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Chapter Text

Dragons are one of, if not the most, mysterious species in the Magical Community. Very little was known about them, and so humans were prone to jump to stereotypes when they encountered one. Hence the Great Dragon Hunts of the 1800s. So for this very reason, every time you are to encounter the phrase a little known fact in this story, please feel free to automatically translate that to an unknown fact.

Let's start off with this little-known fact: if newborn dragon hatchlings are abandoned for any reason (the mother could've been killed, certain species of dragons bury their eggs in the sand to fend for themselves once they hatch, etc), they will immediately adapt to the environment so that their chances of survival are guaranteed. This can mean burying themselves even further into the sand, becoming invisible, or even shapeshifting.

Here's what happened.

A newborn dragon pulled the last bits of his tail out of the remains of the egg, shaking his head like a dog to get rid of the slime that still clung to his black scales. He looked around the forest clearing, seeing no signs of the mother he instinctively knew should have been there once he hatched to clean and feed him, and he knew something was wrong.

The thing with dragon reproduction: it all depends on natural selection. Only one dragon ever hatches from an entire nest of eggs, and this is usually due to a large variety of factors, such as temperature, the hardness of shell, and just how lucky the hatchling was.

The hatchling crawled away from the shards of eggshells and the remains of his nest that were littered around on the snow and huddled under a nearby tree. His scales were still soft, and wouldn't be much protection if a predator were to appear. As he sat there, trying to keep warm, he slowly drifted to sleep.

He was very suddenly pulled from his rest as a feeling of pain racked through his small body, coupled with intense sorrow and grief. Something had happened, something very bad had happened.

A dragon had died.

And judging from the way that he had entered the world without a parent to greet him, it was safe to assume that the dragon that had just died was his mother. He knew that his mother wasn't the type to bury her eggs, it wasn't a part of their instinctive survival process. The reason he was alone was that his mother had been killed.

He needed to do something fast, otherwise, he wouldn't survive in this harsh environment. At that moment, he heard the sound of crunching snow, steadily getting closer to where he was. He pricked up his ears, listening carefully, and sniffed the air.

Humans. Two of them. Perhaps they could help him.

He tugged on the burning, glowing ball that resided in his chest, letting the wave of magic wash over him. Once the sparks had dissipated, there was a black-haired, green-eyed baby lying in the snow where the hatchling used to be.

***

Lily and James Potter tramped through the snow in the Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire. There had been a dragon sighting there recently, and they were sent by Dumbledore to make sure that it wasn't Voldemort doing whatever it was that Dark Lords did.

They had been following tracks, but they weren't particularly good at it, and other than the occasional 'that looks like a footprint, I think', they weren't very successful. To add onto that, the fresh layer of snow from the storm the night before had covered any potential clues they may have found, which meant that they had been walking around in circles for a while now.

James grumbled as he stopped to shake the snow out of his boots for the nth time, hopping around on one foot as Lily snickered at him.

Then, a piercing wail rang through the trees. The Potters immediately readied their wands, standing still and silent, listening. After a moment of waiting, they heard another cry, and they walked in the direction of the sound.

They hadn't gone far when they found the source of the noise. It was a baby, wrapped in rags, lying underneath a tree in a small clearing. The snow was pure and disturbed, and there was no sign of anyone ever leaving the child there.

Lily and James looked at each other and nodded, then sprang into action. Lily walked around the clearing, wand drawn, looking for any sign that the child could've been related to Death Eaters of the dragon. James stepped towards the bundle on the floor and carefully picked the halfway frozen baby up, checking the gender and casting a quick warming charm.

Lily walked back towards her husband, shaking her head. Nothing was out of the ordinary, other than the fact that there was an entire child left in the forest, in winter.

The Potters had been trying for a child for quite a while, but to no success. There was also the fact that they were in the middle of a goddamn war, and hadn't found the time to get it checked over by any medically trained professionals, magical or otherwise.

However, they were pretty certain that it had something to do with the time when James had heard from Remus about this Awesome Muggle Thing called zip-lining when they were still in Hogwarts and had decided to try it out. But he had tied his harness a little too tight around the legs, and then the resulting tragic zip-lining accident happened, well, it's safe to say that they won't be having any children.

