin warders after our original wards that my ancestors had sung into being had suffered centuries of dilapidation.”

“That’s incredibly interesting, Andy and I’ll want to ask you all of the questions that I have bouncing around inside my head later,” Harry interrupted, “but would you mind telling me more about the dragons and why you think they’re acting so strangely?”

Again, Andy laughed. “Right you are, young Speaker of Dragons; history lessons later, the here and now for now. Let’s see, what else to tell you? We only have the one species of dragon here, the Opaleye. They’re one of the rarer breeds of dragon in the world and we don’t know of any others out in the wild, making our forty-seven extremely important. They primarily eat fish that they catch themselves, although they’re also partial to sheep, cattle and kangaroos.”

Unexpectedly, Andy snapped his fingers.

“About the only other thing that we were wondering about is whether it has something to do with their eggs.”

“Eggs?” Harry asked, interested.

“Yep,” Andy nodded. “Four of our females laid clutches in the Autumn and the eggs are due to hatch in about six weeks. They’re the first clutches that we’ve had for a few years so it’s possible that they’re being overprotective?”

Harry nodded. That sounded plausible. He’d had to wrap his brain around the change of seasons in this hemisphere which would account for the different hatching months but that was simple enough.

“Okay, then I think that all that’s left is for me to meet your dragons,” Harry said, causing Sirius to laugh.

“I’m surprised you were able to stop yourself from going out searching for them the second you woke up this morning, Pup.”

Harry gave him a nonplussed look before sighing.

“I was tempted. Believe me, I was tempted,” he admitted.

Chapter Text

8:45am

Wednesday, 10 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

The walk from the Lodge to the main section of the Preserve where the dragons lived wasn’t as far as Harry’d expected. Perhaps the fact that it was a fairly flat walk along a cobblestone path instead of navigating a steep hill under a forest of trees that made it seem that way. Either way, all that it meant was that Harry was able to get to the dragons much faster than anticipated.

“This is as far as I go,” Andy stated, pulling up short.

Harry glanced at him before raising an eyebrow at the path that continued for at least another hundred metres.

“Any closer and the dragons will put up a fuss,” Andy elaborated. “Our role as Keepers here is to ensure that the dragons live lives as stress free and as full as we can give them while ensuring that the muggles don’t see them.”

Harry nodded, impressed. He’d not heard it put like that and he thought that the idea had much merit to it. Mentally, he added it to the list of questions about the Preserve and its history that he was building. Really, he knew that he was going to need to write that list down before he forgot something, but that could wait for later.

“Then I’ll go on on my own,” Harry stated.

“You’ve got your wand?” Andy asked. “If you get into trouble, send up some red sparks and we’ll do our best to get you out.”

Sirius’ snort was cut off by Charlie’s laugh.

“Did I say something amusing?” Andy laughed looking between the two.

“Harry doesn’t need a wand; he’s quite proficient at wandless magic,” Remus explained.

Andy’s confused expression was the last thing that Harry saw. He had no interest in being forced to wait and give a demonstration or explanation. Not when there were dragons so close. Instead, he quickstepped away from the men down the path.

Some innate presence or magic or pressure in his mind had Harry slowing. His eyes darted about, searching. He was sure that he wasn’t alone, that he was being watched. And if he was right, then it was a dragon, probably more than one, doing the watching.

His fingers flexed at his sides and Harry was forced to control both his breathing and his magic – he didn’t want to inadvertently cause his wand to jump from his wrist holster to his hand, nor did he want any magic crackling from his fingers and scaring the dragons.

The sense that he was being watched increased and Harry glanced back.

Charlie, Sirius, Remus and Andy were less than fifty metres away, all precisely where he’d left them and all wearing identical concerned expressions on their faces. What did they need to worry about? There was nothing dangerous here. Well, except for the dragons that could as easily eat him as swipe a talon that would cut him in half or simply roast him with their flames or sit on him.

Harry gulped. Yes, all of those things were equally true of happening. To an ordinary person. And if there was one thing that Harry knew beyond all shadow of doubt, it was that he was not ordinary. Uncle Vernon had assured him of that so comprehensively that it was ingrained into his very being. The lightning bolt on his forehead emphasised that when he entered the magical world.

But that wasn’t all there was to his extraordinariness. No, he was Harry Potter, Speaker of Dragons, bearer of the Mark of Dragons. A Mark that all dragons everywhere would instantly recognise.

He had no need to be scared of these dragons. All he needed to do was talk to them.

Deciding that he’d ventured far enough in already, Harry stopped and straightened his back.

§I greet you§, he called loudly. §My name is Harry Potter and I come to you from the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary where Memzath, Leader of the Romanian Weyr of Dragons, called me Speaker for all dragons and gave me the Mark that I bear§.

It felt pompous and long-winded to Harry, speaking like that but until he’d met the dragons here, he figured that the more formal an introduction that he gave, the more likely it was that the dragons would be inclined to listen to him.

Movement, a shifting of sands off to his left had Harry looking in that direction. A boulder, one that he hadn’t noticed on his walk, was rising, sand pouring off of it in a cascade like rain. But it wasn’t just a boulder. No, the more he watched, the more he saw. The boulder stretched back and away, following the line of the dune. It was pearly grey and a subtle light pink except in the places where it blended almost perfectly with the sand itself.

An audible gasp that he was sure that the men behind him would be able to hear escaped him when he saw the deep blue and green and indigo circle, larger than his head rise from out of the sand. It blinked, momentarily covered by a soft film of milky white before the colour returned, even more vibrant than before.

And eye! And it was staring at him!

That was no boulder! It was a dragon! An Opaleye, rising from where it’d buried itself in the sand!

As tempted as Harry was, he refrained from taking a step backwards, instead remaining perfectly still, waiting, watching.

As more and more of the dragon emerged, sand poured from it, revealing sparkling scales just like the ones in the painting in his room. Finally, it was free, standing tall on its legs. Not once had its gaze left Harry, not even when it fluttered its wings and shook its massive body, sending a shower of sand in all directions.

Slowly, it approached, its long neck stretched out before it, its wings tucked tightly to its back.

§Greetings§, Harry said again, this time adding in a bow.

Still, the Opaleye refrained from replying, sending Harry’s nerves ratcheting up.

He watched curiously as the dragon continued to pace closer, so very different from the way any of the dragons back in Romania bounded and raced and flew to greet him.

Finally, the dragon paused, its snout just out of reach of Harry, if Harry had decided for some unknown reason to reach out to try to pat it. Its nostrils flared and Harry felt a slight tug that rocked him forward. And then that great head turned and the dragon’s eye was there, closer than ever. What made it even more unnerving was the fact that Opaleyes, didn’t in fact, have pupils in their eyes. They definitely more than lived up to their names – it was as though their eye was a giant, multifaceted opal.

§I greet you, Harry Potter, Speaker of Dragons§, the dragon said.

Its voice was softer, gentler than any that Harry had heard before, akin to the sound of water lapping the shore but with a depth that lurked there, just below the surface. Harry was also pleased to note that this dragon, and presumedly all dragons, spoke exactly the same way as their brethren half a world away.

§It’s a pleasure to meet you§, Harry said. §May I know your name§?

The dragon’s chin dipped so that it was almost touching the ground. §My name is Cantrum§.

Harry blinked even as he filed the name away. Every dragon in Romania had a name that ended in ‘th’ and thus, he’d expected that all dragons were named in the same way. It seemed that he was wrong.

It was a good thing to realise, he decided; it’d help him not accidentally insult a dragon at some point.

§I cannot recall a time a bearer of the Mark has visited these shores§, Cantrum stated. §In fact, I have not heard of a Bearer ever visiting here§.

Harry nodded solemnly. §I’m sorry, I don’t know the names of any others that have born a mark like this§.

Absently, he reached up and touched the bluish-purple line that bisected his forehead.

§But I’m here now. I hope that you don’t mind me visiting§? Harry said.

Cantrum’s eye stayed fixed on him and Harry found it much harder to read this dragon’s emotions and thoughts than any other that he’d met. Not having a pupil really affected things more than he would have guessed.

§I welcome you to our Weyr§, Cantrum finally said.

§If it’s okay, I’d like to meet more of your kind, to learn about you so that I can Speak for you just as I do for all the dragons of the world§.

Unexpectedly, Cantrum’s eye swirled. Gone now were the indigo patches and the deep blues had lightened considerably, leaving a blue much like the colour of the ocean mixed with the green.

Instead of pupils, do they use colour to show how they’re feeling? Harry wondered.

§You are welcome, Speaker§, Cantrum said. §I will lead the way§.

Harry waited until the Opaleye had backed up a few paces and lumbered around before rushing up to walk at his side.

It was only after they’d already walked around a sand hill that Harry realised that he hadn’t told Charlie or the others where he was going. The thought of sending a patronus message to his godfather briefly crossed his mind but Harry dismissed the idea, after all, he was there to help the dragons, they knew that and they would have seen him walk off with Cantrum.

Setting Sirius, Charlie and Remus from his mind, Harry walked on, eager to meet more dragons and to find out if something was wrong, and, if there was, if there was a way for him to help them.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:05am

Wednesday, 10 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

“Did you know that dragon was there?” Charlie asked Andy, waving vaguely in the direction that the Opaleye had been buried in.

“There specifically? No,” Andy replied with a shake of his head. “That there was likely a dragon buried in the sand somewhere nearby? Oh, most definitely. And just because that dragon showed itself and walked away with our young Speaker, don’t think for one second that there aren’t more out there, buried somewhere and watching us right now.”

“Is that something that Opaleyes do a lot?” Charlie asked, pulling out his book.

If Alexander was going to send him all over the world to visit every dragon reserve with Harry, then Charlie was determined to do it right. He was going to learn everything that he could and he was going to write it all down and take back with him. If he had anything to do with it, he was going to get that Beast Mastery of his months ahead of time.

“Yeah, they do,” Andy nodded. “We suspect that, it’s a combination of the warmth of the sand and the fact that they can surprise prey that come to waterholes to drink.”

“That makes sense, especially the hunting part,” Charlie replied.

“Well, I don’t suppose that there’s much point waiting here,” Andy remarked. “Harry’ll return when he does and I, for one, have work to do.”

“Mind if I tag along?” Charlie asked.

“Not at all,” Andy grinned. “Help’s always a good thing to have.”

“Right. Now what?” Sirius asked, as they watched Charlie and Andy walk away.

“Well, you do have a letter to answer,” Remus said casually.

Sirius pulled a face at his old friend. He’d been deliberately trying not to think about the letter that Augusta Longbottom had sent him. Still. It did concern Harry and as his godfather, it was his duty to look out for his interests.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighed. “I could do with someone to bounce ideas off of.”

“Do mine ears deceive me?” Remus asked, his eyes wide, a hand on his chest. “Did the great Padfoot just ask for help? And about something that doesn’t involve pranking?”

Sirius’ eyes widened comically.

“I never!” he spluttered.

“You never what?” Remus asked calmly, one eyebrow raised.

“I never said that it didn’t involve pranking!” Sirius replied.

“And does it?”

“Well, not as such,” Sirius allowed before rushing on, “but that’s never stopped us before. Remember our Transfiguration OWL exam? That definitely didn’t involve pranking! But did it stop us?”

The corner of Remus’ mouth lifting told Sirius that Moony did, in fact, remember the incident well. Old Grimblethumb was closer to two hundred than one when he assessed both James and Sirius’ Transfiguration OWL. A more no-nonsense fellow you never did meet. Still didn’t stop the pair of them transfiguring his robes and hair various shades during the exam, nor did it stop them getting Outstandings.

“I’ll grant you that,” Remus allowed. “But this time we’re talking about the Dowager Lady Longbottom. Are you really prepared to tempt her wrath?”

Sirius frowned at him. “The Dowager Lady Longbottom? I think, old chap, that you and I were reading the letter quite differently.”

Remus’ quirked eyebrow dared Sirius to prove him wrong.

“Yes, the letter was penned by Augusta Longbottom, with, I might add, a powerful taste of the fair Amelia Bones thrown in …”

“Another Lady who’d tan your hide if she got her hands on you,” Remus interjected, causing Sirius to grin one of his more mischievous grins.

“Amelia can tan my hide any day of the week. And every night to boot. Or anything else she’d like to do,” he replied, causing Remus to slowly shake his head, after all, there was History between the two and it was still even galleons whether the two would kill each other or become lovers after all these years the next time they met.

“You were saying?” Remus prompted, trying to get Sirius to return to the topic at hand.

“Yes, the letter,” Sirius said, giving his head a shake to banish the glassy-eyed look that had taken hold of him at the thought of Amelia Bones. “The letter itself was penned by Augusta Longbottom but what it contained … was information that should allow us to prank Dumbledore himself!”

Remus started. Dumbledore? The venerable Headmaster was one that they’d never pranked, after all, he wasn’t considered the most powerful and knowledgeable wizard in the world for nothing. The few times that they’d tried something, the prank had always always been turned back on the four of them and they’d never worked out how he did it.

“Elaborate!” Remus snapped. “I didn’t see anything in that letter which pointed towards such a thing.”

“And that, my dear Moony, just proves how you are better than the rest of us. You never had to endure countless hours at the knees of your father and grandfather learning politics!” Sirius stated, spitting the last word in disgust.

“Ah,” Remus nodded. “Then perhaps, Mister Padfoot would deign to instruct the lowly Mister Moony on this most mysterious piece of knowledge?”

“It would be my pleasure, but certainly not yours,” Sirius replied solemnly.

Remus watched as his best friend strode backwards and forwards, kicking up sand as he paced and disturbing a resting dragonfly that flew off in fear of its life from heavy, clumsy feet.

“Tell me what you remember of Augusta’s letter,” Sirius stated.

“It was aimed at your ‘dereliction of duty’, yes, that’s the phrase that she used,” Remus nodded. “As the godfather of Harry Potter, the Lord Potter, it falls to you to instruct him in Potter history, including the roles and responsibilities that go along with it. I believe that she also …”

“Stop! That’s enough,” Sirius replied, waving a hand even as he came to an abrupt halt and spun towards him. “History, Roles and Responsibilities. That’s the main points here.”

“I don’t understand,” Remus replied. “You’re a Black, the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black with its own History and Roles and Responsibilities, something, I might add, that Augusta seemed delighted to point out that you were failing in as well.”

Sirius made a face at him.

“We don’t need to talk about that part,” he stated. “The important part was the Potter stuff, Harry’s stuff.”

“I still don’t understand,” Remus replied. “How are you supposed to know all of that when you’re a Black, not a Potter?”

“Simple,” Sirius replied. “Because I’m the Head of House Black and a Lord of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, I have some knowledge of what the other Lords are responsible for, what roles they have, even those that aren’t a part of that Blasted Twenty-Eight. My dear old father made sure of that; may he rot in Hell!”

Remus frowned. “I don’t remember James mentioning anything and I would have thought he would have, after all, his father died a few years before he did.”

“There was a war on,” Sirius reminded his friend. “He did what he needed to and really, you know that of all of us, you were always the responsible one. After all, why else would you have been made a Prefect?”

“James was Head Boy,” Remus pointed out, a fact that Sirius simply rolled his eyes at.

“Irrelevant. It’s what Augusta’s alluding to now that matters,” Sirius pointed out before huffing. “It’d be so much easier if there weren’t all the ‘games’ that had to be played and people just spoke their minds! Anyway, the roles and responsibilities that the Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter hold in perpetuity are a Seat within the Wizengamot and a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors.”

Remus frowned. “But Harry’s only just turned fifteen. He’s not old enough … Except he was emancipated!”

“Exactly,” Sirius nodded at the dawning comprehension on his friend’s face.

“So, Augusta wants Harry to return to England to take up the seats that have been dormant since James died?” Remus asked before shaking his head. “I honestly thought better of Augusta Longbottom. Her son is one of Harry’s best friends and I thought she’d understand how important the Dragon Keeper job is to Harry.”

“Oh, she understands,” Sirius replied. “What you’re not understanding is that your facts are in error. Those two seats aren’t dormant. They can’t be, that’s not how the Charters work. While there is a surviving member of the House, and assuming that the Lord can’t sit it – let’s say due to being underage – and doesn’t appoint a proxy themselves, then a proxy is assigned to the seats.”

“A proxy? Assigned? Assigned by who?” Remus asked, clearly confused.

“Well, that’s the kneazle among the kittens, isn’t it?” Sirius replied. “If things had been different, then, as Harry’s Godfather, I would have been the one to assign the proxies to both of those seats.”

“But you couldn’t, being wrongly imprisoned in Azkaban,” Remus pointed out, a fact that Sirius knew all too well.

“Precisely,” he nodded. “And thus, someone else assigned those proxies, both to the Wizengamot and the Hogwarts Board of Governors.”

“Dumbledore,” Remus breathed.

“Got it in one, old chap,” Sirius nodded. “Augusta may not have said it in her letters, but after I was released from my prisons – Azkaban and Saint Mungos – I spent some time with the Goblins. Now, ordinarily, they’re not in the habit of handing out information on their clients willy nilly. However, I am Harry’s Godfather and up until very recently, his guardian on record. The goblins knew that I was innocent, after all, they knew that Peter – the stinking little rat – was still alive. Add in the fact that the Potter vaults had been lying dormant ever since James and Lily died and they were more than willing to give me a little information on the state of Potter affairs.”

“They did that?” Remus asked, clearly gobsmacked.

“Oh, I couldn’t do anything with the information, it was simply enough to ‘get the snitch flying’ as they say,” Sirius replied. “But after meeting Harry and seeing how things stood … Look, you know how strained things were between us at first, I wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardise that! So, while I read the information that the goblins gave me, I didn’t do anything with it and certainly never discussed it with Harry.”

“But I thought that you’d begun lessons with him on what it means to be a wizard?” Remus said. “Doesn’t that include his roles and responsibilities as the Potter Lord?”

“Oh, it will, but not yet! In six months, maybe,” Sirius replied. “Harry’s had a tough life, you know that. He doesn’t trust many people at all. I have no intention of rushing in like a minotaur in a jeweller’s and telling him what to do. It’s best to give him the information as it comes up and let him decide the next move.”

Remus was genuinely surprised. It was extremely rare that Sirius gave any thought at all towards other people. It certainly proved just how much he loved Harry.

“But Augusta’s forcing your hand,” Remus frowned. “I don’t understand why, though.”

“And that, my dear Moony, brings us back to pranking Dumbledore,” Sirius grinned. “You see, as you’ve just worked out, Dumbledore – as Chief Warlock and Hogwarts Headmaster – appointed the proxy to fill the Potter seats in the Wizengamot and on the Board of Governors. And as it turned out, he appointed the same man to both positions.”

“Who?”

“Elphias Doge.”

Sirius watched as Remus looked up, tapping his chin with his finger.

“I know the name but I can’t picture the man,” he finally conceded.

“Doge, from what I remember, went to school with Dumbledore and has followed him and done whatever the Headmaster has asked ever since,” Sirius replied.

“Okay, I understand that, but how would replacing Doge – I’m assuming that that’s what the Lady Longbottom is angling for here – help us prank the Headmaster? He’s just one man,” Remus asked.

“One man? Oh, he might just be one man but the seats he’s sitting in? They’re both worth a lot more than that!” Sirius stated. “Take away the Potter seat from Dumbledore’s block and it’ll seriously undermine his power base. The same with the seat within the Board of Governors. At the moment, Dumbledore can pretty much get anything he wants simply because he has the votes.”

“But I thought that Augusta supported Dumbledore?”  Remus said, confused. “They’re both Light-sided.

“And that is where our other supposition comes in,” Sirius grinned. “Who do we think had a big influence on that letter?”

“Amelia Bones,” Remus replied.

“The Head of the DMLE,” Sirius nodded. “You’ve heard Harry. You know what the Headmaster admitted to doing. Forging Harry’s name; interfering with an ancient magical artifact; cheating in an International tournament – I’m sure that there’s more.”

“None of which Amelia could touch Dumbledore with with the power base that he has,” Remus said, comprehension dawning.

“Now you see why I hate politics so much?” Sirius asked rhetorically.

Remus shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think Harry’s going to like politics any more than you do.”

“That’s because he’s smart!” Sirius crowed. “But if we do this right, then he doesn’t have to get involved. Well, too much. All we need to do is to get Harry to choose his own proxy for those two seats.”

“And that’s how you intend on pranking Dumbledore!” Remus grinned.

“Got it in one,” Sirius grinned. “And as an added bonus, it’ll give me a few extra points with the lovely Lady Bones.”

“You hope,” Remus replied, eliciting a shrug from Sirius.

“Can’t hurt. Now, the only question is: who’s the lucky soul that should be appointed that would also annoy Dumbledore the most?”

“And who would Harry approve of appointing?” Remus added. “You said it yourself, Harry doesn’t trust many.”

Sirius stared at him. “You’re right. It’s got to be someone that he knows and respects. And you know, as his godfather, I think that it’s my sworn duty to ensure that I’m protecting his future, all areas of his future!”

“Sirius! Exactly what are you thinking?” Remus demanded.

Chapter Text

12:15am

Wednesday, 10 August 1995

Near Valbon ë, Albania

.

The forest was wild, uninhabited. Few animals lived there. Fewer humans ever ventured within its borders.

Superstition and rumour ran rife throughout the surrounding countryside. Whispered tales of dark magic and ancient secrets, death and chaos, disease and enchantments filled pubs, sending shivers racing up and down spines and causing people to look over their shoulders more than they watched where they were going.

This was true not only in the magical enclaves that dotted the country, but also in the non-magical villages as well.

Even the animals sensed the wrongness that shrouded the forest, refusing to go near it, bucking and pulling and racing as far away as they could get.

Well, most animals. Not all. And not all humans.

Some actively sought out that bastion of darkness, drawn to a place where those like them could find a place to hide from the outside world, a place where they could strike out from and prey on those weaker than them.

One such animal, a snake, as it turned out, had slipped into the forest some days before having escaped from the captivity that had held it for longer than it cared to remember. It had travelled far and wide, over many lands and seas in its captivity, seeing things that many like it had never encountered before

While at first the fear of captivity, of the men that had encaged it had been its driving force, that fear had recently been replaced by hunger. This was a cold place, this forest, with prey far and few between. Cold-blooded creatures needed warmth and nourishment to sustain it.

From where it lay coiled about a branch, the weak moonlight doing nothing to warm the scarce patches on its skin, it flicked out its tongue, tasting the air as it had done countless times already since it had taken up its position.

This time, though, this time, there was something new, something different, something alive.

Again, its tongue tasted, gathering information on distance and direction.

Prey was close and coming closer.

Slowly, the snake worked its body around, shifting about so that it could strike the prey as it passed below.

Again, it tasted and was pleased to note that the prey had stayed true to its path, a path that would bring it directly below where the snake lay hidden, still as a stone.

Finally, when the last warmth of the day’s sun had disappeared and the coldness of the ground and air had begun to assert even more of its hold, the prey came into sight.

The snake watched it, judging distances.

The mouse was small, barely even a meal at all but in these woods, all food was precious and the snake had no intention of letting it escape.

At long last, the prey was there! Directly below and the coiled snake struck out, its mouth wide, its fangs bared.

The mouse below froze and the snake struck.

But before it could do anymore, a sharp pain stabbed it through its eye and all consciousness evaporated. But just before all thoughts of itself were lost, however small and fleeting that had been, the snake once again saw the strangest of sights that it’d seen in its travels: a great fire-breathing dragon standing perfectly still, conversing with a small man in the ancient tongue. Why it remembered this, it had no idea, nor did it have the time to wonder for the snake was gone, in its place was something … else.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:25am

Wednesday, 10 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

It took a surprisingly long time before Harry saw his second Antipodean Opaleye. Why that happened to be the case, Harry wasn’t sure.

It could have been because there simply weren’t any dragons any further out. Or it could have been because they were hidden under the sand, the same way that Cantrum had been. Or maybe it had more to do with Cantrum himself? For all Harry knew, he was being guided into the Weyr by a circulatory route which ensured that the other dragons were kept away from him.

Whatever the reason, the second Opaleye that Harry saw was perched atop a sandhill. It was crouched right down on its feet, its tail curled up around it and, for all intents and purposes, looking the other way. Its ears, though, gave it away. The dragon was very aware that he was there.

It’s like a cat, Harry chuckled to himself.

Unexpectedly a delegation of six Opaleyes appeared directly in front of them, blocking off their progress forward. Two had stalked out from behind the dune to the right, another two from the left, while the final two had swooped in low, landing in a crouch between the two pairs. A thump behind him had Harry glancing over his shoulder, only to see another three landing there, their wings still raised.

§Why have you brought the two-leg§? the largest Opaleye in front of them demanded.

§Weyr Leader§, Cantrum replied and Harry was certain that the given designation was for his own benefit, §this two-leg bears the Mark§!

Instantly, six dragon necks snaked out towards him, their heads vying for space as they each craned their heads to get a good look at him.

§What is your name, two-leg? How came you by that Mark§? the Weyr leader demanded.

At once, Harry bowed low, ensuring that he gave the Opaleye before him the same level of respect that he would afford Memzath, Weyr Leader of the Romanian Dragons.

§Weyr Leader, my name is Harry Potter§, he said, straightening and looking the dragon in its great multifaceted blue, green and indigo eye. §This Mark was given to me by Memzath, Weyr Leader of the Romanian Dragons after I was found worthy to not only Speak to dragons but also to Speak for all dragons of the world§.

§How came you to Speak to Memzath? Weyr Leaders do not lower themselves to deal with two-legs§.

Harry blinked at that. While it was true that Memzath tended to hold himself apart, Harry had seen him with the dragon handlers. But then, on second thought, that had really only begun after that episode with the poachers.

§I befriended a Hungarian Horntail by the name of Ramaranth during a two-leg competition§, Harry replied. §After learning that I had the ability to speak to dragons and learning of my friendship with Ramaranth, I was invited to learn more of dragons at the Romanian Reserve, an offer I eagerly accepted. While there, I was brought before the Weyr Council where I met Memzath§.

Harry could see that the dragons were listening and considering his words; their necks had retracted somewhat and their wings which had been half-furled to make them appear larger, had been folded back properly against their backs.

§May I ask your name, Weyr Leader§? Harry asked, deciding to be bold.

§My name, Harry Potter, Speaker for Dragons, is Dankrum§, the Weyr Leader replied, tipping her head down towards him slightly.

§It is a pleasure to meet you, Dankrum§, Harry replied, adding in another bow. §It is a pleasure to meet all of you§.

The dragons surrounding him offered short greetings or dips of their great heads.

§Why have you come, Speaker for Dragons§? Dankrum asked and Harry had the impression that, even with the Mark on his forehead, the Weyr Leader at the very least, was wary of him.

§As I told Cantrum§, Harry said, §my ability to Speak to dragons has made the two-legs very excited. They want to learn all that they can about dragons, just like I do. They’ve asked me to teach them what I learn, to tell them your words and to help all two-legs respect and treat all dragons properly§.

§As they should§, Dankrum stated with a sharp jerk down of her chin.

§I agree§, Harry replied quickly. §A part of my role with the two-legs Handlers is to visit all of the dragons around the world, in all of the Weyrs, to meet you all and to learn about you§.

§And this is what brought you here§? Dankrum asked.

§In part§, Harry replied, deciding that honesty was always the best policy when dealing with dragons. §Mostly, though, it was an unexpected trip so early into my training and learning about the dragons in Romania. I was always supposed to come, just not yet§.

§Then I ask again, Speaker, why have you come§? this time, there was a harder edge to her voice.

§I am here now because the two-legs are worried§, he replied. §They think that something is wrong and, because they can neither Speak to you nor come in to your Weyr, I was asked to come§.

The dragons all around Harry shifted slightly, their feet shuffling – an odd sight indeed in creatures so large. In humans, Harry would have thought that that meant that they were uncertain, anxious even. But he’d learnt that human emotions shouldn’t always be attributed to dragons.

§What do you think, Speaker of Dragons§? Dankrum asked after a longer pause than Harry was comfortable with.

§I think that I cannot know unless you tell me§, Harry replied carefully. §But I do know that if there is a problem, then I will not leave until it has been fixed and I promise that I will do everything that I can to help. I know that the two-legs will assist me in that. They may not be dragons and may not know much of the draconian way but they care and only want what’s best for you§.

Again, Dankrum stared at Harry for longer than he would have cared for. The only clue that she was considering his words was the way that her eye swirled with different colours – different thoughts maybe or different emotions? – blues of all shades, greens, deep indigos and purples and even a smattering of reds and yellow.

§Your words are well spoken, Speaker and I am inclined to believe you. Your magic tastes of truth and of strength and of assurance§, Dankrum stated. §The fact that you bear the Mark also speaks in your favour§.

Her pause then was shorter than it had been, although it still meant that Harry had to exercise a great deal of self-control to remain patient and not fidget.

§We will trust you Speaker of Dragons, friend of the Romanian Weyr§, Dankrum stated and there was an answering rumble from the assembled dragons around them with an added bugle as well.

§I will not fail you§, Harry promised, bowing.

Dankrum sat high, her rear legs down, her front legs at their fullest extension and her tail wrapped around her. Her neck rose up before curving back down so that her snout was pointed straight down at him, her multifaceted eyes swirling with a riot of colour that was almost too fast for Harry to comprehend, let alone even attempt to understand.

§This season, the first for many, four of our females laid a clutch of eggs§, she began. §All dragons rejoiced and looked eagerly forward to the day when the shells would crack, revealing the fledglings. Our joy was taken from us on the night of the new moon when the clutch of one of the mothers was taken from beneath her§.

 Harry swallowed hard, his mind racing back to the very first time that he’d ever seen a dragon. Ramaranth had been standing protectively over her clutch of eggs, her tail and neck whipping backwards and forth. His Task, the same task that Cedric, Fleur and Victor had been given, was to retrieve a golden egg that had been mixed in with the true dragon eggs. The fact that someone had taken the eggs of a nesting Opaleye mother resounded deeply with him and filled him with shame, despite the fact that he, himself, had not participated in the Task.

§Do you know who took the eggs§? Harry asked.

The nearly subaudible keening that had filled the Weyr from the instant that Dankrum had begun her story intensified even as the Weyr Leader slowly shook her great head from side to side.

§We never saw who or what it was, Speaker§, Dankrum replied.

Harry frowned and began to pace, his head down and his fists clenching and unclenching.

§Do you have any clues at all§? he asked.

§None, Speaker§, Dankrum replied. §Our desolation was not yet complete at the loss of this first clutch§.

Harry froze, his eyes wide. Surely she didn’t mean …

§More eggs were taken, weren’t they§? he asked, dreading the answer.

§Two more clutches have been lost to us since the first. Now only one remains§, Dankrum confirmed sadly.

§And that’s why your entire Weyr is standing guard, not letting any two-legs in§, Harry nodded.

It made complete and total sense. Merlin, if he’d been the dragons, he would have done exactly the same. It was a wonder that he’d been allowed in!

§The very first dragon that I met, a Hungarian Horntail by the name of Ramaranth had a clutch of eggs§, Harry told Dankrum and all the dragons that had arrived during the telling of their story. §Those four fledglings that hatched from the eggs are very special to me. Ramaranth even named them after me§.

§What are their names, Speaker§? a dragon to his left asked.

§Harreth, Potteth, Spekith and Painzz§, Harry replied, no less embarrassed this time than he had been any other time that he told anyone about how the Fledglings were named.

§They are good names§, the dragon replied, a feeling emphasised by the sounds of joy coming from the rest of the dragons.

§I will do everything that I can to ensure that your clutch remains safe§, Harry said. §I think the first and most important thing to do is to try to work out who or what took your eggs§.

§We do not know, Speaker§, a frustrated sounding Dankrum stated. §None of the mothers noticed the eggs being removed and no dragon tasted the magic of the thief§.

No magic? Harry had paused at the words, an entirely distasteful thought running through his mind.

§Do you think that the eggs could have been taken by a muggle§? he asked.

§There were no two-legs in the Weyr on those nights§, Dankrum stated. §All two-legs, even those without magic, make far too much noise not to be noticed§.

Harry nodded. While he didn’t know all of the ways that dragons sensed people, he was fairly certain that they couldn’t be fooled; their hearing and eyesight was a thousand times better than any humans’ and their ability to sense magic was something that Harry still couldn’t grasp.

Still, the possibility was there, however remote.

§What about animals§, he asked, deciding to explore the next most likely option. §Could the clutch have been taken by an animal§?

Bellowing roars erupted from multiple dragons. Others hissed. Some rumbled deep in their throats and stomachs as only dragons laughing could achieve. Three even shot vivid red gouts of flame high into the sky.

The instant that it’d begun, Harry’d thrown himself to the sand, clapping his hands over his ears and screwing his eyes up tight. It wasn’t until his shoulder was nudged that he opened his eyes, only to gasp at the sight of a dragon claw inches from his face.

§You have nothing to fear here, Speaker§, Dankrum told him. §You are safe. You understand how dangerous dragons can be. You are smart. And you are our friend; nothing can harm you while you are with us. Not all two-legs are smart but all other creatures are. Nothing can challenge us§!

Harry wondered about that. Yes, dragons were one of the most powerful species on the planet but didn’t Dankrum just tell him that three of their four clutches had been taken and that they could hear and sense all two-legs that ventured into the Weyr? How then, if all creatures were smart enough not to challenge dragons and dragons were the ultimate apex-species, had their clutches been taken?

Whatever the reason, Harry was sure that, at least a small part of blame, could be attributed to the dragon’s very own confidence. None could oppose them and all others would be sensed by them.

Except that wasn’t true.

Or, more precisely, someone or something had found a way to overcome those limitations and to do precisely what the dragons least expected.

It was definitely a mystery, a mystery that Harry was determined to solve. There were lives at stake, unborn lives even.

And Harry was smart enough to know that he couldn’t solve it on his own. He needed help.

§Weyr Leader, Opaleye dragons, I thank you for the trust you have placed in me in telling me what has happened to your clutches. I ask for your permission to relay what you have told me to the two-leg Handlers so that they can assist me in finding the one responsible§.

Dankrum stared down at him for one of those long pauses before she slowly nodded her head.

§You have our trust Speaker for Dragons. Go. Speak for us and fulfil the promise that your Mark bears§.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

10:45am

Wednesday, 10 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

When Harry walked out of the Weyr, it was to find a crowd standing there. Most had their wands in their hands; all looked scared or at the very least apprehensive.

“Harry! Are you alright?” Charlie called, racing forward.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Honestly, I didn’t think that I was gone all that long.”

“It wasn’t the length of time, Pup … surely you heard the dragons roaring? Some of the Handlers even saw dragon flame,” Sirius stated.

“Oh, I heard it alright,” Harry replied. “It wasn’t anything to worry about, though. They wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I said it last night, Potter and I’ll say it again, you’re something else, something that none of us have seen before,” Steve, the oldest of the dragon Handlers said, sheathing his wand at the same time.

“Have you found out what’s got the dragon’s scales all twisted up?” Andy asked.

“Yeah, they told me,” Harry replied grimly.

That statement was enough to catch and hold the attention of every handler there. Within seconds, Harry was once more surrounded, this time by men and women. He honestly wasn’t sure which was more intimidating: being surrounded by sixty tonne dragons or a couple of dozen humans.

“Well? Don’t keep us in suspense,” Andy said, his deep brown eyes staring intensely at him.

“You know how you suspect that the way they’re acting could have something to do with the fact that this is the first time in a few years that they’ve laid eggs?” Harry began.

“Yes,” Andy replied, his eyes narrowed. “But they’ve never acted like this before in the years that they have laid eggs … are you saying that we’re right?”

“Yes,” Harry replied grimly. “As you know, four dragons laid clutches of eggs this season. What you don’t know is that three of those clutches are gone.”

“Gone? As in … the eggs died?” one of the female Handlers gasped.

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “Gone as in one night, the eggs of one of the clutches were stolen right out from under one of the mothers. And another two clutches have also disappeared since then.”

“That’d explain it,” Steve nodded. “The dragons are doing everything that they can to protect the eggs that they have left.”

“Exactly,” Harry nodded.

“Do they know what took them?” Andy asked.

“I wouldn’t have thought anything could get near a female dragon sitting on her eggs!” another of the Handlers exclaimed.

“That’s exactly how the dragons feel,” Harry told him. “And, no, they have no idea. They didn’t sense any magic; they’re adamant that no two-leg … er, human could get into the Weyr without them hearing or noticing; and they know that no creature would be stupid enough to challenge them.”

“That sounds like the dragons have a mystery on their hands,” Remus stated, one hand rubbing his chin while the other cupped the opposing elbow.

Harry grinned at his honorary uncle.

“No magic, huh?” Brian, a stick-thin man with long shaggy hair asked. “Muggle, maybe?”

“You heard Potter. The dragons can hear any human within a mile!” Steve countered.

Harry chose not to correct the exaggeration. “I did have the same thought.”

“It’s an angle worth pursuing,” Andy nodded. “Even if it doesn’t pan out, we can be doing something that will hopefully help the dragons understand that we’re on their side. Brian, organise a team of flyers. I want a continuous flight around the Preserve. Minimum of two pairs at a time. Jessie, you’ve got the right connections. See if any dinosaur egg fossils have turned up recently.”

“Dinosaur egg fossils?” Harry asked confused.

“Yeah,” Jessie nodded, stepping forward and flicking her long braid back over her shoulder. “I’m guessing that you’ve never seen any Opaleye eggs? Well, have you seen any dragon egg fossils?”

“Does pictures in books count?” Harry asked.

“Good enough,” Jessie replied. “Opaleye eggs are an off-white, very much the same colour as dinosaur bones. More than a few have been mistaken over the years, mislabelled and put in museums for the muggles to look at.”

“Really? Fascinating,” Remus exclaimed.

“That’s all well and good,” Steve remarked, “but what happens when both of those things turn up nothing. The wards here are too good to allow muggles to just wander in. And if’n any did, the odds of them seeing a dragon, stealing her eggs and then not telling the rest of the world what they saw is about as big as finding a croc in the middle of the bloody desert!”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Andy replied. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that it’s a creature,” Steve stated. “Has to be.”

“Then why didn’t the dragons see it or detect it?” Andy asked.

“How do I know?” Steve replied. “Maybe it’s non-magical. Maybe it’s magical with some ability that dragons can’t sense. How do I know?”

“Alright, Steve, let’s see you put that Beast Master qualification of yours to the test,” Andy grinned. “You’re in charge of working out what creature – muggle or magical – would have the ability to get into the weyr undetected by the dragons.”

“What about the rest of us, Boss?” another Handler asked. “If the dragons aren’t letting us in, we can’t do our regular jobs.”

“Walk the perimeter,” Andy replied after a moment’s thought. “Look for any clues or tracks or anything out of the ordinary to identify how whatever this is, is getting into the Preserve.”

Lastly, Andy turned to Harry.

“As for you, young Speaker, I want you back in there with the dragons. Make sure you tell them that we’re doing what we can but also make sure that they know that we need more information. See if you can get a close look at the nests the eggs disappeared from. Perhaps you can find something there.”

“Can do,” Harry nodded.

A clap of Andy’s hands was enough to send everyone scattering. Harry, too, turned to go straight back into the Weyr to carry out his assignment. That was before a hand landed on his shoulders.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sirius asked.

A vague wave of his hand towards the sand dunes was enough to have his godfather shaking his head.

“Not until after you’ve had something to eat,” Sirius stated.

The slight rumble of his stomach told Harry that that wasn’t a bad idea at all.

Chapter Text

7:10am

Thursday, 11 August 1995

Greengrass Manor, Cumbria, England

.

Strangely enough, when breakfast was served, the entire family was in attendance. Considering that both of his daughters were on holidays from Hogwarts and that breakfast was served at, what was considered by them at least, to be the ‘crack of dawn’, this was indeed a rarity.

But then, Cyrus thought, perhaps this is a reflection of their holiday abroad, as brief as it turned out to be.

Romania was a mere two hours ahead of England and thus, Cyrus did not believe that a potion to adjust sleeping habits was required. Consequently, the week away with the slightly different time had been enough to ensure that both Daphne and Astoria rose at a more reasonable hour.

As much as he hoped that it would continue, Cyrus was no fool.

He turned half an ear to his youngest daughter, listening to her talking a mile a minute as she, once again, described seeing dragons and getting to touch a dragon and every little nuance that she could remember from their trip to the Dragon Reserve. And all that despite the fact that the rest of the family had been there and had experienced it alongside her.

For an instant, Cyrus wondered whether the idea of the girls joining them for breakfast was such a good one after all.

But then his eyes landed on his other daughter.

Yes, Daphne was there. In body, at least. But with the side of her face resting on her fist, elbow on the table and a morose expression on her face, he knew that she wasn’t anywhere near the breakfast table nor even in the country. At least in mind and heart.

Heart. Thinking that had Cyrus frowning.

Harry Potter, the reason for their trip to Romania in the first place, had abruptly left them mid-holiday. Oh, Cyrus knew that it was business, nothing that the boy could do about it but still, anything that harmed his daughter, even in a roundabout way, he was going to take a very dim view of.

To be fair, he wasn’t sure why he hated young Lord Potter more: for breaking his daughter’s heart again as he raced off to another country, or for the way he swept his daughter off of her feet. And quite literally at that. Daybreak broom flights and even an afternoon on the back of a dragon!

Again, to be fair, that last might have had a touch of jealousy about it as well; very few, well, precisely two people alive in the world right then had flown on the back of a dragon. The boy could have at least offered!

A tapping at the window interrupted his thoughts and Cyrus looked over to see a bird standing at the window, tapping with its beak. What made this event most remarkable was the fact that it wasn’t an owl, the normal method of sending letters about. No, this bird was much, much larger and one that wasn’t seen very often at all. Albatrosses were expensive. Extremely expensive and only used to carry international post.

“Oh my!” Penelope exclaimed, her eyes fixed on the albatross.

With a bird of that size and of a type that he was unfamiliar with, there was no way that Cyrus was going to ask one of his family to retrieve the letter. No, that task was for him alone.

Rising, he strode around the table to the window. As he opened it, he could see that there was a tube tied to the albatross’ leg. After glancing up at the bird, which seemed incredibly interested in what he was doing, Cyrus tentatively reached out and unwound the string that tied the top of the tube down. A rolled up envelope appeared and Cyrus plucked it out, watching as it grew in size as it emerged.

Then, with its job done, the albatross took off, soaring away.

“Who’s it for, Daddy?” Astoria eagerly asked.

Cyrus had to bite his tongue. He didn’t want a tongue-lashing of his own later for giving a sarcastic remark to his youngest daughter. Really, who else could it be for? An international letter? There could only be one person that it was for.

Unconsciously, he glanced at the front of the envelope even as he was walking towards his eldest daughter. In fact, his hand was already extending to give it to her when the name of the addressee registered.

Pulling back his hand, Cyrus took a second look. Him?

“The letter’s for me,” he told not only Astoria, but also the rest of his family.

Daphne’s face, which at the appearance of the albatross had lifted, fell.

A tap of his wand unsealed the envelope and Cyrus withdrew a piece of parchment as he sat. Feeling that the envelope still felt fat, he glanced inside, only to discover a second envelope in there. This one, upon drawing it out, he found was addressed to Daphne.

“Astoria, please pass this to your sister,” he said.

Instantly, Daphne’s head shot up and a bright smile split her face and, once again, Cyrus was drawn into the debate of whether he liked or loathed Harry Potter.

“Who is your letter from, dear?” Penelope asked.

Cyrus glanced at the bottom of the page and blinked.

“Lord Sirius Black and Lord Harry Potter,” he replied.

“Really?” Penelope asked and he looked up to see the confusion in her eyes.

“I think that I’ll take this to my study and read it there,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, my Ladies?”

As he rose, he heard Daphne also asking to be excused. If he knew his daughter, she’d be racing off to her room to read her letter from her boyfriend. Grimacing at that thought, he thrust it from his mind, curiosity over the letter in his hand gaining the upper hand.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

8:45am

Thursday, 11 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

The true size of the Dragon Preserve revealed itself the further that Harry walked.

The previous afternoon, he’d had his first true look at the area that had been warded off to keep the Antipodean Opaleyes of Australia and New Zealand safe, both from magicals as well as muggles. He’d seen the way the sand hills had stretched away into the distance, all the way to the sparkling blue ocean but he simply hadn’t realised.

There were dozens and dozens of hills and therefore just as many dips and hollows – far more than there were dragons that lived at the Preserve. And each sandy depression made a perfect place for a dragon to create their own nest that was perfectly warmed by the sun during the day.

With there being so many, it meant that finding one in particular was not impossible, just certainly difficult. Thankfully, Harry had a guide.

With the brightness of the sun, looking up wasn’t the best idea, especially when combined with the fact that the scales of the Opaleye reflected the sun perfectly, dazzling and blinding anyone who saw them.

Their shadow, though, that was a different story. Looking ahead, Harry saw the shadow of Cantrum undulating as it passed over the uneven ground quickly getting further and further ahead.

“Next time, I’m bringing my Nimbus,” he muttered.

Seeing Cantrum’s shadow wheel away to the left, Harry followed along as best as he could.

His feet dug into the sand, making walking hard. His calves were already burning from the countless sandhills that he’d walked up and down. The sand was literally getting everywhere, not only from what he was kicking up as he walked, but also from the very wind itself. And a dragon landing or taking off only made it a thousand times worse. Harry was sure that his boots were full of the stuff. He definitely wasn’t looking forward to finding out where else it’d found places for.

“This is ridiculous,” he stated, coming to a stop. “There’s got to be a better way! I’m a wizard, for Merlin’s sake!”

His broom was what he really wanted but it was simply too far away to summon, not to mention that it was still locked away in his trunk. But it did give him an idea.

Flying.

He had no broom and he was no dragon. Nor was Ramaranth around to give him a lift. But surely … Harry’s head searched all around, looking for inspiration.

There! Not that far away, half buried in the sand, was a stick. Trudging across to it, he pulled it free. It wasn’t much to look at, barely as long as his forearm and only as thick as his little finger.

Concentrating on his magic, he washed his hand over it. Instantly, it enlarged until it was almost half as tall as he was and as thick as his fist. Better, but still no broom, not that it ever could be: it wasn’t straight, it wasn’t magical wood, there were no bristles or even one of the countless dozens of spells that went into the creation of a broom.

Next, he pulled off his jacket and laid it out flat on the sand; the stick he placed on the bottom of his jacket. Two quick sticking charms, one at either corner, secured it in place. Then, after folding the top of his jacket over, he secured those corners to the stick as well.

Now, he knew, came the hard part. A featherlight charm applied to himself followed by a levitation charm to the stick and jumper followed by something that he’d never tried before. To be honest, he didn’t even know if it was possible. He could simply be wasting his time. Still, Harry figured that it was worth a try, especially if it worked.

Closing his eyes, he summoned up as much magic as he possessed. He felt it gather within him, pooling and swirling deep within his core, a living, breathing manifestation, straining to get loose, to be free to do his bidding.

Tentatively, he opened a ‘hole’ in his core, funnelling his magic out into the very air around him. It leapt, attempting to burst free in one massive eruption of magic and it took everything within him to contain it. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled with it, forcing it to do his bidding.

Finally, it subsided, only ‘leaking’ out from his magic ‘well’ just as he wanted.

He felt the very air around him charging as it filled with magic. A spike of excitement almost cost him his concentration and he was forced to slow down.

Then, with his clothes beginning to be buffeted about in the wind that his magic was creating, he grabbed a tight hold of the stick, increased the levitation charm and let his magic loose in a steady, concentrated stream.

His arms strained as he felt himself lifting. He rose onto his toes with the pull of the stick which was in turn being pulled by the charged magical wind that had caught his jumper, sending it flying up and away. Finally, he lost contact with the ground, the sand dropping away below him.

Harry gave a whoop of delight that caused his jumper to flap in the loss of wind. In a panic, he concentrated on his magic, sending more out and had to hold on tight as he was jerked forwards.

Quickly, he searched the ground below, locating Cantrum’s shadow far ahead and off to the left.

A thought directed his magic to a specific part of his jumper, turning him in the right direction. After that, it was simply a case of hanging on for the ride.

A bright shape swooped down before him and Harry blinked and peered through his eyelashes in an attempt to shield his eyes as the sun’s rays reflected off of Cantrum’s scales.

Redirecting his magic, Harry followed.

As the ground approached, he stretched out, eager for the feel of solid ground once more. Ordinarily, Harry loved flying, be it on his broom or on the back of a dragon, and, while he now knew that he could create his own method of flying, it wasn’t one that he intended on recreating anytime soon: holding on like that, even with a featherlight charm, wasn’t easy. Plus it hurt!

§I did not know that you could fly without wings in such a manner, Speaker§, Cantrum said as Harry pulled in his makeshift kite, cancelled the levitation charm and tucked it under his arm.

§Neither did I§, Harry grinned. §But it sure beat walking. Where are we§?

Harry looked at the depression that they were standing above. It was easily large enough for even the largest dragon to lie comfortably in. As with all of these depressions, it was completely sandy – only the tops of the hills containing any grass.

Looking up, Harry saw that they were much closer to the ocean than he’d ever been before. Indeed, only another two hills separated them from the clear blue water.

§This is where Boolym rests her wings at night§, Cantrum replied.

§I’m guessing that Boolym is one of the dragon mothers that had her clutch stolen§? Harry asked.

§Yes, Speaker§, Cantrum replied quietly.

§Is it okay with Boolym if I go into her nest and have a look? Maybe I can find a clue as to what happened to her eggs§, Harry asked.

Cantrum inclined his head. §You show respect, as you should; your Mark is truly deserved§.

§My thanks§, Harry replied.

Before going down, Harry once again took a long, slow, careful look at what he was seeing. He imagined that he’d need to paint it later as an added way of ensuring that he didn’t miss anything.

The most noteworthy thing was the fact that the depression was truly a hollow. The sand rose high on all sides of the half ellipsoid shape. Anyone that wanted to enter Boolym’s nest would need to start at the top of the hills and would, theoretically, be easy to see.

Theoretically. After all, Harry knew that there were ways of making oneself invisible – he himself owned an invisibility cloak, a family heirloom, not that he’d really ever used the thing.

Deciding to start his investigation up there, Harry slowly walked the circumference of the tops of the hills. Every step was slow and his eyes continually searched the ground to either side of where he was walking.

Unfortunately, when he returned to Cantrum who was patiently still sitting where he’d landed, Harry hadn’t found anything. There were no footprints or vestiges of broken grass or anything. Not that he really expected to find anything, not after how long it’d been with the wind and elements there to scour anything and everything clean.

Only slightly disappointed considering his expectations, Harry descended into the bowl.

Once again, sand went everywhere and he found his feet sliding in the soft white sand. Finally, with a bit of a stumble, he reached the bottom and slightly firmer ground.

A few steps forward was enough to show Harry that he was very unlikely to find anything down there either. The bottom of the depression might be quite large but it was home to a dragon. A rather large dragon. Every time that she’d landed or walked around or laid down or taken off, the sand had been disturbed and kicked up. If there had been any footsteps, they were long gone.

From out of his peripheral vision, Harry saw Cantrum crouched low over his feet, his long head stretched out as he watched everything that Harry did. There might not be anything here to be found but that wasn’t going to stop Harry from ‘putting on a show’ for the dragon.

As he stomped about in an attempt not to get caught up by the sand, Harry deliberately swung his head to either side.

Nothing! There was simply nothing to see! Whatever, whoever, took the clutch of eggs, was long gone, along with any evidence of how it was done. Assuming that there was any in the first place.

It was as he was looking into the far corner, not watching where he was going, that he felt the sand give way under him.

“Ahhh!” he cried, his hands flying up even as the right side of his body fell.

Harry landed hard on his side and winced at the pain in his leg. Panting, he tried to grab hold of his upper thigh, only to find that he couldn’t reach it – it was buried in sand!

In a panic, Harry looked about himself. His left leg was still alright and could wholly be seen, even if it had bent up under him when he’d fallen. But of his right leg, there was nothing.

§Speaker§!

The roar of Cantrum’s voice coupled with the loud thump of the Opaleye landing bare metres from him and the sand cloud that rose around him had him crying out again. And instantly spitting out the sand that had settled in his mouth.

§I’m alright§, Harry said. §Looks like I just fell into this hole§.

§Do you need assistance, Speaker§? Cantrum asked.

A shake of his head was all his reply even as he planted the palms of both hands flat on the sand and he heaved. At first, his leg felt like it didn’t want to move. He pushed harder and then, all at once, Harry felt the sand give and his leg emerged.

The instant that it was free, he rolled over onto his back, panting.

§Speaker§? Cantrum asked.

Ignoring the dragon, Harry sat up and looked at his newly rediscovered leg. His trousers leg was no longer dark blue, instead it was now almost completely white from the sand that covered it. As for his shoe … it was missing.

Frowning, Harry held out his hand and concentrated.

With a plop his shoe emerged from the hole. Without even needing to think about it, Harry caught it before turning it upside down and tipping a stream of sand out of it.

§I’m okay§, Harry said. §No damage done except to my pride§.

Curious, he examined the hole. It wasn’t wide. In fact, Harry was sure that he must have simply stepped in the sweet spot for his leg to fall down it like that – a few centimetres either way and he’d have simply been tripped by it. As for its depth, he had no clue. Certainly deeper than his leg.

§Please tell Boolym about this hole§, Harry said, §I’d hate for her to hurt herself by catching her claws in it§.

§It shall be as you say, Speaker§, Cantrum replied.

Pushing himself to his feet, Harry tested his leg. There was a twinge when he jumped on it but nothing too bad.

§I can’t see anything here that tells me what might have happened§, Harry said, looking up at Cantrum.

§Is it time to move on to Lundsum’s nest§? Cantrum asked.

§Yes, then Vestrym’s§, Harry nodded. Then, after a quick internal debate, §Cantrum, can I ask a favour§?