So to have this newborn child delivered quite literally at their feet was a surprise, but a pleasant one. And with that, they mentally shrugged and adopted their child as their own, but not without multiple precautionary checks. They were fighting a war, after all.

And that's how one Harry James Potter, the son of James and Lily Potter in every way that mattered, was introduced into the wizarding world. No one knew that he wasn't actually their biological son, no one had any reason to suspect otherwise.

***

Voldemort crept up the stairs of the Potter residence, the crumpled body of James Potter on the floor behind him. He could taste the fear in the air, and a very strange scent, completely unrecognisable, and not entirely human. Slightly reptilian, perhaps?

No matter. Once he was finished, he could investigate to his heart's content, but for now, he had a job to finish.

He found the room that the remaining Potters were hiding in, the door blocked with furniture in a pathetic attempt to keep him out. Snorting, he blew the door aside with a flick of his wand, and stalked into the room to where Lily was standing, arms outstretched, glaring defiantly at him through a thin layer of tears. She was trembling.

"Step aside."

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”

“Stand aside, you silly girl, stand aside, now.”

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead–“

Voldemort grimaced, giving her one last chance in an attempt to respect Severus's request.

"Stand aside— stand aside, girl–"

"No please, I'll do anything–"

And with that, Voldemort lifted his wand, the Killing Curse already pronounced and a green jet of light flying out of his wand and hitting the girl in the chest. With an anguished howl, she collapsed onto the floor, her shining eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

He walked around her to the cot she had been trying to protect, and now that she had silenced, the wailing of a baby was loud and unnerving.

Voldemort pointed his wand right in the child's face, his wide green eyes staring unblinkingly back at him. It was just this one child left, and he would be free of the ridiculous prophecy altogether.

Unhesitating, he proceeded to cast the Killing Curse on Harry Potter, who had stopped crying, and was now opening his mouth to-

"My FACE! MY FACE, OH IT BURNS, MY FACE IS ON FIRE!"

The fire consumed his entire being, burning bright and so, so strongly. Voldemort stood no chance against spontaneous combustion, and within minutes, his physical body was burnt to mere ashes, along with a good section of the house. Thankfully, his protections were in place, and so his remaining consciousness, in all its painful, wraithlike glory, retreated to lick its wounds.

Unknown to him, a small fraction of his soul had split apart when his body had been destroyed, and seeking for survival, latched onto the closest living thing in the room: Harry.

***

Harry was young, not stupid. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he did know that some weird snake man had come into their home and killed his adoptive parents, which was a big no-no.

The snake man had stood in front of him, and Harry had debated transforming into his dragon form, then realised that he was too small to do any real damage. At fifteen months old, his claws and teeth were like tiny needles, and he was no bigger than the average housecat.

But then he realised. He still had a belly full of fire.

And when the snake man had finished shooting that green light out of his wand, he opened his mouth and blew. The strange man collapsed, clutching at his burning face. The strange green light hit him in his face, directly on his forehead, but luckily that place was well protected by thick scales. Still, there was a horrible burning sensation that arched across his face, but it was only for a second before it disappeared, harmless. Strange man. Why didn't he aim for the neck or the soft chinks in his belly? Everyone knew that's where the weak spots are.

When the snake man was gone, there was still a small wisp of something black and awful (dangerous, horrible, wrong) floating in the air. It seemed to waver for a bit, then flew towards Harry. It smelled strange, like death and mould, and Harry did Not Like It.

So with that, he opened his tiny mouth as wide as it could go, then unhinged his jaws and opened them even further, and swallowed it. Swallowed the wisp whole. In one gulp. Just ate the whole thing. Didn't taste all that good, but he preferred it to whatever it was going to do if it had stuck onto him or something.

Content, he lay there, fast asleep. He was only awakened much later, when the sound of a motorcycle revved outside the house, and the crying face of his uncle Sirius appeared above him.

***

It was Dudley's birthday. The Dursley's had gone on a lovely little family outing to the zoo to celebrate, picture-perfect with the round, pink beachball that was their son. Harry trailed behind them, appreciating the sun on his face and the absence of chores for him to complete. It had been a good day so far.