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

3:20pm

Thursday, 11 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Remus stared at Harry as he floated across the sky above them. He was astonished, flabbergasted, even! A few simple charms combined with one of the most obscure and more powerful pieces of magic that he’d ever read about was being demonstrated right before his very eyes.

A firm touch under his chin had him snapping his jaw shut with an audible click. Remus hadn’t even realised that he’d been standing there with his mouth open! And what’s more, he didn’t care.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” he managed, still unable to tear his gave away.

“Seeing. Still working on believing,” Sirius muttered.

“Weather magic,” Charlie said, clearly in awe. “I knew that Harry was powerful. Merlin, we all knew that. Just look at his patronus! Wandless and a magical animal at that. At his age!”

“When you lot have done gawkin’ at the lad,” Andy stated, “perhaps you can explain to me what’s so special.”

With willpower that Remus didn’t know that he possessed, he tore his gaze away from Harry and directed it at the aboriginal Head Dragon Keeper. The fact that the man beside him seemed impressed but not fazed by what Harry was doing answered the question of who’d closed his mouth for him.

“What’s so special?” Remus repeated. “Harry’s … Harry’s harnessing elemental magic!”

He’d finished by waving his arm towards the still floating boy hanging on to his ‘kite’.

“True enough,” Andy nodded. “And while I’ll admit that not many can do it, it’s not exactly unknown, now is it?”

Something in his tone jumpstarted Remus’ brain. Andy knew more about elemental magic than he was letting on.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked.

It was also enough to have Charlie shifting his attention to his fellow Dragon Keeper. Sirius, though, never once took his eyes from Harry.

Andy shrugged. “Not like this. But amongst my people, such things are not uncommon even if they are rare. My people are much more connected to the land, to nature and the world around us than most others. I guess that you could say that it’s more innate in us.”

“What sort of elemental magic?” Remus asked.

“All sorts,” Andy replied. “But mostly Earth and Air; Fire and Water, not so much but there have been those that are more in tune with those aspects.”

“How many have been able to perform elemental magic at Harry’s age?” Sirius asked, proving that he was listening even if his eyes were still turned upwards.

“None that I know of,” Andy replied. “In that, yes, our young Speaker is quite unusual. And powerful.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Remus replied. “You heard him, didn’t you? He has no idea that what he’s doing is so rare – it’s one of those defining characteristics of Harry’s magic. If he’s not told that something can’t be done, then he doesn’t have that self-imposed limitation. Thus …”

He finished with another wave of his hand towards where Harry was now wheeling about and heading back towards them.

“Do you have any books about elemental magic? Or know of any?” Sirius asked. “Whatever you’ve got or can get your hands on, I’ll buy off of you.”

“Our people do not work the same way as your own,” Andy replied. “We are an oral people, imparting wisdom from Elder to child or student as the need for knowledge is needed.”

“So, no books then?” Sirius asked.

“No, no books,” Andy confirmed. “However, I do have something better. There is a man that I know, one of the most knowledgeable of elemental magics within our people. His affinity is Earth with a smattering of Water, I believe, but he’ll know about the other elements even if he isn’t a practitioner. I’ll ask him to come speak to young Harry, if you like.”

“Please, that’d be great!” Sirius exclaimed, finally pulling his gaze away from Harry.

Harry heading directly towards the four men had them scattering, providing him a clear path for landing. They watched apprehensively as he landed, skidding on the dirt before the jacket that had been pulling him along went limp and dropped towards the ground.

“That was incredible, Harry!” Remus exclaimed.

“Amazing, Pup!” Sirius added, bounding up to him. “Mind you, your mother would have been having kneazles seeing you up so high with not even a broom between your legs.”

“Your father, though, would be just as proud of you as we are,” Remus said, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“They would?” Harry asked eagerly and Remus was reminded that Harry still knew very little about James and Lily. It was something that he and Sirius needed to change.

“Without a doubt,” Remus replied.

“You look exhausted, Harry. Are you sure that you’re okay?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. Doing that just takes a fair bit out of me,” Harry replied.

With a frown, Remus flicked his wand into his hand from its holster and gave a complicated little wave of its tip across Harry’s abdomen. Bright red numbers flashed and his frown deepened considerably. Low. Far too low.

“No more magic for you today,” Remus stated and quickly continued, talking over the protest that Harry began. “That little piece of magic that you just performed, while incredibly impressive, is also extremely advanced. And you’ve performed it not once but twice today. Not to mention all of the other, smaller pieces of wandless magic. All of that has added up to the fact that your magical reserves are far too low for my liking.”

“Magical exhaustion?” a startled Sirius asked.

“Not quite but on the brink of it,” Remus replied.

“Right, you heard your Uncle Moony. No more magic for you. Dinner, then bed,” Sirius ordered.

“But I’m not even tired!” Harry protested.

“Dinner, some reading or carving or painting for an hour, then bed,” Remus compromised. “You’ve had a huge day and tomorrow isn’t likely to be much better.”

For an instant, there was a flash of something in Harry’s eye but it quickly disappeared with his nod.

“Okay, I guess I can agree to that,” Harry replied.

“Right, come on, I’m starved,” Charlie said, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You can tell me about the Opaleye’s nests while we eat.”

Catching Sirius’ eye, Remus lifted an eyebrow and received an answering nod. With that, the two men, with Andy beside them, followed the younger two towards the Lodge and dinner.

Chapter Text

4:50pm

Thursday, 11 August 1995

Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

A glance at the clock had him nodding. Yes, just before the Ministry workers signed off for the day; the perfect time.

Standing, he walked around his desk but just before he reached the fireplace and the mantle where he kept the pot of floo powder, he glanced across at the elaborate perch that stood near the window. He missed seeing the brilliant red and gold plumage that ordinarily lived there, but, alas, another burning day had come and gone and the baby bird that now resided there wasn’t as nice to look at.

Then, after grabbing up a handful of green powder, he clicked his fingers, magicking fire in place.

Throwing in the powder turned the flames green and he stepped in amongst them.

“The Ministry of Magic!”

Instantly, the green of the flames intensified before he was whisked away on a whirlwind tour of hundreds of other fireplaces – all too fast for the eye to make out any details.

“Headmaster Dumbledore!”

He turned at the sound of his name, a smile already on his lips.

“Ah, Miss Rutledge, how nice to see you again,” he greeted.

She smiled shyly, her head dipping, but not before he noticed the rounding of her eyes. It was always so wonderful to see how amazed and awed people were of him, especially when he remembered their names. Really, how could he not remember them? After all, he had one of the best minds in the world and had taught himself to remember names and faces decades ago. Not to mention that he’d taught or been the Headmaster for the majority of the British wizarding population for close to the last century.

“If you will excuse me, I have an appointment that I mustn’t be late for,” he said.

Instantly, she bustled out of his way, mumbling something that he took no notice of.

“How are you, Headmaster?”

“Nice to see you, Chief Warlock.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore!”

The greetings came thick and fast the further into the Ministry that he strode. And every greeting that he received, he returned, more often than not adding in the person’s name as well. There was a reason that he chose this particular time: seeing so many, walking among those that were once children that looked up to him, reminded them of his achievements and how important a place he held not just in magical society, but also in their hearts.

Finally, after traversing the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic and then an elevator ride, he reached the very door that he’d been aiming for: the sub-Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain.

The concept of knocking wasn’t even entertained, after all, he was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and every Department was expected to accommodate every one of his wishes.

At first glance, he thought that he’d come too late, that the Department was empty but a scrape, the sound of a chair moving slightly in a side office had him focussing that direction.

He cleared his throat and waited. When no one had come out to greet him after a minute, he frowned. That was not how it was supposed to be! A tiny bell on the counter before him caught his attention and he contemplated it. It was decidedly … muggle and he considered ignoring it and using magic to sound a bell but that wouldn’t do for the image that he was trying to convey nor the way that he wanted the conversation to go.

Thus, he reached out and tapped the bell once, causing a melodic chime to ring throughout the office.

“Headmaster Dumbledore! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!” the wide-eyed woman that appeared in the doorway exclaimed.

“Madam Grimblehawk,” he smiled. “I hope that I’m not disturbing you?”

“Of course not,” she replied.

He watched her as she bustled up to the front counter, remembering back nearly three decades to the girl that she had once been.

Mathilda Grimblehawk, or, more precisely, Mathilda Tickerton, as she was when she was first sorted, had always been a rather plain girl. She worked hard for her marks, as any Hufflepuff was wont to do and she was considered a well-liked and friendly girl. From what he understood, little had changed with her.

Madam Grimblehawk had been an odd choice to head up the Committee that had been designed to entice Harry Potter to stay in Britain. The fact that it’d failed abysmally – indeed, young Harry hadn’t even responded to the invitation to come talk about him being involved in the monitoring and preservation of the country’s dragons – hadn’t reflected very badly on her, even if the committee had been disbanded and she’d been thusly reintegrated back into her original department.

Upon hearing about the contract that young Harry had signed with the dragon reserves of the world, Cornelius had decided to not only revive the committee but then to elevate it to sub-Department status in an effort to ‘persuade’ Harry home. Madam Grimblehawk, as the one with the most knowledge of the subject, had been tapped to lead it and thus, it was to her that Dumbledore needed to come. Yes, she was hard-working and would definitely put her all into the job, but he knew that he could … assist her endeavours. And his own while he was at it.

“What is it that I can do for you, Headmaster?” she asked.

Dumbledore smiled at her, letting a twinkle form in his eye.

“As you know, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I receive reports from all of the Departments and when I came across yours and the wonderful work you are doing here, I decided that I really must visit to see if there was anything that you needed or perhaps if there was a way that I could lend a guiding hand? Setting up a new sub-Department is, after all, a lot of work.”

As expected, Grimblehawk beamed at the concept of having his attention.

“Well, I won’t argue, these last few weeks have definitely been some of the most challenging of my career but it’s all been so very rewarding. Especially now that I’m starting to see results,” she replied.

“I would be delighted to hear about your progress in your own words,” he said before leaning forward to convey an air of trustworthiness. “Some of those reports can be incredibly dry reading and not give the full picture, you know.”

“Oh, I understand completely,” she gushed. “Well, as you can see, we have most of the equipment that we need now and a small staff already in place.”

“I believe that you – on the Ministry’s behalf – have purchased some land to use for a Reserve?” he asked, knowing that this question would ultimately lead to where he wanted the conversation to go.

“Yes, we have!” she exclaimed. “The Ministry’s legal department only finalised the purchase two days ago. An entire island to the west of the Shetland Islands. It’s not quite as big as I would have liked – especially as it’ll be the home to all the dragons of Great Britain, the Welsh Greens and the Hebridean Blacks – but it’s the best that we could get. It’ll be completely warded to keep the dragons in, not to mention make it unplottable and with a full compliment of anti-muggle wards by this time next week.”

“Astonishing, absolutely astonishing! You are truly a credit to your old House with all of the hard work you’ve been putting in,” Dumbledore praised.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” she blushed, as if she was eleven once again.

“Tell me, how many dragon keepers will be needed to man such a Reserve?” Dumbledore asked.

“To start with, half a dozen. We lucked out there, thank Merlin. Our dragons are on the smaller size, so it won’t take as many to handle a dragon at once. Later, I envision a dozen dragon keepers,” she replied.

“You have been thinking ahead,” Dumbledore smiled. “Am I right to assume that you’re already taking applications?”

“Not quite,” she replied. “I’m looking over portfolios for current dragon keepers for a suitable Head Keeper that we can approach.”

“A wise decision,” he nodded. “I assume that you’ll be wanting to hire a British wizard – after all, such a dragon keeper would know our dragons the best.”

Grimblehawk frowned. “Unfortunately, there simply aren’t many British dragon keepers and none that I’ve come across with the correct qualifications.”

“In that case, might I make a suggestion?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Of course, Headmaster!” she replied.

“May I suggest Charles Weasley for the role?”

“Weasley?” Grimblehawk frowned. “I haven’t seen any Weasleys in the names that I’m looking into. Any relation to Arthur Weasley from Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?”

“His second eldest, in fact,” Dumbledore replied. “As for young Charles, he currently works at the Romanian Dragon Reserve and – according to his mother – is only a year or so away from achieving his Beast Mastery which would make him more than qualified to be Head Keeper.”

“Maybe,” she allowed, looking not entirely convinced.

Dumbledore, though, knew one last piece of information, gleaned as it was through a contact in the ICW that would convince her.

“I believe that young Harry Potter is apprenticing under him,” he stated mildly.

The broad grin that broke out on her face told him that his aim of visiting had been achieved.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:05am

Friday, 12 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Harry stepped into the room behind Charlie and instantly stopped. Less than half an hour ago, the room had looked completely different.

Then it had been set up with half a dozen long tables, each easily able to set eight. Most of those tables had been full of people then, all having breakfast.

Now those tables had disappeared. In their place was one gigantic table placed exactly in the centre of the room. There were no chairs, not that it mattered – the table was large enough to accommodate all eighteen dragon keepers already there standing around it.

That was another difference: there were only dragon keepers there. None of the support staff were in attendance and, as far as that went, only Harry and Charlie had been invited to attend, not Sirius or Remus.

“Gentlemen, come join us,” Andy called from where he stood at the head of the table.

Following Charlie, Harry made his way to the table where a space had been left for them.

The table, now that Harry was closer and able to see it properly, wasn’t the usual sort of table that he would have expected. It was thicker than normal, easily an extra hands width above what he would have considered a comfortable height.

“Thank you all for coming,” Andy said. “As you all know, there’s been a problem with the dragons for the past few weeks. Thanks to young Harry there, we now know the cause: three of the four clutches of eggs have gone missing. While you all have been given assignments that can hopefully help us find out what has been taking the eggs and prevent the last clutch from being stolen, I thought it time that to ensure that we’re all on the same page.”

Then, before saying anything else, Andy stretched forward with his wand and tapped the top of the table in select spots. A small glowing rune appeared at each place his wand tapped, causing Harry’s eyes to widen. As the sixth rune activated, the entire top of the table glowed golden for a moment before disappearing from view.

What was left was a stunningly accurate three-dimensional map of the Preserve. Every sandhill and hollow was reproduced in exacting detail – there were even tiny green tufts of grass that Harry could have sworn moved with the wind. At the far side, he could even see miniatures of the buildings that they were currently standing in. And curving away on the opposite end from where Andy stood, the blue water representing the ocean spread out, a waterfall at the edge of the table that disappeared before it reached the floor

Again, Andy reached out with his wand. This time he lightly touched the centre of four of the tiny valleys – the very four where Harry knew the nesting mothers had their weyrs. Three Andy highlighted in red, the last blue.

There was a slight gasp from one of the keepers on the other side of the table and Harry flicked his gaze to her.

“Sharon?” Andy asked.

“Those three that have had their eggs taken, they’re all fairly close to the water,” she pointed out. “Could that be a factor?”

“We’re not ruling anything out at this point,” Andy stated. “Mick? Have any of the patrols noticed anything?”

“Nah, nothing out of the ordinary,” Mick replied. “There’s no crocs that live there – reckon the closest is about a klick to the south. Not even a croc’ll challenge a dragon. Haven’t seen any other animals about either.”

“What about magical animals?” Charlie asked.

A chuckle swept around the table at his question.

“There’s only two magical animals native to Australia,” Bruce stated. “The Opaleye and the billywig.”

“That’s an insect, right?” Harry asked, remembering the animal from Newt’s book.

“Right,” Bruce replied.

“There are also bunyips,” Andy stated, before holding up his hands at the murmurs of disagreement that swept the other dragon keepers. Looking at Harry and Charlie, he explained. “My people, the Aboriginal people, know of bunyips, even if no white man has ever seen one.”

“What are they?” Harry asked.

“A predator that lives in swamps. Fast enough and strong enough to live at the top of the food chain. There are enough songs of the bunyip attacking and killing man that ensure my people respect them and keep well away,” Andy replied.

“And completely mythological,” Bruce stated emphatically, adding in a nod.

“What about introduced animals?” Charlie asked.

“I’m pretty sure that the miners in Coober Pedy introduced nifflers but that’s a few thousand klicks south west from here,” Daniel mused, rubbing his chin. “And I think there’s a fella in WA that’s got a reserve for diricawls. But otherwise, there’s never been a lot of magical animals here.”

“What about non-magical animals?” Charlie asked.

“All animals have a sense of magic about them,” Andy stated. “Especially here in Australia. My people have always known that. Besides, how else would you explain the platypus or the fact that wombat droppings are cube-shaped?”

“Or that some marsupials glow in the dark under the right type of light,” Bruce sighed with a shake of his head.

“They do?” Harry asked, surprised.

He wished Newt had come with him; Harry was sure that he’d be learning just as much.

“According to Andy, they do,” Sharon laughed.

“They do,” Andy stated with a finality that closed that topic. “Jessie, have you heard anything from your contacts in the muggle world?”

The woman in question pulled a satchel that she had over her shoulder around, opened it and pulled out an off-white, fossilized dinosaur egg.

“I found this,” she said. “Definitely Opaleye, but not one of the ones we’re looking for. This was in a museum – had been for a couple of decades. Didn’t feel right leaving it there so I conjured a copy and brought this one home. Otherwise, nothing at all. Not even any chatter from the Black Market boys.”

“Good work,” Andy said, nodding at the egg. “And thank you. Harry, have you found out anything from the dragons themselves?”

Harry shook his head in frustration.

“No. They don’t know what took the eggs either. Which is why they stopped letting any of you in – they hoped that by keeping everything out, both human and animal – that they could protect the eggs that they have left.

“I did have a look at Boolym, Lundsum and Vestrym’s weyrs. There was no evidence of what could have taken the eggs. I didn’t go down into Shiklyn’s weyr at all – actually, I didn’t even bother asking. It’s got a wing of six dragons at all times watching over it and the eggs.”

“Nothing unusual at all?” Sharon asked.

Again, Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Just a whole lot of sand and grass up on the lip.”

“You said that you hurt your foot examining one of the weyrs?” Charlie prompted.

“My foot went down a hole in Boolym’s weyr, that’s all,” Harry frowned.

“That could be something?” Jessie suggested.

“Were there any holes in either of the other weyrs?” Andy asked.

“Not that I noticed,” Harry replied.

“Could be worth checking out; at this point, we need to check out anything, however unlikely,” Andy mused. “Do you think the dragons would allow one of us to go in there if we were with you?”

“I think so,” Harry hedged.

“Right, after we’re finished here, you and I’ll go take another look at those weyrs,” Andy stated. “As for the rest of you, keep doing what you’re doing. And Mick? Widen out those patrols. An extra half kilometre outside the Preserve should do it. Maybe whatever’s doing this is sitting just outside the wards laughing at us. Whatever it is, I want it found and dealt with.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Mick replied to the accompaniment of the murmurings of agreement from the rest of the dragon keepers.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

11:20am

Friday, 12 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Harry glided his Nimbus to a halt at the top of the sand dune. The hollow in front of him was exactly as he’d seen it just the day before – high sides with a flat, sandy bottom. It was small for a weyr – only slightly larger than Vestrym herself.

Looking up from where he hovered, Harry could see the ocean. This was one of the closest weyrs to the crystal blue water and Harry was tempted to ask for a chance to stop there before they went back; after all, a chance to swim or at least wade in the ocean wasn’t something to pass up, not when this was the first time that he’d ever really seen it.

§Vestrym, may we enter your weyr§? he asked, refocussing on the business at hand.

The opaleye in question swung her great head to either side, looking at the other four dragons – Dankrum, Boolym, Lundsum and Cantrum before answering. Harry could see that she, of all of the three who’d lost clutches, appeared the most miserable and despondent. The way her head dropped and her wings remained tight against her body except when she was flying only added to Harry’s determination to find the culprit and make them pay.

§Of course, Speaker. You and your friend have my permission§.

Glancing back, Harry gave a single nod to Andy before he leant forward and willed his nimbus over the rise and down into the valley of the weyr.

At the bottom, they hovered and Harry watched Andy pull his wand. He’d done this at Lundsum’s weyr as well. The wand motion was a simple sweep, lift and sharp downwards flick, the incantation crevasse deprehendere was silent although Andy had instructed Harry on it verbally before they’d flown out into the Weyr proper.

A red-orange wave of magic swept over the sand after Andy had cast the spell. Not unexpectedly, a coal black circle appeared towards one end. Harry and Andy shared grim looks. They’d seen the exact same thing in both Boolym and Lundsum’s weyrs.

“Looks like you were right,” Harry stated grimly.

Landing, the two walked over to where they now knew that a deep hole in the ground lay.

“It helps narrow the search. Animal, no human could fit in a hole that size,” Andy stated.

“Any guesses what animal?” Harry asked.

“No,” Andy frowned. “At least, not yet.”

The magic that Andy’s spell had created had dissipated leaving them looking at what appeared to be no hole at all. Reaching out with his foot, Harry tapped where he knew the hole to be and watched as the film of sand fell away. Exactly how that layer of sand stayed in place was a mystery that they had yet to solve.

“I wonder how deep it goes?” he mused.

“Better, where does it go?” Andy asked and continued when Harry looked at him curiously. “This cannot be where the tunnel starts, only where it ends.”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Harry shrugged. “We can’t fit down there to follow it.”

“We can’t,” Andy agreed. “But we’re magic-users; there are other ways.”

“You know a spell?” Harry asked.

“No, young Speaker, however, you do,” Andy grinned even as he mounted his broom and hovered in front of Harry. “I want you to manipulate the wind as you did yesterday. Direct it straight down into the hole. It should follow the tunnel and when it finds its way out, there’ll be a column of sand and other debris shooting into the air that I should be able to see.”

“And if we find out how the animal got in, it might give us some more clues as to what it is!” an excited Harry exclaimed.

Andy laughed. “Exactly.”

“Okay, I can do that,” he nodded. “I’ll hold it as long as I can to give you the best chance of spotting it.”

After nodding, Andy floated straight up ten, twenty, thirty metres into the air. The dragons, Harry noted, watched Andy interestedly but didn’t move from where they crouched on the lip of the sandy bowl.

Taking a few deep breaths, Harry centred himself. He felt for his magic, pulling it into himself and drawing it into a tight ball centred in the middle of his chest where he’d found that well of magic inside himself the day before. Carefully, he contracted it, tightened his hold on it, condensing it. He could feel it building, trying to swell and escape.

Then, opening the tiniest of holes in his magic, he let a stream of it out. He willed it into the very air, feeling as it charged the air particles, exciting them. Focussing on the hole at his feet, he directed the magically charged air straight into it.

The trickle that he’d let out threatened to explode and he was forced to marshal his willpower to make it do what he wanted it to do.

In a lot of ways, this was a lot easier than the day before – all he was doing was focussing his magic into the one continuous direction and not concentrate on multiple spells and directions at once. But it still had him sweating as the minutes ticked by.

Finally, he heard a cry from above him.

“There! There!”

“You can see it?” he yelled.

“Get up here, Harry! You’ve got to see this!” Andy yelled back down.

Maintaining that stream of magic while mounting a broom wasn’t easy but Harry was determined to keep it going as long as possible to give him the best chance of seeing what Andy was seeing.

Finally, he could hold it no more. Releasing it, he rocketed into the sky. Thankfully, Andy was pointing out where to look and he spun his broom around in the appropriate direction.

What he saw had his eyes bulging. He’d expected to see a column of air and sand shooting into the sky. There wasn’t. Instead, only a few metres out from the shore, the water bubbled and roiled as though a fire had been lit under it. It was a slightly different colour, too. Instead of the clear crystal blue, it was deeper with a murky brown pigment mixed in with it.

But even as he watched, the water began to settle. The bubbles slowed, leaving only a slowly spreading cloud of sand that began to settle back towards the ocean floor.

“The tunnel leads into the ocean?” he blurted in wonder.

Chapter Text

4:40pm

Friday, 12 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

“Here, here and … here!” Andy stated.

After pulling his wand back, he looked at Harry and cocked an eyebrow. Harry carefully examined the map of the Preserve and, in particular, the three glowing red dots positioned just in the ocean. They looked about right, exactly where they’d found the entrances to the three tunnels that led to the three weyrs.

“That looks right to me,” Harry nodded.

“It’s gotta be an animal, then,” Charlie stated. “Too small for a human and a person couldn’t tunnel in the sand like that for that distance without it collapsing.”

“But what animal, though?” Sharon asked. “None that I know of, magical or mundane.”

Silence was her only response and with good reason – none of them had come up with any answer, no matter how much research had been done. At this point, Harry doubted even Newt could answer the question.

“The only good news we have is that that last weyr is a lot further from the ocean,” Bruce stated.

“True, but does that mean that it’s safe?” Mick asked. “Could just take a while longer for whatever’s doing this to tunnel that far.”

“We need to keep those eggs safe,” Andy stated. “This is the first clutch of eggs we’ve had here for quite a few years, and you all know that these are the only Opaleye dragons in the world. As dragon keepers, it’s our responsibility to keep them safe and to help them prosper.”

“Harry, can the dragons help us find what’s doing this?” Charlie asked.

Harry shook his head in frustration. “I don’t think so. Yes, they’ve got a flight of half a dozen dragons watching over the weyr and the eggs twenty-four seven but if whatever’s taking the eggs is coming up from underground and the dragons can’t sense whatever it is either – which they are most annoyed about – then I doubt that there’s a lot that they can do to safeguard them.”

“Even if we were there watching as well – which there’s no guarantee the dragons would allow – I don’t overly like the idea of simply reacting to the eggs getting taken,” Andy frowned. “Even if we got there as soon as it happened and used young Harry’s wind ability to flush the animal out, the chances of the eggs getting damaged is too high.”

“Andy’s right, we need to find this thing and catch it before it reaches the eggs,” Bruce said.

“How though? The thing tunnels! Even assuming that it’s starting from the ocean like the other three tunnels, it could be coming from anywhere! And there’s no guarantee that it’s coming in a straight line either. It could be circling for all we know!” Sharon stated, clearly frustrated.

“Then what do we do?” Jess, the lone apprentice attached to the Preserve asked. “We can’t let those eggs be taken!”

“What we really need is to come up with a way to trap it before it can take the eggs, I just can’t see how at the moment,” Andy stated. “I’m open to ideas.”

“Did someone say something about wanting to set a trap?”

Harry spun at the extremely interested-sounding voice to find an eager-looking Sirius standing just inside the door, Remus right along-side him.

“I think we’ve just found our answer!” Charlie laughed. “Gentlemen, ladies, let me introduce you to two of the Marauders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The pranks these guys pulled during their school years are still legendary after all this time.”

“Hey! It wasn’t that long ago!” Sirius retorted.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but if you’re wanting to set a trap for someone or something, then we might be able to come up with a few ideas,” Remus stated.

“At this point in time, I’ll take anything,” Andy said. “Come on over and we’ll explain what we know.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

6:05am

Saturday, 13 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

There was barely a click when the door closed and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. While neither Sirius nor Remus were light sleepers, he hadn’t wanted to take the chance of waking them, especially not with how late they’d gone to bed the night before.

Admittedly, Harry was up just as late, but he’d always been an early riser – a decade of waking early to cook breakfast for his ‘family’ had ensured that he’d never be able to sleep in, no matter how hard he tried.

But being awake this early meant that he could finally do something that he’d been missing: see the sunrise from his broom a few hundred yards up. Ramaranth, Grouleth, Memzath and the fledglings might be half a world away, but there were dragons here and he could get lucky enough to have some company.

Dawn wasn’t long past when he took to the sky.

Harry couldn’t help but look around while he flew. It was so different here, nothing like Romania or even Scotland where he’d flown before. The land here near the coast was fairly flat with only small hills undulating across it – very different from what he was used to. There were mountains here but so far in the distance as to be nearly impossible to see and the most puzzling part of those mountains was their colour. Blue. Not green or brown or capped in white, but blue!

Movement out at sea diverted Harry’s attention and he turned his broom that way, accelerating straight across the Preserve. Could whatever’s been taking the eggs be a sea dweller?

Below him, he noticed dragon heads turn upwards but he ignored them, instead keeping his eyes focussed. It wasn’t a wave, of that he was certain. The way that it arched its back out of the water had his eyes widening – whatever it was, it was big! And then he saw a huge tail emerge, stand upright for a moment before slapping straight down, sending up a spray of water.

“Is that … a whale!” he exclaimed.

He’d never seen a whale before, unsurprising really considering his time here in Australia was the first time that he’d ever seen the ocean before. Nothing could stop him from flying on, as eager as he was to get a closer look.

His eyes scanned the water even as he shot passed the beach and headed straight out over the ocean. Another whale breached (or was it the same one?), its back rising above the surface of the water, a jet of air shooting straight up as it breathed and Harry gasped. It was big, huge even! He could only laugh at his ridiculous thought that this was what had dug the tunnels and taken the eggs.

§I greet you, Speaker. Are you here to break your fast§?

Harry’s head shot to the side to find an Opaleye flying beside him, its head in line with his broom. There was a scar that led from the dragon’s lower jaw and partway down its neck that made Harry frown – what could hurt a dragon’s hide? Unless it had happened as a fledgling when the hide was still soft?

§Good morning§, Harry replied. §I’m sorry, I don’t know your name§.

§I am Zanzyn, Speaker§, the dragon replied.

§It’s nice to meet you, Zanzyn§, Harry replied.

§Are you here to break your fast, Speaker§? Zanzyn repeated.

§No, I just enjoy flying and watching the sun come up§, he replied. §And the whales caught my attention. I’ve never seen any before§.

Even as he looked back out and down, he saw not one, but two whales breaching. The second one, though, was much, much smaller than the first. A baby! And it was swimming very close to its mother. Before he could comment on it, another whale appeared. This one, though was different. For a start, Harry could see it underwater before it breached, even in the low light. For another, it was pure white!

§A white whale§! Harry exclaimed.

§Migaloo§, Zanzyn said.

Harry spared a second to glance at his flying companion before focussing on the strange whale once again.

§I’m sorry, I don’t know that word§, he said.

§Migaloo§, Zanzyn repeated. §It is the word that the two-legs use whenever they see this whale. They always get quite animated when it appears although we do not know why; it’s just a whale§.

§Migaloo§, Harry repeated, rolling the word around. §Could it be the whale’s name§?

§I do not know, Speaker§.

Then, without warning, Zanzyn’s entire body tipped up and then straight down. Harry watched, alarmed, as the dragon’s wings folded up tight against its body. It plunged faster and faster straight down towards the water. Harry had no idea what to do. He didn’t think that they were high enough for the dragon to pull out of its dive before it hit the water. Still, that didn’t stop him from willing Zanzyn’s wings to open.

But it never happened.

Instead, Zanzyn plunged straight into the ocean below. Its body was so straight that there was hardly any splash at all. Instantly, Harry dove down after it, his eyes searching the water below.

But before he could drop very far, Zanzyn re-emerged, flying out of the water, its great wings flapping hard to gain altitude. Water poured from its body and Harry scanned it, searching for damage, but there was none that he could see.

It was only when Zanzyn once more reached Harry’s height that he realised that there was something flopping around at the side of Zanzyn’s jaw. Before he could identify it, Zanzyn jerked its head up. Its jaws flew open and three fish flew up, spun around and fell straight back to land in Zanzyn’s mouth.

Breakfast! Zanzyn had asked about breakfast. Obviously, this was the dragon’s breakfast!

§Would you like a fish, Speaker? I could catch one for you? They’re quite delicious§, Zanzyn asked.

§No thank you, Zanzyn, I’m not hungry just yet§, he replied.

Unfortunately, when Harry next looked back to see the whales again, it was in vain: they’d moved on, possibly scared away by Zanzyn’s fishing expedition. Still, he’d gotten to see them and it wasn’t something that he was ever likely to forget. Especially if he painted this morning’s scene: Zanzyn emerging from the ocean, fish in its jaws, the whales off in the distance. He could see the image so clearly in his mind that his fingers itched to have a piece of chalk or a paintbrush in his hand.

Painting, though, wasn’t something that he had a lot of time for, not with the creature still out there and the eggs in danger. Although …

§Zanzyn, do you know if Dankrum is awake yet? We have an idea to help keep Shiklyn’s clutch safe, but I need to speak to Dankrum first to see if it’s possible§, he asked.

§Dankrum is usually awake before the sun rises§, Zanzyn replied. §If you are willing to wait until after I have caught a few more fish, I can take you to her§?

§Of course§, Harry smiled. §I’d be very happy to wait. Eat your fill§.

With that, Zanzyn rolled his body and dived for the water below once more.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

1:25pm

Saturday, 13 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

“Harry Potter, I’d like you to meet Coen Muriata,” Andy introduced.

“Nice to meet you, Sir,” Harry said, shaking the older man’s hand.

Like Andy, Coen was clearly a native of Australia. Unlike Andy, Coen was old, ancient even. The lines that marked his face were deep and many and his hair was a pure white, just like the few teeth that still remained in his mouth. Harry was also able to just about look the man in his eyes but that was due more to the man’s pronounced stoop rather than his actual height.

“‘Coen’? That’s an unusual name,” Remus said, also shaking the elder aboriginal’s hand.

Harry shot his honorary uncle a Look. Really? He thought ‘Coen’ was unusual considering his own name and his best friend’s name?

“It means ‘thunder’ in my language,” Coen replied.

“An apt name, considering Coen’s affinity for elemental magic,” Andy explained.

“You can do elemental magic?” Harry blurted. “Cool!”

Coen’s eyes lit up even as he laughed. “I hear that you can do it, too, young Harry.”

“So I’m told,” Harry replied. “Really, I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here. How about you and I go for a walk and you can tell me what you’ve managed so far?” Coen suggested.

At Harry’s nod, the two of them started off towards the sand hills; due to Coen’s slow pace, though, Harry was able to hear the tail end of Remus and Andy’s conversation.

“Coen is a master of wind and earth magics and he has knowledge of fire and water magics as well,” Andy was saying. “If Harry pays attention, he can learn a lot from him.”

“If I know Harry, he’ll be soaking up anything he’s taught like a sponge,” Remus replied.

“Young Andy tells me this is your first time here in Australia,” Coen said, drawing Harry’s attention back. “What do you think of our Land?”

“It’s amazing!” Harry replied before clarifying, “not that I’ve seen much yet but the ocean and the dragons here are brilliant! And I saw some whales this morning, although Zanzyn scared them away when he was fishing for his breakfast.”

“‘Zanzyn’? One of yon dragons?” Coen asked, nodding at a pair of Opaleyes sunning themselves on the top of one of the sandhills not far away.

“Yep,” Harry replied. “I haven’t met many but they’re all great.”

“That’s a rare gift you have there, being able to talk to dragons. Cherish it and use it well,” Coen said.

“I’m doing my best,” Harry replied.

“That is all anyone can do,” Coen nodded. He looked around at the area, nodded once more and gestured to the ground. “Here looks as good a place as any.”

Harry waited until the ancient Aboriginal was seated, before he sat as well. Noting that Coen had crossed his legs, Harry copied him.

“Tell me, young Harry, what it is that you can do,” Coen said.

Harry frowned, not entirely sure how to explain it. Still, he did his best, finding that he was often repeating words and phrases that he’d used with Sirius and Remus.

“I guess I … tap into my magic. I sort of compress it like it’s in a big bubble and then I open the tiniest hole and let out a stream of my magic. But because it’s such a small amount and because it’s my magic, I can use it to stimulate the air around me and, I guess, … push the air where I want it to go.”

He’d been looking down as he tried to explain and ended with a shrug. When he lifted his eyes, it was to find a broad grin on Coen’s face.

“You are already far into your journey in this type of magic, young Harry,” Coen said. “You are instinctively shaping and directing your magic exactly as you need to. Please, show me.”

Harry’d guessed that this was coming so had already begun pulling all of his magic towards himself and directing it down inside. Now that he was concentrating, he was able to find all of those loose tendrils of magic that inhabited his body and shape them into that dense ball that he was becoming used to. Interestingly, his magic seemed to almost gravitate into the right shape and he wondered whether it was starting to get used to him doing this.

Then, once it was compacted tightly inside him, Harry concentrated harder on his connection to it and carefully released a tiny gap. Instantly, his magic surged forth and he was forced to wrestle it under control. As the magic burst forth, he directed it into the very air.

Around him, the air began to dance and he pushed directing it in a circle around them before allowing it to spiral upwards. Their clothes were pulled about even as the breeze increased across their faces.

“Wonderful!” Coen clapped while laughing. “You are doing wonderfully!”

Harry allowed the wind-pushed magic to continue for another minute before ‘corking’ his magic once again and allowing the wind and air to settle.

“That is precisely what elemental magic of the air is,” Coen stated. “There is little that I can teach you.”

“You can’t?” Harry asked, his hopes dashed. He was sure that Coen was there to help him learn all that he could do and give him lots of lessons about how to do it.

“There is no need,” Coen replied. “You are already on the path. Simply practice what you are already doing. Play with your ability. You will learn more that way than being taught by me.”

“If you say so,” Harry replied, not exactly sure that he agreed.

“Air magic is one of the easiest elements of nature to bend to your will and magic. The other elements are much harder,” Coen said. “Earth. Water. Fire. These are much harder to control. Wizards and witches have created spells that allow them to manipulate the elements but that is not true elemental magic. Elemental magic is felt here,” Coen placed his hand against his chest, almost exactly where Harry knew his own magic pooled inside him. “And once felt, it can be manipulated. Not with words or spells but simply through your own magic reaching out and doing your bidding. Just like you did with the air.”

Harry nodded slowly. That made sense and it did answer some of the questions that Harry had about the difference between normal magic and elemental magic.

“Tell me, young Harry, have you ever used your magic – without words, without spells – to manipulate any of the other elements?” Coen asked.

His immediate reaction was to say ‘no’ but something stopped him. A feeling, a fragment of a memory. He frowned, searching for it. And then it blossomed into being: tiny Professor Flitwick, the forbidden forest and some candles.

“Actually, I think I have,” he said, looking up at Coen with bewilderment.

The Elder beamed at him, his remaining teeth standing out starkly against his black skin.

“Show me,” Coen instructed, gesturing to the world in general.

Harry’s eyes darted about, looking for something to use. A leaf, old and brown lying a dozen yards away gave him the inspiration that he needed.

Carefully, he lifted his hand and willed his ball of light to appear. The light, as always, was without heat – an easy problem to solve. With a ‘push’ he sent it flying towards the leaf, adjusting its temperature as it travelled. When it reached its destination, he simply had it hover there even as he altered its heat some more.

All of a sudden, the leaf burst into flames. Quickly, the fire licked from one end to the other before it slowly died out. Only then did Harry let his ball of light dissipate.

“Extraordinary! And quite an unorthodox approach!” Coen exclaimed.

Harry laughed. “That’s exactly what Professor Flitwick said.”

“And who might this ‘Professor Flitwick’ be?” Coen asked.

“He’s the Charms Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was teaching me incendio and wanted me to light a candle using my wandless magic. That was the only way that I could work out how to do it,” Harry shrugged.

“Truly exceptional,” Coen beamed. “It is easy to see that you have a true connection to your magic, one that many magicals fail to establish, to their detriment. While the element of Fire isn’t one that I have an affinity for, I think that, between us, we can find ways to fine tune this ability of yours until you’re ready to learn on your own.”

“You think so?” Harry asked eagerly. “How do I start?”

“You start the same way that you did when you wanted to manipulate the air, young Harry …”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

10:30am

Sunday, 14 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Grrr!

The growl was so low as to be nearly inaudible. That didn’t stop the sound from penetrating straight into their very bones and causing every hair on their body to stand on end.

“Harry, are you sure about this?” Sirius asked.

“Of course I am,” Harry replied. “They’re just being overly dramatic.”

“Doesn’t sound ‘dramatic’ at all. Sounds like a full-blown warning to me!” Sirius countered, his voice much higher than usual.

Harry looked at his godfather. The man was visibly shaking in his boots. His eyes were wide and his head was jerking about, as though trying to keep every dragon perched on the top of the sandhills that surrounded the weyr in view at all times. Clearly, Sirius’ mouth was dry for he was licking his lips every other second. He was petrified! Honestly, Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if there’d been a yellow puddle appearing on the sand at Sirius’ feet.

“You do know that the British Ministry had a bunch of teenagers entering a mother dragon’s nest to retrieve an egg, don’t you? And for ‘entertainment’ at that!” Harry asked, amused.

“They were idiots! All of them!” Sirius exclaimed. “Bet you’d never get one of them into a weyr like this!”

“And without me having first come to an agreement with the dragons themselves, if anyone even tried, they’d likely not survive the encounter,” Harry stated.

“Why are we here again?” Sirius asked.

Harry stared at him. This whole thing was Sirius’ idea in the first place. It seemed that in his terror of actually doing it, he’d forgotten.

“We’re here to put that piece of plastic in your hand under the clutch of eggs,” Harry reminded him patiently.

Sirius jerked his head down to the piece of plastic in question, stared at it for a moment, stared at the nest of eggs and promptly resumed staring up and around at the seven dragons watching them.

“Whoever came up with that idea was a complete lunatic!” Sirius stated.

“Well, Lunatic, shall we get to work? The sooner we’re done here, the less nervous the dragons will be,” Harry said. “You know that they weren’t keen on this idea at all, don’t you?”

“Don’t remind me!” Sirius said. “What was it? If this plan fails, then they promise to roast me and eat me?”

“Yep, that about sums it up,” Harry grinned. “Now, what do you want me to do?”

Once again, Sirius tore his gaze from the dragons and focussed on the clutch of eggs.

“Can you lift the eggs?” he asked.

Harry nodded and concentrated. He’d been practicing this. None of the dragon handlers liked the idea of anyone using a magical spell on a dragon egg, not even something as simple as wingardium leviosa. And the idea of pointing a wand at a nest of dragon eggs simply seemed a recipe for suicide.

Instead, Harry concentrated on his inner magic. When it was ready, he let it out and let it settle into the sand. Sweat broke out on Harry’s forehead as he mingled his magic with the sand and pushed the sand in a wave towards the eggs. Then it was a matter of forcing his magic-filled sand molecules down and under the clutch.

He was forced to concentrate on his breathing, doing his best to ignore the pools of sweat on his forehead, the middle of his back and under his arms. Earth elemental magic was not easy!

Closing his eyes, Harry concentrated harder, pushing the sand so that it was completely under the nest. Then, he forced the sand up! Slowly, it rose. One end rippled causing two of the eggs to wobble and Harry was forced to compensate. Gradually, though, he succeeded: his magic-infused sand was floating a few inches above the ground, a layer of ‘normal sand’ above it on which the eggs rested.

Quickly, Sirius rushed forward and dropped to his knees. The piece of plastic was pushed in place so that it completely covered where the sand and eggs had been.

“Right, let it down, Harry,” Sirius instructed.

Carefully, Harry lowered the sand back into place and let his magic go.

“Looks exactly as it did before,” he panted, running the back of his arm across his face.

That had taken a lot out of him. Manipulating Air and Fire was much easier to do than Earth.

“Good. Grab your broom and let’s get out here!” Sirius said. “I don’t like the way those dragons are looking at me!”

“They’re not looking at you any differently than they usually do,” Harry replied shaking his head.

“That’s what worries me!” Sirius retorted even as he shot into the air.

Chapter Text

Monday, 15 August 1995

Weekly Column in The Daily Prophet

.

Seeing Is Believing: The Antipodean Opaleye
by Harry Potter

For those of you who were either there for or perhaps read about or saw magical photos of the dragons at the First Task of the TriWizard Tournament last year, you would have seen four different types of dragon – the Hungarian Horntail, the Chinese Fireball, the Common Welsh Green and the Swedish Short-Snout. One type of dragon that almost no one has seen before in the British Isles is the Antipodean Opaleye.

Over the last few days, I’ve had the opportunity to visit with this rare and wonderful type of dragon at their home in the Australasian Dragon Preserve – the only place in the world that they can be found.

I can attest that they truly are incredibly stunning. Their pearl-coloured scales which perfectly reflect the sunlight do an amazing job of helping them stay hidden as they can blind anyone who sees them from the wrong angle. But their most distinguishing feature are definitely their eyes! Unlike us or pretty much all animals, Opaleyes don’t have pupils, instead their entire eye is like a great opal, hence their name. The truly remarkable thing about their eyes is not just how many colours that they can produce but what those colours mean.

For most of us, body language helps us to understand what the other person is saying, that’s not so easy when you’re talking with a being that’s so much bigger and more impressive than you are. Thankfully, there are ways to understand dragons, too – even for people who can’t speak to them as I do. From my talks with some of the Opaleyes, most especially the Weyr Leader, Dankrum and Cantrum, the first of the Opaleyes that I got to meet, I’ve seen how the colours of their eyes reflect exactly what the dragons are thinking and feeling, something that I’ve not seen or heard of that anyone else, man or creature, can emulate.

But it’s not just their eyes that make these dragons so brilliant. Sitting on your broom as you hover above the ocean as you get to watch the dragon who’s flying beside you simply fold in his wings and plunge into the water below before re-emerging with two, three or more fish in his mouth (his breakfast) is a sight that I know that I will forever cherish.

If ever you get the chance to visit Australia, make sure that you visit my friends in the Australasian Dragon Reserve – both dragon and human – I guarantee that it’s something that you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

10:00am

Tuesday, 16 August 1995

Wizengamot Chambers, Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

“Here ye. Here ye. This fourteenth session of the Wizengamot in the year of nineteen ninety-five is called to order. All members are expected to have taken their Seats.”

The shuffling and susurration that had been sweeping the great room ceased with the Herald’s announcement.

“Scribe, are you prepared to fulfil your duties?” Chief Warlock Dumbledore asked the traditional question.

The Scribe, young Percy Weasley, didn’t even blink at the question, his parchment already lay under his hand, his quill inked up and poised.

“I am,” he replied.

Augusta Longbottom swept her eye over the sea of plum robes that made up her peers. She held no hopes that this meeting would be any different from any of the last few dozen that she’d attended. The agenda was well-known and the motion had already been set for more of the same. There were days, like today, when she looked forward to the time when her grandson came of the appropriate age to take his rightful Seat, the one that she currently sat Proxy for, and when she could retire to her leisure.

 A soft gong snapped her head to the side, as it did for every head in the room.

Augusta blinked at the sight of Lord Cyrus Greengrass standing, waiting for recognition.

“Lord Greengrass, this is most unorthodox,” Chief Warlock Dumbledore stated with what Augusta thought could be the hint of a frown.

“I understand that Chief Warlock and I apologise for the interruption to the regular agenda, but this could not be helped. It is a matter of procedure that must take precedence,” Lord Greengrass stated, instantly causing a murmur to sweep the hall.

“Please elaborate,” Chief Warlock Dumbledore said, sitting slightly forward in his chair.

“Five days ago, I received a letter that must be acted upon within these very walls,” Lord Greengrass stated. “I ask for your indulgence and permission to read out the appropriate section.”

Augusta’s eyes snapped to Dumbledore. Only the fact that she’d known the man for so many decades and had sat in these very chambers with him for so many years allowed her to see the look of annoyance cross the man’s face. It was incredibly brief, gone in an instant, but it was there. Dumbledore, she knew, liked to be in control of everything and this was something new, something that he didn’t know about, and someone having knowledge or doing something that he knew nothing of was something that she knew Dumbledore would not like.

“Please,” the Chief Warlock said, waving a hand in Greengrass’ direction.

Lord Greengrass picked up a piece of parchment – no, Augusta corrected, her eyes narrowing. Paper. Muggle paper! At least, she thought that it was, her eyes not being as good as they once were.

“As you are aware, I was kept from the Magical world for most of my life,” Lord Greengrass read, and Augusta felt her heart speed up. “And even since my return, it’s taken quite some time for me to begin understanding the roles and responsibilities that come with the legacy of being the last of the Potter line.”

Augusta leant forward. Her eyes sought out, found and held the eyes of Amelia Bones. She, too, looked stunned. Stunned and hopeful. Was this what they’d been wanting? What they’d been hoping for?

“It is my understanding that, as Head of the Potter Line, there is a hereditary seat waiting for me to take up within the Wizengamot. Unfortunately, I did not understand this when I accepted and signed the contract between myself and the Dragon Reserves of the World. Of course, the Laws within the Wizengamot would preclude me from sitting in my seat anyway until I am twenty-one, regardless of the fact that I am emancipated, however that does not mean that I should not take an active and interested role as my duties as Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter declare that I should.

“It is my understanding that my seat is currently being filled by a person by the name of Elphias Doge…”

Instantly, all eyes within the Chamber snapped to the man in question who was looking quite uneasy, his mouth moving, his eyes big and round as he stared between Lord Greengrass and Chief Warlock Dumbledore.

“… a man that I have never met or corresponded with. I feel that it is only right that I put my faith and trust in a person that I know and respect to sit in the seat of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter as Proxy until I come of the correct age to take my place within that noble gathering myself. Therefore, Lord Cyrus Greengrass, knowing you to be a man of integrity and someone that I can respect and look up to, I ask that you represent me as Proxy within the Wizengamot for the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter.”

Augusta sat back in her chair and stared. He’d done it! Sirius Black had actually done what was expected of him. While the letter had been penned by young Harry, there was no doubt in Augusta’s mind that it’d been dictated to him by Sirius Black of all people. How … unexpected! But then, on second thought, knowing Black as she did, doing the unexpected was more often the expected with him than not. Deliberately, Augusta stopped that line of thinking – trying to understand what Sirius Black was thinking or what he was likely to do was enough to drive anyone mad.

Around her, the Wizengamot had erupted. People were talking a mile a minute to their neighbours or even to members further away. And in the middle of it all, old Elphias Doge simply sat there, obviously too stunned to speak.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Dumbledore’s cannon blasts quietened the room, sending members back to their seats.

“This is incredibly unorthodox!” Chief Warlock Dumbledore stated. “While the letter you possess certainly sounds genuine, we will require proof that this is indeed young Harry’s wishes. Perhaps the next time he’s in Britain, he can speak to this wizened assemblage himself…”

“Lord Potter has affixed the seals of his rings to the bottom of this letter as well as a sampling of his blood which can be checked to see that it was indeed penned by him and that he did so under no compulsions,” Lord Greengrass stated.

Dumbledore stared at the man. “Very well. We will have it verified immediately.”

And then something must have occurred to the Chief Warlock for he seemed to freeze in place for a moment.

“My apologies, Lord Greengrass,” he said, “did you say ‘rings’?”

“Indeed, I did,” Lord Greengrass replied with what Augusta could see was one of those smiles that true Slytherins seemed to like to wear when they saw someone realise that they’d finally caught on to a game that they were playing and that person had just realised that the Slytherin had the upper hand. “There is more to the letter, if I may?”

Augusta, like all those there, instantly leant forward, eager to hear what was to come next.

“I am unsure whether you are aware of this or not, but I am not the Head of one Most Ancient and Noble House but two. I am also Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell. It is my understanding that there is also a hereditary seat within the Wizengamot for that House as well, although it currently does not have a Proxy. It is my wish that you also sit in Proxy for the Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell within the Wizengamot.”

If Augusta thought that the Wizengamot had reacted before, it was nothing as to the explosion of sound and mayhem that that announcement had caused. Purple-robed members everywhere were on their feet, talking and gesturing to all and sundry. Dumbledore couldn’t have looked more shocked, his mouth hanging slightly open as he sat back in his chair, his eyes firmly fixed on Lord Greengrass.

Lord Cyrus Greengrass. A known neutral. A hard but fair man who, while not always liked, was respected for his stance on upholding wizarding laws and traditions and what was best for their society. He had morals and he stuck to them no matter what. For him to gain the Proxy for two additional seats, two Most Ancient and Noble seats in addition to his own, was seriously going to affect the known power blocks. He had just become one of the most powerful men in the room.

Augusta looked across at Amelia and returned the nod. The two of them would be having afternoon tea together, that was assured. Dumbledore’s power base had been weakened. It might finally be time to make the moves that they’d been waiting for.

The doors opening into this arena wasn’t completely unexpected. The person who walked in was. Augusta hadn’t seen the woman in years, unsurprising, really. After all, the woman had been cast from her family and therefore to the fringes of their society over a decade before.

“Excuse me,” Andromeda Tonks said, “I have a letter here from Lord Sirius Black of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. He asked me to read it to you today.”

Augusta could only shake her head. Sirius Black. The man lived on mayhem and especially creating it for others. She may never have liked the pranks that he pulled and especially the ones that Frank had been a part of but there were definitely days when he made life a lot more interesting than one would otherwise have expected.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

7:10pm

Tuesday, 16 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Dinner had been in full swing for a while now. Normally it was a boisterous affair with lots of stories – both from the day’s work, as well as some that less … tame – laughter and teasing. Tonight, as with the last couple of nights, tension permeated everything. Everyone was on edge, waiting, waiting for something that they both hoped would never come and something that they needed to happen.

The trap.

It was set. Ready. The slightest touch of the plastic that Sirius had placed underneath Shiklyn’s eggs would be enough to set it off. The dragons, they all knew, were watching. Not that there was much that Harry, Andy or any of the dragon handlers thought that they could do against a predator that invaded from underground but they were on guard regardless.

It was a race, really, to see which would happen first – the trap being sprung or the eggs, the fledglings, hatching. And with there still being a couple of weeks until the latter was expected, the scales were definitely tipped towards the first.

“Weasley, got something here for you,” Sharon called as she walked through the Lodge’s door.

Not just Charlie’s head but also those of Harry, Sirius and Remus who were sharing the table with him, all looked up and around.

“Came in by albatross,” Sharon continued, waving a thick piece of folded, sealed parchment in the air.

“Albatross?” Charlie repeated. “Who’d be sending me an international letter?”

“Alexander?” Harry guessed.

“Possible but unlikely,” Charlie replied.

“Not … Molly,” Sirius asked, looking queasy, not that Harry could understand why.

“I didn’t know you knew my mother!” Charlie said, sounding incredibly surprised.