After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It was massive, and could've wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a dustbin - but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley and Piers oohed and ahhed at it until they got bored of its inactivity, then they started whining.

"Make it move," Dudley said to his father. Uncle Vernon rapped his knuckles against the thick glass, but the snake didn't budge.

He tried again, and when the snake still didn't move, Dudley and Piers shuffled away.

Harry moved to stand in front of the tank and stared intently at the snake. The poor thing, trapped in its glass cage as a plaything for humans. He wondered how it could stand the boredom of having stupid people drumming their fingers against the glass, day in, day out.

The snake's forked tongue flickered in and out, tasting the air. It must've caught some of Harry's scent through the thick glass, because it immediately lifted its head, shedding the illusion of sleep.

"Hello, serpent," Harry said, leaning close to the glass.

The snake seemed baffled, its tongue poking out once, twice, three more times. By this time, several other reptiles had caught on as well and were all staring at him too, hissing amongst themselves, having conversations that couldn't be heard through their tanks.

The boa constrictor partially uncoiled itself, bringing its head close so that the only thing that separated Harry and the snake was the glass between them.

And then, with a thought, there was no glass.

***

None of the wands in the shop worked. He had been inside Ollivanders for a good half an hour now, and the pile of wands beside him was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, until the boxes were on the floor, and piled all around. He wasn't very surprised, after all, magical creatures didn't need a wand to cast spells.

Mr Ollivander stared at him blankly, then muttered something under his breath and checked the shelves once more, just to be absolutely sure that there were no wands left for him to try.

"I'm - I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but none of my wands work for you," Mr Ollivander said, looking as if he were going through shock. "You're going to have to try a different shop."

"Alright then," Harry said agreeably, then stayed behind to help pack up, though Mr Ollivander just Banished the boxes away.

On the way out of the shop, Harry stooped down to casually pick up a stick off the floor, twirling it between his fingers. It was the right size and shape, and he figured it would have to do.

***

Another little-known fact about dragons: they had a connection with each other, including eggs. It's a survival thing because there was just so few of them left in the world. Dragon hunting had been all the rage until quite recently when wizards had realised that killing all the dragons wasn't actually a great idea (food webs, natural predators, pest outbreaks blah, blah, blah, save the dragons).

Anyways, Harry felt the connection like several golden, pieces of string that settled in his chest. If a dragon died, the string cut off, and it felt slightly as if someone had jabbed him hard in the stomach, but more intense. It had only happened once in his life, when he had just crawled out of his egg, and he never wanted to feel it again. It wasn't so much the pain that he hated, it was more of the feeling of loss and incredible sadness that accompanied it.

One of the strings had been burning hotter and brighter lately, and Harry had a weird feeling about it. He mulled it over as he sat between Hermione and Ron in the library, trying to get through his extra work.

"Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?" Ron said, keeping his voice low as not to alert Madam Pince.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. Eleven-year-olds are very curious creatures, and they can sniff out a liar like a bloodhound can smell, well, blood. "An' what are you lot up ter? Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flame, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron with all the knowledge and pomp of a preteen who knew that they were correct. "And we found what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St—"

Hagrid shushed them, looking around to check for eavesdroppers. They badgered him about their findings for a little while more, Hagrid's attempts at silencing them going pretty much unnoticed. At last, he relented.

"Listen - come an' see me later, 'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabittin' about it in here, students aren't s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh—"

"See you later, then," said Harry, before Hagrid could continue.

Hagrid shuffled off, still grumbling.

Once he was gone, Ron went to check the section Hagrid had been browsing through, and returned with a pile of books in his hands, and slammed them onto the table.

"Dragons!" He whispered, flipping through the books. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons!"

The strange feeling in Harry's chest only grew stronger.

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called 'Who is it?' before he let them in and shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Harry was quite comfortable in the heat, but Ron and Hermione were tugging at their collars and fanning themselves, sweat already glistening at their brows.

After they had gained some information from Hagrid via their excellent interrogation tactics (read: buttering up), Harry realised that there was something sitting in the fireplace. He had been so preoccupied while thinking of Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone, that he hadn't realised that one of the links in his chest was burning so bright, almost pulsing with light.

Ron noticed the thing in the fireplace as well.

"Hagrid - what's that?"

Harry already knew what it was. Sitting in the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg. It was the colour of charcoal, with thick grey marbling along its sides. It was beautiful.

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must have cost you a fortune."

Harry walked closer to the fireplace, transfixed. He'd never seen another dragon before. He could hear Hagrid and his friends chatting behind him, but he paid it no mind. Not when there was an egg in front of him. He stuck a hand into the fireplace, lightly petting the top of the egg when he was rudely yanked away from the fireplace.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Ron bellowed, frantically checking his hand for burns. "YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!"

Hermione was clutching his other arm, eyes wide and gasping.

"What were you thinking, Harry?" She said, quieter.

Oh, right. Humans weren't supposed to be fireproof. Whoops, he was getting sloppy.

They had kept a close eye on him after that. Thankfully, they seemed to buy the half-baked excuse that he had come up with on the spot, but they still watched him. He had good friends.

One breakfast, Hedwig brought a note from Hagrid. He had only written two words: It's hatching.

Ron and Harry wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" Ron said. Harry seconded the statement.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing-"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered. Malfoy was only a few feet away, and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Harry didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all.

Finally, after ages of arguing, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with them during morning break. When the bell sounded, the three of them dropped their trowels and dashed to the hut, and were greeted with an excited looking Hagrid.

"It's nearly out," Hagrid said, ushering them inside. The egg was on the table, and there were deep cracks running across the shell. The hatchling's eye was barely visible from a hole where the shell had broken off, and it scrabbled around in the egg for a while, making clicking noises every time the egg shattered a little more. They drew their chairs up to their table and watched, as finally, the egg split open.

The dragon flopped out of it ungracefully, and Harry's heart seized in his chest. She was so small. He himself was already the size of a small tiger when he was in his dragon form, and to see this newly hatched dragon was a bit of a shock. She was about the size of a tennis ball when she was curled up, and fit perfectly into the palm of Hagrid's hand.

She was also very slimy, and blinked lazily up at them with big orange eyes.

She sneezed, and a couple of sparks flew out of her snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the hatchling's head. Harry nodded in agreement, then frowned.

"He?" Harry asked.

"Wha' do yeh mean?" Hagrid said.

"Hagrid, you realise that the dragon is a female, right?" Harry said, grabbing a nearby tea towel and poured some hot water onto it, wringing it out. He stepped up to the dragon and looked it in the eye, then very slowly, blinked. The dragon tilted its head, assessing him, then blinked slowly back. Nodding, Harry started to gently clean the hatchling dragon, rubbing the egg remains off her scales.

"Hagrid, she needs to eat. Do you have any raw meat? Preferably something fresh," Harry said, making sure the hatchling's eyes were close before wiping her face. He waited for a reply, and when none came, he paused in his task to find Hagrid looking pale and staring out the window.

"Hagrid? What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - he's runnin' back to ter the school."

Ron bolted to the door and looked out. He turned back to look at them in horror, his face white.

"Malfoy's seen the dragon."

The next few weeks were nerve-wracking. Malfoy walked around with a smug smile lurking around on his face, and Harry wanted to punch the git, but not before he made sure Hagrid wouldn't get into trouble.

Ron, Hermione and Harry spent most of their free time in Hagrid's hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let her go," Ron urged, patting a gloomy Hagrid's back. "Set her free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "She's too little. She'd die."

"Actually, she wouldn't," Harry said absentmindedly, wondering how to ask if he would be allowed to look after the hatchling. "Dragons have excellent survival instincts, I would know."

He mused for a bit longer, then realised that no one was saying anything. Snapping back to attention, he looked around the hut to see that all the other occupants were staring at him strangely.

"What?" He said defensively. The dragon was curled around his left leg, rubbing her face against his trousers.

"Mate, how'd you know that?" Ron said, his brow furrowing. Harry floundered, then bent down to pick up the dragon to buy himself some time to think.