“I met her and Arthur once back when the war was on,” Sirius replied. “They came with Fabian and Gideon to an event. Your mother got it into her head that she needed to matchmake me some cousin of hers.”

“That’s right!” Remus exclaimed, “I remember that now. What was her name? Anna?”

“Althea,” Sirius corrected. “Not exactly my type. There was an age gap.”

“I thought that my godfather was a lady’s man who wouldn’t judge women on something as little as a few years age difference,” Harry grinned.

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. “A few years? Seventeen is not ‘a few’! And she had a better moustache than me!”

Charlie stared at the man before finally pulling himself out of the conversation with a shake of his head.

“In answer to your question, no, it’s not from Mum. For one thing, it’s not red.”

Harry shuddered. He’d had his fair share of Howlers back at Hogwarts and never wanted to experience another one again.

They watched as Charlie cracked the seal, unfolded the letter and then read it through. His jaw dropped and Harry was sure that he was reading it through a second time.

“Well, that was unexpected,” he finally said, dropping the letter to the table.

“What is it?” Remus asked.

“Go ahead,” Charlie said, waving at the parchment.

“Dear Mister Weasley,” Remus read aloud. “As you are no doubt aware, Great Britain is the home for two distinct dragon species, the Common Welch Green and the Hebridean Black. Both of these dragon types live scattered throughout the Isles in small pockets of secluded areas. Whilst the Ministry of Magic has always done its utmost to ensure that our dragons are protected from both magicals and muggles alike, we feel that we can do more.

“To this end, a Committee was formed last year to investigate our dragon population and their needs. Recently, that Committee was upgraded to sub-Department status with a mandate for doing everything within our powers to protect and preserve our dragon population. We have already purchased an island within the Shetland Islands and are having it warded with the very best wards imaginable to hide it from the muggles and to ensure that the dragons there will be looked after. This island will be the new Dragon Reserve of Great Britain. We anticipate locating and moving all of the dragons within Great Britain to the Reserve within six to twelve months.

“Your name was recommended to us as a British-born Dragon Handler with a great deal of experience. We understand that you are close to attaining your Beast Mastery which makes you the perfect candidate to offer you the role of Head Dragon Handler of the Dragon Reserve of Great Britain.

“This position comes with a lucrative stipend, travelling costs to relocate from your current assignment and all of the tools and finance that you would need to build our dragon reserve into the best Reserve in the world. We would, of course, immediately sign off on your Beast Mastery upon your signing of a contract with us.

“We look forward to your owl and would be very happy to answer any questions that you have.

Mathilda Grimblehawk
Chair of the sub-Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain”

“Um, what?” Harry asked, breaking the silence that had descended over not just their table but also the two adjacent tables as well.

“Yeah, that was my thought,” Charlie said.

“A new Reserve,” Andy whistled. “Impressive. And long overdue, especially if it’ll get the dragons in Britain somewhere safe. Are you going to accept?”

Charlie looked up at him. “No. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great offer. Extremely flattering. But it certainly doesn’t feel right. They’d sign off on my Mastery straight away? No way. I’ve still got more to learn and I want my Mastery to mean something.”

“Glad to hear it,” Andy nodded, clapping Charlie on the back, echoing the murmurs from the other dragon handlers in the room. “We may be called ‘Dragon Handlers’ and get paid for what we do, but we’re here to ensure the dragons can live their lives free from harm or interference, not to serve politicians.”

Harry nodded in agreement even as his mind wandered to the dragons in Great Britain. They’d all be rounded up and moved from their homes to somewhere new and Harry had a suspicion that they weren’t going to like that.

“Hey Charlie?” he asked as a thought occurred. “If there’s a new Dragon Reserve, will we need to add that to the roster for Reserves that I visit?”

“Is the Dragon Reserve of Great Britain on your contract” Charlie asked.

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Charlie stated.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:30am

Wednesday, 17 August 1995

Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England

.

Amelia had not long arrived to ‘visit’ with her friend Augusta when they were interrupted. The tray with the teapot, cups and plate of biscuits had barely been placed on the coffee table when the Longbottom’s house elf, Trinny, had popped away and then back again moments later.

“Mistress, there be a Misses Andromeda Tonks at the door to see you,” the tiny being said.

Amelia raised her eyebrow at the statement. That was … unexpected, to say the least. Not, quite as unexpected as the events of the day before, but still. Amelia knew that the odds of the two events being unrelated were quite low.

“Please show her in, Trinny,” Augusta instructed.

The two of them waited patiently, after all, a few more minutes before they could begin discussing the latest happenings was very little, especially considering that the Wizengamot session had lasted much longer than anticipated, meaning that their meeting was already half a day later than expected.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Andromeda said, appearing in the doorway, before pausing, obviously taking in Amelia’s presence. “My apologies, I didn’t realise that you have company.”

“Please, come in and join us,” Augusta said, having risen from her chair to greet her guest.

“Are you certain?” Andromeda asked, looking uncertain.

“Let me ask you this,” Augusta said in response. “Was your coming here your idea or was it suggested by another?”

Andromeda blinked, a fact that gave Amelia all the answer that she needed.

“Actually, my cousin, Sirius, suggested that I should talk to you,” Andromeda replied. “Actually, to both of you.”

“And knowing that reprobate, he left out some crucial details,” Amelia smiled.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Andromeda laughed.

“Trinny, another cup, if you please,” Augusta said into the air.

But when her house elf appeared, it was with not one but two cups as well as an extra guest.

“Cyrus Greengrass,” Augusta sighed. “I should have guessed.”

“Guessed?” Cyrus asked.

“After yesterday’s stunt, it doesn’t surprise me that Sirius Black is still manipulating events to cause as much havoc as possible,” Augusta stated.

Amelia couldn’t help herself. She snorted in amusement, an act that she instantly regretted when both of the other women pinned her in their gazes.

“Do not sit there and act all innocent,” Andromeda accused. “Sirius may be my cousin but if any one of us knows what he’s like the most, it’ll be you Amelia Bones. You did date him once upon a time.”

“And likely would have married the man if events had turned out differently,” Augusta added.

In response, Amelia simply sipped her tea, ensuring that she neither confirmed nor denied the accusation.

“Would I be right in thinking that we’re all here because of Sirius Black?” Cyrus asked.

“Most definitely,” Amelia replied.

“In that case, would you care to enlighten me?” Cyrus asked. “All I had was a separate note in with the letter that Harry sent telling me that I should come here at my earliest convenience as soon after the Wizengamot session as I could.”

“I received a similar one,” Andromeda admitted.

“Cyrus, after the events of earlier this year, I would have expected that you would have been able to deduce the reasoning,” Amelia replied.

Cyrus blinked at her and she tipped her cup at him when she saw the light of understanding gleam in his eye.

“The Second Task. Dumbledore.”

“Exactly,” she nodded.

“I guess that also explains why Harry appointed me as his Proxy for his seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors as well,” Cyrus mused.

“He did, did he?” Augusta said, sounding more pleased than Amelia had heard her being in a long time.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Andromeda said, shaking her head.

“Our esteemed Headmaster has been playing very loosely with certain rules, laws and people’s lives,” Amelia informed her. “That little stunt yesterday of Sirius’ – I think we can all agree that that was pure Sirius Black, regardless of it being Harry Potter’s name on the letter – may just have been enough to start the quaffle rolling to enable us or more specifically, me, in bringing Albus Dumbledore to heel.”

“What do you have in mind?” Cyrus asked, a glint of unadulterated pleasure in his eye.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

11:53pm

Wednesday, 17 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

SPEAKER!

Harry bolted upright in bed, instantly wide awake. Not that he’d really been asleep.

SPEAKER!

He clapped his hands over his ears, even though the roar was as much in his head as an audible sound.

SPEAKER!

His eyes widened as realisation hit. It’d happened. The trap! The eggs! In an instant he was up and racing for the door.

Chapter Text

11:53pm

Wednesday, 17 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

SPEAKER!

Harry bolted upright in bed, instantly wide awake. Not that he’d really been asleep.

SPEAKER!

He clapped his hands over his ears, even though the roar was as much in his head as an audible sound.

SPEAKER!

His eyes widened as realisation hit. It’d happened. The trap! The eggs! In an instant he was up and racing for the door.

The flicker of memory, one where this had happened before and he’d raced out in just his pyjamas pants in answer to a dragon call – even if this time he was wearing a shirt as well, it being winter here in Australia – prompted him to remember the slap over the back of the head that he’d received for his recklessness. Thus, Harry thrust his hand behind him even as he kept moving forward. The feel of his wand slapping into his palm gave him hope that this time, he wouldn’t get in so much trouble.

A vicious, ice-cold wind had him flinging his arm up to shield his eyes, even as the door to the cabin was all-but ripped out of his hand. He blinked up at the black sky where the barest shapes of clouds swirled above.

No, he realised. Not clouds. And the sky wasn’t starless. There were pinpricks of white up there; they were just overpowered by the multicoloured glow of gleaming points of light every which way he looked. Lights with a decidedly red tinge. Eyes. Dragon eyes. Hundreds of them. The sky was filled with dragons. Every Opaleye, it seemed, was hovering over the camp, their wings beating to keep them steady, the resulting downdraft rippling his clothes against him and whipping sand and every loose object into a frenzy.

SPEAKER!

The roar of the combined dragons was almost unbearably loud and Harry winced, clapping his hands over his ears once again, a futile effort that did nothing when the noise seemed to be coming from inside his mind just as loudly as from outside his body.

§I’m here!§ he yelled.

Vaguely, Harry recognised that there were others bursting from their own cabins, but he ignored them, his focus on the dragons above.

Concentrating, he caused a ball of light to appear directly in front of him. A narrowing of his eyes had it doubling, tripling in size and intensity before he banished it to hover a metre above and in front of him.

Now, he could see.

The ground around him burst into being as though it was daylight, not that Harry really noticed, his concentration fixed on dragons above him. Not that he could see much up there. Even squinting, it was hard to make out exactly which dragons were closest to him – the scales from their underbellies only enhanced and reflected the light that he’d projected.

§Cantrum! Dankrum! Where are you? §

A dragon descended in front of him, his long sinewy neck extended down, well past his lower legs to stare at Harry.

§Zanzyn!§ Harry said, recognising the scar that extended down from the dragon’s lower jaw to his neck.

§Speaker! We need you!§ Zanzyn stated.

§I’m here!§ Harry reassured him. §What’s happened? Is it the clutch?§

§The clutch remains safe and untouched,§ Zanzyn replied.

§Did the trap work?§ Harry asked excitedly.

§We followed the taste of the magic,§ was Zanzyn’s only reply.

Harry didn’t wait. He ran. Bright, glittering, swirling eyes followed him as he raced through the camp and to the clearing where everything had been set up, his ball of light keeping pace, lighting his way.

He was the first there. Well, first human, even though he was certain that the rest of the dragon keepers were on their way. The cage was surrounded, the flight of dragons swirling above it like a cyclone, keeping the cage as the eye of the storm.

The fact that the cage was still there surprised Harry – if, as he thought, that the culprit, the thief, had been caught, then it wouldn’t have surprised him if the cage had been burnt to ash in dragon fire, and the thief along with it. But he’d asked then not to. Apparently, being the Speaker and bearing the Mark carried enough weight to stop dragon flame.

Harry skidded to a stop a couple of metres out from the cage. What he saw had him staring, his wand automatically coming up to point, training on … whatever it was. Soft thumps to either side of him told him that Cantrum and Dankrum had landed.

§What?§ he asked, barely registering that he’d spoken.

§The thief,§ Dankrum replied, disgust clear in her voice.

The thief, whatever the name of its species was, was simply ugly! There was no other word for it. Never before had Harry seen anything like it. Not in person. Not in a book. He hadn’t even heard of anything like this ever described before.

Size wise, it was comparable to a Labrador and, while it did have four feet, a head and a tail, that was where the comparison ended. The thing was skeletal thin. As it passed the bars of the cage that confined it, it seemed to notice him, its black eyes boring into him. It shifted, allowing Harry to see that it had an incredibly thin front-on profile, despite its boxy head. Its front legs especially looked powerful, ending with webbed feet, just like its rear feet. Its skin was a dark reddish-brown, not unlike mud, with only the hair on the back of its neck and tip of its tail being slightly lighter in colour.

“What…?”

Not even Sirius’ question, announcing his arrival, could turn Harry’s head from the bizarre creature.

The creature’s head moved, obviously taking in the newcomer, before shifting to look up through the bars to the hovering dragons. Its teeth – very long, very sharp teeth – were bared and a deep, guttural growl sent shivers down Harry’s spine.

A heavy step that shook the ground had the creature backing up, its eyes now fixing on the approaching Dankrum.

Instantly, it dropped its head and its front paws began digging furiously at the ground. But they’d thought of that. This was a burrowing creature; it’d tunnelled in under the weyrs to reach the clutches. Thus, when this cage had been built, the floor was created using thick granite, something that only a dragon would have no trouble digging into.

“What …?”

The question was being repeated more and more now as each dragon handler appeared. The fact that they did so, knowing that they’d have to walk under the flight of dragons bare metres above them to get to the cage impressed Harry – there weren’t many people on the planet who would have the courage to do that.

And then the creature did something that none of them expected.

Its body began to twist. Bones cracked. Sinews elongated. Its very shape began changing even as it pressed its snout up against the bars. The creature was contorting itself into something even thinner, a shape that would allow it to push itself through the gaps in the bars!

“Quick! We need to plug those holes! Completely seal the cage!” Remus shouted.

Instantly, men jumped forward, wands brandished. On one side, a stone wall was conjured. On another, the bars were transfigured, stretched and turned into a solid mass. A golden shield appeared on a third side, pressed right up against the bars allowing another to fill the gaps in the bars with sticks and stones and anything else that was handy.

But on the side that the creature was attempting to escape, they were hampered by the fact that the creature’s snout was almost completely free.

Instantly, Harry thrust his wand forward, sending a series of stinging hexes to impact right between the creature’s eyes. A grunt of pain and flaring of its eyes didn’t mean that it retreated at all. A second set, these ones deliberately overpowered, had it jerking backwards. The instant that it had retreated to the ‘right’ side of the bars, Sirius conjured a glass wall.

“That won’t hold it,” Harry commented.

“Spelled unbreakable, It’s not getting out of there in a hurry,” Sirius replied.

§Let us flame the beast!§ Dankrum hissed.

Harry looked at her. Her eyes were swirling every shade of red, much of it so dark as to be almost unrecognisable as belonging to that colour spectrum.

§It deserves death!§ Cantrum agreed.

§To ash!§ another added. §It does not even deserve the dignity of being food.§

§I understand how you feel. How all of you feel. I feel exactly the same,§ Harry told the combined dragons, looking around at them. §But we need to wait. Give us time to study the creature, learn about it. To make sure that there are no others around so that your clutches will be safe.§

§The Speaker is wise,§ Dankrum allowed, the red in her eyes lessening the tiniest amount. §We must have patience, if only for our clutches yet to come.§

She swung her neck around then, her gaze switching from the caged creature to stare into Harry’s.

§But mark my words, Speaker, this creature is marked for death and only our respect for you is staying our flame. When you have learned all you can, it will be flamed. We are watching and our patience is not endless. §

Harry nodded. §I understand. And agree.§

As one, Dankum and Cantrum leapt skywards their wings beating hard as they ascended through the gap left by their brethren. Then, as one, the dragons of the Australasian Dragon Preserve soared away towards their weyrs.

“What was that about?” Sirius asked.

Harry looked at him. “The dragons aren’t happy. They want to flame that … that … whatever that is.”

“Bunyip.”

“What?” Harry asked, spinning about.

“Bunyip,” Andy replied, stepping out of the shadows, the lines on his dark skin even more pronounced.

“You mentioned that creature before,” Remus commented. “I thought that they weren’t real?”

“They’re real to my people,” Andy replied grimly. “We’ve known about them for hundreds and hundreds of years. Just no one’s seen them since long before white man came to this land.”

Harry glanced back at the now-named bunyip, watching as it paced backwards and forwards in its cage.

“To be fair,” Andy said, scratching the back of his neck, “I’d thought that they’d died out years ago. Seems I was wrong about that.”

“Did you know that it could contort itself, change its body shape, like that?” Remus asked and Harry looked sharply at his adoptive uncle. There was something there, something in his voice.

“No. That’s new,” Andy replied. “And explains a lot.”

“Like how it was able to burrow in under the weyrs in such a small hole to get the eggs,” Charlie commented.

“What do you know about it? About bunyips?” Harry asked.

“Not as much as any of us would like,” Andy replied. “I thought that they’d died out, remember? But one thing I do know is that I would never have expected a bunyip to be here. They’re natural habitat is a billabong.”

“A what?” Sirius asked.

“Billabong. Water hole,” Andy replied. “Maybe a river or creek or a swamp. But the ocean? Never would have picked that.”

“So, what do we do with it, now that we’ve caught the thing?” Charlie asked.

“We study it and learn as much about it as we can,” Remus replied. “Before eventually finding somewhere safe to release it.”

“Somewhere far from here,” Sirius nodded.

“No,” Harry countered forcefully, shaking his head. “That can’t happen. Learn about it, yes. But release it? No. The dragons won’t go for that. That thing took the eggs of three clutches and attempted to take the last clutch tonight. I’ve bought us some time to study the bunyip but not a lot. Before too long, the dragons will be back to flame the bunyip and nothing, not even I, will be able to stop them. Not that I really want to.”

The other three stared at him with a mixture of understanding and disappointment on their faces.

“Harry …” Remus began.

“No,” Harry said, putting up his hand to stop what he knew Remus was about to say. “I don’t think any of us want to see what a flight of angry dragons can do if we try to defy them on this.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:15am

Thursday, 18 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

“What do you have there, Pup?”

Without looking up, he raised a finger, bidding his godfather to wait.

…I really need you to come as quickly as you can. I don’t know how long the dragons will wait. And even though this is the only Bunyip that’s been seen in hundreds of years, you’d have to think that there are more of them around? If we can learn enough from this one… Well, you can see where I’m going with it. So, please, Newt, if you can, come and come quickly.
Your friend, Harry.

Satisfied, well mostly, considering that he’d rambled somewhat in his haste to get the letter written, Harry folded the parchment, sealed it and looked up and around. Thankfully, Sharon knew what he was doing and quickly caught his eye. Holding up the letter, she nodded and quick-stepped across to him.

“You think he’ll come?” she asked, taking the letter from him.

Harry nodded grimly. “He’ll come alright. There’s no doubt about that. Whether he’ll get here in time is another question entirely.”

“Newt Scamander?” Sirius asked. “But isn’t he back home in jolly old England? Albatrosses are good but even they’re not fast enough to get to England that quickly. Won’t the dragons have roasted that bunyip before the letter even gets to him?”

“If we were sending it by albatross, yeah,” Sharon grinned.

Sirius stared between her and Harry.

“Well? Aren’t you going to tell me? How are you sending it?” he near-exploded.

Harry considered making his godfather wait, after all, even old dogs needed to learn new tricks or in this case, patience. Sharon, though, seemed to have other ideas.

“It was Harry’s idea. Bloody brilliant if you ask me. House elf and portkey,” she laughed before giving a final nod to Harry and darting off to begin the process of letter delivery.

“Harry?” Sirius asked pointedly.

When Harry simply smiled up at him, Sirius placed a box on the table between them before deliberately trapping the box under his hand.

“I was going to give this to you. A present that’s finally arrived. But if you’re going to be a bad little pup, then maybe you don’t deserve it,” he said lightly.

Harry’s eyes flicked from Sirius’ face to the box. It was cubed and just a little longer than his godfather’s hand on each side. A present? The concept was still a novelty for Harry and he wondered what it could be.

“Exactly how am I being a … how did you put it? A bad little pup?” Harry asked, his eyes still fixed on the box.

“You’re withholding pranking information,” Sirius replied.

Instantly Harry’s eyes darted up, almost as high as his eyebrows. Pranking? He wasn’t pranking anyone. At least not right then, although he could think of someone who needed a good prank. Maybe the dragons would like to help?

“You, my dear pup, are pranking the postal service of the world, getting around the tried and true, established method of sending mail,” Sirius explained.

Harry hadn’t considered it a prank but then, a Marauder could usually smell a prank a mile away. Smell … that gave Harry some more ideas, ideas the dragons would definitely be able to help with.

“Share or no present,” Sirius stated, emphasising his point by lifting the box slightly and lightly bumping it back onto the table.

“We’re sending the letter with a house elf by portkey,” Harry shrugged. “The house elf – Skip – only needs to get close enough to England and then he can do his thing and pop straight to Newt and hand deliver it.”

Sirius stared at him for a full thirty seconds before throwing back his head and giving a great big barking laugh. “Yep, that’d do it. Albatross would take too long. It’s too far to Floo and even international portkeys need a couple of stops and are incredibly expensive. House elves would cut down on the time and cost. We’ll make a Marauder out of you yet.”

Suddenly, Sirius narrowed his eyes at his godson. “Maybe we need to start your Animagus training sooner rather than later.”

“But I thought that Remus said…”

“Moony is an old worrywart and can be too cautious for his own good at times. But that’s a discussion for another time,” Sirius waved away. “Now, do you want your present or not?”

Harry nodded eagerly, his eyes instantly dropping back to the box. He watched excitedly as Sirius pushed it towards him.

“Thanks, Sirius,” Harry said as he reached out and pulled the box towards him.

The lid was a snug fit and it took him a little bit of tugging before it finally parted with the rest of the box. His eyes bulged at the sight of the camera. It was an older style, bigger and boxier than its muggle counterpart. Slowly, carefully, he lifted it out, barely noticing that the white gel-like substance that it’d been sitting in lost its shape as he did so. It was mostly silver with black edging and three small buttons set at the top.

“There’s an instruction book, if you want to bother with it,” Sirius said, turning the lid of the box upside down so that Harry could see the small book tied with ribbon to it. “But really, all you need to know is look through that hole and press the button.”

“There’s three buttons, Sirius,” Harry deadpanned.

“Right. Yes. Turn on the flash, take the picture and eject the film cartridge,” Sirius replied, pointing to each one. “To make the picture move, you simply develop it in a special potion – the recipe’s in the book or you can buy it from a shop.”

“Thanks Sirius!” Harry beamed. “This is amazing!”

“Now you can take all kinds of photos. Maybe even take some and send them with your newspaper articles so everyone back home can see what you’re describing,” Sirius suggested.

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Harry exclaimed.

He’d often had the thought that, while he was getting to see his dragon friends in real life, the best that his human friends would see would be the pictures that he’d either drawn or painted. Yes, Daphne had got to meet Ramaranth and the fledglings and the other dragons in Romania, but she’d never meet any of the dragons here or wherever else he ended up. And Neville, Hermione and Susan would never get to see any of them at all! Sirius’ newspaper article idea was good too. Just so long as he didn’t …

“And you can even add some into that book that you and Newt are writing,” Sirius said, finishing Harry’s thought. “I still say that it’ll end up being a textbook one day.”

Harry ignored him, instead wrapping his hands around the camera and bringing it up to look through the viewfinder. He was sure that he could think of dozens of better uses for a magical camera than that. Like getting a picture of Daphne the next time that he saw her. Or taking a photo of a prank going off!

Those ideas were really starting to flow and he couldn’t wait to see the result. See, not smell.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

12:55

Thursday, 18 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

The danger may have passed, the culprit captured and contained but that didn’t mean that the dragons weren’t still on watch. Most had returned to their weyr or had gone fishing in the ocean but there were still three full flights of dragons surrounding Shiklyn’s weyr when Harry approached on his broom.

He’d been flying slowly, at a height that would not be seen as threatening. He’d even made sure that he’d taken a leisurely arc from the Handler Camp to the weyr, bypassing as many of the occupied weyrs as possible without seeming to look as though he was trying to sneak up on the single weyr that still contained the lone clutch of dragon eggs.

Harry knew that he would have been seen long before any of the dragons that were sitting on the lip of the sand hollow that made up the weyr took flight to join their brethren patrolling the skies above it.

§Speaker, what do you here at Shiklyn’s weyr?§ Dankrum asked as she drew level with him, her head staying at the same height as him even as her body undulated with the flap of her wings.

§I wanted to make sure that all was well here,§ he replied. §May I land?§

Dankrum’s answer was long in coming and Harry was forced to slow to a near-hover so that he didn’t cross over the most precious of all the weyrs.

§You may,§ she finally replied.

The gentlest of leans forward had Harry’s broom taking him to the ground. Below, he could see Shiklyn crouched protectively over her nest. Her wings were slightly unfurled, creating extra protection in an even wider circle around her eggs.

§The eggs are safe?§ Harry asked, even though he knew the answer. §The bunyip never touched them at all, did it?§

§The protections you placed were well-thought out. No harm or claw touched the fledglings-to-be,§ Dankrum replied.

§That’s great!§ Harry grinned. §Those little dragons are going to be extremely special when they hatch.§

§It has been too long since fledglings flew these skies,§ Dankrum agreed.

§There will be more soon, won’t there? The bunyip taking the other clutches won’t stop your clan from having more babies, will it?§ Harry asked.

§No. There will be more fledglings in the next turn of the sun; many of the females are already looking to that future,§ Dankrum declared.

§That’s great! I’m really happy to hear that,§ Harry said. §I’m glad that we could help.§

Dankrum looked away and Harry had the impression that what she was thinking wasn’t something that she was comfortable with. The yellow tinge to her eye only reinforced that notion. Finally, she turned back and curved her long neck around so that she was snout to face with Harry.

§I thank you, Speaker for Dragons. You have taught us that not all two-legs are bad. And while we knew this, trust was not something that we were willing to give, even to the two-legs who look after this land where we weyr. Your Mark was well given. All Opaleyes stand with you and will aid you for all time, wherever and whenever it is required,§ she declared.

§You’re welcome Dankrum,§ Harry replied, his ears feeling hot with the embarrassment of the compliment. §And thank you. I am deeply honoured just to have your friendship.§

§What of the thief?§ Dankrum asked.

§We’re learning everything that we can about it as quickly as we can,§ Harry replied. §Hopefully in a couple more days we’ll know enough to always be able to detect them if they get close to the weyrs again.§

§Agreed, Speaker,§ Dankrum said, her head swinging back to look down into Shiklyn’s weyr. §A pair of days and then we will flame the thief as it deserves.§

Harry blinked. That wasn’t what he meant. Not that he was going to argue. Two days wasn’t anywhere near enough. It was simply his best guess for when Newt might arrive and be able to start finding the answers to the mystery of bunyip they were still looking for. The dragons, he knew, had already been more than generous with their patience as it was. Two days it was.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 21 – Believe It Or Not

8:20am

Sunday, 21 August 1995

Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England

.

The morning tea had been poured and all-but drunk and the bowls of porridge nearly finished before the tapping on the nearby window occurred. It was slightly later than normal and Neville had begun to wonder when the owl would come. He’d begun dawdling over his porridge, taking the tiniest of mouthfuls at a time. It wasn’t that he needed to, or because he wasn’t hungry, for he was – a couple of hours out working in the greenhouse before breakfast always built up an appetite.

No, the reason for his slowness was that owl. His grandmother expected that he would see to it of a morning when he was home from Hogwarts. And until it had arrived and delivered its burden, he wasn’t free to leave the table.

“Ah, the Daily Prophet is finally here,” his grandmother said. “Neville, if you would?”

“Of course, Grandmother,” he replied as he rose from his chair.

He quickstepped across to the appropriate window before throwing it open. Instantly, the owl hopped inside, eyed him up and down and promptly raised its foot. Obediently, Neville untied the paper, dropped the appropriate amount of knuts into the leather pouch, offered the owl a treat and closed the window behind it.

“Your paper, Grandmother,” he said, handing it to her.

The instant that he’d retaken his seat, his spoon was scraping the bottom of his bowl, searching out the last morsel of porridge. Quickly, he gulped down the last of his juice and placed the cup back on its saucer.

“May I please be excused, Grandmother?” he asked.

“What are your plans today, Neville?” she asked.

Neville blinked at her, but she’d already given permission, albeit the day before yesterday.

“I’m meeting up with Susan, Hermione and Hannah,” he said. “We’re going to Diagon Alley to get our school supplies. Madam Bones is accompanying us.”

“Of course. Give my regards to Amelia, won’t you?”

“Yes, Grandmother,” Neville replied.

A short nod of her head was enough to have Neville bouncing out of his chair. The rustle of the paper barely registered as he crossed the room.

“Neville!” his grandmother’s sharp voice called, stopping him in the doorway. “I think you will want to see this.”

Obediently and deliberately not sighing, Neville reversed course. The newspaper was placed flat on the table, bowl and saucer pushed to one side. His eyes quickly scanned the pages before coming to rest on a long, thin column on the right-hand page.

One of Harry’s columns, Neville realised, not even realising that he was smiling. His smile, though, quickly vanished as the animated photograph registered.

“What is that?” he asked, revolted.

The animal was unlike anything that Neville had ever seen or heard about before. It paced backwards and forwards inside a cage, occasionally showing its long, pointed teeth in what Neville imaged must be a roar. The animal was skeletal thin and had – he leant as close to the paper as he could to be sure – webbed feet.

Somehow, he managed to tear his eyes from it to the headline of Harry’s article.

Bunyip: Mythical Creature No Longer

Mythical creature? Neville blinked. Trust Harry to, once again, do something that ordinary people didn’t do. This time, it seemed that he’d discovered a new animal.

Quickly, he read through the article, feeling his heartbeat quicken and his mouth turn dry at the Harry’s description of this animal, this bunyip, that had been burrowing into dragon’s nests and stealing and eating dragon eggs! The telling of how Harry and the other dragon handlers had caught the bunyip was worthy of something straight out of a Gilderoy Lockhart book!

“Grandmother?” he asked, daring to be braver even than Harry. “Can I have that article? I’d like to take it with me to show the others.”

Quickly, the page was turned, scanned and then turned back again. Two quick low-powered cutters from her wand later and his grandmother was handing him the article.

“What time might I expect you home?” she asked.

“I think we’re going to have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron,” he replied, crossing his fingers behind his back.

“Very well,” she replied. “Please ensure that you’re home well in time for dinner.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” he beamed, overjoyed at his good fortune.

For some reason that he couldn’t understand, his grandmother had started to give him more and more freedoms over the last month. He didn’t think that it was because he was now fifteen. Whatever the reason, there was no way that he was going to do anything to jeopardise it.

With the newspaper article clutched tightly in his hand, he quick-stepped across the room. Only when he was sure that his grandmother wouldn’t be able to hear him, did he race for his room to collect his Gringott’s key and moneybag ready for a day of adventure.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:18am

Sunday, 21 August 1995

Diagon Alley, London, England

.

“Neville! Over here!”

The shout came from further down the Alley and caused him to look ahead. It was the waving arm as much as the bushy head of hair that caught his attention and Neville grinned and waved back. As he expected, Hermione had beat him there, unexpectedly, though, she was standing outside of Flourish and Blotts.

“Hi, Hermione!” he said, reaching her. “I would have thought you’d already be inside getting your books.”

“Well, I did consider it,” she admitted, “but we’d agreed to do our shopping together. And so, I waited.”

He grinned at her, knowing how much it must be killing her to have to wait to do one of her favourite things – looking at, reading and acquiring new books.

“Susan and Hannah aren’t here yet?” he asked.

“Not yet, although I expect them any moment now,” she said, peering past him in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron.

“You don’t get the Daily Prophet, do you?” he asked.

She cocked her head at him and blinked, obviously unsure of the relevance of the unexpected question.

“While I have considered taking out a subscription, no, I currently don’t receive it,” she replied.

“I thought so,” he nodded. “Here, I thought you might be interested in seeing this.”

Curiously, she took the carefully folded piece of paper and unfolded it. He watched her eyes widen and fix for a second before they started darting back and forth.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed softly. “A bunyip!”

Finally, after what Neville judged as her having read it two or maybe three times, she looked up at him and handed the newspaper article back.

“Harry really doesn’t do things by half, does he?” she asked. “A bunyip! I’ve read about them, of course. But I never expected that they were real!”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t me who came face to face with one of them,” Neville said, shivering at the memory of the picture.

“Quite,” she agreed. “Mind you, it does make one wonder what else is out there still to be discovered.”

The face of the strangest girl in Hogwarts flashed through Neville’s mind. She was always talking about strange creatures. Maybe they weren’t as fantastical as everyone thought? Before he could dwell on it any longer, the sound of their names being called turned Neville and Hermione’s heads.

“Neville! Hermione!”

“Hi Susan! Hi Hannah!” Hermione replied, waving to them.

Neville merely smiled and waited until they’d joined them before greeting them as well.

“Madam Bones, it’s nice to see you again,” Neville added, seeing Susan’s aunt approaching.

“Mister Longbottom and Miss Granger, it’s good to see you both looking well,” she replied.

“My Grandmother sends her regards,” Neville said, thinking to get that out of the way quickly; he could just imagine the scolding he’d receive if he arrived home and he’d forgotten to pass it along.

Madam Bones inclined her head. “Please give her mine in return.”

“Have you two seen the Daily Prophet?” Hermione asked.

“You mean Harry’s column?” Susan asked with a shake of her head. “If I didn’t know Harry as well as I do and there wasn’t that picture accompanying it, then I’m not sure if I would have believed it at all.”

“That thing was ugly!” Hannah added, her eyes as wide as saucers. “And scary!”

“Well, what can you expect from The-Boy-Who-Lived?” Susan asked rhetorically.

“You know that he doesn’t like that name,” Neville defended his friend.

“I know, Neville, I’m just teasing,” Susan smiled at him. “But you must admit that he’s doing things and seeing things that no one, not us, not anyone in the world – magical or muggle – ever dreamed was possible!”

“Magical, maybe,” Hermione allowed, “but there are quite a number of muggle fiction books and stories that go back centuries that deal with even more fantastical things than even Harry Potter can do.”

“Have either of you heard from him recently?” Neville asked.

“Only through Daphne,” Susan grinned. “She seems to get quite regular owls from Harry.”

“I wonder why?” Hannah laughed.

“I haven’t received anything from him either,” Hermione added. “What about you, Neville? Have you heard from him?”

“I got a birthday present from him last month,” he replied, standing a little straighter than he had been. “Some seeds and cuttings from some magical plants in Romania. I’m growing them in my greenhouse at home.”

“While I know that the four of you have much to catch up, perhaps it can be done while we are shopping?” Madam Bones interrupted. “I only have until lunch before I must return to work.”

While buying their school books may have taken care of the larger part of their Hogwarts’ List, Neville really wasn’t sure that it was the smartest idea to go into Flourish and Blotts first. He, however, was overruled.

The bookstore always made the purchase of the required school books easy – shelves dedicated to each year level were laid out near the door – and Neville joined the line with his friends. As soon as he reached the Fifth Year section, he grabbed the ones for his subjects and turned to leave. That, of course, was never going to happen. Not with a Ravenclaw in the mix, and especially with Hermione being that person.

Thus, with a sigh, Neville turned back into the shop to peruse the shelves. Flesh-Eating Trees of the World (the NEWT-Level course book) caught his eye and he snatched it up, adding it to his pile. His wander through the store’s herbology section didn’t last long, after all, the library at Longbottom Manor included every book available on the subject and he, himself, owned his own copies of the best of them.

Rounding the corner, Neville stopped dead. The shelves here had been gutted of books. Most of the shelves were completely empty and the books that were still stocked looked to be older copies, some with cracked or torn covers. Hermione, he knew, would have a heart-attack seeing that!

Desperately, he looked up and around, searching for her and sighed at seeing her bushy-head bowed over an open book on the far side of the shop.

“You’re not wanting a book on dragons, are you?” a voice asked.

Neville blinked and turned to see a younger witch with the Flourish and Blotts logo on an apron standing beside him wringing her hands.

“Um, no?” he replied.

“Oh, that’s good,” she replied. “Just we’ve out of stock at the moment. Normally, we don’t carry all that many – not that’s there’s a lot of books on the subject in the first place, is there – but of late, we simply can’t keep them on the shelves.”

“Okay?” Neville said, not sure why he was being told that.

“Of course, it’s all down to Harry Potter, isn’t it?” she continued, causing Neville to look at her more sharply. “Ever since he went off to work at a dragon reserve of all places, we’ve had an upswing in sales for books on dragons. It only got worse once he started writing that article of his. Everyone’s got to know everything there is about dragons!”

“Okay?” Neville repeated.

He, himself, found the subject interesting and he was curious but that had more to do with the fact that Harry was his friend than anything else. Meeting one had nearly had him wetting his pants and that had been with a dozen dragon keepers standing there, their wands ready and pointing at the dragon that Harry had insisted that Neville simply ‘had to meet’ after the First Task. Yes, that had been more than enough for him, thank you very much.

“I’m guessing you’re wanting a book about fantastical magical beasts?” she asked, looking nervously at him. “I think we might have a couple of copies left after this morning’s rush.”

“This morning’s rush?” Neville repeated, starting to wonder how he could extradite himself from the conversation.

“Well, of course! After young Harry Potter’s latest article with that bunyip of his, everyone wanted to know everything that there was to know,” she relayed.

“Oh,” Neville said. “Um, thank you, but I’m alright.”

“Well, that’s a relief, let me tell you,” she said.

Just then, a customer across the aisle motioned to her and she was off.

Neville shook his head. He had no idea. And he doubted that Harry had any idea, either. Neville wondered whether he should write and tell him, he could see his mate getting a laugh out of hearing what he was doing to book sales. Well, that or shake his head in embarrassment.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

6:21pm

Sunday, 21 August 1995

Dragon Reserve of Great Britain

Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

Angus McNalty stood transfixed as he stared at the retreating figure. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen! He’d been assured that it couldn’t happen.

“I guess someone forgo’ to tell tha dragons,” he muttered.

He’d been told that the wards were the best in the business.

Muggle-repelling, even if they couldn’t be Unplottable seeing as they’d had to pay top galleon for the island, including paying the fifteen muggles that lived there to move away.

Wizard-repelling had been woven in as well, after all, when it came to dragons and the black market that surrounded their parts, it was best to make sure that even magicals stayed out unless invited.

The wards themselves had been tied into a series of wardstones that had been dropped into the ocean just off the coast of the island to ensure that the dragons could fish if they wanted without being seen or endangered. The fact that the island was positioned on a minor ley line should have greatly increased their power.

Nothing was supposed to be able to breach those wards, not without a special key, at least.

And now this!

“Madam Grimblehawk is no gonna like this!” he muttered, not for the first time.

Angus watched the dragon, a common Welsh Green, disappear in the fading light as it beat its mighty wings.

The day had been going smashingly, as far as Angus was concerned. For the moment, he was the only dragon handler there and he was kept busy, dawn to dusk. His job was simple. For now, at least. Watch the dragons, see how they’re settling in and learn about them. He’d been filling rolls of parchment with notes about each of the nineteen Common Welsh Greens and twenty-three Hebridean Blacks that had been transported to the island so far.

He was learning where they were setting up their new homes – weyrs, Angus reminded himself of the word that Potter had introduced to the dragon keeping profession. He was starting to get an idea of how they interacted with each other, which dragons seemed to get on better together and which ones had a dislike for other dragons. He was sure that, once other dragon keepers started arriving and especially when a Head dragon Keeper was selected, those notes would be invaluable.

But if the dragons could simply get up and fly away whenever they felt like it …

Angus looked around and up, shielding his eyes against the setting sun as he turned in a complete circle. For now, the skies were clear. Well, clear of dragons, at least; this was Scotland, after all. But if one dragon could fly away, then what was to prevent all of them from flying away?

“Madam Grimblehawk is no gonna like this!” he repeated. And then an even more depressing thought occurred. “Ock, Merlin-be-damned, no! There’s no other sodding person ’ere! It’s me that’s gonna have to tell her!”

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 22 – Communication Is Key

9:10am

Monday, 22 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Half a dozen photos were laid out around him, all with the same subject. Being magical, the angle that they’d been taken from didn’t matter so much, after all, the subject did like to prowl around, showing off both sides as well as the view from the front. Unfortunately, those photos also showed that the subject was behind bars which was not the optimum arrangement for getting a complete, unobstructed view.

Thus, Harry was busy sketching. The charcoal moved deftly over the page, capturing in every stroke more and more of not only the look of the bunyip but also gave strong hints of its essence, its power and savageness.

For the most part, he was drawing from memory, the photographs were only there as a guide in case they were needed. His eyes remained fixed on his work, determinedly not on the spot, just twenty metres away where the creature had last been.

There was no point looking there now, not unless he wanted to see a scorched piece of dirt and sand-turned-glass, and the twisted, melted blob of unrecognisableness sitting in the middle of it.

The dragons had been more than reasonable. They’d even given Harry and Newt a couple of extra hours to study the bunyip, but in the end, they’d kept their word.

Cantrum and Dankrum, along with the three females whose clutches had been stolen by the bunyip, Boolym, Lundsum and Vestrym had landed in a circle around the caged bunyip. Dragon handlers had scattered, disappearing as fast as their legs would carry them until only Harry and Newt had remained. Dankrum had looked at Harry for a long few seconds and Harry was sure that he was being judged but Harry knew that this was going to happen, that there was no way to prevent it and, if he was honest with himself, a part of him wanted it to happen and so, he remained perfectly still and just watched.

Finally, Dankrum’s long neck turned back to the caged bunyip and then, on some unspoken cue, all five of them had sent jets of white-hot tongues of flame at it. The magical protections that had been erected to keep the bunyip in lasted less than a second, the cage and the bunyip itself, not much longer.

Once it was done, the three mothers-that-should-have-been, raised up onto their back legs, extended their necks to the sky and roared their anguish and fury and revenge. The sound rocked Harry back on his heels and, as tempting as it was to slam his hands over his ears, he resisted the urge, instead sharing in their grief as best as he could.

When they were done, Dankrum inclined his head towards Harry, a gesture that he returned with a bow, before all five dragons took to the sky, winging back towards their weyrs.

A rattle, a bump and thump brought Harry back to the here and now and he paused in his sketching. The creak of the lid opening had him looking towards the old, tatty brown suitcase laying on the ground not far away. He waited, expectantly and wasn’t disappointed.

A head of thinning white hair appeared, quickly accompanied by a hand and then the old, stooped body of the suitcase’s owner. As always, Harry watched fascinated as Newt Scamander squeezed himself out of the confines of the suitcase. He shook his head; it looked near impossible that someone as thin as Newt could get in and out of there and yet, Harry had been assured that the opening was quite wide enough to accommodate almost anything. Anything but a dragon, of course.

“How’s everyone down there?” Harry asked.

“All fed and watered and in the best of health,” he replied.

“You know that niffler of yours nearly escaped again,” Harry remarked. “I had to conjure some gold coins and throw them back down to keep him inside.”

“Yes, he learnt some bad habits from his grand-sire,” Newt sighed. “I probably should have left him at home with Tina but I simply couldn’t leave him, now could I?”

The appearance of a black nose sniffing the air above the suitcase had Harry flicking his hand, causing a gust of wind to close the case, causing the hint of a yelp from the niffler trying to, once again, escape. He smiled, pleased with the progress of his magic; it wasn’t so long ago that he wouldn’t have been able to do that.

“You have made remarkable progress, my boy,” Newt remarked, having caught sight of Harry’s sketch.

Harry gestured for Newt to have a closer look and leant back. He watched as the elder magizoologist peered intently at the sketch of the bunyip, even leaning right in at times.

“You have a remarkable eye for detail,” Newt eventually said.

“Thanks, Newt,” Harry smiled. “I’m sorry that you had so little time to see it alive.”

“That I was able to, even for only a few hours, was amazing,” Newt replied. “Now, shall we finish this off together?”

The next half an hour was spent with the two discussing the bunyip and their observations of it while Harry added more notes either in his notebook or even around the sketch itself. Both knew that it wasn’t complete and that there were probably more unknowns than known facts about the no-longer-mythical creature.

“Do you think that there are more out there somewhere?” Harry asked.

“Where there is one, it stands to reason that there are more,” Newt replied. “The fact that none have been seen in uncounted years until now simply means that they are camouflaged well in their natural habitat.”

“Then it’s not likely that we’ll ever see another,” Harry said, not upset by that fact.

The bunyip, the way it looked and especially the way it could twist and contort its body had given him more than one nightmare since they’d captured it. He had no doubt that seeing one in the wild would be sure to keep him from sleeping for the rest of his life!

“I have learnt in my long life never to limit oneself to the likelihood of ‘no’,” Newt smiled. “There are endless possibilities and wonders within this world, it simply remains for us to strive to find them.”

Harry nodded slowly before looking at the man he considered a mentor shrewdly. “You intend to search for more.”

“Indeed, I do, young Harry,” Newt laughed. “Your friend, Andy Wululu, has promised to introduce me to a number of Aboriginal elders that remember the stories of the bunyip. With their help, I think it might be possible to find where this remarkable creature has secluded itself.”

“Please be careful, Newt,” Harry said.

“Have no fear for me,” Newt replied, laying a hand on Harry’s back. “If I did something foolish, Tina would be first in line to tear strips from me. It wouldn’t be the first time. Which might explain why I have remained as thin as I am, eh?”

Harry laughed along with him before bending back to his sketchpad, determined to create a copy of the drawing that he’d just completed for Newt to take with him.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

2:50pm

Monday, 22 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Panting, Harry let the sand fall back to the Earth and slumped, his hands landing on his knees as he sucked in great lungfuls of air.

“Most impressive,” Coen stated from across from him.

“Thanks,” Harry managed.

The instant that Coen had heard that Harry’d manipulated the sand when they were setting the trap for the bunyip, he’d asked Harry to demonstrate it. Thus, he had. Not that he particularly liked doing that.

Gathering his magic into a ball in his chest was now almost second nature, letting it out slowly in a trickle to interact with the environment around him came just as easy. But earth, even sand that was so fine and light – individually, at least – was many thousand times heavier than air and consequently, a thousand times harder to manipulate. At the very least, he’d demonstrated that he could do it.

“Manipulating the earth is a lot harder than air,” he said, voicing his thoughts.

“For some, for you, yes,” Coen nodded. “For others, they find it as easy as breathing and struggle with other elements, like air.”

“Really?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Surely by now you understand that each person has a different connection to the magic that is in the world,” Coen asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I know. My friend Neville can understand plants better than anyone I’ve ever met. I think he can get anything to grow! But put him on a broom and he freaks out and is more likely to fall off than fly in a straight line.”

“It may be that your friend would find that earth magic comes easily to him,” Coen observed.

“Maybe,” Harry allowed without voicing the thought that they’d never know – after all, the things that Harry was learning here weren’t taught at Hogwarts or anywhere in Britain from what Remus had said.

“What of your fire elemental ability, have you made any progress?” Coen asked.

Harry willed a ball of light into existence between them. There was no heat to it but that was easy enough to manipulate and he did so, raising the temperature until he felt it on his face.

“I know it’s not the way that you described, but I can do this without much thought at all,” Harry replied.

“Unconventional,” Coen said, repeating the same thing that he said at their last lesson, “but if magic has deemed that you can manipulate the element in this way, then who are we to argue with her?”

Harry laughed. He’d come to appreciate the way that Coen talked about magic as though it wasn’t only alive but had a sentience of its own. He still wasn’t sure if he completely agreed with the idea, but he was definitely coming to.

“Whatever works, right?” he said.

“There are two buckets beside that tree, please bring them here,” Coen said, indicating said tree.

Harry eyed the tree, judging the distance. Middling, he decided. Almost too far for him to do it without a wand but definitely much easier to do with one. Decided, he pulled his rowan and willow wand, gave a simple swish and flick and directed the buckets through the air to land beside them. Instantly, Coen took over, wafting his hand from one side to the other, one of the buckets following suit to land opposite its brethren.

“As you can see, this bucket,” Coen said, indicating the one to Harry’s right, “is filled with water. The other, is empty. We have already ensured that you have touched your magic with the elements of air, fire and earth. Can you guess what we’ll be doing now?”

“Water magic?” Harry asked, although he already knew the answer.

“Swirl the water in a circle around itself,” Coen directed. “Please be careful not to spill any.”

Coen, much like Professor Flitwick back at Hogwarts, had a very different teaching style. Instead of instructing, he allowed time for Harry to work through the problem himself, only stepping in with a hint or an instruction if it was needed. Harry nodded solemnly as he considered what he had to do.

A whirlpool, he decided. Like he’d see if he emptied the sink or a bathtub. But there was no drain to pull the water down with gravity. The gravity in this scenario would be his magic. His magic would be needed to push the water, swirling it around in a circle. Well, he could already do the same thing with the air.

Decided, Harry ‘checked’ the ball of magic in his centre that he’d been gathering since expending it earlier to move the sand. It wasn’t as full as he would have liked. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, searching out the magic in his body, pulling it inward, building it, shaping it. When he was finally satisfied, he opened his eyes once more.

Then, tapping into his magic, he released it in a small steady stream that he directed towards the bucket, over its lip and into the water. It resisted, as he’d expected; after all, water was heavier than air. And then he pushed!

Slowly, the water began to move. It jostled, sloshed up slightly when he almost lost control and settled into being nothing more than a choppy mess in a bucket.

Harry frowned. That wasn’t what he wanted. Yes, he was pushing it, but it wasn’t going where he wanted it to. The bucket! That was the key. Channelling his magic once again, he directed it to skim the inside of the bucket. The water moved, creating slight waves.

No, he realised. He was only pushing a part of the water, he needed to push all of it. Spreading out his magic, he lined the inside of the bucket and then pushed his magic again. This time, the water moved how he wanted it to. Around and around it went, slow at first and gradually building in speed. The sides rose, the centre fell, just like the whirlpool that he’d imagined.

Harry grinned and glanced at Coen to see him smiling as well as nodding.

“Well done, young Harry,” he said. “Now, take it higher, let the side of the water overflow the bucket but send it directly up into the air!”

Harry nodded his understanding and pushed his magic even harder. With the water already moving it was easy! Slowly the water level rose, reached the lip and some splashed out. Harry glared at it. He eased off on the speed, considering. The water was going to do that every time it passed the top of the bucket, it was simply what water did. Without a lip…

Suddenly, the answer was obvious. Extending his magic, Harry raised it above the lip of the bucket and pushed some more. This time, no water splashed out. It rose higher and higher until there was more water above the bucket than there was inside it!

“I’m doing it!” Harry near-shouted. “This is easy.”

“In that case, young Harry, take the water from that bucket and place it into the other,” Coen instructed.

Harry blanched and nearly lost control of the water, managing to catch it before no more than a few drops had fallen.

His eyes darted from the water swirling in and above the bucket across to the empty one.

How was he supposed to get it over there? he wondered. Without a bucket or a container, the water would simply splash out all over the ground as soon as he even tried to move it out of the bucket. But it already was out of the bucket! He could have kicked himself.

Manipulating his magic as though it was a bucket – an enclosed bucket once he fashioned his magic both above and below the water as well – he began shifting it. Slowly, it rose, passed the lip of the bucket until he could see between the bucket and the swirling water above it and then, gently, carefully, he pushed his magic, floating it across the intervening space.

As soon as he had it hovering above the other bucket, he relaxed, something that he instantly regretted as he lost control of his magic, sending the water plummeting below. And while most landed in the bucket, quite a substantial amount splashed out, onto the ground and up and over both him and Coen.

“An impressive first go,” Coen stated, wiping the water from his knees and shirt. “Your instinctive grasp of elemental magic is stronger with water.”

“Not as strong as with air, but that was way easier than moving sand,” Harry nodded.

“Shall we try again?” Coen asked. “Let’s see just how much of an affinity you do have with water magic.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

7:35pm

Monday, 22 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

The knock at his door wasn’t appreciated. Harry looked up at it, frowned and promptly ignored it.

He was busy. Books, parchment, notepads and pens littered not only the tiny desk but also the bed behind him and even the floor. Many were open and Harry was flitting between each of them and the page he was writing on, trying to condense them into something coherent. Charms was probably his best magical subject but he knew that he hadn’t been putting enough time or effort into his studies as he needed to.

Too much jumping around the world from one crisis to another, he grumbled to himself.

Not that there really had been a lot, nor was he behind. Well, behind where his tutors thought he should be but that feeling of needing to catch up persisted. Unsurprising considering that he’d started his magical education over three years behind his Hogwarts’ friends.

The knock came again, a little louder and more insistent this time.

“Come in,” he practically growled.

“I know Remus and I call you ‘pup’ and ‘cub’, but I never expected you to take on those characteristics,” Sirius said as he walked in.

“What’s up, Sirius?” Harry asked, ignoring the rebuke.

“What’s all this?” Sirius asked, gesturing to the mess.

“I’ve got a Charms essay that’s due the day after tomorrow,” Harry replied.

“No, it’s not,” Sirius countered before holding up a hand to prevent Harry from talking. “It was due then. You know perfectly well that as soon as this thing with the bunyip came up you were given an extra week.”

Harry simply shrugged. Knowing it and accepting it were two very different things as far as he was concerned.

“Was there something that I could do for you?” he asked.

“I’ve got a present for you,” Sirius grinned, pulling a slim, flat package out of his pocket and holding it out.

“But you just gave me a present,” Harry reminded him, confused, adding in a look at the shelf above his bed where the magical camera sat.

“Well, I’ve got another present for you,” Sirius amended. “Actually, this one’s more from Remus, well, not from Remus, he just reminded me about this and I had Kreacher collect it from Grimmauld Place and bring it here. That really is rather ingenious of you, working out that using house elves in combination with the Floo system for international messages is a lot cheaper and faster. Of course, there are faster ways still.”

Harry cocked his head at the way that his godfather grinned with the last part. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d say that Sirius was in the midst of a prank. His eyes shifted to the package in Sirius’ hands and he was suddenly loathe to take it.

“What’s in there?” he asked warily.

“Something that I know you’re going to want the instant that you see it,” Sirius grinned, giving the package an extra shake to emphasise that Harry was supposed to take it.