"I, uh, I've been reading up on dragons ever since this little one-" Harry shook the hatchling slightly to emphasise his point- "hatched." Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"So have I," she said. "But I haven't found anything about survival instincts."

"Oh," said Harry. "That's strange."

"Yes, yes it is."

"I've decided to call her Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "She really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?" The hatchling squirmed around in Harry's hands and buried her face into his elbow.

Hagrid beamed. "See, she responds to my voice!"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

Then, a lightbulb lit up in Harry's brain. He suddenly turned to Ron.

"Charlie," he said.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No - Charlie - your brother, Charlie In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of her and then put her back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" Said Ron. Harry agreed. It was the best he could come up with for the time being, but at least Norbert would be safe.

He untucked Norbert from his arms and held her up in front of him, staring into her eyes. If his instincts were telling the truth, there should be a way for dragons to communicate with each other.

'Hello?' He thought, squinting. Norbert narrowed her eyes at him, then a series of images and sensations flashed through his mind. She was too young to have a proper vocabulary, and they were hard to translate into English, but the gist of it was warm, soft, family, safe.

"Huh," Harry said.

"Well?" said Ron, ignoring whatever it was Harry was doing behind him. "How bout it, Hagrid?"

In the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

Midnight ticked nearer as Hermione and Harry heaved Norbert around corridors, to the staircase of the tallest tower. Ron was stuck in the infirmary with a possibly poisoned bite from Norbert, a fact he complained loudly about.

"Nearly there!" Hermione panted as the reached the staircase.

"Ok, here's an idea," she said, setting the crate down for a bit. "I'll stay down here and make sure no-one comes, you take Norbert up the tower."

Harry nodded, then they parted ways. Now that Hermione was no longer dragging the crate behind and making it heavy, it was much easier to pick up and carry. He hadn't wanted to mention it before and seem rude.

With a grunt, Harry heaved the crate up and sent a flashing series of images to Norbert, just to tell her that they were going to get her to safety. He staggered up the stairs, the Invisibility Cloak dragging slightly on the floor behind him when he heard someone in the tower above him.

Harry froze, not daring to make a sound.

"They should be here by now, it's almost midnight!" Draco Malfoy said, pacing around the top of the tower. He sighed, checked his watch, then turned and started back down the tower, mumbling to himself under his breath. Harry panicked. The staircase was too narrow, Malfoy was sure to bump into him if he continued.

Cursing silently, Harry stumbled down the staircase, trying to go as silently as possible. Once he was a safe distance away, he pried the crate open and sent a flurry of images to Norbert, hoping she understood.

'Norbert, you have to shrink! Get smaller, I'll be able to hide you easier.' The hatchling seemed to understand, and almost, collapsed in on herself. She became smaller and smaller, somehow knowing that they didn't have time to dawdle. Meanwhile, Harry could hear Malfoy's footsteps getting closer, and he glanced down at Norbert, panicking. She was now about the same thickness as a pencil, and just as long, and he deemed her a safe size and shoved her into his robes. With a glance, he sent the wooden crate up in flames, until all that remained were a few ashes.

Just in time, too. He whipped the invisibility cloak off, so that Malfoy wouldn't find out about it, and made it seem like he was just running up the staircase. They collided with a crash and lots a yelling, attracting the attention of Professor McGonagall who had been downstairs telling Hermione off for being out of bed after curfew.

They all got detention, but the tiny dragon that was currently squirming around inside Harry's robes made it worth it.

***

There was a Basilisk in the school, Harry was sure of it. When he had first heard the hissing at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party, he knew that there was a serpent of some type roaming around in the walls.

The look that Norbert had given him when he finally had the chance to talk to her in privacy only confirmed that.

'Harry, what are we going to do about that fat snake?' She said, now about a year old and vocabulary steadily improving.

'Not much at the moment,' he said, chewing on the end of his quill as he tried to finish his Charms essay. 'The school is the Basilisk's territory, and it hasn't killed anyone so far, so I guess we're just going to have to leave it alone. It has no natural reason to attack students, basilisks don't eat humans, so something must be provoking it.'

Norbert pondered this, then settled around Harry's neck to leech off his warmth.

When Harry found the diary, he knew immediately that something was off about it. It smelt like a familiar mix of mould and death, like that black wisp thing that had lingered about when Voldemort killed his adoptive parents. He didn't like it then, and he didn't like it now.

Harry brought it back to the dormitory, setting it onto his bed and drawing the curtains around him. Norbert climbed out from her hiding spot and they both stared long and hard at it.

'It smells bad,' Norbert said. Harry nodded in agreement. The last time that he had encountered anything like it, he had eaten it, and that seemed to get rid of it just fine. He cast a quick Sticking Charm to his curtains, then lifted the diary up to eye level, and then took a massive bite out of it.

The diary screamed.

He frowned, quickly swallowed the mouthful he had been chewing on, and then shoved the rest of it his mouth. The screaming stopped.

'Well that's one way to get rid of it,' Norbert said, eyeing her friend.

And that was that. Lockhart told everyone who would listen that he had killed the Basilisk but still seemed to leave in quite a hurry. The Basilisk victims were given the Mandrake Restorative Draught and were unpetrified, the Basilisk itself stayed locked in the Chamber of Secrets and never bothered anyone ever again.

***

"No one?" Said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

"I'll do it," said Harry. He ignored the intake of breath and the muttering that had started up amongst the class when he volunteered, and climbed over the paddock fence.

"Good man, Harry!" Roared Hagrid. "Right then - let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak." He untied one of the chains, pulled the grey Hippogriff away from his fellows and slipped off his leather collar.

"Easy now, Harry. Yeh've got eye contact, now try not to blink. And now, slowly, bow."

And with that, Buckbeak the Hippogriff sank into a graceful bow. Hagrid blinked, stunned. Harry eyed the Hippogriff, and once it had straightened up, he bowed too.

"Uh, well done, Harry?" Hagrid said, though it came out as more of a question. "Right, uh - yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Harry moved slowly towards the Hippogriff and reached out towards him. The Hippogriff moved back, away from the hand. Norbert snickered from underneath his collar. Harry tried again, and the Hippogriff skipped back a couple of steps. The class was silent, and Harry frowned.

He stayed still for a few seconds, then lunged forwards, as if trying to catch Buckbeak off guard. The Hippogriff danced back, just out of reach, and it deteriorated from there.

Five minutes later, the class watched a very absurd game of chase as boy and Hippogriff danced around the paddock, too stunned to do anything about it.

And then, once Hagrid had had enough and called Harry back, Draco Malfoy went and insulted a Hippogriff.

***

A little known fact about dragons: they also went through a type of puberty. Harry had to go through two: one with his human body, and the usual dragon one. His human form was technically only an illusion, and so he had to keep updating it regularly to make sure he wasn't falling behind on any growth. He used Ron as a model, making sure to add pimples when his friend got acne, made sure to deepen his voice when Ron's voice cracked. It was stressful.

But the dragon one was a lot worse. When dragons are going through the process of maturing, they go through a series of complicated stages. However, one of the most well-known stages is the hoarding stage.

Dragons have always been known to be hoarders, collecting treasures since there has been an availability of items to hoard. Most dragons are irritable when they haven't found their hoard yet, jumping from object to object in an attempt to find something that makes them happy. However, once they settled down, they very rarely change their hoard.

There are exceptions, though. In this case, the exception usually comes in the form of nesting mothers. When a female dragon lays a clutch of eggs, their hoarding shifts from whatever they had before to the nest of eggs they now needed to look after.

Harry was currently going through the hoarding stage. He had bounced from stuffed animals to CD discs to library books, and hadn't settled on anything yet. This was to be expected. Most dragons didn't settle until they were well into their adulthood.

Ron walked into the dorm after his shower, rubbing the water from his hair. He lifted the towel off his head when he stubbed his toe against someone's bed, excruciating pain shooting through his foot, and hopped around on one leg, cursing. When he finally opened his eyes, he froze, staring.

Harry was curled around a pile of Golden Snitches on his bed, growling softly at Ron when he noticed him staring.