Reluctantly, Harry complied. Whatever was in the plain, brown paper wrapping was hard but that was all that he could tell. Steeling himself, he carefully undid the tape and unfolded the paper, only to find himself looking back at himself.

“A mirror?” he asked dubiously. “Are you trying to tell me that you think that I’m vain?”

“That’s not just any mirror!” Sirius stated. “That was once your Dad’s mirror. I had its companion. The times we used them…”

Harry watched him get lost in a memory or three, trying not to let that ache that tended to appear whenever anyone was mentioning his parents without sharing the story with him get to him.

Sirius came back to himself with a shake before fixing Harry with a grin.

“Who would you most like to talk to?” he asked.

“My dad?” Harry replied, saying the first name that popped into his head.

Sirius winced. “Sorry, Pup, I wish that was possible. No. Who would you most like to talk to in the entire world, right now?”

“Daphne,” he whispered.

“Harry?”

He blinked, jumped and nearly dropped the mirror at the unexpected voice. His head shot up and around, looking for the girl that he knew was half-a-world away.

“Daphne?” he asked.

“Down here,” she laughed, and he looked at the mirror in surprise to see her there, her beautiful blue eyes shining back at him.

“How?” he asked, mentally kicking himself. Surely, he could speak in more than one-word sentences!

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “A crazy old house elf delivered it last night. The note with it said that it was from your godfather and that I was to be holding it this morning.”

“Morning?” he asked, before giving himself a shake. “Of course, morning. England’s what? Ten hours behind the time here in Australia?”

“Something like that,” Daphne replied. “It’s good to see you, Harry.”

“It’s great to see you, too, Daph,” he replied, grinning at her, his eyes drinking in every part of her that he could see. It may have only been a week but it felt much, much longer. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she replied, “better now that I can see you and talk to you. Do you know how these mirrors work?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll ask Sirius later. What have you been up to? Did you get to stay much longer in Romania?”

“A couple of extra days,” she replied. “I got to see Ramaranth again before we left, which was nice. Scary as hell, but nice. But what about you? You rushed off around the world so quickly. What’s been happening there?”

Harry’s face fell and he could see the instant concern in Daphne’s eyes.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” he quickly reassured her, “at least, not anymore.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Well, as you know, I was asked to come because the dragons here were acting really strangely,” he began. “What no one knew was that…”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

4:50pm

Monday, 22 August 1995

Just Inside the Northernmost Border of Albania

.

It had taken some time to travel this far. However, the entity now inhabiting the snake was content to take his time. Care had to be taken, for, after all, it was a snake. Humans had two predetermined reactions to this animal: flight or kill. And death, going back to being a disembodied spirit was not to be tolerated.

Care, too, had to be taken with the snake’s body. It needed food and rest. The time of year also had to be taken into consideration. It was already late summer and a tinge of the cold-to-come was already being teased in the wind very late at night. What was worse was the direction that the being had to travel: north.

But north offered hope. North was where a potential for a worthy vessel could be found and from that body, a powerful body that was eminently suitable for revenge, the ultimate goal of a new body could come about.

The memories of the snake that he now inhabited had contained the greatest surprise, one that led to this decision to travel north.

The snake had seen and heard a human speaking to a dragon. The fact that the snake had understood both had astonished him, for he had had no idea that his ancestor’s unusual gift could be used in such a manner. Unfortunately, the snake’s memory wasn’t as complete as he would have liked – where the snake had been to have seen this marvel was missing, as was the knowledge of how it’d gotten from there to here.

Still, it was enough to formulate this plan, his own knowledge filling in the gap of where to find such a wonderful, potential, unexpected host.

The journey, he knew, would be long and difficult but he had never failed at anything that he’d put his mind to – that night, being the only exception and one that he refused to dwell on. One day in the not so far future, he would claim that body and then the world would know his power and his name once more, even if they dared to never speak it.

He would show them all!

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 23 – Mementos of Australia

6:20am

Tuesday, 23 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

The sunlight glittered on the water as far out as Harry could see. Not even the ever-present waves could stop it. Or, more likely, they helped the sparkle.

An enormous body dove through the air, the sunlight shining off of his pearl-like scales bright enough to cause Harry to squint and throw a hand up in front of his eyes. He watched as Zanzyn twisted, folded his wings to his back and dove into the water with a much smaller splash than would have been expected.

Moments later, the great dragon burst from the waves, his mighty wings beat and he rose high. A twist and flap, a toss of his head and two fish were thrown high before being gulped down.

Watching a dragon’s breakfast and swim so early in the morning, the warm breeze ruffling his hair, the sand under his feet and the ocean before him was something that Harry knew that he was going to greatly miss. Soon, probably much sooner than he wanted, he’d be heading back to Romania. And while the northern country had some wonderful attractions and friends, it wasn’t the same.

§What do you, Speaker §?

Harry looked up at Dankrum, the Weyr Leader, and held up the piece of eucalypt in his hand.

“I’m carving,” he said.

§The wood in your hand looks like a dragon§, Dankrum stated, her jaw resting on the sand so that her great eye didn’t tower so far above him.

“That’s what it’s supposed to be,” Harry grinned at her. “I’ve used my knife to shape the wood into an Antipodean Opaleye.”

§Why§? She asked.

Harry shrugged. “You’ve seen me paint, this is like that. I find it relaxing and having the carving is a reminder of my friends.”

§You have other pieces of wood that you’ve shaped§? she asked.

“A couple of other dragons, as well as a few other animals that I’ve encountered – a unicorn and a hippogriff,” Harry replied. There was no way that he was going to mention the merperson or even the bunyip that he was working on.

Dankrum watched him as he turned the piece in his hand, chipping away and shaping it to match what was in his mind.

§It is not unlike the hidden ones§, Dankrum said and Harry’s hands froze even as he turned to her.

“Hidden ones?” he asked carefully.

He’d heard the term before. Memzath, the Romanian Weyr Leader, had said it. Not that he’d explained when Harry had asked what he meant.

Dankrum lifted her head, her long neck extending over the sand dune towards the ocean. Harry watched her, waiting, hoping. When there had still been no response after two minutes, he went back to his carving.

Further out, Zanzyn had been joined by another pair of dragons and he smiled, dividing his attention between the frolicking dragons the piece of wood in his hands.

§The hidden ones§, Dankrum said unexpectedly, startling Harry so much that he nearly sliced his hand. §They are not ones that we generally talk about, even among ourselves§.

“I understand,” he said.

Dankrum, though not shifting her gaze from the horizon, continued to speak.

§Two-legs know of us, of dragon-kind and of our weyrs§, she said. §We have managed to find a way to live with two-legs, allowing them to believe that they know us and have penned us in§.

“The Dragon Keepers know better than that,” Harry told her. “They know that the magic that they place around your weyrs aren’t strong enough to keep you here. They do it more for your safety, so that other two-legs who might want to hurt dragons cannot get to you.”

§Once I would have scoffed at the idea that any could harm a dragon§, she said. §Even for two-legs, it takes many working together to harm just one of us. No longer do I think that way. You, Speaker for Dragons, you have shown us that there are some that can be trusted§.

“The men and women here would never hurt you,” Harry said. “They grieved with you for the loss of the eggs and were just as angry as you were.”

§This is now known to us§, she said. §But the one that rises above them is you, Speaker. You are rightfully our champion just as we are yours. You asked about the Hidden Ones. They are of us, but unknown to two-legs§.

Harry gaped at her. ‘Unknown’? Was she saying…?

“Do you mean…?” he asked.

§That you know that they exist is enough, Speaker. Ask no more§, she said, turning her great head to look at him.

“I give you my word that no one will ever know what you have told me,” Harry promised solemnly. “Dragons have named me Speaker, I will never betray them in any way.”

Dankrum bowed her great head to him, her eyes swirling with greens and yellows.

§Of this, we have no doubt§, she said.

They sat there in silence, then, the sun slowly rising. Zanzyn and the other dragons finished their breakfast, floated in the water for a while, their great eyes shining like beacons just under the waves before eventually lumbering out of the water and onto the beach.

Harry and Dankrum remained where they were until Harry had finished his carving and long past time that Harry knew breakfast would have been served. Reluctantly, Harry eventually rose, gave Dankum a respectful bow, mounted his broom and flew back to begin his day properly.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

8:55am

Tuesday, 23 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Harry had barely landed before he was captured by a hand landing on his shoulder.

“Morning Charlie,” Harry said. “I was just heading in for some breakfast.”

He switched his Nimbus to his off hand, expecting that Charlie would want to walk with him towards the Mess Hall. He’d barely managed a step, though, when he felt that hand on his shoulder pivot him ninety degrees and begin quick-walking him in the wrong direction.

“Charlie?” he asked, gesturing vaguely towards where the tantalizing aroma of bacon and eggs still lingered.

For his part, Charlie simply looked down at him and grinned. “We’ve all had breakfast, time to work.”

“But I haven’t!” Harry protested.

“Well, some of us make sure that we do eat before work instead of going off and playing with the dragons,” Charlie stated.

“I wasn’t playing!” he protested, looking longingly back at the Mess Hall that he suspected would remain out of his reach for the next few hours.

“What were you doing?” Charlie asked lightly.

“I was sitting on the beach talking with Dankrum,” Harry replied before adding in response to Charlie’s expectant look, “and doing some carving.”

Fishing his latest carving out of his pocket, he held it up to show the dragon keeper. Instantly, Charlie stopped and carefully took the tiny wooden dragon. Harry watched as he almost reverently turned it around in his hands, examining it.

“This is really good, Harry. An Opaleye?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“Well, it may not be ‘playing’ in the traditional sense of the word, but remember who I grew up with, I’ve seen a lot of different types of ‘play’, so there’s no pulling the wool over my eyes,” he said.

With a sigh, Harry took back the carving and let himself be led away. Maybe, if he was really lucky, he could snag an early lunch?

“Found him!” Charlie declared a few moments later

“Where’ve you been?” Sirius asked, cutting off his conversation with Andy and Remus.

“Like I said, he was playing with the dragons,” Charlie replied for him.

Harry started to protest before snapping his jaw shut; there was no way that he was going to win that one.

He’d been led to a bluff that overlooked the great sand dunes that formed the Preserve and where the dragons all had their weyrs. It looked peaceful, the golden sand with clumps of grass dotted here and there, sometimes in great lines winding their way across the tops of the dunes and the bright blue, cloudless sky above. A slight shifting off to his right saw a dragon back emerge from the sand where it’d buried itself before it gave a massive shake before settling back down once again.

Harry itched to get a brush or a piece of charcoal in his hand to capture the scene. But that, he knew, would be called ‘playing’. Suppressing his sigh, he focussed on the men around him.

“How are our dragons this morning?” Andy asked.

“They’re good,” Harry nodded. “I think flaming the bunyip yesterday helped to heal them. Mind you, they’re still maintaining a wing over Shiklyn’s weyr, just in case of any more trouble.”

“Not that we expect any,” Remus stated.

“No, that bunyip was alone,” Andy said. “In every story that the Elders told, there was only ever one bunyip.”

“A solitary creature,” Charlie nodded.

“Indeed,” Andy nodded.

“In that case, I would say that the job here is done,” Charlie stated, causing Harry to start and stare at him.

“What?” he blurted.

“You knew that this was only a temporary assignment, Harry,” Charlie said.

“But the contract…” Harry began.

“Is for all of the signed dragon reserves around the world,” Charlie finished for him. “That’s true. But you know that your primary base is to be the Romanian Reserve, especially during your first year where you’re still learning the job.”

Sirius’ snort had all of their heads turning to him.

“What?” he asked. “You know that Harry’s teaching you a Merlin-sight more by talking to the dragons than what you lot can teach him.”

Andy laughed. “He does have a point.”

“Don’t agree with him too much, he’s already got an ego the size of a dragon, he doesn’t need it inflated,” Remus stated causing everyone but Sirius to laugh.

“I am assuming that you want to see Ramaranth and the hatchlings?” Charlie asked.

“Of course!” Harry quickly replied. “And Memzath and Grouleth and all of the others. I just … I wasn’t expecting to have to say goodbye to the dragons here so soon.”

“I dare say that you’ll be back before you know it,” Andy said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“When do we leave?” he asked.

“We’ll take a portkey from here at four this afternoon,” Charlie said. “With the eight-hour time difference, that’ll get us there at eight this morning.”

Harry nodded, his mind already on getting back to the dragons to say goodbye properly.

“Just in time for you to have breakfast,” Charlie finished, causing Harry to glare at him.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

12:05pm

Tuesday, 23 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

Harry had packed in what felt like record time. All of his notes about the Antipodean Opaleyes, the bunyip, his painting, sketches and carvings had been secured in his trunk. He’d also done his rounds of the dragon keepers, saying goodbye to each of them. Now, with a sandwich in hand, he was ready to spend the next few hours with the dragons.

For some reason, that Harry found completely unnecessary and irritating, Charlie had magically stuck a piece of bark to his arm.

“It’s got an alarm charm on it,” he was told. “As soon as it goes off, you get your ass back here, got it! That portkey will not wait for you.”

He’d nodded his agreement, assuring him that he’d even be back before the thing went off, not that Harry completely believed it himself. Nor did Charlie, judging by the look on his face.

Mounting his Nimbus, Harry took to the sky.

As he soared towards the beach, dragon heads lifted towards him, many bugling in greeting and Harry grinned and waved at them all. Crossing the last sand dune, he swung around to the south, following the coastline. The Preserve was big and, just near the southern point, he knew that there was a small inlet that wound its way inland for a number of kilometres. The dragons had avoided building their weyrs in that area, thus it wasn’t a section that he’d really explored. Time, though, was about to run out.

Landing his broom, he took a look around. The banks of the inlet were high and the water appeared deep, dotted with the occasional log resting on the bottom of it. There were plants in there, too. Water plants which, he hoped, were magical. Really, he had no way to tell. Still, he knew that Neville would appreciate whatever he managed to collect and send back. It was the thought that counted, right?

Kicking off his shoes, Harry waded into the water. Whisps of sand were kicked up and they obscured his view of the plants that he was aiming for. But only for a couple of seconds. His eyes widened as he saw a dim green glow appear in the swirling water that quickly grew brighter and brighter as the cloudy water cleared.

“Brilliant!” Harry grinned. “A water cleaning plant!”

Judging by its glow, he knew that it had to be magical. Quickly, he bent and began digging into the sand under the water before pulling a plant free.

Digging into his pocket as he waded back onto shore, his pulled out a miniature bucket that was quickly resized, before being filled with a layer of sand, the plant and sea water. The stasis spell was applied using his rowan and willow wand to give it added potency for a longer-lasting spell.

He was so intent on his task that he was startled when a triplet of dragons crested the bank above him, two flying, one in a lumbering run and all three flaming! Harry’s eyes widened in shock and he dropped the bucket, even as he stumbled backwards towards the water.

A great paw – Cantrum, Harry belated realised – reached down, grabbed his arm and yanked, jerking him off of his feet and up into the air. The snap of jaws right below his boots had him looking down. Right into a set of jaws full of the sharpest teeth that Harry had ever seen!

§What the bleeding hell do you think you’re doing§? he yelled at the crocodile.

Instantly, the jaws snapped shut again, only this time, Harry was sure that it was in surprise, more than in an attempt to eat him.

His eyes stayed fixed on the crocodile as it dropped back into the water, its powerful tail working to propel it through the water and deep below the surface.

§Speaker, are you unharmed§? Cantrum asked as he lowered Harry to the ground.

§Yeah, yeah I think so§, he replied, his legs feeling like jelly. He sat and looked up at Cantrum, Dankrum and Zanzyn. §Thank you, you saved my life§!

§You are our Speaker§, Dankrum stated as if saving his life was of no importance.

Harry looked back at the water and shivered. That was Merlin-be-damned close. It took two tries before he was settled enough for his magic to grab up the fallen bucket and fly it back into his hand.  

§Did that crocodile understand me§? he asked, staring at the water where now only a ‘log’ lay on the bottom.

§As it should. You are a Speaker§, Cantrum stated.

Harry thought about that. Speaker. Parseltongue. When he’d first heard the term, it’d meant ‘someone who could talk to snakes’. Of course, Ramaranth had proved that it also meant being able to talk to dragons. Snakes and dragons. And now crocodiles? What else? They were all reptiles. He wondered if anyone had ever done a study on it?

§What was it you were doing, Speaker§? Zanzyn asked.

Harry looked at the bucket sitting between his legs.

§I was collecting a plant for my friend§, he replied. §He really likes plants and I thought a magical plant from Australia would make a good present for him§.

Reading dragon expressions wasn’t easy but even Harry could tell that none of them thought that a plant was a good gift for anyone. Neville, though, wasn’t a dragon.

“He’ll like it,” he assured the dragons. “Now, I just need something for Daphne, Hermione and Susan.”

§These are more two-leg friends of yours§? Dankrum asked carefully.

§Yes. They’re girls. And Daphne is very special to me§, he replied. §I know that they’ll be disappointed not to meet you§.

§It is rare for us to meet anyone, even others of our own kind§, Dankrum stated.

Speaking of Daphne gave Harry an idea. He checked his watch, did the time conversion and winced. He thought that his idea was a good one, after all, the way that she’d been with Ramaranth proved it. Surely, she’d think so too?

Decided, Harry pulled the mirror from his pocket.

“Daphne,” he said. When there was no answer, he tried again. “Daphne! Daphne! Daphne Greengrass!”

“Do you know what time it is?” a grumbling Daphne asked.

Her eyes were barely open and she had the most atrocious head of bed-hair that he’d ever seen, not that he’d ever tell her that.

“Hi, sorry for waking you?” he said.

One eye opened, looked at him and promptly slammed shut.

“Where are you?” she asked, her words slurring somewhat. “It’s too bright to see.”

“I’m still in Australia. At least for a few more hours,” he replied. “But before I leave here, I though that you might like to meet some friends of mine?”

“Friends?” she asked, her eyes opening wide. “Harry! I’m still in bed!”

“They’re not going to care about that,” he laughed. He twisted about then and waved his hand at the mirror, spelling it to float up and away. “Can you see my friends?”

“Is that…?” she breathed.

Suddenly, the picture in the mirror jostled before settling on an image of Daphne now sitting up in bed, her eyes wide.

“Yep,” he replied. “This is Dankrum, Cantrum and Zanzyn.”

“Antipodean Opaleyes,” Daphne said, staring at them. “Can you say ‘hello’ to them for me?”

“Sure,” he replied before looking up at his friends. §The person you can see in the mirror is my girlfriend, Daphne. She lives on the other side of the world. She says that it’s an honour to meet you and wishes that she was here to do so in person§.

§The honour is ours, meeting the mate of our Speaker§, Dankrum said, inclining her great head.

“What did she say?” Daphne asked anxiously. “And what did you say? That seemed a lot of hissing to just to say ‘hello’.”

“I used the appropriate form of introduction,” he grinned. “And Dankrum said that it was an honour to meet you.”

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed, a sentiment that Harry immediately passed on.

§Your mate is welcome to visit our weyr§, Cantrum said.

§Thank you§, Harry replied. §Although, I’m not sure when that will be§.

§You will be here at the hatching§, Dankrum stated, as though it was an irrefutable fact. §Your mate will join you then§.

Harry blinked and gave the most solemn bow that he could, considering that he was seated on the ground.

§It would be our honour§, he replied, and turned to the mirror. “Um, Daphne, we’ve both just been invited to the hatching of the dragon eggs in a month or so.”

She gaped at him, her jaw dropped and her eyes round. “What? Really? I’d ... we’d love to see that. Wouldn’t we?”

That last part sounded a little uncertain to Harry and he smiled reassuringly at her.

“Definitely,” he nodded.

A scratching, tearing sound had Harry turning to see Zanzyn pulling at the scales just below his wing. He watched, wide-eyed as the dragon pulled three loose and dropped them just in front of Harry.

§Zanzyn§? he asked.

§For your mate and your other two-leg friends§, Zanzyn stated. §A much better gift than plants§.

Harry looked down at the pearlescent scales the size of a dinner plate. Each was slightly concave and shone with the radiance of the reflected sun.

§Zanzyn, that is such a generous gift! I don’t know what to say but on behalf of my … my mate and my friends, I thank you from the bottom of my heart§, Harry said, adding in the deepest bow that he could.

“Harry? What’s going on there? Are those dragon scales?” Daphne asked.

“Yes. They are,” he replied. “Zanzyn has gifted one to you and others for Hermione and Susan.”

She stared at him, obviously struggling to comprehend the enormity of the gift. To some, those scales would be worth more than their weight in galleons. But he knew that Daphne – and Hermione and Susan once they found out – they’d understand the real worth of them, a dragon’s friendship and that couldn’t be measured on any scale.

“What about Neville?” Daphne asked when she found her voice.

Harry held up the bucket. “I got him a magical Australian plant.”

Daphne snorted in a very un-ladylike way. “Yes, much more appropriate.”

“Is there anything that you’d like to ask the dragons?” Harry asked her.

At first, she stared at him, and he could see her mind spinning at the absurdity of talking to a dragon. But only for a moment. Then the questions came thick and fast and he was left simply as an interpreter between the dragons and his girlfriend, something that all of them seemed to find fascinating.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

3:50pm

Tuesday, 23 August 1995

Australasian Dragon Preserve, Australia

.

“It’s been great having you here, mate,” Andy said, shaking Harry’s hand.

“I’m glad that I could help,” he smiled.

“You know that you’re welcome back here anytime,” Andy continued. “Hopefully, next time won’t be an emergency.”

“Next month,” Harry nodded.

“What’s that, Pup?” Sirius asked.

Harry looked at him with a lop-sided grin. “We’ll be back here next month.”

“Perhaps you’d like to elaborate on that,” Remus stated mildly.

“I’ve been invited back for the hatching,” he shrugged. He barely gave them enough time to digest that before he dropped the bombshell. “Dankrum invited Daphne, too.”

“The dragon leader of this weyr invited your girlfriend to come see the hatching of baby dragons?” Charlie breathed, having staggered slightly.

“Yeah, so?” Harry asked.

“Harry, you do understand that dragons don’t let anyone – and I mean anyone, not even dragon keepers – anywhere near their eggs when they’re hatching?” Charlie managed to choke out.

Harry blinked at him. No, he had no idea that was the case. In the end he simply shrugged. He was the Speaker and he’d helped save those eggs so that they could hatch. As far as he was concerned, it just felt right that he’d be there to see the happy event.

Deciding to change the subject, Harry grasped the piece of eucalypt on the thong around his neck that allowed him to pass through the Preserve’s wards and started to take it off.

“Keep it, Lad,” Andy said. “I suspect that you’re going to be needing it more than most.”

Harry nodded at him and let the wood dangle onto his chest once again. “Thanks, Andy. See you next month!”

“It’s almost time,” Remus warned. “Everyone grab hold!”

Instantly, Harry reached in and grabbed the boomerang, his hand between Charlie and Sirius. A few seconds later, a flash of intense blue grabbed them and magicked them away.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 24 – Farlys’ Tale

9:20am

Tuesday, 23 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

Harry landed hard, wobbled, stumbled forward but miraculously, managed to stay on his feet. Looking around, he grinned at Sirius, Remus and Charlie.

“Well done, Cub, you’re finally starting to get the hang of portkeys,” Remus said.

Movement from the right caught his attention and he turned to see Alexander, the Reserve’s Head Dragon Handler striding towards them. Accompanying him were Delilah and Antony, two other dragon handlers.

“Glad to see you’re finally back,” Alexander greeted them.

Harry cocked his head at the man, there was something hard about him, as though he was on edge. The fact that the other two with him kept glancing from the four of them to the top of the ridge beyond which was the great canyon where the dragons lived had Harry starting to feel as though something was wrong.

“Good to be back, Boss,” Charlie said, shaking Alexander’s hand.

“How’d it go? What was the problem?” Alexander asked.

Everyone suddenly looking at him had Harry realising that he was expected to answer.

“Something – a bunyip – had been getting in and stealing the dragon eggs,” he replied. “It got three of the four clutches before we even got there, which was why the dragons were so on edge and not letting any of the handlers in.”

“So, it was a bunyip?” Alexander asked.

“We saw it in the newspaper, that article of yours, Harry, but until we’d heard it from you, we weren’t sure whether to believe it or not,” Antony said.

“Believe it,” Charlie stated grimly. “That thing was as mean and as ugly as anything that I’ve ever seen!”

“But it’s gone now?” Delilah asked. “The eggs are safe?”

“Yeah, we caught it,” Harry replied.

“And the dragons roasted the thing; melted the bunyip and the cage it was in to nothing but a charred mess,” Sirius added grimly.

“The dragons are back to normal now,” Charlie said, “so, we took the first portkey home.”

“Don’t forget that Harry’s got an invitation to go back to watch the eggs hatch,” Remus said.

“An invitation? From who?” Alexander asked.

“Dankrum, the lead dragon of the Australian weyr,” Harry shrugged.

Alexander stared hard at him for a second before shaking his head. To either side of him, Antony and Delilah simply stared, both of their jaws slack.

“Has Charlie explained the significance of that?” Alexander finally asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Harry replied. “And I’ll be sure to take my new magical camera with me to record it.”

“Omnioculars would be even better,” Delilah said. “They can record the entire hatching, not just a couple of seconds at a time like a magical photograph would do.”

Alexander eyed her for a moment. “Good call. Order a pair in for the lad.”

“You know it’s not just Harry that got that invitation,” Sirius said off-handedly.

“Charlie?” Alexander asked, sounding hopeful.

“Sorry, Boss,” Charlie replied with a grin. “Not one of us. Harry’s girl, Daphne, is the lucky one.”

“How in Merlin’s name did that happen?” Alexander asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged. “I was talking with Daphne using the magic mirrors that Sirius gave me while I was with the dragons so that she could ‘meet’ them too. Dankrum just invited her all by herself. I didn’t ask or anything.”

Harry blinked at his boss. Yes, he could understand that this was a BIG DEAL but for a man of his age and someone so rough to look like he was about to burst into tears, was something that Harry simply couldn’t get his head around.

“How’s things been here?” Charlie asked, and Harry was thankful to him for breaking the tension.

At least, that’s what he thought would happen. Instead, it only made things worse. All three handlers suddenly went very still, their heads or eyes flicking to the ridge once again, not that Harry could see what they were looking at with the forest between here and there.

“Funny you should ask,” Alexander replied, his eyes now firmly fixed on Harry. “Come with me, my lad.”

Harry glanced nervously at Sirius, then Charlie, then Remus but none of them helped when Alexander’s great, muscular arm landed around his shoulders and simply steered Harry away.

They walked in silence for nearly a hundred metres but, instead of making their way up the hill towards the top of the ridge where Harry expected, they walked around the base of it, only stopping when the view between them and the top of the ridge was no longer blocked by the forest.

Alexander turned him towards the ridge and gestured, as though looking was explanation was enough. Which it was.

There was a dragon crouched on the very top of the ridge, its head currently facing out over the canyon beyond. That, in itself, may have been slightly unusual, except …

Harry blinked at it.

It was green.

Green!

Dragons weren’t supposed to be green. Quickly, he amended that thought. Dragons in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary weren’t supposed to be green.

Hungarian Horntails were black, as were Norwegian Ridgebacks, while the Ukrainian Ironbelly was grey. Even the pairs of Portuguese Long-Snouts and Swedish Short-Snouts weren’t green, being red and blue-grey respectively. The closest that the Reserve had to a green dragon was the Romanian Longhorn but its scales were a green so dark that most of the time they appeared closer to black. Not this vibrant green colour.

Harry knew of only one type of dragon that looked like the one that was now staring back at him. He’d even seen it up close and spoken to one of them but that was nearly a year ago, back in Britain. Where dragons that particular colour could be found. The Common Welsh Green. But they only lived in Britain. There wasn’t a single one anywhere else in the world.

“Um, what’s that?” he asked.

“Common Welsh Green,” Alexander stated simply. “Thought you’d know that.”

Harry glanced up at him before his eyes were drawn back to the anomaly.

“We don’t have any Common Welsh Greens here,” he said, before quickly adding, “do we?”

There was, after all, the possibility that one had been added to the Reserve while he’d been away.

“We’re not supposed to,” Alexander confirmed. “That one turned up yesterday. Won’t let any of us near it. And the other dragons are being rather protective of it as well.”

“Okay?” Harry asked.

“Well, off you go, Lad. Talking to dragons is your speciality. Go find out what it’s doing here and where it came from,” Alexander said jovially before simply turning around and walking away.

For a full minute, Harry stared after him but Alexander neither looked back nor altered his pace towards the big lodge and his office.

Finally, he turned back to the dragon. The Common Welsh Green hadn’t moved a muscle. For a fleeting instant, he considered pulling his shrunken trunk from his pocket, retrieving his Nimbus and flying up there. Somehow, he thought that would be a bad idea. Startling any dragon, especially one unknown to him, was never a good idea.

Instead, he did the smart thing and began the climb.

It didn’t take long for the dragon to notice him. He saw the great head swing towards him which gave him a better view of the two spiked horns on top of its head. The closer that he walked, the more detail that he could see. While big, it wasn’t as large as a Horntail, nor quite as long as an Opaleye.

Ordinarily, Harry wouldn’t be worried. Even knowing that none of the other dragon handlers had been able to approach the dragon wasn’t something that he needed to be worried about. He was, after all, Speaker for Dragons. Thus, he kept on, keeping as steady a pace as possible on the uphill climb.

The ground had just started to level out when the sound of great wings beating the air drew his eye upwards. Two dragons, a Horntail and an Ironbelly were coming in hard and fast, obviously aiming to plant themselves between him and the foreign dragon.

One look was enough for Harry to break out in a massive grin even as he raised his hand in greeting.

§Ramaranth! Grouleth§! he called.

Both dragons paused mid-flight, hovering just above the ground, their long necks stretching down towards him.

§Speaker! Speaker! You have returned§! Ramaranth bugled.

§It is good to see you returned to us, Speaker§, Grouleth called.

As they were landing, Harry looked past them to see the Green’s reaction. The dragon had risen and taken a single step towards him, and he noted that the orange-red that was in the dragon’s eyes had morphed into a green with yellow undertones.

The instant that his two friends had landed, Harry raced forward, before throwing his arms around firstly Ramaranth and then leaping across to Grouleth.

§How are you both? I’ve missed you§, he said.

§We are well, Speaker§, Grouleth replied.

§And the hatchlings§? Harry asked.

Ramaranth looked over her shoulder and for a split second, Harry expected to see four tiny dragons come tumbling over the top of the ridge towards him.

§The hatchlings are well, Speaker and have asked for you each day that you have been gone§, Ramaranth replied.

§I look forward to seeing them§, Harry said earnestly. §First, though, I believe there is a visitor§?

He motioned towards the Green, standing back, watching and listening to them.

§May I§? he asked.

Simultaneously, the two great dragons inclined their heads, a movement that Harry copied before walking between them.

§Hello§, he said cautiously. §Welcome to Romania and the weyr§.

§Speaker? Do you not remember me§? the dragon asked.

Harry’s mind raced. Could it be? He had only ever met a single Common Welsh Green. At the First Task of the TriWizard Tournament, there was a Welsh Green that the Beaubaton’s Champion, Fleur Delacour had had to get past. After the Task and everything had settled down, Harry had gone down to the pens where the dragons were kept with Neville – even if Neville had stayed well back where he could barely see the dragons – and Harry had spoken to each of the dragons. Including the Welsh Green.

§Farlys§? Harry asked, dragging the name up from the depths of his memory, hoping that he had it right.

§Yes, Speaker, it is I§, she replied.

§It’s good to see you again§, Harry said. §How are your eggs? Have they hatched§?

§Indeed, Speaker, five hatchlings cracked their shells some moons ago§, she replied and Harry noted that the yellow flecks in her eyes calmed somewhat.

§That’s wonderful§! he exclaimed. Then, taking a breath, he asked the Big Question. §Why have you come here, Farlys§?

§Speaker§, Ramaranth said, interrupting any answer that she would have given. §Memzath has asked that you be brought to the Weyr Council to hear Farlys’ tale§.

Harry nodded. While he suspected that Alexander and the others would want to know sooner rather than later, the fact that he could find out at all, meant that they’d accept however long it took.

§Of course§, Harry said. §Might we go now§?

Ramaranth simply inclined her head before squatting down somewhat. §It would be my honour to take you, Speaker§.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:55am

Tuesday, 23 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

If Harry had expected a fast, direct flight from the ridge above the dragon handler’s camp to Memzath’s cave which was also the secret entrance to the Weyr Council Bowl, then Harry was sadly, greatly mistaken.

No sooner had he climbed up on Ramaranth’s back and settled between two of her spine ridges than she turned, bounded across to the cliff edge and all-but fell off. Her wings snapped open and she took that first, important downsweep of her wings.

To either side of her, Grouleth and Farlys flew, each a head and neck length behind as they swept through the canyon, barely ten metres from the ground.

Which dragon was the first to take note of him, Harry wasn’t sure but he sure knew the precise moment.

§The Speaker! The Speaker has returned §!

§The Speaker §!

§Welcome back, Speaker §!

The sentiment was bugled up and down the canyon even as every dragon took to the sky, winging after them. The dragon’s echoes were nearly enough to deafen Harry, not that he really noticed, instead he was too busy laughing and waving and calling greetings to all those he knew the name of – which was more than he realised.

The hatchlings – Harreth, Potteth, Spekith and Painzz – were the only ones who dared to fly in front of Ramaranth and even that had more to do with getting close to Harry than it was to do with their mother.

Before long, though, Ramaranth landed in front of Memzath’s cave where they were met by the great Horntail himself.

§Speaker, it is good that you have returned§, Memzath said.

§It’s good to see you, too, Memzath§, Harry replied.

Before anymore could be said, the Weyr Leader turned and led the way into the cave. Harry made to dismount but Ramaranth was having none of that, and thus, Harry was carried all the way through the tunnel to the great hidden bowl.

Once there, he quickly swung his leg over and slipped to the ground, managing only a quick thanks before Ramaranth took flight and winged her way to perch on one of the tiers that rose above and around the bowl.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time before every dragon had gathered and taken their places, leaving only three with Harry still on the ground – Memzath, Farlys and Tyriath, the eldest of all the dragons in the weyr.

§Speaker, we have eagerly awaited your return to us§, Memzath began, having bugled the weyr into silence.

§Thank you, Memzath, it is good to be back§, Harry replied, giving the Weyr Leader a bow. §I was asked to bring greetings to you and to all dragons of the Romanian Weyr from Dankrum, the Weyr Leader of the Australasian Weyr. They are far distant in the world from all other dragons and weyrs and often feel forgotten; your greetings to them caused great joy and they wished their names to be remembered to you in return§.

Memzath inclined his head, a slightly deeper bow than Harry was used to seeing him give. §They honour us. Know, Speaker, that they, like all dragons, are respected and remembered. Were you able to help them in their time of need§?

§I was, Weyr Leader§, Harry replied. §There was a predator, a thief, that was sneaking in and stealing the eggs of the Opaleyes§.

As Harry expected, there was an instant uproar at the audacity of a creature, of anyone who would do this. Indeed, after talking with the dragons, Harry still didn’t understand how the dragon handlers hadn’t been flamed for daring to take nesting mothers and their eggs to England the year before.

§The thief was caught and appropriately punished§, Harry said, raising his voice. §The remaining eggs are safe and will hatch in due time. Dankrum has invited me back to their Weyr for the joyous occasion§.

§As is appropriate§, Memzath said. §You are the Speaker§.

§It may be, Weyr Leader§, Tyriath said slowly, §that the Speaker has the right of it. He has brought greetings from the far Weyr and has taken our greetings to them. He is a bridge that spanned two weyrs from across the world. All Weyrs have become insular, perhaps there is another way§.

Memzath looked long at the Elder Dragon before he inclined his head.

§You are wise, Tyriath§, Memzath said. §Wiser still is Farlys who has come to us from her Weyr, before these thoughts even came to us§.

§Memzath, why has Farlys come here§? Harry asked, hoping that he was finally about to hear the reason.

§It is best for Farlys to answer for herself§, the Weyr Leader replied.

Harry turned to regard the Welsh Green and waited as patiently and as respectfully as he could.

§Speake§r, she began. §I have come seeking you. While I did not know that you had been named Speaker for Dragons, I did remember how you spoke to us at the two-leg place many moons ago. It was the hope of the dragons of Albion that you would be able to help us and that Ramaranth might know where you were and how to find you§.

Harry blinked at the unusual word. Dragons often used words in a different way than humans did and there were more than a few – weyr, for example – that he’d had to learn and, indeed, had taken back to the dragon handlers as well. But Albion? That one was new.

No. No, he decided on second thought. Not new. Old. Very old. It was a word that Harry had only heard once, maybe twice in history class. Ancient History at that. Albion, the ancient Celtic word for Great Britain. Farlys meant Britain? The dragons of Britain? Which made sense, her being a Common Welsh Green and Britain was the only place to find that type of dragon.

§The dragons of Albion are looking for me§? he asked slowly, carefully. §And you need my help? What’s happened§?

§Two-legs have come§, Farlys said, her eyes spinning with reds and oranges. §They have come to all of our weyrs and begun transporting us to a faraway island§.

§Transporting you§? Harry repeated.

His mind was whirling as he absorbed the information and tried to make sense of it. Why would men, wizards, be moving the dragons? He had no doubt that the magicals knew where all the dragons in Britain were, after all, they monitored them in order to ensure the Statute of Secrecy. But to start moving them all of a sudden? And to an island?

§Is it just dragons like you, the Greens, who have been moved§? he asked.

§No, Speaker. Blacks have been brought to the same island§, she replied.

Blacks, Harry nodded. That would be Hebridean Blacks, he decided, the other species of dragon native to Great Britain.

§And all the dragons are being moved to an island§? he repeated slowly, beginning to pace as he tried to understand why this would be happening.

Britain was one of the few places in the world that still allowed their dragons to remain in their own secluded places. Everywhere else, the dragons had been rounded up centuries ago and placed into weyrs like this one, where the dragons could be watched and where it was easier to get the bodies of dragons when they died to sell.

Harry looked up at the dozens of dragons perched on their ledges as they watched him. As far as he knew, this was a unique place for dragons. No other weyr had a Council like this, certainly there was nothing like it at the Australasian Preserve.

Suddenly, Harry froze.

Preserve. The Australasian Dragon Preserve. The Romanian Dragon Reserve. They were just two of the five dragon reserves that were signatories of the contract that he’d signed. That thought led him to another letter, another potential contract – the one that Charlie had received not long ago.

What was it called? he asked himself, before, with a snap of his fingers, he had it. The Dragon Reserve of Great Britain.

With the possible answer worked out, Harry looked up at all of the dragons again before settling on Memzath and Farlys.

§I think I understand what has been happening§, he said slowly. §It is possible that the two-legs from … from Albion, have been gathering the dragons to create a Weyr like this one§.

Memzath, slowly nodded his great head. §Once, long ago, hundreds of moons before even Tiriath was hatched, dragons were gathered and brought here. Not all, for this has always been a dragon’s weyr§.

§Why would the two-legs do this to us now§? Farlys asked.

Harry shook his head. He had an idea and, if it was what he thought it was, it was one that turned his stomach and made him want to throw up.

§Without asking them, I’m not sure§, he hedged. §With your permission, Memzath, Farlys, I’d like to talk to the two-legs who look out for you here and ask their opinion§.

§You are the Speaker of Dragons§, Memzath stated. §You are trusted as our Voice, to Speak for Us and to our benefit§.

Harry bowed low at the great respect that he was being given. This wasn’t going to be an easy fix, even if he could fix it and Harry was afraid that he’d fail his friends. For a second, he almost wished he was back hunting mythological creatures that dared to steal dragon eggs.

§I will return as soon as I can§, he promised before turning and striding from the cavern.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 25 – Whose Side Are We On?

12:10pm

Tuesday, 23 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

Ramaranth’s arrival in the middle of the compound caused much less stir among the dragon handlers than it once would have. The fact that a human was riding the dragon – one of only two to have ever done so – also was becoming more common place. This was, after all, Harry Potter, and even after the short amount of time that he’d been with them (not to mention what they’d seen at the First Task of the TriWizard Tournament), what he could do, no matter how unthinkable, was becoming the norm.

Thus, his sliding down the great Hungarian Horntail’s side and striding towards the Lodge, a hard, determined expression on his face simply brought waves and greetings from the few who saw him.

“Harry!” Charlie called, seeing him as he burst through the door. “You’re back.”

“Come join us, Lad,” Alexander called.

Knowledge of where he’d been and why must have been fairly common knowledge for he wasn’t the only one who made a beeline for the table. A plate of stew was quickly put in front of him as he sat, and he offered a quick ‘thank you’ to Sirius. Automatically, he picked up the spoon but promptly put it down again. It might have been hours since he’d last eaten but right then, he wasn’t hungry in the slightest.

“What’s the word?” Alexander asked.

In lieu of an answer, Harry turned to Charlie.

“Do you still have that letter from that woman who offered you the Head Dragon Handler position in England?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” he replied, sounding confused. “I kept it to show the Boss.”

“Could you get it?” Harry asked.

Charlie gave him a quizzical look before jumping up and racing from the room.

“Harry?” Alexander prompted.

“Can we wait until Charlie’s back, please,” Harry asked. “I want to check something, see if what I’m thinking is right before I give you whole story.”

“Very well,” Alexander frowned, and Harry knew that he’d not wait a minute longer than that to find out why a strange dragon had turned up in his Reserve.

The waiting was tense with the nearly one dozen dragon handlers shifting restlessly on the benches and tables surrounding his own. Even Sirius and Remus seemed intent. No one spoke and, despite himself and more to be doing something than anything else, Harry found himself digging into his stew. The bowl was nearly half-gone when Charlie came running back in.

“I’ve got it!” he called.

Quickly, Harry grabbed it from him before he’d even sat, unfolded it and began speed reading. Instantly, phrases jumped out at him. The Common Welch Green and the Hebridean Black … Committee was upgraded to sub-Department status … an island within the Shetland Islands … Dragon Reserve of Great Britain. We anticipate locating and moving all of the dragons within Great Britain to the Reserve …

“Damn!” he cursed. His fears had been right.

“Harry?” Alexander asked when he looked up.

Taking a breath, Harry composed himself and dropped the letter in the middle of the table.

“Firstly, the Green that arrived, her name is Farlys,” he began. “She was one of the dragons brought in for the TriWiz last November.”

“I remember her,” Charlie said. “It was because of your name coming out of the Goblet that we needed to go and find an extra dragon; we’d only brought the three with us. We made sure that she went back to her home afterwards, her and her eggs.”

Harry nodded. “Exactly. And because she was at Hogwarts, I spoke to her after the Task. When what’s been happening in Britain began, she came to find me in hopes that I could help her get home again.”

“Get home?” Delilah asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied quickly. “Here’s the kicker and, if we’d thought to read this better,” here he slapped the parchment letter, “we’d have known what’s been going on and thought about how it’s affecting the dragons.”

“They’re making a new Reserve,” Alexander stated, and Harry could see that he didn’t need to explain anything else to him.

For everyone else, though, he kept going. “It says it right here. The British Ministry of Magic bought up an island and warded it to make it into a new Reserve. Once they’d done that, they started going out and finding all of the Common Welsh Greens and Hebridean Blacks and have started transporting them to the island.”

“But wards don’t keep dragons in. They can get out if they want to,” Antony pointed out.

“We know that,” Charlie replied, “But I’m betting that the MoM doesn’t. Or, at least, didn’t until Farlys up and flew away on them.”

“What is it that the dragons want, Harry?” Alexander asked.

Harry sighed and shook his head. “They’re confused and scared. Farlys came here as a last-ditch resort. Dragons seeking out men for help? Has that even ever happened before?”

“It’s not unknown,” Alexander replied slowly, “but incredibly rare and always only with dragons that have been in Reserves for a long, long time and only to dragon handlers who’ve worked with that particular dragon for decades.”

“That’s what I thought,” Harry sighed. “This is a big deal. To the dragons, too. I think Memzath and the others are treading carefully with this, too. They’ll be watching to see how we react.”

“What is it that they want from you, Harry?” Remus asked.

“Speaker of Dragons, they call me,” he said. “Their trusted Voice, someone who Speaks for Dragons and to their benefit. I think they’re going to trust that I make things right and, however that looks, they’ll abide by what I say.”

“So, no pressure then,” Sirius deadpanned, earning him a slap on the back of his head from Remus.

“What can you do, though, Harry?” Charlie asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “Yes, I can talk to dragons, but you are all dragon handlers. You’ve worked with dragons for years and know them better than anyone. What do you think should be done?”

“The dragons were happy enough in their own weyrs,” Dimitri said. “I’ve never heard of any problems with the wild ones that lived in Britain.”

“I don’t know if they’d be allowed to go back to where they came from,” Charlie replied. “Britain’s Ministry of Magic can be pretty stubborn once it’s made up its mind.”

“Not to mention all of those galleons that they’ve just spent. Buying an island and getting it warded isn’t cheap,” Sirius stated. “They’re going to want to see some kind of return for that investment.”

“Is a new Reserve a bad thing?” Delilah asked.

“In theory, no,” Alexander asked. “It may depend on who’s running it. They asked Charlie, who turned them down. We don’t know who is next in line.”

“Did I do the wrong thing saying no?” Charlie asked.

“No, Lad, you did exactly the right thing,” Alexander told him. “As good as you are, you don’t even have your Mastery yet.”

“They tried to recruit me last year after it became known that I could talk to dragons,” Harry admitted.

“Talking to dragons is one thing; running a whole Reserve is a whole different bag of nifflers,” Alexander assured him.

“What about the dragons on that island?” Antony asked. “How likely is it that they’ll even stay there? I can see that, if they decided to go back to their weyrs, the British would simply track them down and transport them back. That could easily become a vicious cycle that could easily get out of hand, especially if the dragons became violent.”

“There’d be too many losses on both sides,” Delilah agreed.

“Just one death – human or dragon – would be one too many!” Harry stated forcefully.

“Easy there, Lad, we all agree with you,” Alexander said.

“Sorry,” Harry replied.

“Don’t be!” Alexander said quickly. “Being passionate about dragons isn’t just a Speaker thing, we all feel exactly the same.”

Murmurs all around him reminded Harry that that was the case. And not just here in Romania, either. Andy and the other handlers in Australia felt exactly the same way.

“For now, if I’m reading what you’ve told us is right,” Alexander said, nodding to Harry, “we’ve got some breathing room. What we need to do is find out more about this new Reserve, what’s best for the dragons they’ve brought there and if there’s a way for the dragons, the new Reserve and the British Ministry to work together.”

Harry nodded, unsure exactly how they were supposed to accomplish that.

Abruptly, Alexander stood. “Right. Harry, once you’ve eaten, get back to the dragons, especially Farlys and see if you can buy us some time to find a solution. If this goes sidewards, it could affect not just those dragons and the new British Reserve, but all of us, including our dragons. The rest of you, you know your jobs.”

“What about you, Boss?” Charlie asked.

Alexander picked up the parchment containing Charlie’s offer of employment and scowled at it.

“Me? I’ve got some international Floo calls to make!” he stated.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

5:15am

Wednesday, 24 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

The bed under him felt familiar but in a distant way, as though he should know it, but that it’d been a while since he’d woken up in it. Eyes, still firmly closed in half-sleep, he frowned, trying to understand the conflicting feelings. But the mystery persisted and nothing in his sleep addled mind allowed him to solve it. Finally, he rolled over and opened his eyes.

The bed he was in was against a wall. Directly opposite him, across where the desk stood under the window, the early morning sunlight streaming in through curtains that did a poor job of blocking it out and illuminating the dust motes that evidently filled the room, were some built in cupboards with sliding doors.

More familiarity and he frowned. Suddenly, memory blossomed. His room! He was in his room in the little cabin that he, Sirius and Remus had been assigned at the Romanian Dragon Reserve. Not that he’d had much chance to be in this room – he’d barely gotten settled in before their emergency jaunt to Australia. But he was back now, and he relaxed into being home.

At least, he relaxed until the conversations from yesterday returned. Farlys. Her story of what was happening to her and to all the other dragons hidden across Great Britain. Alexander. The hard expression on his face when Harry retold Farlys’ explanation of why she’d come. Harry’s own anxiety began ratcheting up and the bed under him no longer felt comfortable. There were dragons confused, hurting, terrified. He couldn’t let that stand. He had to do something!

Throwing the blankets off, he rolled out of bed. Dressing was done fast, as were his normal morning routines. The force that his Nimbus rocketed into his outstretched hand when he summoned it had him pausing, staring at it. Then, switching the broom to his other hand so that he could shake the sting out, he strode from the cabin.

The base was quiet, empty and Harry knew that he was the only one awake in the entire Reserve. Well, the only two-legged person awake.

Swinging his leg over the broom, he took off towards the top of the ridge. He lay low and brought his feet up behind him to create a smaller profile as he raced through the trees, zigging and zagging from side to side and up and down as he avoided branches that threatened to unseat him. Many tried, all failed.

And then he was up, over the crest of the ridge and looking down into the canyon. His eyes registered the sight even as he tipped the front of his broom over and straight down. He’d seen the dragons do it, fall from this height and flare their wings at just the right instant to catch themselves from smashing into the hard rock below and he was sure that he could replicate the flight on his broom.

His hands gripped the shaft, his eyes narrowed against the wind as he plummeted straight down. Faster and faster, closer and closer the ground came. It was exhilarating, freeing and he revelled in the speed and how fast his heart was hammering in his chest.

Now! he screamed at himself.

Pulling back hard on his broom and sitting up, his legs swinging from behind to in front of him in an instant, he levelled off his flight. For a fraction of a second, he thought that he’d misjudged it. He pulled harder, willing the broom to obey and then he was level, the very tips of his toes scraping against the ground before the broom was rocketing straight back up again.

“Woohoo!” he yelled with the thrill of the manoeuvre.

And then, all at once, he wasn’t flying alone anymore. Dragons of every size and species in the weyr, including the green hue of Farlys which stood out in the early morning light, were surrounding him, flying alongside him, above and below and behind.

He laughed in joy, even as he greeted each of them.

The hatchlings were there, diving and tumbling about in the air, often times less than a broom length from him, daring him to fly harder, faster and to catch them. Harry, being the good ‘uncle’ that he was, obliged, pushing his broom to its limits as he flew rings and loops and spirals from one end of the great canyon to the other.

By the time that he pulled up to a hover somewhere above Ramaranth’s cave, he was breathing hard, sported a grin from ear to ear and, most importantly of all, he’d bled off the tension and worry that he’d woken up with.

He knew that it wouldn’t last, that the day would begin properly as soon as he set foot in the Lodge. Hopefully, Alexander would have some news or at least, ideas of what to do for the dragons of Great Britain.

He sighed as his mind fixed back on the problem.

§Sorry guys§, he said to the hatchlings who were still flying circles around him. §It’s time for me to get back and to get some work done§.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

7:35am

Wednesday, 24 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

When Harry walked into the Lodge, it was to find that it was completely filled with every dragon handler in the Reserve, as well as the few others that lived there, including Sirius and Remus. He wasn’t sure whether it was because it was time for the day to start or because everyone had the problem that had landed in their laps, or, more accurately, flown in on dragon wings, on their minds.

“Morning, Pup. You have a good flight?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah, I did,” Harry replied, running a hand through his wind-tossed hair that he knew would be a thousand times messier than it usually was.

“I don’t suppose that you did a proper check on the dragons this morning when you were doing your aerial acrobatics?” Charlie asked, his eyes narrowed at Harry who was taking a seat near him.

“Well, considering that I had every dragon in the weyr flying with me at some point, then yes, I did,” he replied.

“Good, man,” Alexander said, as he came to sit opposite Harry. “Your methods are rather unorthodox compared to what we’re used to, and definitely not something that we can replicate, but there is no denying that it gets the job done.”

Harry gave him a nod of thanks and felt a slight heat to his cheeks. He still wasn’t used to praise, even if he was getting better at receiving it.

“What’s the word, Boss?” Charlie asked.

Alexander took a long sip of his coffee before sighing and sitting back in his chair.

“I spent hours talking with every other Head Dragon Handler from every other Reserve last night,” he said, instantly gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

“And?” Harry prompted.

“Firstly, Harry, we want to reiterate this, even though we know you know. You are contracted to the five dragon reserves of the world who signed that contract. No matter what happens with the new British Reserve, they have no say over what you can or cannot do or where you go,” Alexander stated.

“I know,” Harry nodded. “But the dragons…”

“Yeah, we get that,” Alexander replied, “and if it wasn’t for the dragons and the bond that you share with them, then we’d tell the British Reserve to go to hell and to fend for themselves.”

“But we’re not going to do that, are we, Boss?” Charlie half-asked, half-stated.

“Yes and no,” Alexander sighed. “The tricky bit is that, while we’ve been asked for help – or more specifically, Harry’s been asked for help – it wasn’t by the Reserve or even the British Ministry. It was by the dragons themselves. The other Head Handlers and I talked ourselves in circles trying to find the best way forward.”

“What did you decide?” Harry asked.

“We have to step in,” Alexander stated forcefully. “We know dragons best, we’ve been around them for years, not to mention Harry here who can talk to them. The consequences are too dire if we don’t. We can easily see it spilling into a battle in Britain between wizards and dragons and that’ll eventually affect all of us. The dragons in our own Reserves will hear about it some way or other and then what little trust we’ve built up with them will be instantly gone.”

“Not to mention the Statute of Secrecy,” Antony stated grimly. “If dragons start flying all over Britain, then it’ll be blown out of the water.”

“And if the wizards start hunting dragons, the dragons won’t clutch, they’ll be too afraid to lay eggs or raise their young. It’s not like there are a lot of dragons in the world in the first place. The Catalonian Fireball and the Portuguese Longsnout are already close to being extinct, we don’t want the Common Welsh Green or the Hibernian Black wiped out.”

The memory of both Memzath and Dankrum mentioning the secret, hidden species of dragons crossed his mind and he wondered how many dragons there actually were left in the world. Probably more than the dragon handlers knew about. But that was a question for another day.

“Exactly,” Alexander nodded. “So, after a long talk, we’ve come to a decision. Harry, as the dragons came to you and asked you for help, then we feel that we have no option but to send you to this new Reserve. Get a feel for it and the dragons there. Find out if it really can be a place for the dragons to be kept safe and cared for properly. Charlie, you’ll go with him, of course. Assess it and report back to us. If it’s up to scratch or, at least, looks like it’s going to be, then all good, we’ll offer some assistance. Most importantly, Harry, find out if the dragons are going to take to their new home.”

“And if they don’t?” Harry asked.

“Or if the Reserve doesn’t measure up?” Charlie quickly added.

Alexander took a deep breath, his eyes scanning over every handler there. Every one gave a nod, telling him that, whatever was decided, that they’d back him.

“If it doesn’t measure up and the dragons aren’t going to accept it, then we’re willing to take every British dragon into our own Reserves. I just hope it doesn’t come to that. There’s no telling exactly how the dragons would react to being uprooted from Britain. Our job has always been to look after dragons and to keep them safe and that’s what we’re going to do!”

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 26 – What Were We Doing Again?

9:05am

Thursday, 25 August 1995

12 Grimmauld Place, London, England

.

“Honey! We’re home!” Sirius called as he walked through the door.

‘Honey’, as it turned out, was an ancient, grouchy house elf who didn’t seem too pleased with the term of endearment.

“Master has returned,” Kreacher stated, his tone implying that he would have been happy if Sirius had never returned in his lifetime.

“Hope you’ve been keeping the house clean, Kreacher,” Sirius said. “We’ve got guests.”

“Kreacher sees,” and again, the house elf implied that Sirius was imposing on Kreacher’s house and time.

“Come on in, you lot,” Sirius waved to Harry, Remus and Charlie. “The old house isn’t much but it’ll keep us out of the Ministry’s sight until we’re ready.”

“Are you sure that you want to stay here, Charlie?” Remus asked. “You could always go home to the Burrow?”

“No thanks,” Charlie replied quickly. “We’ve got no idea how long we’re going to be in England, and I don’t think that I could handle my mother for more than a day or so.”

Harry had only ever met Mrs Weasley the once and once was enough. She’d tried to hug him and he didn’t even know her! If she was like that with strangers, he shuddered to think what she’d be like with her own children.

“Come on up to the second level, there should be some rooms clean enough for us to use, despite Kreacher’s lack of talent in that area,” Sirius said.

“Kreacher does as his Mistress commands,” the elf defended himself.

“Your Mistress is dead,” Sirius barked. “Your job is to do as I command!”

“Yes, Master,” Kreacher grudgingly replied.

“What’s the plan for the day?” Harry asked as they began trudging up the staircase.

“We get ourselves settled and then we go find where this new Reserve is, see if we can have a look for ourselves before we make our presence known officially,” Charlie said.

The first floor looked as dark as the entry. The walls were grimy and almost black from age. The wooden floors were no better and if there was a pattern on the hall runners, Harry could no longer see it. The covers over the gas lights were tarnished with age, seeming to only grudgingly share its light with the four of them.

The bedrooms on the second floor were barely usable and Harry scrunched his nose at the first one they investigated. The curtains rustled on their own and there was a thick layer of dust covering everything. Sirius took one look at it, grunted in disgust and promptly slammed the door shut, throwing up an impervious charm on it to keep whatever was inside the room where it was.

In the end, they managed to find three that, with some judicious use of charms, were usable enough to be going on with. Sirius declared that his old bedroom was good enough for him; Harry was given the honour of getting to use Sirius’ younger brother’s old room (which, surprisingly to Harry, was in immaculate condition); and Remus and Charlie were given the last one, both content with the twin beds on either side of the room.

There was a trunk already at the foot of the enormous four-poster bed but Harry decided to move it out of the way into a corner before replacing it with his own. As soon as he’d done so, he quickly opened it and descended into his workroom. As expected, it was in perfect condition, nothing had moved despite all the jostling that his trunk would have suffered in his pocket.

Hedwig instantly flapped down to his shoulder, her head turned away.

“Sorry, girl, I know that you don’t like travelling in the trunk, but you know that you hate portkey travel even more,” he said.

The fact that he grabbed up the owl perch that he’d made for her from where it had been sitting beside his umbrella plant and make his way back to the ladder seemed to placate her. After placing the perch near the desk, he opened the window and let Hedwig soar out to investigate this new area that they were now in.

“Harry? Are you about ready?” Charlie asked from his doorway.

After double-checking that the window wasn’t likely to close while they were away, he nodded, summoned his broom and shrunk it and strode from the room. A quick discussion with Sirius and Remus, had the two of them deciding to stay behind and ensure that the house was liveable for them, both in terms of more rooms being cleaned and there being some good edible food for meals. That meant that the initial investigation would be undertaken by just the two dragon handlers.

“Shetland Islands, right?” Harry asked as the two exited the Ancient House of Black.

“One of the islands,” Charlie nodded.

“How many are there?” Harry asked.

“About a hundred,” Charlie frowned.

“Then how are we supposed to find which one has the Reserve?” Harry wondered.

“Magic,” Charlie grinned, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Right, hold on to my arm. I’m going to apparate us to Hogsmeade first before we make a second jump to the islands,” Charlie said.

Obediently, Harry stepped forward and grasped his upper arm. Then, with a feeling as though he was being squeezed through the tiniest tube, they vanished from the spot.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

10:45am

Thursday, 25 August 1995

Lerwick, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

They’d arrived in Lerwick, the main town and port of Shetland, just outside the main pub, it being the only place that Charlie knew. Fortunately, Charlie had foreseen the chance that they might be seen apparating in so had cast a disillusionment spell over the two of them. Even still, the three men and two dogs who were nearby had looked around curiously, obviously trying to find the source of the crack that had been made.

Charlie had quickly grabbed Harry’s arm and steered the two of them away, up the nearby street and around into a deserted alley where he was finally able to dispel the charm.

“I don’t think I like apparating,” Harry commented. “Give me a broom or a dragon any day.”

“It’s worse when you’re the passenger,” Charlie assured him. “By yourself it’s not so bad. Remind me to start giving you lessons once this latest crisis is over.”

“I can learn to do it by myself?” Harry asked.

“Of course!” Charlie replied. “You were emancipated, remember? You’re an adult with all the rights and privileges that go with it, including being allowed to get an apparition licence.”

“Brilliant!” Harry beamed.

“Right, come on! This way!” Charlie said.

Even though the town itself wasn’t large – there being only around seven thousand people living there – it still took some time before they were able to find what Charlie was looking for: a secluded spot where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“You said that there are a hundred islands?” Harry asked, looking out over the dark blue water that stretched out from the shore that they were standing on.

“That’s right,” Charlie replied, pulling his bag from his back and opening it.

“Then how are we meant to find the dragons?” Harry insisted.

“I told you. Magic,” Charlie grinned and pulled forth a small carved statue.

Harry frowned at it. In some respects, it was similar to any of the ones that he himself had carved. The big difference, though, was in its material. Where Harry used a collection of different woods, this dragon had been carved from a jet black stone that had streaks of white marble through it.

“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously.

“This, my dear Harry, is the reason that I made sure that Sirius and Remus didn’t accompany us today,” Charlie replied. “It’s a trade secret, known only to dragon handlers and there are only five in existence in the world.”

“Five?” Harry asked as something clicked in his mind. “Just like there are five dragon reserves?”

“Exactly the same,” Charlie grinned. “This one belongs to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. You’re one of us, and in training to become a dragon handler, so Alexander gave the okay for you to know about it.”

“Brilliant!” Harry exclaimed. Then, “what does it do?”

“As you know, the wards around the reserves don’t do squat for actually keeping the dragons in, they’re all for show for the wizards of the rest of the world,” Charlie began. “Occasionally, as you know, a dragon gets out and wanders off. When that happens, we need a way to track it down. This little beauty does exactly that.”

Harry nodded even though he had no idea how the little dragon statue could do what Charlie claimed. He watched as he placed the statue on the ground and pulled out his wand and his shrunken broom.

“Best get your broom out, too, Harry,” Charlie advised. “Unshrink it and then disillusion it and yourself and be ready!”

Harry did as he was told even though he had no idea what he had to be ready for. He watched as Charlie tapped himself on his head and his body, from top to toe, simply vanishing from view.

“How will I know where you are?” Harry asked. “I can’t see you.”

“You don’t need to,” Charlie replied. “Just watch the dragon and follow it!”

Harry did as instructed, staring at the tiny black and white carved dragon sitting on the ground.

“Invenies draconis!” Charlie intoned.

Instantly, the tiny dragon seemed to shake itself loose. It stretched first one wing and then the other. Next it shook its head, neck and tail. Finally, it raised its tiny snout as though it was sniffing the air.

And then it was up, flapping its tiny wings as it rose ten, twenty feet into the air. Its tiny eyes whirled green and it took off, flying faster than Harry would have given it credit for.

Quickly, he threw a leg over his Nimbus and kicked off, racing after the tiny dragon. The statue was near-impossible to see, even in the light of day but that didn’t stop Harry. He locked onto it and gave chase.

At first, it seemed to waver about somewhat, as though it was checking direction, but then it settled onto a north-westerly course and Harry relaxed into the flight. There was no telling exactly how far they had to fly. All he knew was that, whatever magic was imbued in the tiny flying statue, it seemed to be doing its job.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

11:55am

Thursday, 25 August 1995

Sandness, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

The tiny black and white flying dragon suddenly vanishing startled Harry and he yelled out in shock.

“It’s alright,” the still-invisible Charlie called, “I’ve just grabbed our little friend. Land down there on the headland.”

Harry adjusted his grip on his broom and leant forwards, quickly bringing himself in for a landing. The muffled sound of something scraping on the rocks was enough to have him guessing where Charlie had also landed.

“There’s no one around, we might as well dispel the charm,” Charlie said, even as his body began reappearing.

Tapping himself on his head, Harry once again felt that unnerving feeling like egg was running down his head and body. Seeing Charlie’s nod, he knew that he’d got it right.

“Why’d we stop?” Harry asked.

“Because we know where we’re going?” Charlie replied. “Papa Stour. It’s the only island out that way.”

“You know that for sure?” Harry asked.

Charlie simply grinned even as he held up what Harry recognised as a map. “No doubt about it.”

Harry watched as Charlie tapped the little dragon, once again rendering it into nothing more than a simple statue and then carefully put it back in his bag.

“Do we know anything about … what was it? Papa Smurf?” Harry asked.

“Papa Stour,” Charlie corrected even as he pulled out a guidebook. “Let’s see. It’s in the top ten for size of islands in the archipelago and has a population of about twenty.”

“People live there?” Harry asked, staring across the sea to the blob on the horizon.

“I suspect that they did,” Charlie replied. “My bet would be that the Ministry either paid them to leave or ‘convinced’ them to leave.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Harry frowned.

“It’s not, but there’s nothing that we can do about it,” Charlie replied. “From what I can see on this map, it’s not a bad size island, definitely something that would work for a Reserve. Shall we go take a closer look?”

“I like the sound of that,” Harry said, already mounting his broom.

Together the two sped across the one-and-a-half-kilometre stretch of open water. Below them, waves rose and fell, the water a deep blue despite the sunlight.

Harry was focused on getting there, to find the dragons and to see if they were alright but the closer that he came, the more that a pit of wrongness began building in his chest. It was just him and Charlie. But that didn’t seem right to Harry. The two of them searching this entire area. He didn’t think that that they’d be enough.

Maybe if there were more of them? He wondered. Yes, that sounded right.

Sirius. The name burst into Harry’s head and he nodded. Yes. Sirius. And Remus. He thought that he and Charlie should go and get the two of them to help.

But was four really enough? Harry had to wonder.

It didn’t seem enough.

Harry had started to wonder what they were doing in England at all, just the four of them. He knew that they were searching for dragons. A search that he felt deserved more than just four people. They needed more, he decided. There were more, he knew, back in Romania. That made a lot more sense to Harry.

He nodded to himself. They should return to Romania and get more people before they started this search.

Decision made, Harry turned his broom and flew back the way that he’d come. Looking across, he was delighted to see that Charlie was flying beside him.

Smart man, that Charlie, Harry thought. He’d obviously come to the same conclusion.

But then he saw Charlie start to shake his head. He did it again, this time a lot more vigorously. Harry’s eyes narrowed and he wondered if there was something wrong with Charlie. Harry’s own head began pounding and he groaned.

“Land back on the headland!” Charlie shouted.

The idea made sense to Harry and he pushed his Nimbus harder in order to get there sooner. The instant that his feet touched down, the pounding in his head stopped, as though a switch had been thrown.

“What in Merlin’s name was that?” Harry asked.

“Wizard-repelling ward,” Charlie grimaced. “Powerful one, too.” Obviously recognising Harry’s head-tilt as a request for more information, he continued. “It’s like a muggle-repelling ward, designed to stop certain people – in this case wizards – from getting too close. Typically, they enchant you to think of something else, anything really, as long as it gets you to turn around and go away.”

“Well, it did its job,” Harry allowed. “But that means that we can’t get near Papa Stour.”

“No, not that way, at least,” Charlie frowned.

“What other way is there?” Harry asked.

“The official way,” Charlie grimaced.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

12:20pm

Thursday, 25 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

“Boss?”

Alexander looked up from the parchment that he was struggling over, in two minds between wanting to strangle Pavel, one of the junior dragon handlers, for interrupting his train of thought or cheer him for giving him an excuse to take a break from this odious chore.

Not for the first time or even the hundredth time, he wondered how in the name of Merlin’s saggy balls he’d drawn the short straw for writing the formal letter from the combined Dragon Reserves of the World to the British Ministry of Magic, offering their support and expertise in the forming of the newest dragon reserve.

Of course, he knew the answer. Harry Potter. The blasted Green had come to his Reserve seeking the lad out. The boy who could talk to dragons. And the only person in the world who the dragons were likely to listen to. The fact that young Harry was primarily assigned to the Romanian Reserve meant that, by default, Alexander himself got the dubious honour of writing the blasted letter.

“What is it, Pavel?” he asked, laying the quill aside.

“Boss, was it just supposed to be that Common Welsh Green who was to fly back to Britain by herself?” Pavel asked.

“Farlys? Yes. Why?” Alexander asked suspiciously

“Well, she left a few minutes ago. Only she wasn’t alone,” Pavel replied, and Alexander could see how stressed the boy was.

Alexander sighed, closed his eyes and counted to ten. When that didn’t help, he opened his eyes and asked the question that he didn’t think he wanted to know the answer to.

“Who else went?”

“Three of our dragons,” Pavel replied. “A Horntail, an Ironbelly and a Ridgeback.”

Once again, Alexander closed his eyes. “Let me guess, Ramaranth, Grouleth and …” his mind came up blank. “Who was the third?”

“That young Ridgeback that Charlie brought back from England a few years back,” Pavel replied. “I think her name was Norberta. What should we do, Boss? Go after them?”

“And how exactly do you propose that we bring them back?” Alexander asked rhetorically. “No. We know where they’re going. Those dragons are Potter’s responsibility. Let him bring them back!”

“Do you want me to send a message to Harry?” Pavel asked.

Alexander grinned. “Nope. The lad tends to thrive on the unexpected. Let him find out when they get there. Now, off you get, I’m sure that you’re on potion-making duty this morning.”

“Yes, Boss,” Pavel replied before promptly disappearing.

Grumbling, Alexander picked the quill back up. He was pleased with his decision. If he had to write the damned letter, then Potter deserved something unexpected and unpleasant as well!

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 27 – Opening Doors

2:20pm

Thursday, 25 August 1995

12 Grimmauld Place, London, England

.

“No! That will simply not do!”

Harry looked down at himself at Sirius’ statement and frown. He couldn’t see what was wrong. And then he compared himself to his godfather.

They were about to go to the Ministry of Magic. He knew that. Sirius had told him to dress appropriately. And Harry had. He’d put on a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt, even attacked his hair as best as he could. As an afterthought, considering that they were going into the heart of Britain’s magical world, he’d even put on his bottle-green robes that he’d worn at Hogwarts over his school uniform.

In contrast, Sirius was done up as though he was going to some stuffy high-society ball. At least, that’s what it looked like to Harry. His outer robes were a deep blue that looked almost black, piped with hints of silver. On his chest, sat the crest of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, matching his House ring, something that he was wearing today but ordinarily never put on. Under his robes was an immaculate, cut-to-fit three-piece jet-black suit, off set by the links of a silver pocket watch that crossed his waist and the deep blue tie that matched his robes.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Harry asked. “We’re only going to ask about the dragons and the new Reserve.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn and it’s probably my fault that I haven’t really started teaching you this stuff just yet,” Sirius sighed. “Impression is everything with these people. What you look like is almost as important as who you are, especially when it comes to opening doors. And today, we need to get in without a fuss. We don’t want to be dithered about; the more time we waste, the more chance there is for the dragons to go rogue.”

“But … but, I’m Harry Potter,” he stammered, blushing hard.

“Yes, The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Sirius nodded. “And, while that might be enough to open doors, we need to make sure.”

“You know I hate that name,” Harry groused. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

“Oh?” Sirius asked lightly.

“I’m the Speaker for Dragons,” he began.

“Which, while impressive, won’t mean a jot to these people,” Sirius waved off.

“Not what I meant,” he replied, shaking his head. “What I meant was that I can speak to dragons. They know that. This Mathilda Grimblehawk even invited me to a meeting once to get me to work for her, before they’d even made this Reserve. Won’t that be enough to get in?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sirius allowed. “It doesn’t mean that we can’t stack the deck. You need to dress up. Put on your best clothes and robes. Act the part, make them stop and look at you and take notice of you and what you have to say.”

Harry screwed up his nose, disgusted with the idea.

“I’m not saying that you have to be a ‘Dumbledore’, that man may be flamboyant enough for ten wizards, with the overly bright and glittering robes that he tends to prefer, and no one can deny that he draws the eye and makes everyone look at him and listen to him, but he has no style,” Sirius continued.

“Sirius is right, Cub,” Remus said as he walked down the stairs. “Dressing up, making an impression is an easy first step to opening doors. Then, once you’re in, you can play the card of being able to talk to dragons.”

“Not to mention that we know where one of their dragons is, a fact that they probably don’t,” Charlie added.

Harry took both other men in. While neither was as well-dressed, as flamboyant, as Sirius, both were sharply dressed and out to impress.

“Fine,” he finally grumbled. “I’ll go change. Not that I’ve really got much in the way of ‘good clothes’ to wear.”

“Something that we need to rectify while we’re here,” Sirius called after him, making him grimace with the idea.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

2:45pm

Thursday, 25 August 1995

Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

As much as Harry hated to admit it, Sirius had been right.

As soon as they’d stepped from the Floo – something that Harry managed with only the tiniest of stumbles – people noticed them. Many gave them a nod or the tiniest of bows, others deftly stepped out of their way. At first, he was sure that it was simply because they looked the part, not that any of them were recognised. At first.

And then the pointing and whispers behind hands began. His ruddy scar. He’d forgotten what the blasted thing did to people in magical Britain. Worse still was the fact that the famous lightning bolt was no longer the same as when he’d left Britain.

The lightning bolt was now neatly bisected by a long vibrant blueish-purple mark, the Mark of the Dragons, the one that Memzath had given him and the one that marked him for all dragons to know and respect. Of course, these wizards and witches had no idea what it meant. All they saw was the famous lightning bolt of The-Boy-Who-Lived, even if it had been disfigured.

“Wands, please,” the guard who had at first looked bored and then on the edge of his seat at their approach asked.

One by one, he took each wand, waved his own wand over it, producing a tiny piece of paper that registered the composition of their wands and handed it back. Harry wasn’t entirely sure how he managed it, especially since his eyes never left Harry’s scar once.

“Right, the lifts are that way,” Sirius stated, indicating said direction with a pointed finger.

“Are you sure that dressing up like this was really worth it?” Harry hissed at his godfather as another wizard scuttled out of their way, his eyes glued to Harry’s forehead.

“Ah, maybe not,” Sirius replied. “I’d forgotten exactly how big a deal you really are around here.”

Harry hmphed at him, barely managing to keep his grumbling under his breath. Being famous around dragons was one thing; this was a whole other barrel of flobberworms.

“Right. The Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures – which is where I suspect we’ll find the sub-Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain – is on Level Four,” Remus stated, grasping the handle and giving it a pull.

The lift didn’t move as Harry had expected. Instead of going up or down, this one flew sidewards. It was all that he could do to quickly reach up and grab one of the dangling hand straps and hang on for dear life. As suddenly as it started, the lift stopped, and Harry was almost thrown from his feet. Before he could do more than rebalance himself, it plunged down and he was forced to hold on even tighter.

Finally, it stopped with a ding and the doors opened. Harry bolted from it before staring back at the gilded cage doors that were already closing.

“What the hell was that?” he asked.

“Ah, magical transportation. Hate it or love it, it’s all we’ve got,” Sirius sing-songed.

“Hate it. Definitely hate it,” Harry muttered, eliciting laughter from the other three.

Together, the four of them walked the corridor, searching for the door that they wanted. There were small brass signs on each telling which sub-Department was which. Goblin Liaison. House Elves. Centaurs (that one looked dusty and there were cobwebs in the corner of the door that suggested that it hadn’t been opened in a long, long time). Dwarves. Mermolk (another that looked decidedly unused).

And finally, right near the end, they found the one that they were looking for.

Charlie instantly stepped up, glanced at the brass plate, knocked twice and opened the door before he was even acknowledged.

The receptionist looked up, clearly startled by their entrance. Harry saw her eyes land on each of them in turn before darting back to Harry and then up. He sighed and bit his tongue.

“Good afternoon, Miss…,” Charlie began.

“Spencer,” she replied.

“Miss Spencer,” Charlie nodded. “We were hoping to see Madam Grimblehawk.”

The girl who Harry judged as being only a year or two out of Hogwarts, sat up a little straighter and obviously fell back on her training.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

“Sadly, no,” Charlie replied before quickly adding, “I know that we should have made one but unfortunately, we didn’t know that we needed to see Madam Grimblehawk until we were here.”

“I see,” she frowned. “I am unsure if Madam Grimblehawk will be able to accommodate you on such short notice. If you’d care to make an appointment for tomorrow, perhaps?”

She picked up a quill and looked expectantly at them.

“You must excuse my colleague, my dear,” Sirius said smoothly, stepping forward to grin at her while leaning on her counter. “He has atrocious manners. Perhaps it’d help if we introduced ourselves?”

The way her eyes darted to his forehead told Harry that he didn’t need to be introduced. Nevertheless, Sirius went through the motions.

“My name is Lord Sirius Black. This is Dragon Handler Charles Weasley from the Romanian Dragon Reserve. My godson, Lord Harry Potter. And Remus Lupin, who holds Masteries in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Dark Creatures.”

Harry only barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He was sure that Sirius was laying it on far too thick, especially adding in that ‘Lord’ title for Harry himself – while, yes, technically, he had the special ring that declared him as Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter (not to mention the other one as well), the entirety of the House consisted of … him. And it wasn’t as though he’d ever set foot in the Wizengamot, although Cyrus Greengass did proxy for him in that regard.

If Miss Spencer’s eyes had been huge before at the sight of his scar, Charlie’s name had her eyes nearly popping out of her head.

“If you could just wait here for one minute?” she squeaked, before scurrying down the hall behind her, rapping a tattoo on the door at the end even as she looked back at them before bustling inside.

Barely a minute later and she was back, this time accompanied by a middle-aged woman who was striding purposely towards them.

“Mister Weasley, Mister Potter,” Madam Grimblehawk said, zeroing in on Charlie’s red hair and Harry’s scar, “it is indeed a great honour to finally meet you both.”

After enthusiastically shaking both of their hands, she turned to their companions.

“Lord Black, Mister Lupin, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, the greeting more natural for the two men.

“It’s good to meet you, too,” Sirius replied.

“What brings you to my office?” she asked, her eyes darting between Charlie and Harry. “By any chance would it be the letter that I sent you?”

“Perhaps we could talk somewhere more private?” Remus suggested and Harry noticed Miss Spencer hanging off of every word.

“Of course, of course,” she said. “Please, join me in my office.”

At her gesture, they rounded the counter and followed her down to her office.

It was a cramped little room with a desk and a pair of chairs that took up the majority of the space. The walls, not unlike the walls of Alexander’s office, were covered in dragon-related material. There was huge map of Great Britain with pulsing dots on it; an even bigger map of an island that Harry recogised as Pappa Stour; and dozens of magical photos of dragons, both Common Welsh Greens and Hibernian Blacks. Against the back wall under the clearly magical window (considering that it showed a coastal scene when they were currently deep underground in the heart of London), was a small table that had what looked like the remains of some dragon shells.

As Harry and Charlie took the two offered seats, Remus pulled his wand and conjured a pair of high stools for himself and Sirius. Madam Grimblehawk waited until they were all seated, before she took her own seat behind her desk.

“What is it that has brought you here today?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

“I think, before we get into that,” Charlie said slowly, “perhaps it would be best to deal with the erumpent in the room?”

She nodded carefully and waited for him to continue.

“I did receive your letter and extremely generous offer to become the Head Dragon Handler of your new Reserve,” he said. “I want to thank you for it; it was a great honour but I must regretfully decline.”

“I see,” she replied sounding disappointed. “May I ask why?”

“As you know, I have yet to attain my Beast Mastery and even though I am close to achieving it, I know that I still have much to learn. Accepting the position here would deny me much valuable knowledge that I will need,” he replied.

“I understand,” she replied, nodding slowly. “If it wasn’t to accept my offer, then why did you come here?”

“Are you aware that you are missing a dragon?” he asked cautiously.

She stared at him and Harry imagined her mind whirling with questions.

“One of the Common Welsh Greens that we’d brought to the Reserve somehow managed to get out. But how did you know that?” she finally asked.

“Because she turned up in Romania,” Charlie smiled.

“What!” she practically screamed, half-rising from her seat. “How…? Why…?”

“Her name is Farlys,” Harry said gently. “And she came looking for me.”

Madam Grimblehawk’s stare switched to him and Harry wondered how long one person could actually go without blinking.

“I don’t understand,” she finally said, shaking her head and falling back into her chair.

“Madam Grimblehawk,” Harry said, “you are aware that I can talk to dragons?”

Her nod was punctuated by a snort from Sirius that Harry chose to ignore.

“The entire magical world knows you can do that,” she chuckled.

“Well, the day that I found out that I could do that, Ramaranth wasn’t the only dragon there,” he said.

“Are you …” and her eyes were so big that they were nearly popping out of her head now, “are you saying that the Green that we lost was the same one from the TriWizard Tournament?”

“Got it in one,” Sirius grinned.

“But why’d she come to you?” Madam Grimblehawk asked, sounding bewildered.

“Farlys came to find me because of what is happening here,” Harry replied.

“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.

“Apparently, nor do the dragons,” Charlie said, taking over. “We understand that you’ve been rounding up all of the dragons in Great Britain and bringing them to your new Reserve?”

“Yes,” she nodded, glancing at the big map. “I think we’ve already found about half of them, which is much, much faster than anticipated.”

“Well, apparently, the dragons themselves haven’t appreciated being removed from their homes that they’ve had for hundreds and hundreds of years,” Charlie said. “Fortunately for everyone involved, instead of lashing out and attacking everyone – magical and muggle alike – they decided that they should ask what was going on. Thus, Farlys was sent to Harry.”

“What did you tell the dragon … um, Farlys?” Madam Grimblehawk asked fearfully.

“What you first have to understand, Madam Grimblehawk, is that, while I am under contract to the Reserves that signed my contract, this,” and here Harry tapped his Mark, “says that I’m something more. Speaker for Dragons. That doesn’t just mean that I can talk to dragons, it also means that the dragons themselves have decided that I am worthy to Speak on their behalf. They trust me to find the facts, seek out advice if I need it but, ultimately, I am … authorised to decide for them and to tell humans what the dragons will agree to. Think of me as something of an Ambassador.”

Her gaze shifted to his Mark and she stared hard at it.

“It really means all that?” she breathed.

“As strange as it sounds to you, it’s even stranger to me,” Harry admitted. “It’s a huge responsibility and one that I take very, very seriously.”

“What does that mean in practice?” she asked, her gaze dropping to lock with his.

“Right now, it means that the dragons on Papa Stour,” and he saw her start at the mention of where the British Reserve was, not that he was going to tell her how he knew, “will remain where they are while I learn everything that there is about you, the Reserve and the Ministry’s ultimate goal for the dragons. Eventually, though, I will have to make a decision. I’m hoping that it’ll be one that works for everyone, humans and dragons alike.”

Madam Grimblehawk’s face had grown paler and paler the longer that he talked and by the end, Harry was afraid that she was going to faint. Somehow, though, she managed to pull herself together and face him squarely, something that Harry was extremely pleased to see, especially knowing that there would come a time when he wanted to have her nose to snout with a dragon.

“I have only ever had the best intentions for the dragons and the Reserve that I’ve been able to build,” she stated.

“Brilliant!” Harry beamed.

“That’s exactly what we want to hear,” Charlie said. “I think it only fair to tell you that I’m under orders from the other Reserves to examine your Reserve as well, to see how it measures up and to report back.”

Once again, Madam Grimblehawk rose to the occasion, this time by sitting straighter in her chair.

“I understand,” she said. “And, while we are still extremely new, I am proud of what we are building. How would you like to begin?”

Harry and Charlie shared a look and a nod.

“Could we go to your Reserve and have a look at it?” Charlie asked.

“And meet the dragons?” Harry added.

“Of course,” Madam Grimblehawk agreed, pushing herself to her feet. “If you would be kind enough to wait in the reception area, I’ll organise a portkey and ward keys.”

“See, Pup,” Sirius whispered as they walked back up the corridor. “The right clothes got them listening to us so that we could get what we wanted all the easier.”

Harry simply shook his head at his godfather. As far as he could see, what they were wearing meant nothing. It was their names and especially his Mark that won the day, giving them the opportunity to say what they’d practiced. Either way, now the real work could begin.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 28 – The Boys Are Back In Town

4:00pm

Thursday, 25 August 1995

Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

As soon as the portkey had released the five of them and Harry had recovered from his stumble, he looked around. They were near a collection of short, squat stone buildings with thick thatched rooves. Dirt paths led from one to another in a vague resemblance of a street and there were even some small flower gardens in evidence. It was obvious that, until fairly recently, this tiny hamlet had been inhabited.

The one thing that Harry didn’t feel, was any pull on his magic, nor any desire to ‘go away’. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at Charlie who moved closer and bent his head.

“It’s because we’re inside the wards,” he whispered. “It won’t affect us here.”

Harry nodded in understanding.

“How many people live here?” Remus asked.

“Before we bought the island, there were seventeen muggles,” Madam Grimblehawk replied. “They were all offered exceedingly generation compensation for moving.”

“Glad to hear it,” Sirius said.

“Everything that we’re doing here is above board, there are no hidden tricks or under the table deals happening,” she stated emphatically. “I would have it no other way!”

Harry smiled at her, very pleased to hear it.

“How many dragon handlers do you have so far?” Charlie asked.

For a second, she looked slightly embarrassed. “Just the one, I’m afraid. And there he is now!”

They turned to see a middle-aged man with a full salt and pepper beard striding towards them.

“Angus McNalty, I’d like you to meet Harry Potter, Charles Weasley, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin,” Madam Grimblehawk introduced.

“Please, it’s just Charlie,” the dragon handler said to both of them as he shook Angus’ hand.

“Mister Potter, a pleasure ta meet ya,” Angus exclaimed, and Harry was sure that his arm was about to fall off with how hard it was being pumped. “I’ve read all your articles.”

Harry blinked at him. “There hasn’t been that many.”

“Doesna matter,” Angus replied. “A man who can talk to yon beasties, is a man ta listen to!”

“Charlie and Harry are here to get a feel for our new Reserve,” Madam Grimblehawk stated.

“Yer no gonna get a chance ta see much, comin’ so late in the day,” Angus stated, “but I’m happy to show ya as much as I can.”

“Perhaps if I could just get a chance to meet the dragons today?” Harry suggested, “and then we can have a proper look at everything tomorrow?”

“Aye, that sounds like a plan,” Angus replied. “How’n are ya thinking of doin’ tha’?”

“How many dragons do you have here so far?” Charlie asked.

“So far, we’ve managed to move twenty-three Hibernian Blacks and nineteen Common Welsh Greens here,” Madam Grimblehawk replied.

“Eighteen Greens,” Angus corrected looking embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about Farlys,” Harry smiled. “She’ll be back in a day or two.”

“Farlys?” Angus asked, looking at his boss for clarification.

“Apparently our missing Green flew off to Romania to talk to Mister Potter,” she told him.

“Harry,” he corrected.

“Of course,” Angus nodded. “With’n you bein’ the only man in the worl’ who can talk to yon dragons, that makes sense.”

Pulling his broom from his pocket, Harry enlarged it and looked around the island.

“Which way?” he asked.

“Follow the coastline around to the west and you’ll find them,” Angus replied. “Most of them tend to sleep near the ocean.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied.

As he pushed off from the ground and sped off, he heard Madam Grimblehawk ask if what he was doing was safe and, while he didn’t hear the answer, Sirius’ barking laugh was something that could be heard for miles.

Approaching dragons was never an easy prospect, even for him. Until he’d had a chance to Speak to them and for them to recognise his Mark, then he knew that it was best to be cautious. He’d experienced that in Australia where the dragons had been wary of him at first. And these dragons had recently been uprooted from their homes; they were sure to be distrustful of any human.

Thankfully, these dragons weren’t lying in wait, hidden beneath the sand. Instead, their bulk stood out against the grey-green grass and the grey-brown stones. Really, it was a bleak island, not that Harry thought the dragons would mind, especially if there were some sheep or something brought in to supplement what was sure to currently be a solely fish-based diet.

A sleek black body was the first that he saw. Its bulk was halfway up a small hill, its head pointed down towards the sea and its tail and wings wrapped tight against its body. Harry slowed and turned, angling in so that he was approaching where the dragon could see him.

The instant that he saw the great eye change from blue to orange, he knew that he’d been spotted. Quickly, he landed, deciding that walking the last hundred metres was a much better idea than flying straight in.

§Hello§! he called. §I mean you no harm§.

Instantly, the dragon’s head lifted and golden flecks were added to the orange of its eyes.

§My name is Harry Potter§, he continued. §I am called ‘Speaker for Dragons’§.

That brought the dragon to its feet and its wings unfurled slightly. Even more unexpected were the five other dragons that popped up from over the crest of the hill. Deciding that it was best to allow the dragons to approach on their terms, he stopped and placed his Nimbus on the ground.

He watched as the first dragon, the Hibernian Black, stalked towards him. There was something in the way it held itself that had Harry cocking his head. It appeared cautious but with an undertone of excitement that it seemed to be trying to suppress.

§You are truly Harry Potter§? the Black asked. §Do you know who Farlys is§?

Harry grinned at him (now that he’d heard his voice, there was no doubt that the Black was a male, still young, if Harry was to guess). §I first met Farlys last year at a two-leg contest where I also met Ramaranth and painted her picture§.

§It is you§! the Black exclaimed before swinging her head around and bugling loud enough to be heard on every part of the island.

§May I ask your name§? Harry asked.

§I am Bremlys§, he replied.

And then the other dragons started arriving. First the five that had been watching from just over the hill came lumbering down. Another three flew in from the water where Harry guessed they’d been fishing. Then, in ones, twos, fives or more, the rest of the dragons flew in until Harry was completely surrounded by a sea of black and green, all trying to get a good look at him.

§Harry Potter §.

§Farlys said he would come §.

§He carries the Mark §!

§Is he here to help us §?

Harry held up his hands to quiet them, even as he turned around in a circle.

§It’s wonderful to meet you all and I aim to learn all of your names§, he said. I don’t have a lot of time today, but I wanted to meet you and let you know that I will do everything I can for you§.

§You bear the Mark§, an older Black stated.

§I do§, Harry replied, inclining his head to the elder. §It was given to me by Memzath, the Weyr Leader of the Romanian Dragons, who deemed me worthy to carry it and to Speak to and for all dragons of the world, wherever they may be. I treat it as the greatest honour that I’ve ever received§

The low thrumming from the combined dragons startled him at first, it was musical and filled him with happiness and approval from the bottom of his feet up to the tips of his ears.

§Memzath relays his greetings to you, as does Dankrum, the Weyr Leader of the Antipodean Opaleyes in Australia§, he continued. §May I know who is Weyr Leader here§?

Unexpectedly, the dragons looked abashed, although how Harry knew that, he had no idea.

§We do not have a Weyr Leader§, Bremlys told him. §Before we came here, we were scattered throughout the land, in weyrs of our own§.

§I understand§, Harry replied.

§Perhaps if we are to stay here, you can help us choose§? Bremlys asked, a sentiment that, once again, gained the approval of the others, as evident by the dragons thrumming deep in their chests.

§It would be my honour§, Harry replied, bowing. §Until that time, may I ask which of you is the eldest dragon§?

The Black that had asked about his Mark took a small step forward. §I, Myrddys, have that honour§.

§It is an honour to meet you, Myrddys§, Harry bowed. §I ask that you help me in understanding what has happened here and what you and the rest of the Weyr would like to see happen§.

§As you wish, Speaker§, Myrddys replied.

§Perhaps we could start with a fly over this island so that I can see if it is suitable as a Weyr§? Harry suggested.

§You are wise, Speaker§, Myrddys replied.

The great gust of wind from all of the dragons leaping skywards, their wings beating down to help them gain height, nearly knocked Harry to the ground. Quickly, though, he picked up his Nimbus, mounted and took to the sky. Then, with Myrddys on one side of him, Bremlys on the other and the remaining thirty-nine dragons flying in formation above and behind him, he took a long, leisurely flight over and around the island.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:02am

Thursday, 26 August 1995

Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

Cornelius Fudge had barely sat in his high-backed, comfortable black leather seat when the intercom buzzer went off. He froze and stared at it with narrowed eyes.

No, he thought, denying what he was sure it heralded.

The standing orders that his secretary had – his orders, the orders of the Minister of Magic – were that he wasn’t to have any appointments until at least ten am, preferably eleven. Now, was when he was supposed to be receiving his morning tea and pastries, something that had nothing to do with his intercom.

Bzzzz!

He stared at it, the longer tone telling him that Elise, his secretary, really wanted his attention, most likely because of whatever or whoever it was about was urgent. When it came a third time, and this time sounding nearly twice as long as the last, he knew the answer.

“Yes?” he asked, stabbing the button, hoping against all hope.

“Sorry to disturb you, Minister,” Elise said, “but the Undersecretary is here to see you. She says that it’s quite urgent.”

As if there’s ever a time that it’s not urgent with her, Cornelius thought.

He really was in no mood for her but unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice. If he knew the toa… er, his Undersecretary, then she’d just stay out there annoying Elise until he let her in.

“Please send her in,” he said, using his most jovial tone, knowing that Umbridge could hear.

Moments later, the door opened to reveal the squat, pink form of his Undersecretary.

“Good morning, Dolores,” he said. “How are you this morning?”

“Good morning, Minister. I’m very well, thank you for asking,” her high girly voice answered.

He considered offering her a chair but decided against it in the hope that she wouldn’t stay long.

“What is it that I can do for you, this morning?” he asked.

“Were you aware, Minister, that Harry Potter was here yesterday?” she asked sweetly.

Cornelius stared at her, repeating the words in his own mind. Harry Potter? Here?

“Yes, Minister,” and it was only when she answered that he realised that he’d actually voiced the thoughts. “I have been reliably informed that he, and those with him, visited Mathilda Grimblehawk in her office for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain.”

“He did?” Cornelius asked.

Hope bloomed in his chest. He … the Ministry … had taken quite a beating when Potter had left Britain and especially because he’d left after signing a lengthy contract with the dragon reserves of the world. The public had been up in arms over The-Boy-Who-Lived abandoning them and blamed him! Not that Cornelius had been able to do anything to stop it from happening. He’d even tried to lure him into staying by creating the department that Grimblehawk ran, after all, if the boy wanted dragons, then there were dragons right here!

What was worse in Cornelius’ mind was the betrayal that he personally felt. Young Harry had been thrust into the magical world quite by accident, thanks to that blasted – or blessed – Goblet of Fire. Cornelius had done everything that he could to help the boy, even going so far as to arrange to have him emancipated so that he could leave his relatives and keep his magic. Not that Potter had been grateful at all!

“Yes, Minister,” and already Umbridge’s simpering voice was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Do you know what was discussed?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, no, Minister,” Umbridge replied. “Although, one of those with him was Charles Weasley, the dragon handler that we offered the position of Head Dragon Handler for our new Reserve to.”

If Weasley and Potter were here …? Could it mean …? But what if it didn’t? There were simply too many unknowns and too many questions that needed answers to. Despite the time and his own standing orders, he needed to get to the bottom of this.

“Elise,” he said, flicking the intercom open to his secretary. “Send a runner and get Mathilda Grimblehawk from the Dragon Office down here immediately.”

“Yes, Minister,” she replied.

Unfortunately, that left him alone with Dolores until Mathilda arrived. Suppressing his internal grimace, Cornelius bustled about his desk, looking for work to do so that he wasn’t forced into small talk with the woman. The first report that he picked up, on cauldron bottom thicknesses (ironically written by the younger brother of Charles Weasley) was incredibly dull and, while Cornelius had no idea why it’d been written in the first place, was still a hundred times better than talking with his Undersecretary.

A knock on his door saw him discarding the thing and looking up. Dolores had taken a seat on the opposite side of his desk and appeared to be reading a report of her own.

“Come in!” he called.

As expected, the person that he’d called for appeared.

“Madam Grimblehawk, thank you for coming,” he said, standing and indicating the remaining chair to her.

“Good morning, Minister,” she replied. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I understand that you had some visitors yesterday?”

“Yes, Minister. Harry Potter, Charlie Weasley, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin,” she replied.

Cornelius blanched. Black was back as well? The Black Proxy in the Wizengamot was bad enough – she seemed to delight in asking awkward questions – but to have the Lord Black back? He shuddered to think what that portended. Hastily, he shoved the thought aside, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Can I ask what the nature of the meeting was about?” he asked.

“It was threefold,” she replied. “Firstly, Charlie declined our offer to make him our Head Dragon Handler, a disappointing outcome but not wholly unexpected. Charlie then went on to say that he was there at the request of the dragon handlers from the other Reserves, to observe how our Reserve is set up and how we intend on running things.”

“What gives them any right to look into how we run things?” Umbridge asked indignantly. “This is the British Dragon Reserve. There is no doubt that how we operate will be superior to any other Reserve in the world.”

“There is a lot that we don’t know and much that they could teach us,” Cornelius countered.

“We’re still too new to know exactly what we’re doing,” Mathilda nodded in agreement with him.

“What could they possibly teach us?” Dolores snorted.

“Well, for one, they knew that we’d already lost one of our dragons,” she replied. “It flew straight through our wards.”

“But we paid top galleon for those wards!” Cornelius protested, wondering if he should be asking for his money back.

“And they are top of the line wards, you can’t get any better,” Mathilda replied. “But apparently, wards are like tissue paper to dragons. They mean next to nothing!”

“Impossible!” Dolores stated and Cornelius rolled her eyes at her.

“Is that the same with every Reserve?” he asked.

“Apparently yes,” she replied.

“Then how do they keep their dragons?” he wondered.

Mathilda shrugged. “The dragons simply decide to stay. It’s not something that the Reserves advertise.”

He shook his head at the revelation. “I can understand that. Out of curiosity, did they say what happened to the dragon that we lost? Where it went?”

“It went to talk to Harry,” Mathilda laughed.

“To Potter! I did tell you, Cornelius, the boy can command dragons. We need to do something to curb him before he gets too powerful!” Umbridge stated, leaning forward in her chair.

“He doesn’t command them,” Mathilda replied, shaking her head. “But that does bring me to the third reason for their visit yesterday.”

“Oh?” Cornelius prompted.

“Because Harry can talk to the dragons, they’ve chosen him as the person that they’re willing to listen to,” she said.

“See! I was right!” Umbridge interjected.

Mathilda didn’t even pause, continuing to talk while looking straight at the Minister.

“He doesn’t command them but they’re definitely going to listen to whatever he decides. At the moment, all he’s doing is evaluating our Reserve and talking to the dragons we’ve gathered, listening to what they think about being moved from their homes and if they’d be willing to stay at our new Reserve. Once he’s made his decision, he’ll take that back to the dragons themselves.”

“And whatever he decides, the dragons will follow?” Cornelius asked.

“I think so?” she replied.

Cornelius made a snap decision. “Then let him do what he’s come to do. If we can get his endorsement with the dragons, then there is a much higher chance that our new Reserve will succeed.”

“Minister! You can’t be serious!” a shocked Umbridge declared, her high-pitched voice reaching levels that Cornelius thought only pixies would be able to hear. “Why would you give him this power? Potter’s just a boy, a boy who left us! We don’t need him!”

“You heard Mathilda, Dolores,” Cornelius replied. “The dragons listen to him. And more than that, the public will listen to The-Boy-Who-Lived. We need him happy and saying the right things. And saying them to everyone! Mathilda, whatever you have to do, accommodate young Harry and those with him. Offer him tours, explain everything. Maybe, just maybe, if we give him enough, this whole endeavour will pay off.”

“Minister!” Dolores protested.

“Dolores!” he snapped. “We’ve sunk tens of thousands of galleons into this project already and we’ll be spending Merlin knows how much more before it’s fully operational. If Harry Potter is the key to making sure it works, then I’m willing to give him what he wants!”

“With your permission, Minister, I’ll go back to my office?” Mathilda asked. “I have a meeting with Harry and Charlie arranged for this afternoon.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Please keep me apprised of any developments. Dolores, thank you for bringing this to my attention, I’m sure that you also have work to do.”

With that, both women stood and left, allowing Cornelius to slump back into his chair. He hoped that Elise had his tea ready, he could really use it. And after Dolores, maybe with a splash of brandy?

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:07am

Thursday, 26 August 1995

Greengrass Manor, Cumbria, England

.

It may have still been early but it was much later than Harry had intended. That wasn’t by choice and he’d been chaffing at the bit to be here an hour ago but for some infuriating reason, Sirius had been near-impossible to wake that morning. Of course, Harry should have seen it coming the instant that Sirius had declared the night before that he was ‘going out’ and ‘might be late getting home, so don’t wait up for me’. Whatever Sirius’ night had entailed had left the man both deliriously happy and exceedingly grumpy at being forced to wake up.

Unfortunately, Sirius was the only one who knew exactly where it was that Harry wanted to go. Of course, it wasn’t until he’d dropped Harry off where he was now that Sirius asked why he hadn’t just taken the Knight Bus. Not that Harry’d ever heard of the thing before then!

Yesterday, their first day back in Britain, they’d tried to keep a fairly low profile – if one didn’t count their jaunt through the middle of the Ministry of Magic – thus, hopefully keeping the news of their return out of the papers. And that brought it right back to why Harry had wanted to be where he was an hour ago: just in case The Daily Prophet had caught wind of them and reported the news.

Pulling the magical mirror from his pocket, Harry activated it.

“Daphne!” he called.

A moment later, her brilliant blue eyes were looking back at him.

“Hey, Harry!” she smiled.

“How are you? Have you had breakfast yet?” he asked.

“I’m well, Harry,” she replied. “And since it’s still holidays, I’ve been able to continue my sleep-ins. I’m just about to head down to breakfast now.”

“Brilliant!” Harry exclaimed.

She cocked her head at him in obvious puzzlement.

“Exactly why is it ‘brilliant’ that I have yet to have my breakfast?” she asked.

Because that means that you haven’t had a chance to see the newspaper, he thought, while instead saying, “because I was wondering if you could do me a favour.”

“A favour?” she asked, one delicate eyebrow arching.

He grinned at her and lifted the mirror up and away so that, as well as his face, it now showed a view of the land around him. And the house in the distance behind him.

“Well, you see, I’m kind of stuck where I am and I was wondering if you knew the best way for me to get in?” he said, his grin threatening to spill into laughter.

He watched as her eyes narrowed and then widened in shock and recognition.

“Harry Potter, exactly where are you right now?” she demanded.

“I’m standing outside some ancient manor,” he replied. “I mean, it looks quite nice from here, especially all the trees and flowerbeds and grass, especially the grass, it’s just so green, that grass!”

“Are you …? You are! That’s Greengrass Manor!” she exclaimed. “You’re here? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Romania?”

Harry laughed as the words and questions tumbled from her.

“Daphne! Daphne!” he called. “Do you think that you could let me in? I can’t get past the wards.”

Her mouth instantly shutting preceded the image in the mirror being jolted around so much that Harry found it almost sickening to watch.

“Father!” he heard Daphne yell.

The conversation from his end was rather muffled, Daphne, though, he heard perfectly.

“Harry’s at the front gate! We need to let him in!” … “Yes! He’s really there! See!” there was a brief flash of Cyrus’ face before the mirror was seemingly snatched back by Daphne. “No, I don’t know why he’s here, but I’m sure that he’ll tell us just as soon as we add his name to the ward book so that he can come in!” … “Thank you, Father! I’ll go get Harry and bring him in!”

And then the mirror was jostling again, not that Harry was really paying it any attention for a few seconds later, a slim figure, her black hair trailing out behind her, was racing out the front door and down the long drive towards him.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 29 – How Long?

9:12am

Thursday, 26 August 1995

Headmaster’s Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, United Kingdom

.

The-Boy-Who-Returned
by Rita Skeeter

Yes, my dear readers, you have read that right. Our own Harry Potter has returned to Britain.

Daily Prophet columnist, Harry Potter, was seen yesterday afternoon walking through the Ministry of Magic. Accompanying him were Lord Sirius Black, Dragon Handler Charlie Weasley and Remus Lupin, a close friend of Harry’s parents. While the party did not stop to engage the public, they were seen going into the Department for Control of Magical Creatures. It is speculated that their intended destination was the newly formed sub-Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain.

As we are all aware, Harry Potter can talk to dragons and, as he himself has espoused in his columns, they have even allowed him to ride on their backs. It is understood that the dragons themselves have seen how special Harry is by giving him a unique status among them. It is thought that these facts, combined with the Ministry forming our own dragon reserve is what prompted Harry to return.

Unknown at this time is whether this is a brief visit or if, indeed, Harry and Weasley have returned to our shores indefinitely to help the Ministry’s newest project succeed.

Albus Dumbledore dropped the paper to his desk and spun around in his chair to stare out the window. A slight smile appeared under his beard even as his eyes began twinkling.

Harry was back in England! Dumbledore couldn’t be happier!

Of course, the article left much to be desired. There were too many questions left unanswered, most likely due to the fact that it was a late edition to the paper; indeed, the article itself had been almost buried on page five.

But with Harry back in England, Dumbledore saw an opportunity. He needed to get close to Harry and explain a few home truths to the boy. And this time, this time, Harry would understand and comply.

Dumbledore could see it now. Harry arriving back on the train on September first, finally wearing his Hogwarts robes – red and gold piping for Gryffindor, nothing less would be suitable. He’d begin his regular classes and, once settled, Dumbledore would take young Harry under his wing for extra classes. He’d teach the boy just enough of what he needed to know. And then, when that far off day came when Tom returned, Harry would be there, standing in the breach, with Dumbledore right behind him, ready to cast the final spell that would ultimately see Dumbledore’s own flame burning brighter than ever in not just magical Britain, but in the entire world!

Dumbledore revelled in what he was sure was to come for long enough to have his tea go cold. A single tap of his wand to the cup remedied that inconvenience when he turned back to his desk. Quickly drinking it, he rose. There was work to do and a boy that needed to be found and brought to where he belonged.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:17am

Thursday, 26 August 1995

Office of the DMLE, Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

“Excuse me, Madam Bones,” Beth, her secretary said from her office door.

The Head of the DMLE looked up from the report that she was reading. “What is it, Beth?”

“Your paper has arrived,” she said, holding up said item.

“Thank you,” Amelia nodded. “It is rather late this morning.”

“I think that’s because of the article on page five,” Beth replied, having walked in and handed the paper over.

“Page five?” Amelia asked.

Her curiosity piqued, she opened her copy of The Daily Prophet to said page, only glancing at the front page enough to see that there was nothing there of immediate concern, and began scanning. She found it tucked into the bottom corner. A small article but one that had her thinking and thinking hard.

“Beth!” she called.

“Yes, Boss?” Beth asked, reappearing in her doorway.

“What appointments do I have this morning?” she asked.

“You have the weekly Senior Auror briefing at ten and you’re scheduled to meet with Arthur Weasley from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at eleven. Other than that, your schedule is clear until two when you’re due to make your monthly tour of Azkaban.”

Amelia crinkled her nose at that last. Azkaban. A necessary evil that she absolutely hated. She was certain that there had to be a better way for them to house their criminals than by subjecting them to dementors twenty-four seven for years on end. No one, not even the worst criminal imaginable, deserved that torture.

“I’ll be cancelling my appointments for this morning,” she said. “Have Shacklebolt run the Auror meeting and give my apologies to Arthur. I’ll let you know about the Azkaban tour; if things go long, I might need to reschedule that as well.”

“Yes, Boss,” Beth grinned, knowing her detest for the place.

“If anything comes up,” Amelia said, even as she was pulling a file from the locked cabinet behind her, “have Shack take care of it. If it’s extremely urgent, send me a patronus message.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Beth replied.

Amelia nodded; that was one of the best attributes of her secretary – she never asked questions, trusting that Amelia would tell her what she needed to know. Then, with shrunken file in her pocket, she strode from the room and across to the DMLE Floos. Ordinarily, they were strictly used for call-outs or for aurors returning while on the job. Being the Head of the Department, though, had its perks.

“Bones Manor,” she called, dashing some Floo powder into the fire.

Instantly, green flames sprung up around her and she was whisked away. Flashes of rooms flitted by too fast for her to focus on before she came to an abrupt stop and stepped out into her own home.

“Mistress?” Tolly, her house elf asked, popping in.

“Is Susan here?” Amelia asked.

“No, Mistress,” Tolly replied. “She left only a few minutes ago.”

Amelia raised her eyebrow. It wasn’t like Susan to go off on her own without telling her first.

“Miss Susan asked Tolly to tell Mistress that Miss Susan has gone to visit with Miss Daphne and her friends,” Tolly continued.

If it could have, Amelia’s eyebrow would have raised even higher. “Indeed?” And then a thought occurred. “Tolly, what prompted Susan to go out today?”

“Tolly does not know, Mistress,” the house elf replied. “There be no owls or fire-heads.”

“Was Susan by any chance reading the newspaper before she decided to go out?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” Tolly nodded enthusiastically.

“Ah,” Amelia nodded, mystery solved. “We will be having guests, Tolly. Please prepare morning tea accordingly for four.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Tolly said before popping away.

The fireplace bursting into life and those flames turning green startled Amelia, especially as she was just about to make a Floo call of her own. Quickly, she schooled her face.

“Ah, Amelia. Good, you’re home,” the head of Cyrus Greengrass remarked.

“I trust that my returning home from work is the same reason that you’re calling?” she asked.

“If you mean the young man sitting at my dining room table, then, yes,” he replied.

“That answers the question of whether the article was accurate,” Amelia stated. “Do you have time to come for a visit?”

“I was hoping that you’d ask,” Cyrus grinned.

A second later, his head disappeared, only for his entire body to appear moments later.

“Are you thinking that it’s time?” Cyrus asked hopefully, a sentiment that Amelia understood, considering that the man’s daughter had been placed at the bottom of the Black Lake in February with the culprit getting away on a mere technicality.

“Yes, I do believe that it is,” she grinned ferally.

“Could I do you the favour of calling the Lady Dowager Longbottom and Mrs Tonks?” he asked.

“Please,” she nodded. “We have much to do today.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

10:30am

Thursday, 26 August 1995

The Atrium, Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

Cornelius Fudge looked over the small crowd and nodded. It wasn’t a bad size considering that it’d been a last-minute idea to get out ahead of the news. He’d hoped, in vain as it turned out, that he could be the one announcing Harry Potter’s return to their shores. Unfortunately, Skeeter had beat him to it, even if her article had been mostly speculation.

He scanned the crowd again, in case of any last-minute additions. Already, he recognised a couple of reporters from The Daily Prophet (including that annoyance, Skeeter), four from international newspapers and, for some reason, the odd-ball Lovegood, all lined up in front of the podium.

 Finally, though, it was time, past time really, and the reporters were starting to get fidgety. Taking a breath, he stepped up to the wand that would sonorous his voice to ensure all of the reporters would hear.

“Good morning,” he began, pausing in hope of getting some reply, something that, once again, failed to come. “As you are all aware, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived was reported to have returned to Britain and was seen walking these halls yesterday. I would like to confirm that those rumours are true.”

“How does this visit from Mister Potter fit in with the contract that he signed with the dragon reserves?” Markus Waynesbury, one of the Daily Prophet reporters asked.

“I’m glad you asked,” Cornelius smiled. “Harry, of course, signed a contract with all of the dragon reserves of the world and it just so happens that we have a brand-new dragon reserve here, the British Dragon Reserve which is located in Scotland. Harry has arrived to help consult the Department setting up our new reserve and to ensure that it is the best Reserve in the world!”

“Does Mister Potter being able to use his parseltongue ability to talk to the dragons factor into his role here?” Grant Edwards from the New York Magical asked.

“Indeed, it does,” Cornelius beamed. “Our Reserve will be the best in the world, considered so by all magicals and dragons alike. Harry is in consultation with our dragons to ensure that they are happy and healthy.”

“What type of dragons do you have in your Reserve?” Xenophilius Lovegood asked.

“Common Welsh Greens and Hibernian Blacks,” Cornelius replied.

“It is my understanding that young Harry wasn’t alone on his visit here,” Rita Skeeter stated. “Can you comment on his companions?”

“Of course,” Cornelius smiled. “Although Harry is an emancipated adult – something I, myself, helped push through last year – he is wise enough to understand that he needs some guidance. To this end, Harry’s godfather, the Lord Black, was travelling with him. He was also accompanied by Charlie Weasley, a dragon handler of excellent standing. Mister Weasley has been working at the Romanian Dragon Reserve for some years now and we have approached him to Head up the Reserve here at home.”

Cornelius saw no reason to tell them that Weasley had turned the offer down flat.

“How long will Mister Potter remain in Britain?” Waynesbury asked.

“As long as it takes to ensure that we have our Reserve up and running to everyone’s satisfaction. Longer if we can convince him to switch his main base of operation to here, after all, Harry does love his dragons and we have some of the best breeds in the world!” Cornelius replied.

“I have seen the article and photograph of the magical creature called a bunyip in Harry’s column,” Xenophilius commented. “Is there any truth to the rumour that Harry is searching out other magical creatures as well? Perhaps the crumple-horned snorlack or even using his parseltongue abilities here in these very halls to talk to the rotfangs?”

Cornelius stared at the man. Where he came up with these ideas, no one knew. How he was even able to get journalism credentials was a bigger mystery.

“I’m afraid that that’s all I have time for today,” Cornelius said in lieu of a reply. “I’m due to tour our new Reserve this afternoon and I don’t want to miss it!”

With a wave and a hearty smile, Cornelius stepped away from the podium, popped his green bowler hat on and strode in the direction of the lifts. He needed to go see Grimblehawk and convince her to give him a tour of the Reserve that afternoon. After all, he’d just told the press that he was doing it and he didn’t want them to think he was lying!

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

11:30am

Thursday, 26 August 1995

The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade, Scotland

.

Harry stepped from the Floo. Stopped. Turned back. And stared at the thing. He hadn’t stumbled or tripped or anything! Maybe he was finally getting the magical transportation thing down?

“Is everything okay, Harry?” Daphne asked.

“Yes! Very,” he grinned at her.

“Look! There’s Hermione and Neville!” Susan exclaimed.

The next thing he knew, Harry’s hand was grabbed and the excitable girl was pulling him and Daphne across the room, weaving around tables and chairs. Neville saw them first from the booth that he was sitting in across from Hermione and lifted his hand, waving them over.

“Hey, Nev!” Harry said, getting his hand back from Susan so that he could shake the other boy’s hand.

“Hey, Harry! Great to see you,” Neville grinned.

“Harry! It’s so wonderful to see you!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping from her seat and attacking him with a powerful hug. “What are you doing here? In Britain, I mean? Is it because of the new dragon reserve? Do the dragons like it? How long are you staying?”

“Hi, Hermione, I’ve missed you too,” Harry laughed.

“Sit before you start answering all those questions,” Daphne said, giving him a slight push towards the bench seat where Neville was sitting.

Obediently, Harry slid in after taking off the pack on his back and made sure to pull his girlfriend in after him. Susan managed to squeeze into the opposite side ahead of Hermione.

“Well?” Hermione asked.

“As you can tell, Hermione hasn’t changed a bit,” Neville commented.

“Right, quick story,” Harry began and hurried on seeing Hermione about to protest the notion of ‘quick’. “The Welsh Green from last year’s TriWiz turned up in Romania wanting to talk to me. It seems the dragons here are a bit put out by being dragged from their weyrs to the new Reserve and wanted me to come sort things out. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, a week or two, I’d guess.”

“A dragon just turned up to talk to you?” Neville asked incredulously. “Does that happen often?”

“More than you’d think,” Harry grinned. “Ask Daph, she saw what the dragons were like when she came to visit me in Romania.”

“Yes, before you went rushing off to Australia of all places,” she mock-grumped.

“Daphne told us about that,” Hermione said. “Was that creature in your column really a bunyip?”

“Yep,” Harry replied. “Nasty thing. Just looking at it was enough to give me nightmares.”

“What happened to it?” Neville asked.

“The dragons flamed it,” Harry replied grimly.

“At least you got to meet some new dragons,” Daphne said. “Those opaleyes were beautiful!”

“How do you know?” Susan asked.

“Daphne and I have some special magical mirrors that allow us to talk to each other,” Harry replied. “Sirius gave them to us.”

“Like a telephone?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Better!” Harry grinned. “They’re mirrors. You can see the other person in them while you’re talking to them.”

“And Harry showed me the opaleyes. I even got to ask them some questions. Of course, Harry had to translate for us, but it was amazing!” Daphne recounted.

“Which reminds me,” Harry said, pulling his bag up onto the table. “Souvenirs!”

“Souvenirs?”

“You brought us something back from Australia?”

“You didn’t have to do that, mate. You already sent me those brilliant magical plants from Romania.”

“That was for your birthday, Nev,” Harry replied. “Here, add this to your collection.”

Neville took the ordinary-looking bucket from Harry and peered inside.

“I’ve got no idea what it’s called,” Harry told him. “All I know is that it lives underwater and that it glows and cleans the water really quickly. I put it under a stasis charm to preserve it for you.”

“Wow! Harry! Thanks! It’s brilliant! I can’t wait to get it into my greenhouse and experiment with it,” Neville gushed.

“And for you three ladies…” Harry said.

The instant that the opaleye scales hit the light, they shone, reflecting a bright, opal sheen all around them and the booth that they were in.

“Opaleye scales,” Harry said unnecessarily as he handed one to each girl. “My friend Zanzyn donated them to you, they’re from his hide.”

“Harry! They’re beautiful!” Susan breathed.

“Thank you so much, Harry, I don’t know what to say,” Hermione gushed.

Daphne took one look at hers, ran a hand over it and then twisted in her seat, turned his face towards him and gave him the longest, tenderest kiss that they’d ever shared.

“Oi! Get a room you two!” Neville mock groused.

“Just cause you’re jealous,” Harry replied when he finally came up for air.

Any other comments were interrupted by the arrival of the owner of the Three Broomsticks. Harry noticed her eyeing the opaleye scales but she was discrete enough not to say anything about them.

“What can I get for you today?” Madam Rosmerta asked.

“Butterbeers all round and a shepherd’s pie for me,” Harry began. “Oh, and I’ll be paying for everyone.”

“Harry, you don’t have to do that!” Hermione protested.

“I know. But I want to,” he replied. “I’ve missed you guys and I haven’t been as great a friend as I should have been – definitely no where near as many letters back to you as there should have been.”

Neville snorted. “Well, for all of us except Daphne.”

“Exactly as it should be,” the girl in question replied haughtily. “I would like the same as Harry, please.”

A few minutes later, the orders had been taken and Madam Rosmerta bustled off to fulfil them.

“So, tell me everything! What’s been happening with you guys?” Harry asked. “Done anything exciting on your holidays?”

“Harry, mate, you talk to and ride dragons on a daily basis. Nothing we do is as exciting as that,” Neville replied, shaking his head.

“Everything you guys do is exciting to me. I grew up muggle, remember?” Harry reminded him. “Now, quit stalling and tell me everything!”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

2:00pm

Thursday, 26 August 1995

Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

“You’re late,” Charlie frowned even before Harry had finished making sure that he wasn’t going to fall over after the portkey released him.

“Give the kid a break, he was with his girl,” Sirius retorted.

“Harry?” Remus asked.

“I’m sorry,” Harry replied, feeling completely unrepentant. “I know that I should have been here half an hour ago; I just got caught up with Daphne and Neville, Susan and Hermione.”

“Surely, you can remember being his age?” Sirius asked. “It wasn’t that long ago.”

“What’d I miss?” Harry asked, eagerly stepping past Sirius to join Charlie, Madam Grimblehawk and … the Minister for Magic?

“Harry, my boy! Good to see you again,” Cornelius Fudge exclaimed, coming forward to shake Harry’s hand and give him a clap on his opposite shoulder.

“Minister Fudge,” Harry nodded, before shooting Sirius a confused expression.

“Minister Fudge is here to see the progress of the Reserve and to find out how the dragons are settling in,” Remus informed him.

“I spoke to the dragons briefly yesterday,” Harry said. “They’re okay at the moment but withholding judgement on whether Papa Stour will make a good weyr or not.”

“Weyr?” Fudge asked, looking to Madam Grimblehawk for clarification.

“I’m sorry, Minister, I don’t know that term,” she told him.

“It’s the draconic word where a dragon lives,” Charlie supplied. “It can be as simple as a single dragon’s bed or cave or broad enough to encompass what we would call the entire Reserve.”

“Weyr?” Fudge repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth. “Weyr. I like it.”

Suddenly, he stepped towards the large, wooden trestle table that they were gathered around and picked up a quill. Then, after dipping it in an ink pot, he leant over the big map of the island that was stuck to the table, crossed out a word from the top of it and scribbled in its place.

“Dragon Weyr of Great Britain,” he said, looking exceedingly proud of himself. “No other Reserve has that word in their name, this will set us apart while also acknowledging the dragons that live here.”

Harry was impressed. He had no idea whether it was a purely political stunt or something designed to gain favour with him. Either way, he didn’t care. As Speaker for Dragons, he was more than happy to endorse the name change.

“I think the dragons will be honoured that you have chosen to use their term,” Harry said, offering a bow, much as a dragon would.

“I’m delighted to hear that!” Cornelius replied, almost strutting with how pleased he looked with himself.

“What else did the dragons have to say yesterday?” Charlie asked.

“They’re not completely happy with the lack of caves or protected valleys where they can sleep,” Harry replied. “The island’s fairly flat in that regard. For now, it’s not so bad, but come winter and I can see problems. They’d also prefer more variety in their diet than just fish.”

“If’n we brough’ in some flocks o’ sheep or goats or even some coos, what woul’ stop tha dragons from eatin’ them?” Angus asked.

“In Romania, we have fields separate from the dragons where we maintain herds,” Charlie replied. “Every four or five days, we bring in enough for the dragons to eat. With this being an island where the livestock are only supplementing the fish that the dragons catch, you could stretch that out to every ten or twelve days.”

“I’m not sure that there is enough room on the island for both dragons and livestock,” Madam Grimblehawk said uncertainly.

“But there are a number of small, uninhabited islands not far away,” Remus pointed out. “Could you use one or two of them? They wouldn’t even have to be as heavily warded if all they’re used for is to house animals.”

“Once you have enough animals, it would be fairly self-sustaining,” Sirius added.

Seeing Fudge slowly nodding at the idea, Madam Grimblehawk added extra notes on a side piece of parchment.

“From what little I’ve seen so far, your biggest problem is manpower,” Charlie said. “You have Angus here, who knows his stuff but even he will admit that he’s nowhere near enough to run this place full time. Depending on how many dragons you end up with, you’re going to need at least a dozen men, possibly as many as twenty.”

“How many dragons are there in Great Britain?” Harry asked.

“We’ve found and transported about sixty percent of them so far,” Madam Grimblehawk replied. “From what I’m told, there are another seventeen or eighteen still to be brought here.”

“So, around seventy dragons altogether once they’re all here,” Remus mused.

“To start with,” Harry added quickly, thinking of not only four rambunctious hatchlings in Romania but a clutch of eggs on heated sand.

“The lad’s right,” Angus nodded. “If’n we want this place to succeed, we’n need to be expectin’ a mess o’ little ’uns eventually.”

“He’s right,” Charlie nodded. “If I was you, I’d be aiming for closer to twenty handlers here. You’ve already got much of the infrastructure in place. All you need to add in is a big hall or something with some offices and a communal place to eat.”

“Will we really need that many?” Fudge asked. “Surely, a smaller number would work, especially with Harry here to translate any problems between the dragons and wizards.”

Harry and Charlie shared a look. They’d wondered when that would come up.

“Minister, my contract doesn’t include this Reserve,” Harry stated.

Fudge started and stared at him. “But you signed a contract with all of the dragon reserves of the world.”

“No, I didn’t,” Harry countered. “I signed a contract with the five dragon reserves that were named in the contract.”

“This Reserve didn’t exist when the contract was written that Harry signed,” Charlie added.

“But…” Fudge protested weakly, suddenly looking rather unsure of himself.

“Minister, I am the Speaker for Dragons. That means that I will be visiting and checking up on all the dragons of the world, no matter where they are, including here,” Harry said, offering him a lifeline. “I just won’t be here very much.”

A far-off bugling snapped all of their heads to the left and Harry cocked his head, listening hard.

“Harry?” Charlie asked.

The broad smile that had appeared when he caught what was being said by the dragons changed into confusion.

“Farlys is back,” he said. “But she’s not alone.”

“Not alone?” Charlie asked.

Harry’s eyes locked with Charlie’s. “No. The dragons are welcoming four dragons to the weyr!”

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 30 – Unexpected Meetings

2:25pm

Thursday, 26 August 1995

Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

“The dragons are welcoming four dragons to the weyr!”

“Four?” Charlie asked, a look of confusion on his face. “Who?”

Harry, though, hadn’t even waited for the question. Pulling his Nimbus from his pocket, he resized it with a wave of his hand, barely even registering the shocked gasp that that elicited from the three who’d never seen him do wandless magic and rocketed into the air.

A hundred metres into the air was enough for him to see that a mass of black and green bodies had also taken flight. Noticing that every head was facing the one direction, Harry swung his own broom around before shooting off in the right direction.

It took barely no time at all before he caught up to the tail end of the massed dragons. His approach had obviously been noted for wings tipped to either side and a hole was opened for him. Calling his thanks, Harry raced through, his eyes searching for the incoming dragons.

And then he saw them.

The green hide of Farlys led them, her wings outstretched as she soared on the wind. To her right was a dragon that Harry knew better than any other: Ramaranth. On Farlys’ left was a dragon with a deep, grey hide: Grouleth. And slightly behind and to the side of Grouleth, flew another dragon with black hide, a Norwegian Ridgeback, if Harry wasn’t mistaken, although he didn’t know the dragon’s identity.

§Speaker §!

Ramaranth’s excited bellow had Harry grinning and laughing.

§Hi, Ramaranth§! he shouted back before quickly greeting the rest of the dragons. §Welcome home Farlys! Hi Grouleth! Welcome to the Dragon Weyr of Great Britain§!

As the four dragons flew close, Harry allowed his broom to stall before he used gravity to spin him completely around. When he ‘reactivated’ the broom’s magic, it was so that he could shoot straight up and around Ramaranth, looping her before finally settling in between her and Farlys.

§Where is the best place for us to rest our wings, Speaker§? Ramaranth asked.

Harry’s initial thought was somewhere on the deserted end of the island, but then he had a better idea.

§Follow me§! he called before accelerating away.

As he raced back over the shoreline, he looked back. There was Ramaranth and the other three, only a dragon length behind him and behind them, flew the rest of the weyr. For a split second, Harry second-guessed himself.

What reaction would this garner? he wondered before shrugging. And then he decided, if they couldn’t handle it, then they had no business starting this weyr.

He knew the moment that they were seen. Both Sirius and Remus with their better eyesight threw up their arms, pointing at what Harry was sure was an incredibly impressive aerial display. Glancing back, he saw that not a single dragon faltered or fell out of pattern, keeping perfectly behind him.

Wanting to show off a little, Harry took the flight of dragons in a great circle above the buildings and the six people below before gesturing downwards. Obediently, the dragons followed him down. Most of the dragons settled on crags or grassland around them, making sure to leave plenty of space between them and the humans. Two Hibernian Blacks – Myrddys and Bremlys – settled closer, very close to where Farlys and the Norwegian Ridgeback landed. Ramaranth and Grouleth landed right beside Harry, their wings almost overlapping him as though they were protecting him.

As he wandlessly shrunk his broom, Harry couldn’t help but grin at the humans. Charlie and Angus looked unfazed at having a few dozen dragons so close. Sirius and Remus were grinning madly. Harry was most impressed by Mathilda Grimblehawk. She looked incredibly apprehensive but was obviously doing her best to appear unaffected by the close proximity of so many powerful, magical creatures. As for the Minister of Magic, Harry was sure that he was going to need clean underwear once he went back to the Ministry – his eyes were huge and he was spinning in circles, seemingly trying to keep every dragon in sight at once.

“Harry? What are they doing here?” Charlie asked, nodding to the three Romanian dragons.

§Ramaranth, while it is wonderful to see you, I feel I must ask: why have you come instead of remaining in your weyr with the hatchlings§? he asked.

§You are our Speaker§, she replied. §It is only right that you have our wings to cover you§.

Harry blinked at her, trying to understand. Finally, he bowed, §I am honoured§.

Her return incline of her head was enough to give him leave to turn back to Charlie, although, seeing the Minister holding himself up by gripping the trestle table nearly had him bursting out laughing and rolling on the floor.

“They wanted to show their support,” he shrugged, guessing that that was the best interpretation.

“Do you think they know back in Romania that they’ve lost three dragons?” Remus asked.

“Undoubtably,” Charlie replied. “And it’d be just like the Boss to not bother to telling us.”

“Do yon dragons do this sort of thing often?” Angus asked.

“Wander off?” Charlie asked. “Not often but they are powerfully magical creatures. And who are we to stop them?”

“There’s only one person on the planet that they’ll listen to. And he’s standing right here!” Sirius snorted.

“Angus, Madam Grimblehawk … Minister,” Harry said, adding in the last only as a courtesy, “I’d like for you to meet Farlys, the Welsh Green who flew to Romania to talk to me. The Blacks are Myrddys – the eldest dragon here – and Bremlys. While there is no Weyr Leader chosen yet, I suspect that it will be one of these three who will eventually hold that honour.”

Both Angus and Madam Grimblehawk must have been paying attention to him before for Harry saw them offer all three dragons bow. The Minister joined in awkwardly and belatedly.

“I’d also like you to meet Ramaranth, Grouleth and …” now that he’d had a chance to get a closer look at the Ridgeback, he recognised her, “Norberta.”

“I should have recognised Norberta,” Charlie laughed. “Did you know she was born here in Scotland? Hatched from an illegal egg; I brought her to Romania myself.”

§My friends, these two-legs are important in the forming of the new weyr§, Harry said. §This is Angus, he works here and this is Mathilda, she helps oversee things. The other two-leg is named Cornelius§.

Omitting the Minister’s title seemed appropriate to Harry, after all, with how scared the man was, he wasn’t going to be much use. Besides, it wasn’t as though anyone would know.

§This will be a new weyr§? Farlys asked. §You have decided, Speaker§?

§It seems likely§, Harry admitted, §although there is much that I believe that the two-legs can do to make it better for dragon-kind before a final decision is made§.

§We thank you, Speaker, for working for us§, Myrddys said.

§He is the Speaker§, Ramaranth stated as though that was enough, which, to dragons, Harry knew that it was.

“As you can see, there is no need to fear dragons,” Harry said, looking pointedly at Fudge. “Treat them right and they will leave you alone, even be friends.”

“Harry’s right,” Charlie agreed. “He’s taught us much about how to treat dragons and act around them. Before Harry came to Romania, we would never go near the dragons unless there were at least half a dozen of us supporting each other. Now, we’re able to work in pairs or groups of three.”

§Speaker, we have travelled far without rest. Where may we find food§? Grouleth asked.

§For now, there is only fish in the sea surrounding the ocean§, Harry replied. §I’m working on having flocks and herds available§.

§I have not had the flesh of fish in many moons§, Ramaranth said. §I think I would like some§.

§If you fly with me, I will show you where the best fishing may be had§, Farlys said.

§Until soon, Speaker§, Ramaranth said before, with a great leap she took to the air, her wings taking that most important first down sweep.

Almost as one, the rest of the dragons joined her, their wings kicking up almost gale force winds around the humans.

“Where did they go?” Madam Grimblehawk asked. “Did we do something to offend them?”

“They’re just hungry after their long flight,” Harry laughed. “And I suspect will find somewhere to sleep once they’ve eaten. We can talk to them more tomorrow, if you like?”

“I know that I’d like that,” Angus stated, and Harry nodded at him.

“I think the sooner that you can get more dragon handlers here and working with the dragons, the better,” Charlie stated. “They need a chance to get to know the dragons and, the best time to do that is while Harry’s here, too.”

“Mathilda? When can we make that happen?” Fudge asked.

“I have the responses to the applications that we’ve received from our ads in my office,” she replied. “I believe we’ve had eleven, so far? I would appreciate your input into their suitability?”

“I’d be delighted,” Charlie nodded.

“Then if you and Angus will accompany me?” she asked. “Minister?”

“Yes. Yes, I think I should be getting back to the Ministry as well,” he replied.

“What about you, Pup?” Sirius asked.

Harry looked towards where the dragons had flown off to. Ramaranth and the others, he knew, would need sleep soon, but there were a lot of other dragons here that he needed to get to know.

“I’ll stay, if that’s alright? At least for a while longer,” he replied.

Remus held out a hand, a hand that a grumbling Sirius dropped some coins into before handing Harry a ring.

“Say the name of my house and it’ll portkey you home,” he said.

“Thanks, Sirius,” he nodded.

Minutes later, the island was devoid of people, save the one in the air, flying his broom towards the flight of dragons over the water.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

6:10pm

Thursday, 26 August 1995

The Leaky Cauldron, London, England

.

This was not where Harry wanted to be. It wasn’t even on his list of things to do that year, let alone that day.

He’d had the best day in a very, very long time. The morning surprising Daphne, the middle of the day with his friends and the afternoon spent with dragons, including him being surprised by the arrival of Ramaranth. And then he’d arrived back at Grimmauld Place to the news that Fudge had given an interview that morning.

At least The Daily Prophet had been nice enough to ask him to confirm the Minister’s comments before they went to print for tomorrow’s paper.

As they should, Harry thought, after all, he worked for the paper. In a way. At least, he had a weekly column in the magical newspaper.

Sirius had answered the owl for him and arranged the meeting and then simply told Harry that he needed to do it. Which, Harry had reluctantly agreed with. He’d seen the flip-flop nature of the wizarding world’s opinion of him all last year, not to mention when it was announced that he was leaving Britain for a job at the Romanian Reserve. For those same people to be given false hope by Fudge now, only for it to be dashed again when they learnt the truth was enough to have him shuddering. As much as Harry hated to admit it, Sirius and Remus were right – he had to get out in front of it, control the narrative himself.

Thus, he was at the Leaky Cauldron to meet a reporter.

“Ah, Mister Potter,” the old, toothless owner of the pub called as he approached the bar.

Harry watched the man round the bar before gesturing for Harry to follow him. He was led to the side and down a short corridor.

“These are our private rooms,” the old man said. “You won’t be disturbed in here.”

“Thanks,” Harry nodded.

“Can I bring you anything?” he asked.

At first, Harry was going to say no but then thought better of it. After all, having something to wet his mouth or fiddle with wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“A butterbeer?” he asked.

“Right you are, Mister Potter,” the man smiled toothlessly at him. “I’ll bring it right back to ye.”

Harry opened the door to find … not Rita Skeeter?

“Mister Potter. It’s nice to finally meet you,” the man said, rising from his seat. “My name’s Markus Waynesbury. I’m a reporter for the Prophet.”

“Hi?” Harry replied, unable to keep his confusion out of his voice.

For some reason, the man laughed. “I’m assuming that you don’t mind that I’m here instead of Rita? Mister Cuffe thought that you deserved a reporter who would tell the facts, without, shall we say, embellishments?”

“I really appreciate that,” Harry said, moving into the room and taking a seat across the table from Waynesbury.

The old barkeep returned just then, depositing Harry’s butterbeer on the table, along with a mug of something that steamed for the reporter.

“Thank you for giving me a chance to respond to Minister Fudge’s press interview this morning,” Harry said, beginning exactly as Remus had coached.

“It’s my pleasure, Harry. Is it alright if I call you, Harry?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” Harry replied quickly.

“Thank you. And, please, call me Markus,” he smiled.

“Markus,” Harry nodded and took a sip of his butterbeer in an effort to calm himself.

“I was one of the reporters at the Minister’s press conference this morning,” Markus began. “Are you aware of what he said regarding yourself?”

“I think so?” Harry replied. “At least, I read the letter that was sent to me asking for my comments. Perhaps, since you were there, you could give me a summary?”

“Certainly,” Markus nodded. “Minister Fudge confirmed that you had returned to Britain and that you were here to consult with the Ministry over the formation of a new Reserve. He said that, as part of your contract to work with all of the dragon reserves of the world, you would be here for as long as it took to get British Reserve up and running. He also mentioned that Charles Weasley had been approached to be the Head Dragon Handler and that he had hopes that the two of you would work here permanently.”

Harry nodded; what he’d been told was identical to what was in the letter.

“I’d like to start my response by saying that not everything that Minister Fudge said was accurate,” Harry said, watching Markus’ quill scratching away with what he was saying.

“In what way was the Minister inaccurate?” Markus asked, writing down his own question.

“Where to begin?” Harry laughed. “Let’s start with the big error and work from there.”

“Big error?” Markus asked.

“Minister Fudge is wrong about my contract,” Harry began. “I guess that’s understandable since he’s never seen it and was probably only going on the way it was speculated in the paper when I first signed it. Which I guess is my mistake for not clarifying back then.”

“Can I ask what your contract says?” Markus asked.

“The contract that I signed was between myself and the five Dragon Reserves of the world,” Harry replied.

“Just five? Not all the Reserves of the world?” Markus clarified.

“Exactly,” Harry nodded. “While I’m primarily based in the Romanian Dragon Reserve, my contract also includes The Australasian Dragon Preserve – a reserve that I have already visited – The Aztec Reserve for Dragons, The Draconian Sanctuary of Tanzania and The Mongolian Dragon Park. That’s it. Any other reserves, even new ones, aren’t included.”

“So, you’re saying that you’re not contracted in any way to the Dragon Reserve of Great Britain?” Markus asked.

“No,” Harry replied. “And it’s actually the Dragon Weyr of Great Britain, not ‘Reserve’. Its name was changed earlier today to reflect the word that the dragons prefer.”

Markus nodded, his quill flying even faster.

“Then what brings you back home to Britain? Is it to consult like the Minister said?” Markus asked.

“Well, I guess it was in a way,” Harry grinned. “But not the way that you’re thinking.”

“Oh?” Markus prompted.

“I was asked to come here by one of the dragons that have been moved to the new Weyr,” he continued. “Farlys – the Welsh Green that I met at the TriWizard Tournament last year – flew to Romania to ask for my help. I’m here to ensure that what the dragons want and need is being considered.”

“A dragon flew all that way? Just to talk to you?” Markus gasped, his quill freezing.

At Harry’s nod, Markus seemed to remember the quill in his hand and quickly sped to catch back up.

“How long will you stay in Britain?” Markus asked.

“As long as it takes to negotiate between the dragons and the Ministry in the formation of the new Weyr,” Harry shrugged. “Hopefully that won’t be too long, I do have responsibilities back in Romania to get to.”

“How have you found the Ministry when it comes to negotiating with the dragons?” Markus asked.

“It’s still early days,” Harry replied, “but I’m confident that an agreement will be reached. Madam Grimblehawk who’s in charge of the Department to create the Weyr is really good and easy to work with. She seems to really care what the dragons want and is determined to do right by them.”

“It sounds as though you’re impressed by her,” Markus commented.

“I am,” Harry replied simply.

“Was there any other part of the Minister’s announcement this morning that was inaccurate?” Markus asked.

“Actually, yes, and I have been asked to say this to you,” Harry replied. “While the part about Charlie Weasley having been offered the position of Head Dragon Handler is true, Charlie has declined. He is still under contract with the Romanian Reserve and has some months still to go before he achieves his Beast Mastery, and therefore doesn’t feel as though he has learnt enough to take on such a position.”

Harry watched and drank deeply from his butterbeer while he waited for Markus to catch up with his quill.

“Is there anything else that you’d like our readers to know?” Markus asked.

Harry thought for a moment before nodding to himself.

“Two things,” he said. “Firstly, I’d like to thank everyone who has been reading my article in The Daily Prophet, I never imagined that it would get so much interest. I’ll admit that, at first, I was reluctant to even write it but, having heard how much it’s helping people understand dragons, I’m glad that I am writing it. I hope that everyone continues to enjoy it.”

“And the other?” Markus asked.

“I’d just like to say that I’m glad that Farlys came to me and asked me to come. It’s given me a chance to visit with my friends and I hope to come back regularly, not just to check on the dragons, but also to continue visiting my friends and magical Britain as a whole.”

There! Harry thought. That should make Remus happy. I followed the script to ‘make a good impression with the public’.

“Harry, I’d like to thank you for taking the time to talk with me,” Markus said.

“It’s been my pleasure,” Harry replied, shaking the man’s hand. “Will your article be published tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Markus confirmed. “Probably not first page but you never know, especially if Barnabus decides to run this article side-by-side with the Minister’s press release from this morning.”

“Is that likely?” a startled Harry asked.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Markus laughed.

Then, after one last ‘thank you’ and goodbye, Harry escaped for the Floo and the hope of a good night’s sleep.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 31 – The Beginnings of Plans

9:45am

Friday, 27 August 1995

Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

He felt the stares from the moment that he stepped out of Floo into the Atrium (without stumbling). It had been bad enough the first time that he was there. Hogsmeade wasn’t much better. Both of those times, though, he’d had an advantage – people to cover him, provide a buffer. This time was different.

Sirius had insisted that him coming to the Ministry by himself was a bad idea; Remus had insisted back that Harry was a man, an adult and quite capable of standing up for himself. He’d sided with Remus but was now having second thoughts.

Everywhere he looked, it was to see people stopped in their tracks, every eye trained on him, many whispering to their neighbours. Part of him wanted to know what they were thinking, what they were saying. Was it because he was The-Boy-Who-Lived? Or maybe because he could speak to dragons? More than likely, it was because he’d rebutted Fudge’s claims and now everyone knew that he wasn’t planning to stay in England, that this was just a brief visit.

Whatever the reason for those stares and whispers, there was nothing to be done about it. Fleetingly, he entertained the thought of how these people would react if he had Ramaranth at his back. The amusement was enough to get him moving again.

Squaring his shoulders, Harry strode forward. At the Check In Point, he had his wand registered and then he was off, angled for the lifts.

And still those damn people stared!

As much as he tried to keep his eyes forward, he couldn’t help but notice them. He wished that they’d stop!

Surely there’s something else more interesting to look at? he thought as he strode alongside the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

The sound of the water falling caught his attention and he glanced to see the water shooting from the witch and wizard’s wands, the ears of the house elf, the goblin’s hat and the centaur’s bow. All that water gave him an idea.

Slowing his walk, he focussed inward, gathering his magic into its customary ball in his chest. As soon as he was content with its power and shape, he opened a small ‘hole’ and directed his magic towards the water.

Coen had been teaching him finesse but for this, he thought the bigger, the messier, the wetter the better. Harry sent his magic into the pool of water at the bottom of the fountain and let it spread out around the sides and then he pushed. Instantly, the water started swirling. Around and around, faster and faster, until a great whirlpool began forming. As he knew that he should, Harry extended his magic up from the sides of the fountain, holding the water in shape as a tornado of water quickly engulfed the magical statues.

People everywhere gasped and cried out in surprise and fright. He saw them glancing around, looking for who or what was responsible, the one who’d have their wand trained on the statue and the water, before their eyes snapped back to the watery sight before them. Some stepped closer, most backed away.

And then Harry simply let go.

Without his magic holding its shape, the water plummeted down, hitting the marble floor with a loud crash! Water splashed back up, spraying every which way before rushing out and away. Those closest were instantly drenched. Others began running, attempting to keep their shoes and robes from getting soaked. Some remained stock-still, letting the water fall on them in their incomprehension.

In the pandemonium that he’d created, Harry slipped into the nearest lift … and all but cursed.

There, standing in the corner of the lift, as though he had nothing better to do, was Albus Dumbledore. The ancient eyes were twinkling in amusement as they looked over his half-moon spectacles at Harry and he had a small smile on his face. His robes – a garish yellow with tiny red, purple and black shooting stars shifting and moving about were enough to cause Harry to wince and squint.

“Ah, Harry, my boy,” Dumbledore greeted him, as though he’d been expecting Harry to walk in.

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Harry nodded curtly back before stabbing at the button to take him to what he hoped would be the safety of Madam Grimblehawk’s office.

Harry sidled to the side, as far away from the ancient wizard as he could get in the small space and ensuring that he had his back to a wall.

“That was quite an amusing distraction you caused out there,” Dumbledore remarked casually.

“What?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

How had the man known that he’d been the one to do that? he wondered. As far as Harry knew, there were only a handful of people in the world, let alone in England who knew about his elemental magic and he was certain that none of them would have told Dumbledore.

As the lift began moving, Dumbledore waved his hand as though Harry’s protest was irrelevant.

“I’m pleased that we were able to bump into each other,” Dumbledore continued. “We never did finish our last conversation. Perhaps now might be a good time?”

The lift jerking to a halt and the doors rattling open gave Harry time to come up with a way to say, ‘hell no!’ in a polite way – not that he’d worked out what that was just yet.

The appearance of Amelia Bones standing there, obviously waiting for the lift was completely unexpected. Harry saw her eyes dart from him to Dumbledore and back to Harry again.

“Ah, Mister Potter, just the person I was looking for,” she said. “I believe that we had a meeting scheduled? If you will kindly follow me?”

“Of course, Madam Bones,” Harry said, desperately trying not to sound too eager.

He quickly jumped out of the lift and to her side.

“Albus,” Amelia said, giving the Headmaster a nod seconds before the lift doors closed.

“Harry!” Dumbledore quickly called through the cage but was whisked away before Harry could respond, not that he wanted to.

“Thanks,” Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome,” she said, a hint of a smile on her face. “Where was it that you were really going?”

“I have a meeting with Madam Grimblehawk in the Dragon Office this morning,” he replied.

“How about you spend a few minutes with me while we wait for the lifts and corridors to clear of unwanted nuisances?” she suggested. “I’ll have Beth, my secretary, send Madam Grimblehawk a note telling her that you’re going to be a little late.”

“Thanks, Madam Bones, I really appreciate it,” Harry replied.

Madam Bones led him deeper into what was clearly the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were red-robed aurors everywhere, some at desks, others rushing towards a bank of Floos, even some that Harry could see through a door clearly on a break.

“How about we step in here?” she asked, capturing his attention.

He was led into an outer office where Madam Bones paused to ask a woman in her early twenties – Beth, if Harry had to guess – to send a paper plane? to Madam Grimblehawk. From there, they continued into an office that had Madam Bones’ name on the door.

“As unexpected as our encounter was,” she began, sitting in one of the two chairs on the near side of the desk and offering the other to him, “it does save me an owl.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, suddenly wary.

Yes, this was Susan’s aunt, but it wasn’t the first time that people had wanted to get to him and to use him for something.

“Indeed,” she replied, a slight smile appearing on her face. “You did, after all, send me a very interesting letter two months ago.”

“Oh, that,” Harry replied. “What did you make of it?”

“I thought it made for some very interesting reading and, combined with a number of other pieces of information that I’ve been able to gather, painted a very interesting picture,” she replied.

“I’m glad that I could help,” he said.

“You have done more than that, Harry,” she replied. “But I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask for something extra.”

“Oh?” he asked again, that feeling of wariness reappearing.

“My job is to enforce the law,” she began. “When individuals, no matter who they are, break the law, it is my responsibility to bring them to justice. Unfortunately, there are times when even my hands are tied.”

“Political stuff?” Harry guessed, remembering a particularly enlightening conversation that he’d had with Sirius back in Australia.

“That’s one way of putting it,” she smiled. “But between that little stunt with the Wizengamot that you and Sirius pulled – a masterpiece, I might add, that really shook a few things up – as well as you being back in the country, I think that it might finally be time to act.”

“What does me being in England have to do with anything?” he asked.

“In order for me to bring a case before the Wizengamot of this magnitude, I need to make sure that I have a rock-solid case,” she said. “Your testimony, given in person, would be key.”

Harry stared at her. “You want me to testify against Dumbledore in front of the Wizengamot?”

“Yes,” she replied, simply.

For a fleeting moment, he imagined Dumbledore dressed in a black and white striped shirt and pants instead of one of the garish, eye-watering robes that the ancient wizard seemed to prefer. A striped wizard hat was promptly added, making Harry smile.

“I’m listening,” he said.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

10:20am

Friday, 27 August 1995

Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

Getting to the Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain felt a bit like a game of cat and mouse for Harry. He and Madam Bones had firstly gone to the lifts where she had done some sort of spell that told her that there was a person waiting in there, unseen. She’d promptly scowled, sighed and wheeled Harry around and away.

A non-signed, non-descript door had been opened for him to reveal a set of stairs. It had then been a simple case of walking down them to reach Level Four. Once again, Madam Bones had performed a spell and, obviously happy with the results, had ushered him out and down the corridor. She’d only let him go off on his own once he was safely ensconced with Madam Grimblehawk herself.

“Have Mathilda send me a memo when you’re ready to leave, Harry and I’ll come and escort you personally,” Madam Bones had instructed.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, while Madam Grimblehawk had given a nod of understanding.

“I understand that you spent an extra few hours at the … at the weyr yesterday after we left?” Madam Grimblehawk asked, pleasing Harry with her use of the proper word.

“I did,” he smiled at the memory. “Ramaranth and the others quickly settled in for a sleep after their long flight, so I took the chance to get to know some of the dragons there.”

“How are they settling in?” she asked.

“They’re still very cautious, extremely wary,” he replied before taking a breath to push down his embarrassment, “but I think having me there has helped.”

“You have been a Merlin-send,” she smiled. “We’re learning so much about the dragons from you. And getting to be so close to them yesterday …”

She trailed off with a shake of her head and a smile on her face. Harry understood. He’d seen the same look on the faces of Sirius, Remus, Daphne and her family, anyone who encountered the dragons for the first time and actually understood that while they deserved to be feared and respected, there was no need to be afraid.

“I do envy your ability to be able to talk to them,” Madam Grimblehawk said.

“You do?” a startled Harry asked.

Her statement was at extreme odds with the rest of the country, indeed most of the world when it came to parseltongue.

“Oh, very much so,” she replied. “When I was first given this post, even back when it was just a Committee, I was determined to do my best for the dragons. But everything that I knew about them came from my Hogwarts Care of Magical Creatures course, which I think consisted of a week or two of classes and what I’d read in books. Being able to meet them was a dream, being able to talk to them or ride on the back of one as you have done was almost too much to imagine for anyone doing.”

“It is pretty great,” Harry grinned. “I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“I know that I still have much to learn about our magnificent creatures,” she said. “Perhaps you can help me make sure that they are being cared for the best that we can and that they are given what they need to flourish.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “It’s what I’m here for and what the dragons want from me too. Speaker for Dragons, remember?”

“Exactly,” she smiled.

Harry watched as she pulled a fresh piece of parchment to her, laying it beside the one that was filled with copious amounts of notes.

“Harry, you said that the dragons aren’t happy with where they can sleep on the island?” Mathilda asked.

Harry shook his head. “Not really.”

“What do they prefer?” she asked, picking up a quill and holding it over a piece of parchment, ready to take notes.

“It differs,” he shrugged. “The dragons in Romania prefer caves, whereas the dragons in Australia weyr in the hollows of sand dunes, but it is a lot warmer there. From what the Greens and Blacks that have lived around Great Britain tell me, they traditionally found valleys or the tops of hills and mountains that suited them.”

“And Papa Stour has none of those things,” Mathilda frowned, looking down at her notes. “Do you have any suggestions?’

Harry had been considering the problem since he’d first seen the island; he just wasn’t sure if what he’d come up with was even possible. But then he shrugged, he was talking to people who could do magic! If they couldn’t find a solution, then no one could!

“I do have one idea,” he admitted. “I just need you to tell me if it’s possible.”

“Go on,” she said, looking expectantly at him.

“Rocks. Bring in lots and lots and lots of rocks. The bigger the better and then let the dragons move them around however they want,” he suggested.

“Rocks?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” he nodded. “If you bring in enough of them, I’m betting that the dragons could build their own weyrs, maybe like nests or even caves. Enough rocks would give them a chance to cut down the winds in winter and shelter from the rain, probably even heat up during the summer, too – I know dragons love lounging in the sun.”

“Rocks,” Mathilda repeated slowly, writing the word down and underlining it three times. “You think the dragons would be happy with that solution.”

Harry shrugged. “I think so? I’d have to ask them to be sure.”

“Then please do so,” she said. “If they will be, then I’ll make it happen!”

Harry grinned at her. She wasn’t what he expected a person in charge of a Weyr or a Reserve would be and there was no comparing her to Alexander or Andy, but for Harry, she was the perfect person for the job. The only problem with her was the fact that she wasn’t a dragon handler and didn’t have a Beast Mastery. But maybe this Weyr needed something different? It was something that he decided merited talking to Charlie about and seeing what he thought of the unconventional idea.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

11:10am

Friday, 27 August 1995

12 Grimmauld Place, London, England

.

“Master has received a letter,” the raspy voice of Kreacher said.

Sirius looked up from the book that he was reading in the Black Family Library and blinked. A letter? That sounded eminently more interesting than the dry tome detailing a list of Black properties around the world.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” he replied, snapping the book closed with a puff of dust.

Taking the letter he opened it, sped read through the contents. Stopped. Blinked at it. And promptly reread it, this time much more slowly.

“Well, well, well,” he mused, tapping the parchment on his chin.

His initial reaction was to jump up and to apparate to wherever Remus was and to crow in his face. He’d known that he was right! He knew it!

Of course, the answer all depended on Harry, but … he … had … been … right!

He’d just leapt to his feet and taken a single step towards the door when Kreacher cracked back into the room.

“Another letter, Master,” the ancient house elf said, sounding irritated that he’d had to deliver it.

“Another one?” Sirius asked.

Even before Kreacher had vanished, he was ripping it open to scan its contents. He hadn’t even gotten halfway through it before he’d thrown his head back and laughed.

This was brilliant! he decided, inwardly crowing in delight.

Oh, there were sacks of gold to be made here. And not just off of Remus.

“Sirius?” the man in question asked, sticking his head into the room. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

The arrival of Kreacher with a third letter prevented him from replying.

“You’re not going to believe it, Mooney!” Sirius exclaimed, holding all three letters up and waving them about in the face of his best friend.

“What aren’t I going to believe?” Remus asked, attempting to snatch the letters from his hand. “If this is another one of your schemes to get scantily clad witches doing something highly inappropriate …”

“Do I look like a teenager?” Sirius pouted.

“No, but when has that ever stopped you?” Remus retorted.

“You may have a point,” Sirius allowed but quickly waved it away. “Here! Read! I was right!”

Remus gave him a dubious look before taking the letters. Sirius watched Moony’s eyes darting back and forth, pausing, widening, and starting again, faster this time. Each letter was read quickly before being shuffled to the back to give the next one its time to shine.

“This is amazing!” Remus finally said. “Did you put them up to this?”

“I may have sent a letter to Gambol and Japes months ago, but when I hadn’t heard anything back from them, I gave it up as a lost opportunity. For them, at least,” he replied.

“And Tewsbury’s Books and Publications or The Magical Artiste?” Remus asked.

“Nope, never contacted them before,” Sirius replied with a shake of his head. “Mind you, I was thinking of sending an owl to Tewsbury’s as soon as Harry had finally caved.”

“I told you, Paddy, the more you pushed, the less likely it’d be for him to agree,” Remus frowned.

“But this isn’t me pushing!” Sirius protested. “They sent those letters on their own!”

“What do you intend to do with them?” Remus asked.

“I’m going to show them to Harry and hope to Merlin that he agrees. You know as well as I do that his confidence levels are still too shaky, that it’s only the dragons that have helped him to start believing that he has some worth. Those offers? Seeing that he and his ideas and what he can do independent of the dragons…”

“Not exactly independent,” Remus interjected, emphasising two of the letters with a wave.

“Beside the point,” Sirius said, waving the thought aside. “He needs this. And you know that it’s not just him who will benefit. Yes, he’ll make a lot of gold on those deals if he accepts but it’ll also help kids, parents, everyone. Knowledge and understanding will explode!”

“You know that I’m not arguing with you,” Remus said, “I agree. But will Harry?”

“I hope so, Moony, I really hope so,” Sirius said seriously.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 32 – Opportunities Abound

1:20pm

Friday, 27 August 1995

Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

The instant that the portkey released him, Harry looked around. As expected, no one was in sight. Charlie, he knew, was running an errand before he was going out for the rest of the day and the only other person that could have been here – Angus – was in London at the Ministry with Madam Grimblehawk conducting the first interviews with the prospective new dragon handlers.

He was alone. Not a human for miles. The island was completely deserted, which meant that he could take some time out to just relax. And what he had in his bag would allow him to do just that.

Pulling his Nimbus from his pocket, he resized it, jumped on and flew up high, looking for the perfect vantage point.

Naturally, it didn’t take long before he was spotted. With a bugle of welcome, Ramaranth leapt from where she’d been sunbaking and soared towards him. Other dragons, too, quickly joined them, flying circles around him in an aerial display that had him laughing in joy.

§Speaker, you came§! Ramaranth called.

§Hi, Ramaranth. How is everyone today§? he replied.

§The weyr is well, Speaker§, she replied.

§You’re liking it here§? he asked.

§Fish make a good, different meal but it is not home§, she replied.

§Yeah, I know what you mean§, Harry replied.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. Below and to his right, a bluff, protected on one side by a set of high rocks that would shelter him from the wind, looked out over not just part of the island, but also the sea beyond. With a nod, he altered course and landed.

After leaning his Nimbus against the rocks out of the way, he methodically began setting up. His artist pack was unslung, placed on the ground and opened. His easel was set up and a canvas pulled from the expanded inside and secured. Lastly, the pack’s extendable legs were pulled out and the bag’s neck opened to give him easy access to his chalks and paints and brushes.

The light might not have been quite right just then, but Harry was confident that in an hour or two, the sun would reach the perfect angle for the painting that he had in mind. That, he knew, would give him plenty of time to sketch the area, the rocks and land, the sea and crashing waves against the cliff and, of course, the dragons.

Harry smiled to himself. As he’d come to expect, dragons had settled around him, some quite close, others further away but positioned where they could still keep an eye on him. Just in the field of view that he’d chosen for this particular painting, there were two Greens and Black.

§What do you, Speaker§? Myrddys asked.

§Hush and watch§, Ramaranth advised. §It is called ‘painting’. The Speaker can create marvels§.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Ramaranth, he knew, was quite proud of the painting that he’d done of her and even more so that she’d been the first. Anytime that he was either painting or sketching when she was near, she – and the hatchlings when he was in Romania – would be there, watching it all.

He was quite aware that every dragon eye was on him. In a way it was disconcerting. In another, it was comforting. Dragons, he’d come to understand, were a strange species, each with their own personality. They were curious and carefree, occasionally they argued, and they were incredibly loyal. They could be quite fierce and eminently terrifying and caused almost every human to fear them. But, when they were with him, they could almost be considered gentle, caring and overtly protective, a factor that he put down to not just the Mark that he’d been given by them but because he talked to them and cared for them, too.

Picking up a piece of chalk, he set to work.

Lines, sure and strong, began appearing on his canvas. His eyes flicked from the scene to the canvas over and over. Rocks, the sea, dragons, all took shape before him. The canvas and capturing every detail became his sole focus. The fact that dozens of dragon eyes were on him were forgotten. The breeze that ruffled his clothes and hair weren’t noticed. Birdsong and the crashing of waves disappeared from his hearing. There was only the canvas and the chalk in his hand.

The sun moved, the light changed, highlighting different parts of the scene before him with shadows or causing the spray from the waves to glitter and he worked faster, harder. Notes were made of colours, highlights marked.

Finally, when he was happy, he switched from the chalk to a brush. Colours were picked, squeezed from their tubes onto his palette and mixed as needed.

Harry relaxed as he hadn’t been able to for days. The painting wouldn’t be finished that day, probably not even that week, but he was content. Right then, he couldn’t be happier. It was just him and the paints. And his dragons, of course.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

2:00pm

Friday, 27 August 1995

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England

.

Walking down the lane towards the multistorey ramshackle building that was obviously only held together by magic, brought a cacophony of emotions to Charlie. It was home, the place he’d grown up, full of love and laughter, pickup quidditch games, hours of chores, scuffles, arguments, bangs, explosions, giggling and never-ending time where there was always something happening.

But, as much as he loved his family, there was never time to be alone like he’d found in Romania.

Here, though, his father was always there, and Charlie and Bill got on like a pair of crups. The twins made life unpredictable in the extreme, not to mention loud. Percy and Ron were worlds apart: one wanting everyone and everything to follow the rules, the other not caring about what he did, relying on hiding behind his mother’s skirts when his brothers chased him away. And then there had been Ginny.

Forcing thoughts of the baby sister that they’d lost from his mind, he strode the last few metres and paused at the door. Before he could decide whether it was appropriate to knock or to simply walk in, the door was yanked open.

“Charlie!” his mother exclaimed, before launching herself at him, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that he was afraid that he’d never breathe again.

“Hi, Mum,” he managed.

“Let me look at you,” she said, suddenly thrusting him away but firmly keeping a hold of both of his hands. “You haven’t been eating enough, have you?”

“I’ve been eating just fine, Mum,” Charlie tried, knowing that no matter what he said, he was doomed.

“Come in and sit down,” she instructed, dragging him towards the kitchen. “I’ll whip up a batch of biscuits. That should be enough to tide us over until dinner. You are staying for dinner.”

It wasn’t a question and Charlie had known that he’d be there for the duration before he came. Thus, why he hadn’t arrived until the afternoon.

“Yes, Mum,” he replied obediently.

“Charlie! How wonderful to see you again!” his father exclaimed appearing in the doorway before coming in to shake Charlie’s hand.

Crack!

Crack!

“Boys! What have I told you about apparating in the house!” their mother reprimanded, brandishing a wooden spoon at them.

“Sorry, Mum,” Fred said, sounding anything but sorry.

“Had to be done,” Charlie added.

“Especially when we heard…”

“That Charlie had finally come home…”

“Instead of just teasing…”

“His loving…”

“Caring…”

“Devoted…’

“Family…”

“With his name in the newspaper…”

“Every other day…”

“And making us wait…”

“Instead of rushing straight home…”

“To see us!”

“Alright, boys, that’s enough of that,” their father said, barely hiding the laughter in his voice.”

“Hey, Charlie,” Ron said, looking rather windswept as he came in through the door.

“Hi, Ron, been out flying?” he greeted his youngest brother.

“Yep,” Ron replied. “You wanna come out for a fly? We could have a pickup game?”

“No one’s going flying until we’ve caught up on Charlie’s news and he’s had some of his mother’s cooking,” their mother stated. “Merlin knows what sort of foreign food he gets in Romania!”

“Not that that’s the only place you’ve been of late, is it, Charlie?” Ron asked.

“Harry’s article said…”

“That you’d been to…”

“The Land Down Under.”

Charlie laughed. “Well, they’re not wrong. Being with Harry does make life interesting. Australia last week, England now. Who knows where we’ll be next week!”

“And how is our favourite Champion…”

“Twisty tongue talking…”

“Pranking partner?”

“Boys!” their mother said warningly. “I’m sure that young Harry Potter has no time for pranks!”

The twins stared at each other before turning to cast identical incredulous looks at her.

“You should have seen him the first day that he walked into the Great Hall, mum,” Ron said. “Used that wandless magic of his to put Malfoy and his cronies in their place. And used Snape to do it!”

“And what would you call…”

“Going fishing…”

“And paying a merman…”

“To rescue his hostage…”

“From the bottom of the lake…”

“For the Second Task…”

“But a prank on the…”

“Entire TriWiz Competition?”

“As much as it pains me to say it, the boys do have a point,” their father agreed.

“Brothers, let me tell you about the time that we had some poachers who managed to get into the Reserve,” Charlie said. “Our Harry rushed off in just his pyjama bottoms, no wand and the spells that he used to win against fourteen adult wizards…”

“Do tell…”

“Spare no details!” the twins said eagerly, with not just Ron but also their father nodding eagerly along.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

As Charlie walked into the twin’s bedroom, he raised an eyebrow at the way that George looked out and around the landing before deliberately closing the door.

The room looked the same as ever. Two beds were against one wall, end to end, with a thin cupboard at their feet. The rest of the room was a mix of boxes and bags and bundles all piled on top of each other in a haphazard mess. As curious as he was, Charlie knew better than to ask what was in any of it.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Fred offered.

Looking around, he saw a small barrel and pulled it out from under a tossed-aside cloak.

“Excellent…”

“Choice!”

Charlie looked at the twins. That was one thing about living in Romania: no headache inducing twin-speak.

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

Twin grins answered him before both pulled their wands and pointed them at the barrel.

“We solemnly swear…”

“That pranking is best planned…”

“With liberal amounts of libations!” they finished together.

Instantly, the barrel glowed a vibrant blue, shuddered and split open down the middle. Charlie’s eyes widened at the vast array of bottles that were stored inside it, and, considering how many there were, it was obvious that there was a mild space-expansion charm infused in the barrel as well.

“That is a lot of alcohol,” Charlie deadpanned.

“Really? You think so?” Fred asked, considering the barrel.

“We thought that it was barely enough,” George added.

“I’ll take a shot of firewhiskey,” Charlie said.

“Here you go, big brother,” George said a few minutes later, having procured three glasses and pouring.

“Now that we’re alone…”

“And away from our mother…”

“You can tell us the real…”

“Important…”

“Most note-worthy…

“News.”

“What are the female…”

“Dragon handlers like?”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

6:45pm

Friday, 27 August 1995

12 Grimmauld Place, London, England

.

Harry trudged through the front door of Grimmauld Place, tired but happy. He’d had a great day – minus one brief interlude – and the best part was that he’d had some time out. The afternoon had been all for him. No rushing about with some emergency. No translating. No demands on his time at all. Harry patted the bag that he was carrying where his magical camera and art supplies were stored. There were still dozens of hours of work to get the painting that he imagined finished, but he had the sketches done perfectly.

“Is that you, Harry?” he heard Sirius call.

Harry veered from his path to the stairs and instead followed the sound of his godfather’s voice to the kitchen.

“Hi. Sorry, I’m late,” he said from the doorway.

“I take it you spent the afternoon with the dragons?” Remus asked.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. “Got some amazing pictures! At least, I think I did; I still need to develop them to make them magical. Did I miss dinner?”

“Nah, I had Kreacher put a plate aside for you,” Sirius said. “Charlie, too, not that I expect he’ll want it.”

Noting the absence of the red-head, Harry cocked his head.

“Where is Charlie?” he asked.

“Charlie went for a visit to the Burrow, his family home,” Sirius answered with a grin. “If I know Molly, he’ll be lucky to escape before the end of the year.”

From what Harry knew of the Weasley matriarch, Sirius was probably right. A brief pang of longing shot through him and, not for the first time or even the millionth, he wondered what it’d be like to have a mum.

“Pull up a seat, Harry,” Remus said, “you can take your bag up later.”

With a nod, Harry slipped his bag off of his shoulder and placed it near the door before sliding into a chair opposite Remus, Sirius sitting at the head of the table. Instantly, Kreacher was there, mumbling under his breath too low for Harry to hear.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” Harry said, as the plate of beef wellington and vegetables was placed in front of him.

He’d only taken a few bites when Remus’ pointed stare at Sirius had him pausing, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“What?” he asked warily.

Remus’ stare intensified and Sirius looked momentarily uncomfortable before a huge grin appeared on his face. If it was supposed to reassure Harry, it failed abysmally, instead only ratcheting up the tension in his body.

“What?” he asked again.

“I received some letters today,” Sirius said, pulling out a bundle of three letters from his inner pocket and placing them on the table between the three of them.

“Yes?” Harry asked, eyeing the letters as though they were going to explode.

“It would seem, my dear godson, that I was right!” Sirius suddenly crowed.

Harry blinked, stared at the grinning man before looking at Remus to see the werewolf sigh with a shake of his head. Unenlightened, he switched his gaze back to Sirius.

“About what?” he asked.

“About how talented you are!” Sirius replied.

Harry narrowed his eyes at his godfather. “If that was all it was, then you wouldn’t be making me so nervous about whatever’s in those letters.”

“Just tell him, Padfoot,” Remus said.

“You know how Moony and I always said that you should write a newspaper column to tell the world about your adventures and dragons, that it would help people understand dragons better and might even promote better relations between people and dragons?” Sirius began.

“Yes,” Harry replied cautiously.

“Well, that’s worked out brilliantly, hasn’t it?” Sirius asked eagerly. “Exactly like we thought it would!”

“I guess so,” Harry replied, nodding slowly.

The two of them had pestered him nearly every day to write an article before he’d finally given in. It didn’t help that Newt had agreed and even helped him write a few of them. And Harry had to admit that they’d been right. From what Neville and the others had said, even what he’d seen himself, those articles were not just well-received but, surprisingly, looked forward to every week.

As he nodded, his eyes fell on the letters lying in the middle of the table. The letters. And Sirius had started with reminding him about his article. Plus, he was crowing about being right. But that hadn’t been the only thing that Sirius had been bugging him about over the last few months. Even last year, back at Hogwarts, Sirius had been praising him and coming up with all kinds of ridiculous ideas.

No! he thought, refusing to accept what his mind was already piecing together.

“Who are the letters from?” he asked, staring at the offending pieces of parchment.

“They’re from three companies called Gambol and Japes, Tewsbury’s Books and Publications, and The Magical Artiste,” Sirius replied.

Two of them, Harry had never heard of. But the last was the name of one of the very first places that Harry had visited in Diagon Alley when the whole TriWiz mess came about. It was where he’d learned about magical paintings and where he’d bought most of his art supplies.

“The Magical Artiste?” he asked, focussing on it.

Remus held his hand out and a grumbling Sirius dug some coins out of his pocket and dropped them into Remus’ hand. Harry grinned. These two seemed to bet a lot! And considering the number of times that Sirius was forced to pay out, Harry was glad that it only seemed to be a few coins that was bet. He shuddered to think what living with a perpetually drunk werewolf would be like if they bet a bottle of something alcoholic!

“Yes,” Sirius replied, as though paying Remus hadn’t happened. “They’ve heard about your amazing paintings, especially the magical one with Ramaranth and they’d like to commission you to paint some more for them to display in their shop. They would also be very interested in discussing with you their selling your paintings on your behalf.”

Harry stared at the man. It always surprised him that people thought that his sketches and paintings were good. Oh, he thought that they were, but he knew that he was biased. But for an art shop to think that? And they hadn’t even seen them!

“Why?” he managed, shaking his head.

“It comes down to reputation,” Remus said. “Well, that and galleons. You, Harry Potter, Speaker for Dragons, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Lord Potter, Lord Peverell, have a reputation, a name. If The Magical Artiste had one or more of your paintings, then that would increase foot traffic into their shop which would drive up sales. And people would buy your paintings, just to say that they have one!”

“And you can bet your life that they’d hang it somewhere prominently in their homes for others to admire!” Sirius added.

Harry sat back in his chair, staring between the two men. His art, his paintings, displayed for everyone to see? The idea had come up once before, before the magical world had intersected his normal life. His old art teacher, Mrs Jensen, had thought that he, along with a few others, had the talent necessary to enter a competition at the Surrey Art Gallery. He would have done anything to have some of his paintings displayed there! And now, here was an opportunity in the magical world. Yes, there was potentially money to be made but he didn’t care about that – well, maybe a little – but to have his paintings displayed for everyone to see …

“I’ll do it,” he stated.

“What!” Sirius exclaimed, all-but falling out of his chair in shock.

In contrast, Remus just sat there, a smug smile on his face, his hand outstretched towards Sirius once again.

“I was sure that I’d have to talk you into it,” Sirius grumbled, paying up.

“It’s what any artist ultimately wants,” Harry shrugged, “to have the chance to see their art admired and appreciated. Should I ask what’s in the other two letters?”

“It’s the same sort of thing, Harry,” Remus said. “There’s an offer there from Tewsbury’s Books and Publications for you to write a book about dragons which they are offering to publish.”

“Just like you two and Newt have been wanting me to do,” Harry sighed. “You know, Neville told me that every book about dragons – a lot of which is complete nonsense, by the way – has been sold out from every bookstore since my articles started coming out. I guess if people want to know about dragons, then it’d be best that they learn the truth. Perhaps even from the dragon’s perspective.”

“So, you’ll do it?” Sirius asked eagerly.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” he replied, wondering when he was going to have the time to actually write the damn thing. “And the last one?”

“Gambol and Japes,” Sirius said. “They’re a wizarding joke shop. I wrote to them months ago, told them about your Ancient Runes project, that Rune Box of yours. They love the idea and want to make it into a toy, probably with a bunch of different designs, that they can sell.”

“No,” Harry stated. “I’m not going to go against my friends.”

“Harry?” Remus asked.

“Fred and George Weasley – Charlie’s younger brothers. They want to open a joke shop of their own one day,” Harry said. “You two even met them.”

“Our most devout worshipers? Those two pranksters who consider themselves but mere amateurs or apprentices to the Marauders?” Sirius asked, obviously enjoying the memory of the twins bowing over and over at his feet.

“They’re the ones,” Harry grinned. “If that Rune Box is good enough for Gambol and Japes, then it’s good enough for the twins when they get their joke shop off the ground. They can have first rights on the idea. If they say no, then … then, I guess we can talk to Gambol and Japes.”

“That very kind of you, Harry,” Remus said.

“Yeah, well, they’re my friends. So’s Charlie. You know that,” he shrugged.

“If you like, I can deal with Gambol and Japes and Tewsbury’s Books and Publications,” Sirius offered. “I’m assuming that you’d like to talk to The Magical Artiste yourself?”

“Thanks Sirius, and yes, I would,” Harry nodded.

“If I can borrow Hedwig in the morning, I’ll send off the replies,” he said.

As if on cue, Hedwig came soaring into the kitchen and landed on the back of the chair beside Harry. With a smile, he reached up and stroked her chest feathers.

“I think Hedwig would be delighted to carry your letters,” Harry commented.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 33 – You Are Invited To …

8:50pm

Saturday, 28 August 1995

London, England

.

Asking Daphne out on a date had been a no-brainer as far as Harry was concerned. She was his girlfriend and going on dates was what dating people did. That didn’t mean that he didn’t find the whole thing terrifying – he had no idea what was supposed to happen on a date and his only experience prior to that night had been the Yule Ball, a night that had started out great but had ended in disaster.

Harry had briefly considered asking Sirius for advice, a thought that he had discarded so fast that the thought had barely entered his mind before exiting through the closest ear. Charlie had been a much better option, and one with advice that wouldn’t end in him getting slapped at the end of the night, unlike anything that he was sure that Sirius would suggest.

He’d chosen muggle, more for safety’s sake than anything else. He had some idea of how to handle muggle things, a vague idea of where to go, whereas if they’d stayed in the magical world, all the people staring at them would have made it unbearable.

They’d started with dinner, an Italian place where he’d ordered a pizza for them to share. As far as Harry was concerned, it was a delicacy that he’d only had once or twice in his life and something simple and new that he hoped Daphne would like. He’d been apprehensive when she took her first bite but the smile that had quickly blossomed had reassured him.

After dinner, he’d taken her to a movie. He still wasn’t sure if choosing ‘Babe’, a movie about a talking pig on a farm, had been the best choice but, considering his life where he could talk to dragons (and seemingly other reptiles) it didn’t seem all that ridiculous. Either way, Daphne had enjoyed it and that was all that really mattered to him.

After dinner and the movie, they’d slowly begun walking back towards The Leaky Cauldron, from which Daphne would Floo home. Not that Harry was ready for the night to be over. He wanted to prolong it; he simply had no idea of how to do that.

They were walking slowly, hand in hand, when he noticed Daphne’s head cock and she started looking around. Harry quickly followed her lead, trying to determine what had caught her attention. There was nothing out of the ordinary on the street as far as he could tell.

“Daph?” he asked.

“Do you hear that?” she asked, her head now focused on something to their right.

He cocked his head, listening hard. Music. It was faint but there.

“What is that music?” she asked.

“Probably a bar or a night club or something,” he replied.

“It’s so different,” she said and took a step in that direction, pulling Harry along.

“Well, it’s muggle music,” he replied.

The further that they walked following the sound, the louder it became. It was upbeat with a fast tempo that just cried out to be moved to. Gradually, lyrics were heard and Harry vaguely recognised it from before the magical world became his life.

“It doesn’t sound anything like Celestina Warbeck or anything on the WWN,” Daphne commented.

“The magical world has nothing like this?” he asked and then answered his own question as he thought back to the Yule Ball.

Most of the dancing that night had been to older, slower songs and while there had been some that was almost contemporary, even they felt a few decades out of date. At the time, Harry had just put it down to the fact that the professors were old and out of touch.

“Nothing,” Daphne replied with a shake of her head. “Even the Wyrd Sisters don’t play anything that sounds like that. Can we go in?”

It was just a pub, not a night club and there was no bouncer to stop them. Harry couldn’t see the harm, especially as they wouldn’t be trying to buy anything alcoholic.

“Sure,” he beamed.

Eagerly, she bounced forward before pausing just outside the door and allowing him to take the lead into the strange, new world.

The blast of the music as they walked through the door was almost enough to sway Harry backwards and he was forced to tug on Daphne’s hand to get her moving. Until his ears adjusted, it was hard to hear anything else except the lyrics, the beat hammering hard and fast, a tattoo that reverberated from his chest to the soles of his feet.

The pub looked fairly new, or at least, newly remodelled. A bar covered nearly the length of the back wall, shelves and shelves of bottles of all shapes and sizes and colours behind it. Around the other three walls were tables and chairs, most filled with people in small groups eating, drinking, talking and laughing. But what really caught Daphne’s focus, at least from what Harry could tell by the way that she’d stopped dead and was staring, was the floor in the middle of the room.

It was packed with dozens of people, all dancing to the music and with each other. Their bodies were swaying, feet moving or stamping, arms either up in the air or around their partner’s waists. Many looked to be packed in so close that they were moving more with the crowd than on their own, one giant mass gyrating to the beat and all of them with smiles on their faces, obviously loving every minute of it.

“Want to dance?” Harry asked loudly, leaning in towards Daphne’s ear.

She looked at him uncertainly. “I don’t know how to dance like that!”

“Nor do I!” Harry grinned back. “I think we’re just supposed to move with the beat however we want.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Nope,” he replied. “But I am pretty sure that there’s supposed to be dancing on a date. There’s dancing, so, shall we?”

She looked at him and bit her lip in her uncertainty and Harry couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing her. When he finally pulled back and looked into her eyes, it was to see her cerulean blue eyes sparkling at him. With a grin, he pulled her forward towards the dance floor.

At first, he tried to maintain a respectful distance, but the crowd seemed to be unaware. He was bumped and nudged by other dancing bodies until he was all but pressed up against Daphne. He looked into her eyes but she simply grinned back. His hands fell to her waist and he felt her hips moving in time with the beat. As one, their feet moved to the music, her hands alternating between his shoulders and high in the air.

One song finished and another started hard on its heels, the beat barely changing and they danced on. In the beginning, Harry felt awkward, unsure of how he was moving, before long, he didn’t care, his entire focus being on the girl he was with. They danced song after song, sometimes a little apart, much of the time sandwiched together in the press of the crowd, something that Harry was not going to complain about.

Sometime much later, when they were hot, sweaty and thirsty, they danced their way off the floor, massive grins plastered on their faces. Harry led them over to the bar to get them soft drinks. Once drunk, though, and as much as they would have preferred to stay and keep dancing, they knew that they had to call it a night.

“We have to come here and do this again!” Daphne exclaimed as they stepped back out onto the path.

“Yes!” Harry agreed and used his arm that was around her to swing her to him.

His other hand reached up to cup her face and he leaned in to capture her lips with his own, sealing the promise of many more dates to come.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:05am

Sunday, 29 August 1995

Fudge Estate, Cornwall, England

.

Cornelius read and reread the letter in his hands until the parchment crinkled with how tightly he was holding it.

What is Amelia thinking? he wondered. Clearly, she’s lost her mind!

Of course, the scarier thought was that she was not only completely sane but also extremely confident. Not that a confident Amelia Bones was any less scary.

Once again, he read the official notice of intent.

The Wizengamot was summoned to a special court to hear allegations against Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and sit in judgement upon what they hear.

Charging Dumbledore! Once again, Cornelius questioned Amelia’s sanity. The man was a pillar of society and had been so since even before he defeated Grindelwald. And then there were his connections and power block within the Wizengamot itself. Oh, that power block had taken a hit in the last few weeks between both Potter and Black…

“Potter,” Fudge mused.

He’d heard whisperings after young Harry had given his two seats in proxy to Cyrus Greengrass about things that Dumbledore had done or should have done regarding The-Boy-Who-Lived. That didn’t include the fiasco that was the TriWizard Tournament. The fact that Harry was back in Britain couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Who to back, though? Dumbledore or Potter?” he wondered, his mind spinning as he tried to work out the implications of each scenario.

An unnecessary glance at the letter in his hand confirmed that he had twenty-four hours to decide.

 / ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:13am

Sunday, 29 August 1995

The Headmaster’s Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

.

“Amelia, what a pleasant surprise,” Albus exclaimed, hiding his confusion at her appearance at his school and on a Sunday, no less.

“Headmaster,” she replied, her tone all business-like, not that she ever seemed to speak any other way.

“To what do I owe this pleasure,” he asked, leaning back in his chair behind his great desk.

He watched her walk from his office door to stand between the two chairs that he kept for visitors and ignored his gesture for her to seat herself.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, I am here to inform you that you are instructed to appear before the Wizengamot to answer charges,” she stated formally, holding out a sealed scroll that she’d pulled from an inner pocket of her cloak.

He stared at her. Charges? The only word that came to mind was: preposterous! After all, he wasn’t just the Headmaster of Hogwarts or the Supreme Mugwamp of the International Confederation of Wizards but – and this was most important – he was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot! There was no way that…

Somehow, he realised that, not only had he taken the scroll from her, but his fingers had unrolled it. His eyes skipped to the bottom and he scowled before managing to hide his expression.

In any case where the full Wizengamot had to be called to sit in judgement on a case, it required two signatures, the Head of the DMLE and the Chief Warlock’s. The only work around was for five Lords of the Wizengamot to sign in the place of the Chief Warlock.

Longbottom.

Black.

Greengrass.

Potter.

Peverell.

It seemed that the order was issued legally.

Reluctantly, his eyes travelled up the parchment, taking in the nature of the charges that he would have to defend himself against. Harry Potter and the TriWizard Tournament. Once again, a scowl flittered across his face before he could school it away.

He’d known that there had been a risk – however small – in telling the boy so much before the previous school year had been over but it had been necessary. The boy should have listened to him, fallen under his sway and done as he had been bidden, namely, give up this foolish idea of going off on an ‘adventure’ with dragons and instead enrol in Hogwarts and be guided by Dumbledore himself.

It seemed that Potter had gone and told everything to Bones.

Who was currently standing on the other side of his desk waiting for an answer.

“This does seem a foolish waste of the Wizengamot’s time,” he said lightly, letting the scroll roll closed with a snap.

“Foolish or not, Albus, you are expected in Courtroom Ten at precisely nine o’clock in the morning,” she told him. “Failure to appear will constitute more charges being laid, with the potential of a stay in Azkaban.”

“Amelia,” he said, ramping up his ‘disappointed grandfather’ routine, adding in looking at her over the top of his glasses for good measure. “There is no need to resort to such theatrics. You can rest assured that I will be there.”

“Very good,” she replied.

Then, after giving him a single nod, she spun about and strode from the room.

The instant that the door closed, Albus’ fist closed around the scroll and he growled.

“How dare she! How dare they!” he whispered, the very air rapidly cooling, frost forming on his windows in his rage.

Snatching up his wand, he lashed out with his most powerful bombarda, obliterating one of his side tables and every object on it. Then, with the greatest amount of effort imaginable, he pulled himself together and unfolded what remained of the scroll. He had work to do to get himself out of this. And to come up with a suitable way to …. punish the ones involved in this foolishness.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

9:26am

Sunday, 29 August 1995

12 Grimmauld Place, London, England

.

“Well, that’s that,” Sirius said grimly, handing the letter across to Remus.

“Amelia moves quickly,” Remus replied, noting the date.

“Oh, when Amy Bones is in the mood for something, nothing is going to stop her getting exactly what she wants!” Sirius grinned.

“I do not need to hear about your time dating Amelia Bones when you were a teenager,” Remus said. “I was there, remember?”

“Not for the best bits,” Sirius countered.

“With how often you regaled us with the details, not only then but especially of late, it almost feels like I was,” Remus sighed. Seeing Sirius’ mouth start to open, he rushed on, “and if you’re still hung up on her, then ask her out and see what happens!”

“She might hex me!” Sirius protested.

“Or worse, date you!” Remus argued. “Either way, one more word about it, and I’ll hex you, Padfoot.”

Noting the way Sirius’ jaw snapped shut, Remus gave a satisfied nod.

“Will Harry be ready?” he asked, changing the subject and brandishing the letter.

Sirius sighed. “He’s not going to like it, despite knowing that it was coming.”

“No. He’s not,” Remus agreed. “Let’s let him have his day with his friends; we can tell him tonight once he gets home.”

“Hey, Mooney?” Sirius asked, and only continued once Remus was looking at him. “You don’t think Harry would want to take a dragon with him, do you? In case Dumbledore wants to put up a fuss?”

“Don’t you dare suggest it!” Remus exclaimed, imagining the hysterics that a dragon appearing in the middle of the courtroom would cause, even more so, if it decided that Dumbledore should face proper dragon justice. “Harry does not need that temptation in his mind!”

“It was just a thought,” Sirius said lightly, before breaking out into a barking laugh, one that Remus couldn’t help but join in with.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

1:50pm

Sunday, 29 August 1995

Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

“This is amazing, Harry,” Hermione commented, her eyes huge and round.

“Bloody terrifying if you ask me,” Neville muttered.

Harry grinned at his mate. While he could tell that Neville was, indeed, scared, there was also a hint of something else, as though, he wasn’t quite as afraid as he thought that he should be.

“The dragons won’t hurt you,” Harry reminded them, not for the first time.

§It is pleasing to see your mate by your side, Speaker§, Ramaranth commented, sending Harry’s face bright red.

“Harry, what did Ramaranth say?” Daphne asked.

“Ah, she just said that it was good to see you again,” Harry replied quickly.

“She remembers Daphne?” Susan asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“That’s not what she really said, was it?” Daphne insisted, her eyes narrowed.

“It was the sentiment,” Harry replied. “Some words don’t translate well.”

“Which words?” Daphne asked and there was a dangerous lilt to her voice.

Harry had no idea how to answer. He was still getting used to the idea that Daphne was his girlfriend; the fact that the dragons had interpreted Daphne in a very different way wasn’t something that he had any control over. In desperation, he looked to Neville for help.

“There’s no use looking at me, mate,” Neville laughed. “You know that I don’t understand a word that the dragons say to you.”

“Well?” Daphne asked.

Harry knew that he had no choice. Daphne was simply too cany at picking up on things and stubborn enough to hardly ever let anything go. He sighed with the inevitable.

“There is no word for ‘girlfriend’ in the dragon language,” he admitted.

She stared at him and he could see her mind working, trying to work out what word the dragons did use.

“What word, Harry?” she asked.

He looked away before answering. “Mate.”

Her silence had him glancing back. He expected her to be angry, furious even. Who would want to be known as someone’s ‘mate’ – in the life-partner, one and only, sort of way – when they’d only been dating someone for a matter of weeks? Instead, a grin was slowly forming on her lips. Her eyes were shining. And then, all at once, she burst out laughing.

“Daph?” he asked, completely confused.

“Oh, Harry, you dolt,” she managed through her laughter. “Did you think that I was going to be angry?”

“Um, yes?” he replied.

“Culture clash, Harry, remember?” she said. “How many conversations have we had about our own culture clashes? Remember that fiasco with the Yule Ball? Neither of us understood the other’s culture which is why we fought for so long. It’s the same thing here, isn’t it?”

“Yes?” he replied.

She stepped up to him, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Silly boy,” she said, after the kiss, their foreheads touching. “You gave me the answer. The dragons have no word for girlfriend. ‘Mate’ is the closest analogy so that’s what they use.”

“Yeah, thanks, Daph,” he smiled, his eyes fixed on hers.

The thrumming that Ramaranth, Grouleth, Myrddys and a number of the other dragons were making travelled up into his chest, giving him a warm feeling. As wonderful as it was to learn that Daphne understood the language confusion, there was no way that he was going to tell her that the dragons were happy, approving of his match with her.

“Is that why you were able to ride Ramaranth?” Hermione asked Daphne when they pulled apart. “She sees you as Harry’s ‘mate’, so you get some of his privileges as well?”

“Harry?” she asked, throwing the question to him.

“Maybe?” he replied, not completely sure of the answer himself.

“Damn, Harry, I missed my chance, didn’t I?” Susan said, shaking her head. “If I’d made a play for you, maybe it’d be me getting to ride on the back of a dragon!”

Making a snap decision, Harry turned to Ramaranth.

§May I ask a favour, my friend §?

§You are our Speaker§, she replied.

He bowed in acknowledgement of her meaning, not that he’d ever do anything to take advantage of her or any of the dragons.

§My friends were talking about how I have been favoured and honoured among all two-legs by getting to ride upon your back while you flew§, he said.

§I enjoy having you fly with me, Speaker, both on your tiny stick and most especially upon my back§, Ramaranth replied.

§My … my mate, Daphne, also very much enjoyed the time that you carried her as well§, he said.

§She is your mate§, Ramaranth replied simply, answering that question.

§I was wondering if I could request the favour of my friends getting to experience flying with you today§? he asked.

Ramaranth turned her long neck and lowered her head to regard Hermione, Susan and Neville. Her great eye was swirling blues and greens as she examined them.

§They are of your weyr, Speaker§? she asked. §Like the dog-two-leg and wolf-two-leg§?

§Yes, they are§, he replied with a grin.

He’d have to remember those names for later, when they’d cause the most fun. But the other part of Ramaranth’s question, that his friends were part of his family, there was no denying. There were very few that he let into his life and they were some of the very few.

§I would be honoured to carry one of your weyr upon my back§, Grouleth stated.

§As would I§, Farlys added.

§I request the honour as well§, Bremlys said.

§If you would permit me, Speaker, I would like the honour as well§, Norberta said.

Harry grinned at the dragons and gave them the deepest bow that he could.

“Harry?” Daphne asked when he straightened.

“How would you all like to go for a ride on the back of a dragon?” he asked excitedly.

“You mean it?” Hermione practically squealed.

“That would be brilliant, Harry! Thank you!” Susan added, bouncing on the spot.

“You’re sure that it’ll be safe, Harry?” Neville asked. “Only I’m not too good with heights.”

Harry eyed his nervous friend and the four dragons.

“Grouleth would probably be the one for you, then,” Harry told him. “He’s an older dragon and extremely sensible.”

Neville visibly gulped, staring between the Ironbelly and Harry.

“If you say so,” he managed.

“I wish my parents could be here to see this,” Hermione mused. “And with their camera!”

“I don’t see why they couldn’t be,” Harry said. “In fact, I don’t see why your Grandmother, Neville and Madam Bones and Daphne’s family also couldn’t be here.”

Gathering his magic, he concentrated on his happiest thought and pushed his magic out through his outstretched hand. Instantly, a gust of white mist shot forth before coalescing into a ghostly dragon. It flew around them, its great wings flapping before its wings raised as it came into land.

“Go to Sirius and Charlie, tell them to get Madam Bones, Madam Longbottom, the Greengrasses and Hermione’s parents and bring them to Papa Stour. And not to forget to bring their cameras,” he told it.

Instantly, the ethereal dragon leaped into the air before flying off a hundred times faster than any real dragon ever could.

“Was that a patronus?” Susan asked, wide-eyed.

“Yeah, pretty cool, isn’t it?” Harry grinned. “Remus taught me how to cast one.”

“The sad part is, he still doesn’t understand what he just did,” Daphne told Susan with a shake of her head.

“What’d I do?” Harry asked.

“Wandless,” Neville said, his voice little more than a whisper. “He cast it wandless!”

“Sorry, I keep forgetting to use my wand,” Harry shrugged.

“Infuriating, isn’t he?” Daphne said to the others before kissing him on the cheek. “Never change, Harry. Never change.”

Chapter Text

8:58am

Monday, 30 August 1995

Courtroom Ten, Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Prosecutor strode through the large double doors into Courtroom Ten. Momentarily, the volume of murmurings dipped as the eyes of dozens of Wizengamot members as well as the witches and wizards in the viewing gallery focused on her.

For her part, Amelia ignored them all, instead making a beeline for the table set aside for her to the right of centre of the great circular room. In short order, she had placed the piles of parchment that she expected to need in the correct order on the table. Only then did she look up and around.

As expected, the rows of plum clad Wizengamot members were already seated, many leaning towards their neighbours as they conversed. Above and behind them, the public gallery was full to capacity. Amelia wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see a row of quills poised above sheets of parchment, ready for the journalists to record everything that happened that day. And off to one side, on seats down on the floor, sat Harry Potter and Sirius Black, one looking rather nervous, the other quite, well, serious.

Seeing her eyes on them, Black gave her a suggestive wink, one that she deliberately chose to ignore. She had no time for him distracting her right then.

A door to the side opened and three men strode in. She watched as the Court Scribe, the Minister for Magic and the temporary Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (for this trial) took their seats.

All that was missing was the wizard of the hour.

Amelia’s frown was echoed by Chief Warlock Ogden before the latter sighed and motioned to the Herald.

“Here ye. Here ye. This nineteenth session of the Wizengamot in the year of nineteen ninety-five is called to order. All members are expected to have taken their Seats.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than the double doors at the rear of the courtroom slammed open, causing Amelia to spin around.

“My apologies for my tardiness,” Albus Dumbledore said airily even as he strode into the room, his deep purple and gold robes flaring behind him.

Amelia’s eyes narrowed at the man. She could see what he was playing at just with his attire. Oh, they weren’t Wizengamot robes but the similarities in colour and style was simply too striking to be anything but deliberate. Even the swirling gold piping on Dumbledore’s robes was close enough to the stylized ‘W’ of the Wizengamot to ensure that none there forgot that one of the man’s titles was Chief Warlock. At least, when he wasn’t on trial himself.

“You were expected to be here on time, especially to your own trial,” Chief Warlock Ogden reprimanded.

Dumbledore simply gave the man a smile before turning to the hardbacked chair with the attached chains that, as the accused, he was expected to sit in. Without warning, Dumbledore pulled his wand and gave it a single flourish. Instantly, the wooden chair was transfigured into a deep red chintz armchair.

Amelia goggled at his brazenness even as he sat, placing his elbows on the armrests, steepled his fingers and peered over his glasses at all those before him, as though he was the one in judgement on them instead of the other way around.

Her blood boiled. There was no way that she was going to let this, this … man dictate the day’s proceedings. Pulling her wand, she gave it a vicious jab towards the chair. Instantly, the red chintz morphed back into its original design, the chains instantly leaping up and draping themselves over Dumbledore and pulling moderately tight.

“Thank you, Madam Bones,” Chief Warlock Ogden nodded at her.

“Tiberius, I must protest!” Dumbledore stated. “This chair, these chains, are quite prejudicial against me.”

“You will address me as Chief Warlock Ogden,” Ogden replied. “This is the Court of Law of the Wizengamot and you will respect me and the office that hold, however temporary that is.”

 Dumbledore gave the man a look of deepest disappointment.

“And as for the Chair of the Accused, Dumbledore,” Ogden continued, “you are the accused in this trial! You are supposed to be sitting in it!”

Before Dumbledore could reply, Ogden turned to the Court Scribe.

“Scribe, are you prepared to fulfil your duties?” Chief Warlock Ogden asked the traditional question.

The Scribe, once again young Percy Weasley, didn’t even blink at the question, his parchment had been ready under his hand, his quill inked up and poised, since the Herald had called the Wizengamot to order.

“I am,” he replied.

“Excellent!” Ogden replied. “Then let us begin. This Special Court Session of the Wizengamot has been called to hear allegations against Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and to sit in judgement upon what they hear. I charge the Members to Listen and Bear Witness, casting judgement as the Law and Magic demands. Madam Bones?”

Amelia stepped around the desk and stood in the centre of the floor. Her gaze swept over the Members, her allies – Augusta, Cyrus, Andromeda – each giving her a nod of encouragement. Then, lifting the parchment in her hand, she began to read.

“I, Madam Amelia Susan Bones, of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Bones, and as Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement bring before this Court the following charges against one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore of the Minor House of Dumbledore:

One count of gross neglect of a minor child, namely Harry James Potter, on the date of November first, nineteen eighty-one, by leaving said child on the doorstep of a muggle house in the middle of the night.

Two counts of illegally interfering in the proper running of an Ancient and Noble House by assigning proxies to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter’s seats on both the Wizengamot and the Hogwart’s Board of Governors without authorisation by either a member of the House or the Guardian of said House Minor.

One count of interfering in the proper magic of an ancient magical artefact, to wit, the TriWizard Tournament’s Goblet of Fire, by confounding said artefact to accept four schools instead of three.

One count of entrapment of a magical person, to wit, Harry James Potter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter by illegally stealing his signature and submitting it to the Goblet of Fire in order to force Harry James Potter to compete in the TriWizard Tournament.

Four counts of kidnapping and endangerment of a minor for use as ‘hostages’ in the TriWizard Tournament, to wit, Cho Li Chang, Hermione Jane Granger, Gabrielle Marie Delacour of the Magical House of Delcour and Daphne Ophelia Greengrass of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass.

Once count of interfering in an international event with the intention of manipulating the outcome, namely the TriWizard Tournament.

I ask that you sit in judgement upon these charges,” Amelia finished formally.

As each charge had been read, the susurration of the crowd, both the members of the Wizengamot as well as those in the public gallery had increased to the point that Chief Warlock Ogden had needed to glare at them all, his gavel raised in warning.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” Ogden said, once the noise had dropped to nothing, “you have heard the charges levelled against you. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty to all charges,” Dumbledore replied in a tone that suggested that he was affronted at the absurdity of the question.

“Very well,” Ogden said. “Madam Bones, you have heard the response of the accused. I charge you with proving your case.”

“Thank you, Chief Warlock,” she replied.

Moving back to her table, she laid the charge sheet parchment to the side and picked up the next piece from her pile.

“I call Madam Minerva McGonagall of the Noble House of McGonagall to the witness stand.”

The small door to the side was opened by an auror and Minerva McGonagall entered the courtroom. She walked briskly across the room, only once looking at Dumbledore, her lips pursed tightly together before she mounted the two steps to sit in the witness stand.

“Professor McGonagall, thank you for coming today,” Amelia began.

McGonagall simply gave a curt nod.

“Professor, how long have you worked at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?” Amelia asked.

“Come September first, it will be thirty-eight years,” she replied.

“And you have worked for Albus Dumbledore all that time?”

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore has been the Headmaster for my entire tenure as Professor of transfiguration at Hogwarts,” McGonagall affirmed.

“Professor, I’d like to take you back to November first, nineteen eighty-one,” Amelia said. “Please tell us what happened that day.”

McGonagall’s eyes darted to Dumbledore and then to Harry before she once again focussed on Amelia.

“That was the day after the fall of You-Know-Who and the tragic deaths of James and Lily,” she began. “I spent much of the day outside of the magical world.”

“Where?” Amelia asked.

Once again, her eyes darted to Dumbledore. “The home of Petunia and Vernon Dursley, the aunt and uncle of Harry Potter.”

“Why were you there?”

“Albus asked me to watch them, to ensure that they were safe,” McGonagall replied. “Petunia was Lily Potter’s sister. It was possible that a Death Eater could retaliate for what had happened to their master against Harry Potter’s relatives.”

“I see,” Amelia said. “And did any Death Eater’s go there?”

“No,” McGonagall replied.

“Did any other magical person go there that day?” Amelia asked.

McGonagall hesitated and Amelia was certain that she was going to have to press the woman. Thankfully, McGonagall answered the question.

“Yes. Albus joined me that night and later, Hagrid brought young Harry to Albus.”

“What happened to Harry Potter that night?” Amelia asked.

“Albus had decided that Harry would be safest away from our world, with his last remaining relatives,” McGonagall replied.

From the corner of her eye, Amelia saw Sirius squirm in his seat; thankfully the man remained silent for once.

“His last remaining muggle relatives,” Amelia corrected, more for the Sirius’ sake than anything else. “The Potters are related to a great many magicals, however distantly.”

McGonagall’s lips pursed. “As you say. However, Albus deemed that Harry would be safest there, where he could grow up away from the fame that he was sure to attract for being The-Boy-Who-Lived.”

“We know that Harry Potter grew up with his muggle relatives,” Amelia stated. “Please tell us the method by which young Harry was handed over to his Aunt and Uncle.”

Once again, McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, this time not only were her lips pursed and extremely thin, but her eyes were full of disapproval, even anger.

“Albus left Harry on the doorstep.”

Around them, the Wizengamot members and gallery broke out in protests and shouts, causing Ogden to bang his gavel to regain silence.

“To be clear,” Amelia summarised, “the then fifteen-month-old child was not placed into his aunt’s arms, nor did Albus Dumbledore speak to Petunia or Vernon Dursley at all? Did he at least knock on the door?”

“No.”

Amelia gave a simple nod. That charge was proven.

“I ask you now to turn your memory to February of his year and the Second Task of the TriWizard Tournament,” Amelia said. “Can you please tell the court what the Task entailed?”

“The Second Task required the Champions to have deciphered a clue that would lead them to ‘rescuing’ a hostage hidden in the mer-village at the bottom of the Black Lake, within a given timeframe,” McGonagall replied.

“Please tell us the names of these hostages.”

“Cho Chang for Cedric Diggory; Daphne Greengrass for Harry Potter; Hermione Granger for Victor Krum; and Gabrielle Delacour for Fleur Delacour,” McGonagall replied.

“How were these hostages chosen?” Amelia asked.

“I can only guess as I was not a part of the Tournament organisers,” McGonagall replied. “However, apart from Gabrielle who is Fleur’s sister, all of the others were the dates of the Champions for the Yule Ball.”

“And all four are underage?”

“Yes.”

“Were permissions sought from their guardians?” Amelia asked.

“Again, as I was not a part of the Tournament organisers, I cannot say for sure, however I suspect not,” McGonagall replied.

As tempted as Amelia was to ask her to explain her suspicions, she knew that any good lawyer would shoot that question down. And even though Dumbledore was representing himself, he knew the game better than most.

“Thank you, Professor,” Amelia said before looking up at the Chief Warlock. “I have no other questions for this witness.”

“Mister Dumbledore?” Ogden asked.

“I have no questions for Minerva,” Dumbledore stated lightly.

“Thank you, Professor, you are excused,” Ogden said.

At once, McGonagall rose from the Witness Chair and strode from the room, her head high and back straight.

“I call Lord Sirius Orion Black of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black to the stand,” Amelia said.

Instantly, the man in question jumped up and strode across the room, a serious expression on his face, despite the twinkle of mirth that Amelia could detect in his eyes.

“Lord Black, thank you coming today,” Amelia began.

“My pleasure, Amy,” Sirius replied.

“Madam Bones,” she retorted reflexively and wishing that she could have done this differently. If there was one man that knew exactly which buttons of hers to press it was him.

“Madam Bones,” he repeated with a nod, meeting her eyes with an intensity that she remembered all too well.

“Please state for the record your relationship with Harry Potter,” she asked.

“I am Harry’s Godfather,” Sirius replied. “I was also his guardian as appointed by his parents James and Lily in their will before he was emancipated, although I didn’t get to exercise that responsibility due to circumstances beyond my control. Oh, and we’re also distantly related – Harry’s paternal great-grandmother was my great-aunt.”

“I would like to focus on the aspect of you being Harry Potter’s guardian,” Amelia stated. “What duties should this have entailed?”

Sirius’ face darkened. “I should have been the one to raise Harry, if I hadn’t been put in Azkaban three days after James and Lily were killed. That means that I would have been responsible for where he lived, his clothing, food, education, everything really. That also should have included monitoring his finances and his responsibilities both to this esteemed body and on the Hogwart’s Board of Governors.”

“Was your guardianship ever revoked?” Amelia asked.

“That’s a tricky question,” Sirius replied.

“How so?” Amelia asked.

“Because the answer depends on who you ask. If you ask magic or the goblins, then no. I was never convicted of a crime which meant that I should have always been Harry’s guardian. If you ask everyone else, then they would all say that yes, the instant that I was sent to Azkaban, then I was no longer Harry’s guardian. Legally though, which is the only real answer that matters, then no.”

“Objection!” Dumbledore called. “It is in the records of this very body that guardianship of Harry Potter was transferred from Sirius to myself at the behest of the Wizengamot itself on November fifteenth, nineteen eighty-one.”

“Chief Warlock Ogden,” Amelia said quickly, before the man could rule, “the laws of the Wizengamot are very clear on matters relating to the transferral of guardianship. There has to be just cause for a Wizengamot-ordered transferral to be legal, for example, the conviction of a person. And there was no just cause in the case of Sirius Black and Harry Potter! Lord Black was never convicted of a crime, therefore it was unlawful for the Wizengamot to assign Dumbledore as guardian of Harry Potter. It’s why the goblins would never grant anyone, Dumbledore included, access to the Potter vaults, they, and magic, knew that Lord Black was the rightful guardian of Harry Potter.”

Ogden looked back and forth between the two, obviously trying to decide what to do.

“If I may,” Minister Fudge said, standing from his seat. “Madam Bones is correct. The laws are very clear here, I’ve looked into the matter myself and found that what was done back in ’eighty-one was clearly illegal. It may have been for the right reason, but it was the wrong decision. Harry Potter’s guardian should always have been Sirius Black, and as Lord Black said, both magic and the goblins always knew that.”

Amelia gaped at the man. Never in her wildest dreams would she have pegged him for siding with her. Unless he’d accidentally swallowed a vial full of veritaserum? It was then that she noticed Fudge glancing towards Harry, a hopeful look flitting across his face. And then it dawned on her, the man had decided to throw his political capital in with Harry. What that meant in the long run was anyone’s guess.

“Dumbledore, your objection is overruled,” Ogden finally decided after tearing his eyes away from the Minister. “Magic overrides the man-made laws of even this body.”

“Lord Black,” Amelia said, turning back to the man, “as guardian of Harry Potter, did you authorise Albus Dumbledore to leave Harry Potter on the doorstep of Petunia and Vernon Dursley?”

“No!” Sirius all but yelled. “That’s something that I would never ever have done. Petunia hated magic. Lily knew that and she made sure that we all knew that too. She never wanted Harry to go to her sister. Harry was always supposed to go to me first as his godfather and to his godmother, Alice Longbottom, second.”

Twin gasps caused Amelia’s eyes to flick to both Harry and to Augusta sitting up in the Longbottom seat. Clearly neither had known that fact.

“Do you know who was assigned as proxy for the Potter seat here in the Wizengamot and the Hogwart’s Board of Governors?” she asked.

“A sycophant of Dumbledore’s. Elphias Doge,” Sirius spat.

“A choice that you would not have approved of?” Amelia asked in clarification.

Sirius laughed. “I’ve only met the man a handful of times in my life. I doubt he’s ever had an original thought in his life. So, no. I never would have approved of the man. I would have sat both of those seats myself.”

“Thank you, Lord Black. I have no further questions for this witness,” Amelia stated.

“Mister Dumbledore?” Ogden asked.

“I have a couple of questions,” Dumbledore replied. “Sirius, where were you when I was doing my best for young Harry and deciding the best place for him to live, where he could grow up safe and sound.”

“Safe and sound? Is that a joke?” Sirius growled. “Do you have any idea of the life that Harry lived with those … those people?”

“I have asked you a question, my boy, I expect an answer,” Dumbledore stated, ignoring Sirius’ own question.

Sirius glared at him, his eyes narrowed. Finally, though, he gritted his teeth and answered.

“I was searching for the traitor. Peter Pettigrew,” he spat. “The man responsible for James and Lily’s deaths.”

“And abandoning your responsibilities to your supposed ward,” Dumbledore stated airily.

“I was still his guardian! You even said it yourself. You didn’t convince the Wizengamot to give you guardianship until twelve days after I was sent to Azkaban, fifteen days after you decided to dump Harry on a doorstep in the middle of a freezing night in November!”

“It was not as cold as you are making out, Sirius. And warming and sleeping charms can indeed do wonders,” Dumbledore replied. “Young Harry was never in any danger. I saw to that.”

“Do you have any other questions for Lord Black?” Ogden asked.

“Not at the moment,” Dumbledore replied.

“In that case, thank you Lord Black, you are excused,” Ogden said.

Amelia waited until Sirius had left the stand and made his way back to his seat beside Harry where the two exchanged whispered words before calling her next witness.

“I call Lord Harry James Potter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter to the stand.”

Amelia watched as Harry closed his eyes for a moment, seemed to steel himself, before standing and walking across to the stand.

“Good morning, Lord Potter,” she smiled.

“Good morning, Madam Bones,” he replied.

“Lord Potter, you competed in the TriWizard Tournament as the fourth Champion, a tournament designed for only three champions, one each from the premier schools in the United Kingdom, France and Bulgaria. That has been the case for hundreds of years, that there should only ever be three champions. Do you know how or why your name was chosen as the fourth Champion?”

“Yes,” Harry replied succinctly.

“How do you know this?” she asked.

“Dumbledore told me,” Harry shrugged.

“And what, exactly did he tell you?” she asked, looking not at Harry but at Dumbledore himself.

“He told me that he was the one who enchanted the Cup and that he was the one who put my name into it to make sure that I was chosen,” Harry said. “He said that it was to get me back into the magical world, that just taking me from my relatives would have been seen as kidnapping but that the Tournament provided an opportunity for him.”

Amelia nodded. “Did Dumbledore tell you why he wanted you to return to the magical world?”

“Yeah, some garbage about some prophesy saying that I was the only one who could kill the madman who’d already died when he killed my parents and tried to kill me,” Harry snorted in derision.

“Objection!” Dumbledore called. “There is indeed a prophesy that states that young Harry is the only one who can kill Voldemort when he returns. The Unspeakables can confirm that the prophesy exists.”

“What does this prophesy say?” Ogden asked.

“I do not believe that sharing the exact wording is wise,” Dumbledore replied. “We do not want to give Voldemort any more power than he already has when he returns; knowing the wording could indeed give him that.”

The Wizengamot members, as well as those in the gallery, exploded with shouts, most filled with fear, others with cries of shock or dismay.

“Are you saying that You-Know-Who is still alive?” Ogden near shouted, forgetting to bang is gavel to regain order in the court.

“I have maintained that position for many years,” Dumbledore stated. “The only difference now is that, due to young Harry’s indiscretion, you are all now aware of the existence of a prophesy concerning both Harry and Voldemort.”

“What proof do you have that Voldemort is still alive?” Amelia demanded.

Dumbledore stared at her and she could see that he was weighing up his options.

“It is common knowledge that there was a basilisk at Hogwarts two years ago,” Dumbledore said.

“I remember,” Amelia scowled. “I lost fourteen good men in that fiasco, not to mention that the school was closed for six weeks. A student of yours was also declared missing and never found.”

“Yes, young Ginerva Weasley,” Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “You will also remember that there was an unidentified man who was killed along with the basilisk?”

“Yes,” Amelia replied, her eyes narrowed. She’d never been able to identify that man, despite how many questions she asked.

“That man was a version of Voldemort,” Dumbledore stated, eliciting gasps of horror and cries of fright from dozens in the room. “Thus proving that Voldemort is not as dead as you would all hope to believe.”

“A version?” Amelia asked. “What does that mean?”

“I believe that we have gotten off topic, have we not?” Dumbledore asked lightly. “The important thing to remember is that there is a prophesy, and that young Harry is needed for the Greater Good of the magical world. It was imperative that there be a way for him to return to us. The Tournament provided such an opportunity.”

Amelia stared at the old man for longer than she cared to admit before wrenching her mind back to her questions, after all, he had just admitted to the charge against him.

“Lord Potter, what else did Mister Dumbledore admit to you?” she asked.

“He said that he was the reason why the hedge maze wouldn’t let me simply step out of the Task,” Harry replied. “That he’d charmed them to force me onwards. Apparently, he wanted me to learn how to be a hero.”

“A hero?” Amelia repeated.

“Yep,” Harry replied. “He was most upset with me when I bargained with Filsch, the merman, to bring Daphne up from the bottom of the lake for me.”

“Is there anything else?” Amelia asked.

“Not really,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “Other than the fact that the man seems determined to have me at his school as a student, despite the fact that I’ve signed a magical contract which also covers my education.”

“In that case, thank you Lord Potter,” Amelia said. “I have no other questions for this witness.”

“Dumbledore?” Odgen asked.

“I believe that the important parts have already been covered with young Harry,” Dumbledore replied.

“Thank you, Lord Potter, you many step down,” Ogden said. “Madam Bones?”

“My remaining questions are for Albus Dumbledore,” she replied, turning to face the man held in the chair by magical chains.

“Ask away, Amelia,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles.

“You will address me as Madam Bones,” she snapped.

Dumbledore, of course, didn’t bother answering.

“We have already established that you did, in fact, leave Harry Potter on the doorstep of his muggle relatives in the middle of the night,” she began. “We have also established that you did place one Elphias Doge as proxy in seats held by the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. You have admitted to enchanting the Goblet of Fire to accept Lord Potter’s name as the Champion of a fourth school. And we have heard testimony of how you manipulated the outcome of the Third Task.

“My question for you, Mister Dumbledore, relates to the Second Task. Did you or did you not, seek the permission of the guardians for the four underage students you used as hostages in the Second Task?”

“You are forgetting one thing,” Dumbledore replied with that small, grandfatherly, indulgent smile that he used far too often.

“And what would that be?” Amelia asked.

“That I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Dumbledore replied. “And as such, it is within my purview to act as guardian for all students in activities on the school grounds.”

“I will take that as a no, then,” Amelia stated. “You did not contact the parents or guardians of the students and ask their permission, or even simply inform them of the ‘activity’ that their child would be a part of.”

“As I stated, while at Hogwarts, as their Headmaster, that duty falls to me,” he replied.

Amelia stared at the man. That was always going to be the sticking point and she’d known it.  She simply had to hope that it was enough to show that the man had no decency when it came to doing the right thing and following societal expectations. Which, in turn, would hopefully help the rest of the charges.

“The prosecution rests, Chief Warlock,” she stated.

“Thank you, Madam Bones,” Ogden nodded. “Mister Dumbledore, you may present your defence.”

“Thank you, Chief Warlock,” Dumbledore said, inclining his head. “I have no need to call anyone on my behalf. Instead, I will simply say that you all know me. You know of my achievements. You know what I stand for. The Greater Good of not just Magical Britain, but of the Magical World. I have and always will do what is right, even if the reasons for it cannot be seen at the time. There is a danger out there and young Harry there is the key. I know this and all that I have done has been for his benefit as well as yours. I trust that you see that and will adjudicate correctly.”

“If that is all, I will call this Court in recess for deliberations,” Chief Warlock Ogden declared. “We will reconvene in thirty minutes.”

The bang of his gavel signalled the plum-robed Wizengamot to rise and file from the room through two doors.

Once they had all retired, Amelia swept her pieces of parchment together and tucked them into her valise. Then, straightening her back, she moved across to where Harry and Sirius were still sitting.

“Amelia,” Sirius greeted.

“Sirius,” she replied, surprised that he wasn’t using her nickname.

“How do you think it went, Madam Bones?” Harry asked.

“Honestly, it’s hard to tell,” she frowned. “The fact that he admitted to some of the charges himself will probably have helped.”

“I wasn’t expecting him to bring up about Voldemort and that basilisk,” Sirius admitted.

“No. Neither was I,” she admitted. “Truthfully, that will probably have done the most damage to the charges. People are still very much afraid of Voldemort. Dumbledore giving proof that he’s not as dead as we’d all thought will have them wanting to keep him close.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Because he’s Dumbledore,” Sirius sighed.

“I don’t understand,” Harry frowned. “He’s just one guy.”

“That may be true,” Sirius said, laying a hand on his godson’s shoulder, “but even back then when Voldemort was at the height of his powers, Dumbledore was the only one that Voldemort was afraid of.”

“And the people will want to keep him around to help them feel safe,” Amelia agreed. “As frustrating as it is, it’s the truth.”

“But what about the laws that he’s broken?” Harry asked frustratedly.

“We can but hope that he still receives some repercussions for breaking them,” she replied. “There isn’t much else we can do.”

“Well, there is one thing,” Sirius said, a mischievous grin on his face.

As much as she didn’t want to know what the man was thinking, she couldn’t not ask. “What’s that?”

“You and I could go get a drink together after this,” Sirius said.

Amelia stared at him. There was so much history between them. He was the most frustrating, infuriating man that she knew. He knew exactly how to wind her up, both in the good ways ands the bad. Those good ways, though… The memories just his grin brought back, the way that he made her feel so alive. He knew how to make her relax and laugh and love more than any other man she’d ever known. Could she? Should she? Would a single drink be enough, or would it turn into two drinks, dinner, dates, more? Or would she want to kill him after an hour in his presence. She could toss a galleon and it could easily come down either way.

“We’ll see,” she finally hedged.

“That’s not a no. I’ll take it!” Sirius grinned.

“Well, whatever you do, I’m going to Papa Stour this afternoon to do some more painting,” Harry stated.

---

A little less than half an hour later, the two doors reopened and the members of the Wizengamot filed back in.

Amelia watched them intently, trying to gauge their mood. What she saw was inconsistent at best. Of her allies, Cyrus gave her the biggest clue, flashing her a look of frustration.

Once all were seated, the Herald called all to order, followed by Chief Warlock Ogden banging his gavel.

“On the charges against Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, this Court is prepared to give verdict,” Ogden declared.

“On the charge of gross neglect of a minor child, namely Harry James Potter, on the date of November first, nineteen eighty-one, we the Wizengamot, find the accused guilty.

“On the two counts of illegally interfering in the proper running of an Ancient and Noble House, we the Wizengamot, find the accused not guilty.

“On the charge of interfering in the proper magic of an ancient magical artefact, we the Wizengamot, find the accused guilty.

“On the charge of entrapment of a magical person, namely, Harry James Potter, we the Wizengamot, find the accused guilty.

“On the four counts of kidnapping and endangerment of a minor, we the Wizengamot, find the accused not guilty.

“On the charge of interfering in an international event with the intention of manipulating the outcome, we the Wizengamot, find the accused guilty.”

Internally, Amelia sighed. Four guilty verdicts out of ten. In some ways it was better than she thought, even though it was nowhere near what she’d hoped for.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” Ogden continued. “For the crimes that you have been found guilty of, we the Wizengamot sentence you to the permanent stripping of your title of Chief Warlock. In addition, we fine you in the amount of twenty thousand galleons. Ten thousand galleons are payable to Lord Harry James Potter for restitution for grievances; the remaining ten thousand galleons is payable to the International Confederation of Wizardry in restitution for your interference in an international event.

“So say we. This Special Session of the Wizengamot is declared finished.”

Chapter Text

9:20am

Tuesday, 31 August 1995

Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania

.

Memzath’s head turned even before the first steps of his visitor were felt, much less heard. Rising, he lumbered down the tunnel towards the light of the canyon.

§Weyr Leader§, Damrath said, lowering his head in respect.

§Damrath, it is good to see you this morn§, Memzath replied.

§Weyr Leader, I caught a taste in the air; it boded ill§, Damrath replied.

§Show me§! Memzath instructed.

With a great leap, Damrath was airborne, his wings working hard to rise above the canyon walls. Memzath, with his greater wingspan, was mere moments behind him.

The sun was still low on the horizon, the dawn having not long passed. Memzath had seen the two-legs on their sticks flying over earlier, something that was noted by all the dragons. Every morning since as long as Memzath could remember, the two-legs would fly above them.

Never before the Speaker had arrived had any dragon risen to fly with them; occasionally challenge, yes, but not fly alongside. When the Speaker had first arrived, the dragons had joined him in flight to celebrate the joy of having one such as he who respected them, spoke with them and honoured him. The practice was continued every day alongside the Speaker by most dragons, something that all dragons had come to enjoy.

But with the Speaker gone, looking after dragons faraway, the two-legs had continued their flight on their own, alone, without dragonwing beside them. Thus, it surprised Memzath that Damrath had obviously sensed something on a morning flight.

The two dragons soared above the Weyr, travelling half the length of the canyon before Damrath veered off towards the south. The pastures were that way where there was always good hunting and good eating. But they did not stop there, instead, continuing on.

A buzz akin to a multitude of the tiniest annoying insects swarmed over his body for the merest moment and Memzath knew that they’d flown beyond the two-leg magic that surrounded the Weyr.

§Down there, Weyr Leader§, Damrath indicated.

As they spiralled in towards the indicated spot, Memzath reached out and tasted the air. At first it was the faintest touch of magic. Dark magic. An evil taste. A taste that should not be. Memzath concentrated, unaware that his eyes were now spiralling yellows, oranges and reds.

§There§! Damzath said, indicating with a pointed wing a fallen log.

§I taste it§, Memzath replied and stalked forwards.

Damzath, he was aware, lumbered to the side, keeping the focus of their attention in his sights.

Now that he was closer, Memzath flicked his tongue out. The wrongness of the magic struck him and his eyes began smouldering with a red so dark that it almost appeared black. He’d tasted this magic before, this wrongness. It was vile, most evil. Memory burst into being of the last time that he’d tasted it – in the Weyr bowl, residing in the very head of the Speaker.

But that time, the magic, while evil, was smaller, less intense. This was brighter, more concentrated, as though that smaller piece that was in the Speaker stemmed from whatever evil lay hidden under the log.

Nothing, though, could stay hidden from a dragon’s sight for very long. Extending one great paw, Memzath hooked his claws into the log and yanked it away. The log sailed off to the side, not that he cared where, his sole focus being on what remained.

§A dragon. Good§, a snake hissed.

Memzath didn’t deign to reply, instead merely studying it.

It was a good size for a snake, perhaps it might even be considered larger than normal. Not that Memzath cared. All that mattered was the taste of that evil magic, magic that was coming from the snake.

How that could be, Memzath neither knew nor cared. The fact that it was so close to the Weyr was most concerning. Could it be that this evil magic was seeking out the Speaker, to taint him once more? The idea had merit in itself, however miniscule a chance that magic might have of achieving such a thing.

The Speaker was protected. The Speaker had the wings of every dragon to shelter under, the flames of all dragonkind at his call, should it be needed.

§You will make an excellent host§! the dragon hissed.

Memzath’s reply was short but sharp.

A single, white-hot burst of flame washed over the snake, burning it to ash in the blink of an eye. An ethereal scream echoed in the air for longer but Memzath paid it no heed.

Taking a carful taste of the air, Memzath found that the evil taint that the snake gave off was gone. Satisfied, he gave a single snort before leaping into the air, Damrath right behind him before they wheeled about and flew back towards the Weyr.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

1pm

Tuesday, 31 August 1995

Headmaster’s Office, Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

.

Albus Dumbledore swung his chair away from the parchment burning in the fireplace. He had no desire to see it ever again, thus why he’d banished the offensive thing there just moments before.

It had arrived a bare five minutes before by owl and he’d opened it in complete ignorance of what it was going to contain. The seal holding it closed declared who it was from: a well-known entity that he had never had trouble with. After all, letters from the International Confederation of Wizardry, of which he was the Supreme Mugwamp, had only ever contained useful information or good news.

This, though, was different.

The letter had been brisk, to the point, and brief.

The ICW had heard about that farce of a trial from the day before and the absurd verdict. And they’d believed every word of it. The letter expressed surprise and disappointment and a strong encouragement for him to step aside from his duties as Supreme Mugwamp so that ‘there was no taint of impropriety upon that esteemed office’.

Oh, Albus knew exactly what it was really saying in those flowery words: you’re fired!

The audacity of them!

He had half a mind to have Fawkes flame him to the head chambers of the ICW in Andorra in all his power and remind them exactly who he was! Fire him! Exactly who did they think he was? Better yet, who did they think they were?

“Headmaster Dumbledore?”

Albus blinked and pulled his thoughts back to his office at the unexpected voice. Spinning his chair around, he searched the room, his eyes coming to rest on the fireplace. Instead of the burning parchment in red flames, it now contained the head of Jeremiah Hawksbury in green flames.

It took him a moment to ensure that the ‘right’ expression was on his face before addressing the man. He wondered what a member of the Hogwart’s Board of Governors was doing FLOOing him but after that letter, he suspected that he didn’t want to know.

“Ah, Jeremiah, what is it that I can do for you?” he asked lightly.

“Can you please open up your FLOO?” the head of Jeremiah asked. “Myself and two others have been tasked with seeing you.”

As tempting as it was to refuse, to claim that they make an appointment for another time or day, Albus knew that all he’d be doing was putting off the inevitable. A wave of his wand at the fireplace opened the connection.

“Of course, my boy, come through,” he said, aiming to set the tone early.

Jeremiah’s head disappeared, only for the green flames to shoot up a moment later and for the man himself to step through, brushing soot and ash from his robes as he did so. As each of the next two arrived – Augusta Longbottom and Cyrus Greengrass – Albus found himself regretting his decision to allow them through.

This, he knew, was not going to be fun.

“Welcome Jeremiah, Augusta, Cyrus,” he said jovially. “Won’t you all take a seat?”

A swish of his wand conjured a third chair to join the two that were already on the other side of his desk. Albus sat back in his own chair, folded his hands atop his beard and peered at the three over the top of his half-moon spectacles as they took their seats.

“Lemon drop?” he asked, indicating the bowl.

Unfortunately, all three declined.

“What is it that I can do for the three of you today?” he asked.

“As I’m sure that you’ve guessed, we’re here on behalf of the Hogwart’s Board of Governors,” Augusta stated.

“The Board met yesterday afternoon after your trial to discuss all that we heard as well as the sentence that was passed,” Cyrus added.

“And yet I was not in attendance,” Albus pointed out. “It is customary for the Headmaster to be at every meeting of the Board.”

“As the meeting was about you, Headmaster, we felt that it was better if you weren’t there,” Jeremiah stated.

Albus focussed his best disappointed look at the man and was internally gratified to see Jeremiah wince and look abashed.

“Stop that!” Augusta stated, emphasising her point with a sharp slap of the top of his desk with the palm of her hand. “The Board is entitled to meet without the Headmaster present; we have done nothing wrong and you shouldn’t be trying to intimidate us into thinking that we have!”

“Perhaps you would like to know what was decided?” Cyrus asked and Albus detected a note of barely concealed joy in the man’s tone.

“If the Board is having meetings without myself or a senior member of staff in attendance, then I believe that we should discuss your proposals in order to decide on the correct decisions,” Albus told them.

“There is no discussion to be had, Albus,” Augusta stated. “The decisions have already been made.”

“And we will be having a meeting with Minerva McGonagall as the Deputy Headmistress after we leave here to inform her of the decisions that were made as well,” Jeremiah added.

Albus sighed dramatically at them, causing only Jeremiah to look momentarily down. Unfortunately, neither Augusta nor Cyrus reacted as he wanted them to.

Cyrus pulled a scroll from inside his robes and placed it in the centre of Albus’ desk. Albus, though, deigned from touching it, merely glancing at it before looking back at the three of them.

“That,” Cyrus said, pointing at the scroll, “begins by outlining the new directives under which the Headmaster of Hogwarts is bound.”

“And they are?” Albus asked lightly while internally bristling with rising anger.

“Firstly, that the Headmaster is no longer to act as guardian to any student not of age in any capacity,” Augusta began. “That duty now falls to the student’s Head of House.”

“Secondly,” Cyrus continued with a satisfied-looking grin on his face, “all parents must from now on be informed if a student is to be involved in non-regular school activities and permission sought from said parents or guardians, just as they already are with Hogsmeade visits.”

Albus stared at them, his disappointed look in full force. Unfortunately, neither of those directives were unexpected. Unwanted and unneeded, yes, unexpected, no, especially after Cyrus’ rant after the Second Task of the TriWizard Tournament when his eldest, Daphne, was used as Harry Potter’s hostage without his knowledge or consent.

“There is one further part to the decisions that the Board made,” Jeremiah said, causing Albus to focus on him. “Due to the damage done to Hogwart’s reputation both here in the magical United Kingdom as well as abroad in France, Bulgaria and beyond, brought about by your own actions in your interference with the correct running of the TriWizard Tournament, you are hereby placed on probation for the next school year. A member or members of the Board of Governors will be conducting month reviews into your performance to ensure that you are performing to the high standard that we expect from the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. At the end of the next school year, we will meet again to decide the next step, be it to return you to full duties, continue the probation period or to cancel your appointment as Headmaster.”

By the end of his speech, Jeremiah looked to have been cowed by Albus’ intense concentration on him. As he should be, stating such ridiculous nonsense. The man was barely able to maintain eye contact, his breathing had become fast and shallow, and his voice was little more than a whisper.

“I see,” Dumbledore stated, although he really didn’t.

“It’s all spelled out in there,” Cyrus stated, once more pointing to the scroll in the middle of his desk. “Minerva will be given a copy as well so that she is aware of the decisions that the Board has made.”

“Do you really believe that all that is really necessary?” Albus asked, nodding at the offensive scroll. “You know that I have nothing but the best intentions for the Greater Good for the students and my school.”

“Intentions are one thing; actions and results are quite another!” Augusta stated.

“Well, I think that we’ve taken up enough of your time,” Cyrus stated, rising from his chair. “I’m sure that you will want to read the directive for yourself. We’ll see ourselves out after our meeting with Professor McGonagall.”

Albus simply gave a nod of acknowledgement, refusing to say anything, after all, there was nothing to thank them for.

He waited until the three had risen from their seats, crossed the room and exited out the door before snatching up the accursed scroll.

A quick read through was enough to ensure that it said exactly what he’d been told. His fist closed around it, scrunching up one side of it before he wandlessly banished the thing into his fireplace. A jab of his wand caused the embers to reignite, flaring up around the parchment and burning the thing to ash.

First the ICW and being stripped of the role of Supreme Mugwamp! Now these … people … daring to dictate to him in his own school!

Only the fact that he knew the three were still relatively close to his office and likely to hear, stayed his hand from casting the most offensive spells that he knew around his office in an attempt to burn off how furious he was feeling.

After all, as incandescently angry as he was, he was still Albus Dumbledore with a reputation to maintain and uphold.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

10:45am

Wednesday, 1 September 1995

Platform 9¾, King’s Cross Station, London

.

Harry stepped through the barrier onto the platform and his eyes widened and then widened some more. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d been told about it, of course. But seeing was a whole other weyr of dragons.

This was amazing! An entire train platform in one of the busiest train stations in the world, complete with a huge scarlet engine, billowing steam, a line of carriages and hundreds of people, witches, wizards, adults, teens, children all milling about or running here and there talking, laughing, shouting and it was completely hidden from the rest of the world.

Magic, he knew, could do some amazing things. But this, this was almost too much to imagine.

He’d been to Diagon Alley before, multiple times even, and he’d been told that it was hidden from the non-magical world. But that was different. The Alley could be explained away as being a real place, just with the entrance hidden so that no non-magical could get in without a magical showing them. This, though, an entire platform hidden by magic, was different. Somehow, it was squeezed in between two normal train platforms.

Idly, Harry wondered if the entire thing had been displaced into a different dimension or something, only accessible by magic. His mind began trying to work out how that worked in practicality, especially when the train left the station. Were the train tracks that it ran on in a separate dimension as well or did it join up with the ‘normal’ train tracks? And if it did join up, then what stopped the Hogwart’s Express from running into the hundreds of other, normal trains on the tracks? He was sure that the controllers didn’t account for it in their schedules of which train ran on which track at any particular time.

“Harry!”

The sound of Susan’s voice calling him brought him out of his introspection and he looked up and waved.

“Come on, Pup, your friends are waiting,” Sirius said from beside him.

As the two walked forward, Harry noticed the crowd turning towards them and parting. Whispers seemed to race away from them in a wave. And then the murmurs started, the not-so-concealed comments. And the stares. The attention was almost oppressive, and Harry didn’t think that it was something that he’d ever like or get used to. At least when it came to humans; dragons, while acting much the same way in a lot of respect, didn’t seem to bother Harry at all.

“Hi, guys,” he smiled as he joined up with his friends in front of one of the carriages halfway down the train.

Instantly, Daphne was in his arms, hugging him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said into his ear.

“I’ll miss more,” he told her.

“Did you want to have a look inside the train?” Neville asked.

For an instant, Harry was tempted.

“Probably shouldn’t,” he finally decided. “Could you imagine if I was still on board when it left?”

“That would be funny, though,” Susan chuckled.

“We’d get more time together if it happened,” Daphne said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I wonder if it’s ever happened before,” Hermione mused. “Someone accidentally being on the train when it left, I mean. I think that I’ll look it up once we get to Hogwarts.”

“This is going to be a big year for you guys,” Harry noted.

“Our OWL year,” Neville nodded, a flash of panic overtaking his face. “I’m sure that I’m going to fail everything.”

“Oh, Neville, we’d never let that happen,” Hermione reassured him. “You’re much better and smarter than you think you are.”

“Especially in Herbology,” Susan added. “No one can beat you in that.”

“I’ll send you some more plants and seeds when I visit other weyrs,” Harry assured him. “Perhaps you can grow them for extra credit or something.”

“Cheers, Harry,” Neville beamed, his look of uncertainty banished, replaced by excitement at the idea.

“How much longer are you going to be in Britain?” Daphne asked.

Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure. The Reserve at Papa Stour is coming along nicely. Charlie seems happy with it, as do the dragons. It’s more administration work that needs to be sorted at the moment. A few weeks? A month? I can’t see it being longer than that.”

“And then it’s back to Romania? Or are you off somewhere else?” Daphne asked.

“Romania,” Harry replied. “Just like you lot, I’ve got studies to do too, and my tutors are all in Romania. Well, apart from Sirius and Remus; I can’t seem to get rid of those two, they follow me everywhere.”

“We’ll see you again before you leave, though, right?” Daphne asked, her eyes looking into his intently.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he replied. “You might even see me sooner than you think.”

“What? When?” Daphne asked although she was barely able to be heard over the sound of the piercing whistle announcing that the Hogwarts Express was about to get underway.

“We better get on the train,” Hermione insisted. “Bye Harry. See you later.”

“Take care of yourself, mate,” Neville smiled, shaking Harry’s hand.

“Bye Harry,” Susan said, giving him a quick hug before she followed the other two onto the train.

“I’ll miss you, Daph,” Harry said, taking his girlfriend into his arms.

“I’ll miss you, too,” she replied, kissing him deeply.

The whistle sounded a second time.

“Daphne!” Susan urged.

“Go! I’ll see you soon!” Harry said, giving her a last quick kiss before pushing her towards the train.

“When?” she asked, even as she backed away.

“Soon!” he replied, even as a great cloud of steam whooshed over the platform as the train began inching forward.

Quickly, Daphne ran the last few steps before jumping up onto the train.

The train began picking up speed and he, just like all of the other parents and younger children there, began waving and calling out goodbyes to the train and those on it.

“You’re going to see them soon?” Sirius asked, laying a hand around Harry’s shoulders.

“That’s the plan,” he smiled even as the caboose passed them. “At least, the dragons and I have something in mind.”

Chapter Text

2:35pm

Wednesday, 1 September 1995

Dragon Weyr of Great Britain

Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

§Speaker, the two-legs have arrived §.

Harry looked across to where Farlys had dropped in beside him, her great wings rising and falling as they flew over the island.

§Thank you, Farlys. I guess we’d better go and talk to them§, he replied. §Are the others aware§?

§Yes, Speaker, they are already winging to the meeting place§, she replied.

It had been peaceful up there in the air with only the winds, clouds and, of course, a dozen or so dragons keeping him company. Indeed, he’d been the only human on the island since he’d arrived that morning, which had given him time to survey the island and to have the conversations that he’d needed to have.

The island of Papa Stour looked remarkedly different from when he’d first laid eyes on it. Not that that was unexpected. More tonnes of rocks had been shipped onto the island than Harry could count in the past week. And, once they had arrived and the shrinking charm had been removed, the dragons had gone to work. Rocks and boulders ranging in size from small cars to a triple-decker bus had been caught up by the dragons and moved around the island.

Most of the dragons had turned the rocks that they’d gathered into great nests; others had been more ambitious and piled the rocks carefully on top of each other to create dragon-sized caves. The location of each weyr had been carefully chosen by each dragon and from what Harry could tell, there had been very few disagreements among them over who ‘settled’ where. By mutual decision, the area around the buildings that would be used by the human dragon handlers was given a wide berth by all dragons.

Bringing his broom around, Harry lay flat against the handle and put on a burst of speed. For a brief instant, he wondered whether he could get to the upcoming meeting first. The green nose of Farlys reappearing in his peripheral vision abused him of the notion.

As he and Farlys approached the buildings, the other dragons that had been flying with him pealed away. Five dragons had arrived before them and Harry marvelled once again at seeing so many different types and colours of dragons together – Hungarian Horntail, Ukrainian Ironbelly, Norwegian Ridgeback and two Hibernian Blacks – soon to be added to by Farlys’ Common Welsh Green joining them. The three wizards and one witch were nearby, their distance from the dragons indicating their varying levels of braveness.

“Harry!” Charlie called, raising his hand in greeting.

“Hey, Charlie,” Harry replied as he landed beside his friend before nodding to the other three. “Madam Grimblehawk, Angus, Minister Fudge.”

“Mister Potter,” Fudge replied, bustling forward with his hand outstretched, both eyes firmly locked onto the bulk of the dragons behind Harry.

“I’ve told you before, Minister,” Harry sighed. “The dragons won’t hurt you unless you hurt them first.”

“Yes. Quite so,” Fudge replied, clearing his throat and pulling off his green bowler hat and holding it in front of his chest as though it was some kind of shield.

“Thank you for meeting us, Harry,” Mathilda smiled. She then turned to the dragons and bowed to them, just as she’d seen Harry himself do. “If you would give my greetings to the dragons, Harry and tell them that we value their input in the decisions today?”

Harry blinked at her, surprised by her actions. It did, though, solidify the idea that he’d had in mind for a while now.

§My friends, Mathilda greets you all and thanks you for being here. She asks for your wise counsel this day in the discussions of the two-legs§, he said.

§We like this one, Speaker§, Myrddys stated. §It is uncommon for a two-leg to show dragons any respect§.

§Not even the two-legs at our Weyr treat us this way§, Ramaranth commented.

§They are set in their ways but they are trying§, Harry replied. §This Weyr is new and I think the two-legs here are trying something new to them§.

“Harry?” Mathilda asked.

He smiled at her. “The dragons return your greetings and are impressed by how you’re including them today.”

Fudge, Harry saw, gave a firm nod, a slight frown on his face and Harry wondered what the man was thinking. Fudge had wanted to hold this meeting at the Ministry; Harry, though, had pushed back, insisting that it be held here, where the dragons could also be involved. After all, the decisions today would affect the dragons and the weyr for years to come.

“The dragons are very happy with the weyr,” Harry told them all. “I think that they’ve almost finished creating their own individual weyrs.”

“Do they need any more rocks?” Mathilda asked.

“Are there any more dragons that have yet to come here?” Harry asked.

“Our records are that there are only four more we’re still trying to locate,” Mathilda replied.

“There are also eighteen wild dragons in Iceland,” Fudge stated. “I’m in negotiations with the Icelandic Ministry to have those dragons found and brought here.”

“They’ll be better off here with their own kin rather than off on their own,” Angus nodded approvingly.

“In that case, if you could bring in another load or two of rocks for the new dragons when they get here, that would be good,” Harry replied to the original question, making a mental note to talk to Myrddys or Bremlys later about sending a dragon or two to Iceland to find the weyrs of their brethren, regardless of how the Ministerial negotiations went.

“Your report, Madam Grimblehawk, stated that the Dragon Weyr of Great Britain was ready to get underway properly?” Fudge asked.

“The buildings have now all been altered and fitted as necessary, and I have nine dragon handlers and six support staff signed and ready to start work next Monday. That’s in addition to Angus, here, who knows this island almost as well as the dragons,” Mathilda replied proudly.

“We’ve also had the two wee islands to the north warded an’ filled with flocks o’ sheep, goats and coos for the dragons,” Angus added.

“Sounds to me as though you’re only missing one thing that a dragon reserve needs,” Charlie stated. “A Head Dragon Handler.”

“Which, I believe, is why we’re here today,” Fudge said.

“I have an idea about that and it’s why I insisted that we decide who that should be here, where we can make sure that the dragons are happy with the choice,” Harry said.

“But none of us can talk to dragons like you can, Harry,” Mathilda reminded him.

“I know,” Harry replied. “But the dragons knowing which two-leg … er, witch or wizard, is in charge will make it easier for them. The reverse is also true – the dragon handlers knowing which dragon is the Weyr Leader is also important.”

“Which dragon is that?” Charlie asked, looking over the three native dragons, Farlys, Bremlys and Myrddys.

“I’ll discuss that with the dragons after the Head Handler has been chosen,” Harry replied.

“Madam Grimblehawk, as Head of the Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain, I believe that it falls to you to nominate who the Head Dragon Handler will be,” Minister Fudge smiled.

“The choice hasn’t been easy,” she replied, her eyes flicking to both Harry and Charlie. “The most experienced of the nine that I’ve employed is Jonas Winderwood. He’s originally from Canada and has been working at the Draconian Sanctuary of Tanzania for the past twenty-three years. He has Beast Masteries in both dragons and nundus. In my opinion, he is the most qualified and should do a fine job.”

“He does sound like just the man we need,” Fudge nodded.

“If I may, I’d like to suggest a different person for the job,” Harry interjected, his eyes firmly fixed on Mathilda.

“Yes? Who would that be?” she asked.

“You.”

“Me? You can’t be serious!” she exclaimed.

“Don’t say it!” Charlie quickly interjected, cutting off the reply that Harry had no intention of making in that crucial moment.

“I think that you would be the perfect person for the job,” Harry insisted. “You know the dragons, what they need and you’ve worked tirelessly for this weyr since even before it was a weyr.”

“Harry, Mathilda doesn’t even have a Mastery,” Charlie pointed out.

“So?” he shot back. “That thing isn’t worth the parchment it’s written on! It doesn’t touch on dragon culture, working with dragons as an intelligent species, the true needs and wants of dragons or anything! You know that.”

Briefly, Harry noted the frown on Charlie’s face that quickly morphed into one of intense contemplation.

“But I don’t know anything about running a dragon reserve, let alone a weyr,” Mathilda stated.

Harry smiled at her. “Just the fact that you are able to differentiate between a ‘weyr’ and a dragon reserve is an excellent sign, one that proves my point. You care for the dragons, that’s worth more than anything else in my book. The other stuff, the dragon handlers can teach you.”

“I don’t know, Harry,” she replied uncertainly.

“Harry, Mathilda is one of my sub-Department Heads, I need her at the Ministry,” Fudge put in.

“I get that you need someone to do the paperwork,” Harry replied. “But this is the real world and the dragons need an advocate here. Look, how about we ask the ones that matter?”

Harry took a couple of paces forward and bowed to the six dragons looking on interestedly.

§My friends, we are currently deciding who should be the Leader of two-legs here at the Weyr. I have proposed Mathilda to fill that role and seek your counsel§, he said, laying a hand on the witch’s shoulder.

Instantly, a deep thrum filled the air, not just from the six dragons in front of them but also from a dozen others arrayed nearby.

§You are our Speaker§, Myrddys stated. §Your thoughts will always carry great weight with us, more so in this as your wisdom echoes our own. Your choice is very good, Speaker; we will be happy to have her weyr here with us§.

“There, that settles it,” Harry beamed, turning back to the humans. “The dragons want Mathilda to be the Head Handler, too.”

“Is that what that noise means?” Mathilda asked.

“The dragons thrum like that when they’re happy or they approve of something,” Harry nodded.

Harry watched her look at the dragons for a long minute before she turned to Angus who gave her an encouraging nod and then to the Minister.

“Minister Fudge,” she said, straightening. “I formally request a transfer from the Ministry to become the Head Dragon Handler of the Dragon Weyr of Great Britain.”

Fudge stared at her before looking at Harry and then casting a nervous look at the dragons.

“Very well, Mathilda,” he finally said. “We’ll work out the arrangements back at the office but consider yourself reassigned.”

“Thank you, Minister,” she smiled before spinning about and bowing deeply to the dragons. “Harry, please tell them of my new position and that I promise to do everything in my power to do a good job as the Head Dragon Handler.”

§Mathilda thanks you for approving of her for the position as Leader of the two-legs here and vows to work to ensure that you have all that you need to live a good life here in the weyr§, Harry translated.

Once again, the dragons thrummed in approval, enhanced by bugles of happiness from both Farlys and Bremlys.

“I’d say yon dragons approve,” Angus laughed.

“I’m hoping that I’ll be able to call on you to help me talk to the dragons if any problems come up, Harry?” Mathilda asked.

“As much as I can,” Harry nodded. “This weyr may not be a part of my official contract but as Speaker for the dragons, I aim to visit all the dragons of the world as much as I can.”

“I am very glad to hear that, Harry,” Fudge beamed. “May I quote you on that? I understand that you can’t stay in Britain permanently because of your contract but telling the wizarding public that you’ll be back periodically will hopefully placate them, especially after the allegations of this prophecy that Dumbledore was sprouting at his trial.”

Harry sighed. The Daily Prophet had been particularly espousing the idea that Harry needed to stay in the country to ‘keep them safe’. They’d even begun bandying about a new name for him: the Chosen One. As far as he was concerned, it was even worse than The-Boy-Who-Lived!

“If you think it’ll help, sure,” he replied.

“Okay, we have our Head Dragon Handler,” Charlie said, “so, which dragon is Weyr Leader?”

“I guess that’s my cue,” Harry grinned at him.

He turned and once again bowed to the six dragons arrayed in front of him.

§My friends, the two-legs have their Leader to help the Weyr§, he began. §It is only right that this new weyr also have a Weyr Leader§.

Instantly, the dragons began thrumming in approval and anticipation. Bugles from those dragons sitting on the outskirts of the area sounded and Harry knew that they were calling for all the dragons of the weyr to attend them.

§You are the Speaker of Dragons, you Speak for us, with our Voice. We hold your words above our wings. We ask you, Speaker, to decide for us which dragon shall Lead§, Myrddys said, lowering his great head.

As he’d been speaking, the air around them filled with dragons, all winging towards them before perching in a circle around Harry and the six dragons. A glance behind him, showed him that Charlie, Angus and Mathilda were huddled together with Fudge in the centre of them.

§I thank you for your trust in me. I do not take this charge lightly§, Harry said, bowing once more.

Slowly he turned about, taking in the dozens of green Common Welsh dragons and black Hibernian dragons. Finally, he once again faced the three native dragons that he knew the best.

§I have thought long and hard about who I believe would make the best Weyr Leader§, he began, knowing that dragons were not ones for long, drawn-out speeches or actions. §And, after careful consideration, I declare Myrddys, the eldest dragon of the Weyr, to be the first Weyr Leader of Albion§.

A thrumming so powerful that the very ground under his feet vibrated permeated the island with the dragon’s happiness and approval, even as a great many dragons began trumpeting in the air loud enough for Harry and the other humans to clap their hands over their ears in an attempt to prevent hearing loss. Dragons leapt skywards, winging about in an aerial display that awed Harry beyond anything that he’d seen before, and he couldn’t help but join in their happiness with laughter of his own.

Finally, after ten minutes of dragon celebration, they had quietened enough for Myrddys to step towards Harry and extend his long neck outwards and down so that his chin was laying on the ground at Harry’s feet. Even with that, Harry still had to look up into Myrddys’ eyes.

§Speaker, you have given me a great honour§, the Weyr Leader stated. §I will not let you down but Lead the Weyr in wisdom and honour, for all dragons, not just here in our Weyr, but for all dragons-kind§.

Harry beamed at the great Hibernian Black and reached out to pat him on his snout.

§I know you will, Myrddys§, he said.

“Harry?” a tentative voice asked.

“Mathilda,” Harry said, turning towards her. “Come meet the Weyr Leader, Myrddys.”

“Hello, Myrddys,” she said, despite knowing that the dragon couldn’t understand her.

“It’s alright, you can touch him,” Harry said.

Cautiously, Mathilda took an extra step forward before slowly reaching out and placing her hand beside Harry’s. He smiled and stepped back, leaving Weyr Leader and Head Handler to get to know each other.

This, he thought, bodes well for the future.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

7:35am

Thursday, 2 August 1995

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

.

He knew that he should question it, after all, it made no logical sense. Not that logic and magic ever really went hand in hand. But this?

Harry shook his head at the wonder of it. Three dragons flying over Scotland, over houses and hamlets, even towns and a city and not one muggle had seen them! Not one person had looked up at them and pointed and screamed or run away. Running. Yes, Harry was positive that there would be lots of running and instant panic at the sight of three enormous dragons flying through the sky. But there wasn’t. Instead there was simply … nothing.

He supposed that the dragons had some sort of innate ‘cloak of invisibility’ or a magical field that stopped them from being seen by non-magicals. Which made sense. He was sure that he’d read somewhere (or maybe Newt had mentioned it?) that other magical creatures had it as well. And the only reason that magical creatures had made it into muggle fairy tales and myths and legends was that they’d been seen by someone with a hint of magic in them, a squib maybe, and had told the story. Maybe one day, he’d ask.

Whatever the reason, all he knew was that he could look down on the people there, going about their normal routine and see them but, if they looked up, all they saw was the endless blue sky dotted with the occasional cloud, nothing more. If only they knew that, not that far above them, he was there, riding on the back of a dragon.

Harry grinned when the small town below took on some very recognisable features. Hogsmeade. There was no doubt in his mind.

Leaning back into Ramaranth’s spine that he was wedged between, Harry pulled out his special mirror.

“Daphne!” he called.

Her face appeared almost instantly, as though she’d been expecting his call.

“Harry!” she smiled. Then, “where are you?”

“Hi, Daph!” he said, ignoring her question. “I was wondering if you could do something for me?”

“That would depend,” she replied.

A hint of familiar, bushy-looking hair on the edge of her mirror told him that she wasn’t alone, which worked perfectly.

“I was wondering if you could take this mirror to Hagrid?” he asked.

“Hagrid? Why?” she asked and now he could also see a flash of long red hair on Daphne’s other side.

“Because I have a surprise for him,” Harry replied. “I think you, Nev, Hermione and Susan would enjoy it, too.”

“Very well, then,” she replied.

He waited then, seeing the image in the mirror jostling about as Daphne stood from where she was obviously sitting in the Great Hall and began walking.

Ramaranth’s wing tipped and he leaned into the soaring curve. The majestic sight below him took his breath away. He’d seen it from the air before but from the back of a dragon was something else!

“Harry? Are you still there?” Daphne asked.

“I’m here,” he confirmed, smiling at her.

The next thing that he knew, the mirror had changed hands and he was now looking into the extremely hairy face of the very first magical person that he knew.

“Hi, Hagrid!” he called.

“Harry!” Hagrid boomed back at him, a massive grin showing behind his beard. “It’s goo’ ta see ya!”

“You, too, Hagrid,” Harry grinned.

“This is a marvellous little thing ya got here, this mirro’,” Hagrid said.

“Yeah it is,” Harry replied. “Hagrid, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Ye don’ need ta be gettin’ me anythin’, Harry,” Hagrid replied. “Just gettin’ ta talk to ya is special enou’.”

“I know, Hagrid, but believe me, you’re going to love this,” Harry assured his biggest friend. “All you have to do is go to the window and look outside.”

“Ou’side, you say?” Hagrid asked, obviously confused.

“Please, Hagrid,” Harry insisted.

The extreme jostling of the mirror told Harry that Hagrid had agreed to do as asked.

Lowering his hand slightly, Harry switched focus to where he, Ramaranth, Grouleth and Norberta were. Already, they’d flown over the quidditch pitch and were now banking along the side of the great castle. He saw the entrance appear and beyond it, the windows that they needed.

§There, Ramaranth§! he called, pointing the way.

How she saw his finger, he was never quite sure. All Harry knew was that the three dragons slowed to an almost stop, hovered right outside the window for a second before flaring their wings and landing.

“Harry! Dragons! Norbert!” the great, booming voice was nothing compared to what he suspected it would have been like in there with Hagrid as opposed to having thick castle walls between them.

“I think Hagrid’s seen us,” he commented dryly.

“You don’t say,” a clearly disgruntled Daphne said, appearing back in the mirror. “Next time you decide to do something so … so … wonderful, warn a girl to use a muffling charm on her ears, yes?”

“Sorry, Daph,” he replied contritely.

Her exasperated sigh seemed a little put on, especially when he noticed the smile around her lips.

“I’ll see you in a minute,” she said before the mirror went back to being just a mirror.

Pounding footsteps had Harry’s head whipping towards the castle’s entrance a second before Hagrid burst forth and began jogging towards them. Quickly, Harry swung his leg over and slid down Ramaranth’s side, thanking her with an affectionate slap for the well-placed leg that he used as a step.

“Norbert!” Hagrid bellowed.

The Norwegian Ridgeback might not be able to understand Hagrid’s words, but Harry could tell that she recognised the man that had helped hatch her. Swirls of excited gold were added to the blues and greens in her eyes and she took a step towards Hagrid, her wings extended. Hagrid, of course, didn’t stop despite the obvious dangers (to everyone else) of running up and hugging a dragon.

“Oh, Norbert, ye came to see ya Mummy! What a good boy ye are!” the half-giant blubbered.

“Ah, Hagrid,” Harry said, figuring to get the most important embarrassment out of the way first. “Norberta’s a girl.”

“A girl?” Hagrid said, pausing in his hug to stare up at the dragon whose neck was curved right over so that she could peer down at him. “Are ye sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Harry replied, ignoring the snickers from not only his friends but what looked like the rest of Hogwarts who had piled out of the doors to see them.

“Well, that’s terrific! Truly wonderful,” Hagrid said before going back to hugging his ‘daughter’.

“Harry?” Daphne asked, careful approaching. “You didn’t mention that you were coming today.”

“Surprise!” he grinned.

§Is it pleasing to see your mate again, Speaker§, Ramaranth stated.

Harry grinned up at her before repeating what she’d said to Daphne, albeit with a slight modification to her words. After all, even though Daphne didn’t mind what she was known as, there were other ears around that had no business jumping to the wrong conclusion.

Daphne bowed to Ramaranth, an act that pleased the dragon, evident by Ramaranth’s deep thrumming.

“It’s good to see you again, too, Ramaranth,” she said.

“Mister Potter.”

Harry would know that voice anywhere and turned to see his old transfiguration teacher standing there, ramrod straight in front of the majority of her students.

“Hi, Professor!” Harry replied, walking over to her.

“May I ask what the meaning of bringing three dragons to Hogwarts is? I trust we’re not going to witness another ‘First Task’?” she asked dryly.

“No, Professor,” Harry laughed. “Nothing like that. I simply thought that, since Norberta was nearby that Hagrid might like a visit from her. And I figured that everyone here wouldn’t mind an up close and personal experience with a dragon. Think of the learning opportunities.”

“I see,” she replied, and Harry was sure that there was a hint of an upturn in the corner of her mouth, although it was so fleeting that he wasn’t sure if he was mistaken. “I trust that you will ensure that it is safe for everyone?”

“Definitely,” Harry nodded quickly. “As long as everyone is respectful, I know my friends will be gentle.”

“Yeah, Harry, like the dragons wouldn’t do anything that you asked,” Neville quipped.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t control them, Nev, you know that. We just have a mutual respect for each other.”

§Speaker, would your green friend wish for another flight§? Grouleth asked, a note of hope in his voice.

Harry’s eyebrows rose. While he’d known that Grouleth had taken a liking to Neville, he hadn’t realised just how much.

“Nev, Grouleth is asking if ‘my green friend’ would like to go for another flight,” Harry asked.

“Green friend?” Neville asked, eyeing the Ironbelly whose head had extended so that his snout was within Neville’s reach.

“The dragons can smell the earth on you,” Harry shrugged. “Well? Would you?”

“If that’d be okay,” Neville said, having taken a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“Gryffindor,” Hermione huffed but Harry could tell that it was good-naturedly.

§Neville would be delighted§, Harry told Grouleth.

The fact that Grouleth instantly crouched, his leg angled just right for Neville, was a clear invitation.

The watching crowd of students gasped in shock as they watched Neville awkwardly scale the great grey hide before settling in between two ridge spines. Of course, Neville climbing astride Grouleth had a reaction from both Norberta and Ramaranth.

§Speaker! Tell my two-leg to climb up§! Norberta insisted.

§Your mate is welcome to fly with me, Speaker, as she has done before§, Ramaranth said.

Quickly, Harry translated for Hagrid and Daphne, causing Hagrid to burst into tears and hug the Ridgeback all the more. By the time that Harry, Susan and Hermione had coaxed him astride Norberta, Daphne had also climbed atop Ramaranth.

And then, as one, the three dragons crouched slightly before leaping skywards.

“Why couldn’t you bring Farlys and Bremlys?” Susan huffed.

“Next time?” Harry replied.

“We will hold you to that, Harry. I hope you know that,” Hermione stated.

“I never thought that I’d see the day,” Professor McGonagall breathed. “People riding dragons! And two of my own students at that!”

“Can I have a ride too?” Ron called.

Harry looked about, found the red-head and instantly shook his head.

“No,” he replied flatly. “Hagrid is a very special case and there are reasons that the dragons will allow Daphne, Neville, Hermione and Susan to fly with them, reasons that I’m not going to go into. They will, however, allow everyone to get close enough to touch them, providing that everyone is respectful.”

“What would happen if they think we’re not being respectful?” a worried-sounding Katie Bell asked.

“I’ll leave that to your imagination,” Harry said, letting his gaze slowly sweep over the crowd to allow that to happen.

“I can assure you, Mister Potter, that everyone will be on their best behaviour,” Professor McGonagall stated.

“I never thought otherwise,” he smiled innocently.

Switching his gaze upwards, he watched Ramaranth soaring over the Black Lake, a massive smile on Daphne’s face, a grin that was echoed in the faces of Neville and Hagrid as Grouleth and Norberta followed in Ramaranth’s wake.

Chapter Text

7:35am

Monday, 13 August 1995

Papa Stour, Shetland Islands, Scotland

.

§Speaker §!

Harry looked up from where he was bent over the long trestle table set outside the big muggle building that had been converted into the Main Hall for the Dragon Weyr of Great Britain. The last of the plans for the Handler’s Village that he and Angus were looking over were shaping up nicely and Harry was sure that the dragons would be happy that the humans would only occupy a small area of the island. It helped that it mostly consisted of ‘magically renovating’ the existing village that had been on the island, including with space expansion charms.

§Hello, Farlys§! Harry called before frowning; there was something in the way that the Common Welsh Green was flying, as though she was constantly trying to look over her shoulder that had him instantly on alert. §What’s wrong§?

§There is a strange dragon winging towards us§, Farlys replied.

Harry’s frown deepened even as he stepped across to grab up his broom from where it rested against the nearby wall.

§Strange in what way, Farlys§? he asked.

The great dragon landed but instantly scrambled around so that she was facing back the way she’d come. The fact that her wings remained half unfurled screamed that she was ready to leap back into the air at a moment’s notice.

§The dragon is there and not there at the same time, Speaker§, she replied sounding frustrated.

Hearing that and knowing that dragons had probably the best eyesight in the world made Harry’s mind up.

§Let’s go meet this strange dragon together§, Harry said as he mounted his Nimbus.

As he shot into the air with Farlys right behind him, Harry took note that they weren’t the only ones flying. Four others, three Welsh Greens and a singular Hibernian Black, altered course and formed up behind Harry and Farlys. Harry pushed is Nimbus hard, the wind whipping at his clothes. Despite how fast he was going, he knew that the dragons were holding back in deference to him.

It took less than a minute before he first spotted the aberration in the sky. Harry frowned at it; Farlys was right. There was something strange about it, one second it was there, the next, it had disappeared.

But the longer that he stared at it and the closer that they came, the fewer the ‘disappearances’ there were.

“An opaleye!” Harry suddenly blurted.

Now that he recognised what he was seeing, he understood. One of the most distinguishing features of an Antipodean Opaleye was the fact that their scales perfectly reflected their environment, making them virtually invisible at times. He’d seen it more times than he could count when he’d been visiting his Australasian dragon friends not that long ago.

Bringing his broom to a near stop, Harry waited for the approaching dragon; the dragons around him stiffening their wings and allowing the wind to hold them aloft in a glide.

It didn’t take long before the Opaleye came close enough for Harry to recognise, or, more precisely, for Harry to see the distinctive scar that marred the dragon’s lower jaw and neck.

§Zanzyn§! Harry called in greeting, punctuating it with a big wave of his arm.

§Speaker! I have found you§! Zanzyn replied wearily.

§Follow us, Zanzyn§, Harry said, whirling his broom around. §You can rest your wings on the island up ahead. It’s where the dragons of Avalon weyr§.

As they flew towards the island, Harry cast an eye on his Opaleye friend. It was obvious that Zanzyn was more than exhausted. His long neck drooped, leaving his great head almost lower than the rest of his body. His wings, too, weren’t rising and falling with a normal dragon’s strength; instead, it appeared that it was taking everything that Zanzyn had to lift them after every downstroke.

Thankfully, it was only a very few minutes before the group landed.

§You flew all the way here§? Harry asked, having approached Zanzyn and laying his hand on his lower jaw.

§It is where you are, Speaker§, Zanzyn replied.

§But halfway around the world§? Harry shook his head in amazement at the feat.

He had no idea that dragons were capable of flying that far. How Zanzyn wasn’t seen was covered under the simple explanation of ‘dragon magic’ but the distance and direction…

§How did you know where I was§? Harry asked.

§All dragons know where the weyrs of other dragons are§, Myrddys answered for Zanzyn as he walked towards them.

§They do§? Harry asked.

§The Council of Weyr Leaders may not gather often, Speaker, but when it does, the location of all dragons worldwide, both those known to two-legs and those still hidden, is shared. When next the Leaders meet, I shall join them§, Myrrdys stated.

Harry blinked at the eldest Hibernian Black. A World Council of dragon Weyr Leaders? He was sure that no dragon handler, let alone any witch or wizard even knew that such a thing existed! Idly, he wondered if, as Speaker, he could get himself an invitation. But that was a thought for another time. Right now, the mystery of Zanzyn’s arrival needed to be dealt with.

§I thank you for explaining, Weyr Leader§, Harry bowed before turning back to Zanzyn. §Why have you come, my friend? Is something wrong in the Weyr§?

§No, Speaker, not wrong, something right§, Zanzyn replied, his eyes showing whirling streaks of blue, green and yellow, indicating his happiness and excitement.

§The eggs§! Harry gasped, grabbing onto the first thought that popped into his mind. §Have they hatched? But it’s too soon§!

§Shiklyn’s eggs have not hatched yet, Speaker, but very soon, sooner than any dragon expected. Both Shiklyn and Dankrum agree. All dragons of the Weyr wish for our Speaker to be there when the hatchlings emerge. I was given the honour of finding you, Speaker and ensuring that you were there in time§, Zanzyn said.

A great thrum of approval burst forth from the assembled dragons and Harry could see the approval and excitement running through the whirring eyes of the dragons of the Weyr. The eggs that would be hatching might not belong to this weyr, but they belonged to all dragon-kind.

§The Speaker was not there when my hatchlings broke shell but that was a time before he was Speaker. He will be for my next laying§, Ramaranth declared.

§I wouldn’t miss it§, Harry smiled at his favourite dragon. §How soon must I be at the weyr, Zanzyn§?

Zanzyn looked up at the sun for a moment before fixing his gaze on Harry once more.

§Sooner than I can fly home. Two, three suns at the most. Can two-legs can fly faster than dragon wings§? he asked.

Harry laughed at the dubious looks the dragons were giving his broom.

§Not on this, I can’t§, he agreed. §But there are other ways, both magical and normal that can get me there in time§.

§That is good, Speaker§, Zanzyn replied, nodding his great head.

§But what of you§? Harry asked.

§I have served my Weyr by bringing you the message. I will rest and then return to the weyr when I am able§, Zanzyn replied.

§You are welcome here in our Weyr for as long as you need§, Myrddys told him.

§You must go, Speaker, you have far to travel§, Ramaranth stated.

Harry nodded even as he looked up and around at the gathered dragons.

§You’re right, Ramaranth. I need to make travel arrangements, but I promise to return here either later today or tomorrow before I leave Avalon§, he said. §Until soon, my friends§.

And then, after taking out the small carved grim that Sirius had given him, he tapped it with his wand and disappeared in a swirl of portkey blue.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

7:50am

Tuesday, 14 August 1995

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

.

“Now, remember, we can’t stay long,” Remus stated as the four of them walked through the front gates of Hogwarts.

“We know, Moony, quit being a worry-wolf,” Sirius snarked back.

“Half an hour at the most,” Charlie added, checking his pocket-watch. “Our portkey is scheduled to leave at eight thirty and we need to be at the International Portkey Departure Point before that.”

Harry ignored the three of them, after all, they’d been over this more times than he could count that morning already.

Indeed, it had taken a bit of convincing to get the three men to agree to this quick stop before they left England in the first place. Strangely enough, it was only after Sirius had received a very early morning owl that he had also joined in on the idea of visiting Hogwarts before they left that had settled the question.

“Your friends know that you’re coming, don’t they?” Remus asked.

“I spoke to Daphne this morning on the mirrors,” Harry replied. “She would have told the others by now.”

Rounding the path brought the great castle into view and Harry couldn’t help but smile. It was magnificent and, even though living there for most of a year had been a huge adjustment from what life had been like before, he cherished what the castle had brought in his life. Friends. Magic. A godfather and honorary uncle. And, of course, dragons.

“I’ll send them a quick message to let them know that we’ve arrived,” Harry said before raising his hand and bringing to mind the last time that he was flying on Ramaranth, Daphne squeezed into the space between the great dragon’s spine ridges behind him, her arms wrapped around him, her laugh right beside his ear. “Expecto Patronum!”

Instantly, a dazzling white mist burst forth before forming into the shape of a dragon that flew off, its misty wings propelling it towards the side of the castle.

“Wand, Harry, wand,” Remus sighed in what sounded like defeat.

Harry simply grinned and shrugged. “Sorry. Forgot. Besides, it’s easier without.”

“Looks like your friends are coming to see you off,” Charlie remarked.

Harry frowned. His eyes might not be as good as a dragon’s but even he could see that they were only people visible anywhere on the school grounds and the Castle Entry was still closed up tight.

“I don’t see them,” he replied.

“Not them, them!” Charlie laughed, emphasising where to look by pointing up and off to the side.

Looking that way, Harry couldn’t help but laugh and jog off the path towards the large open patch of ground. His eyes tracked the six huge dragons winging their way towards him, each a different size, colour and type of dragon.

Ramaranth. Grouleth. Norberta. Myrddys. Farlys. Zanzyn.

§Speaker§!

§What are you all doing here§? he asked as they came into land in a great arc around him.

§You are leaving our Weyr and our shores, Speaker§, Myrddys replied. §Farlys and I wished to see you off properly§.

§We three are leaving here, too, Speaker, to return to our own Weyr§, Grouleth added.

§It has been too long since I have been parted from my fledglings§, Ramaranth stated.

Harry nodded. §I miss them too. Please say ‘hi’ to them for me and tell them that I’ll be back soon§.

§Of course, Speaker§, Ramaranth replied, lowering her head in acknowledgement.

§And after all that I have heard of this two-leg place where you first Spoke to Ramaranth and Farlys, I wished to see it for myself§, Zanzyn said.

“Harry?”

He turned to find that Daphne, Neville, Hermione and Susan had arrived while he’d been talking with his dragon friends.

“Daph!” he exclaimed, leaping forwards to catch her up in his arms. After soundly kissing her, he grinned at the rest of his friends. “Hey, guys, good to see you all.”

“Well, at least he acknowledged we were here,” Susan said, barely hiding her smile.

“What can you expect? We’re not dragons or his girlfriend,” Neville retorted, stepping forward to shake Harry’s hand.

“You’re truly off to Australia again?” Hermione asked, her eyes darting between him and the Antipodean Opaleye.

“Yep,” Harry replied. “The eggs are due to hatch either tomorrow or the day after. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see dragon eggs hatch, I’m not going to miss it!”

“Somehow, Pup, I suspect that you’re going to see hundreds of dragon eggs hatch in your lifetime,” Sirius laughed.

Harry simply shrugged, sure that his godfather was probably right.

“Ah, good, we’re not too late,” a new voice exclaimed, making the group turn.

“Daddy? Mum?” Daphne exclaimed, quickly disentangling herself from Harry to rush across to give her parents a hug. “What are you doing here?”