Ron took one look, decided not to say anything and walked right back out the door.

***

Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out-

"Harry Potter."

Harry stood up automatically, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. At first, he was stunned, feeling numb. Then, reality came crashing in, and the anger flooded in, burning through his veins. Of course. Of course his name was going to be called out, how had he not predicted this with his rotten luck?

"What the actual fuck," he said, trembling with rage. "What. The actual. Fuck."

The swear word rang out in the silent hall, and yet none of the professors bothered to say anything about it.

***

They were doing a wand weighing ceremony. This was a problem, because Harry didn't own a proper wand. The stick he currently used was just that, a stick.

Magical creatures and wands didn't mix well. They didn't need wands to cast spells, usually relying on their own brand of magic. For instance, unicorns used their horns to cast small spells, usually to do with healing.

Dragons were creatures of extreme magic, which meant that their heartstrings were widely used ingredients in creating wands. They were literally able to channel magic through their heart, there was no need for them to use a wand. This is why all wands react quite badly if a dragon tries to use them.

Harry was no different. His aversion to wands became obvious when he tried to buy one for his first year at Hogwarts, and he used a stick to stop people from asking questions.

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr Ollivander, hesitantly handing over his 'wand'.

Mr Ollivander frowned.

"Mr Potter, surely you must be mistaken, this is a stick."

Harry laughed loudly and obnoxiously, overplaying the act.

"Oh, Mr Ollivander, you're funny. All wands are technically sticks."

"No, no, you misunderstand Mr Potter, this is quite literally a stick."

"Mr Ollivander," Harry said through gritted teeth. "May I have a word with you outside?"

***

The first task. It was dragons.

Sweet.

Four fully grown, enormous dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting - torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, which was nearest to them.

Wizards were running around, attempting to control them, pulling on chains and shooting Stunning Spells.

They were nesting dragons. Harry looked on in awe. He had never met an adult dragon, and poked Norbert in the side with a finger.

'Norbert, look!' He said as Norbert emerged from under his collar.

'Woah,' Norbert said, and the two of them watched, transfixed.

On the day of the first task, Harry had a plan. He had been practising Summoning Charms with Hermione, and he was ready.

He drew the Hungarian Horntail, and snorted. Dragons didn't bother with trying to sort out what type of species they were, that was something only humans did because they felt the need to label things. Dragons were dragons. They had differences because they had to adapt to suit the environment they lived in, but that was all.

Harry sat in the tent and waited for his turn, listening to the cheers of the crowd that had gathered to watch the Tasks, and the roars of the dragons the Champions were fighting.

He buzzed with excitement. He was going to meet another dragon for the first time! Even Norbert was jittery, he could feel her scales vibrating through the fabric of his shirt.

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Krum had finished - it would be Harry's turn any moment.

He stood, bouncing slightly on the tips of his toes, and waited. And then he heard the whistle blow. He walked out through the entrance of the tent, the excitement rising into a crescendo inside him. And now he was walking past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence.

His vision tunnelled, and the hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him seemed very far away. All that mattered at the moment was the dragon and him, staring at each other. He walked closer, closer, until he was right up against the dragon's bowed head. He blinked first, slowly, deliberately, and the dragon returned the gesture.

'Hello little one,' the dragon said, settling back onto her hind legs. 'What are you doing here?'

'I'm supposed to be fighting you, they all think I'm a human,' he replied, and grinned when Norbert poked her head out to join in, making sure to remain unseen by the crowd.

'You're massive,' Norbert said bluntly, eyeing the other dragon up and down.

'Uh, you do realise that the golden egg over there is a fake, right?'

The dragon snorted. 'Of course, I'm not dumb. It's just fun to mess with humans.'

'...I respect that.'

"What is going on here?" Ludo Bagman yelled, interrupting their conversation. "The dragon and Harry Potter are just standing still!"

The dragon rolled her eyes, then stood up once more. 'Well, they want a show, let's give them one?'

'Of course.' Harry said, grinning.

"Accio Firebolt!" He shouted, his 'wand' raised. He waited for the distant sound of his broomstick hurtling toward him, soaring into the enclosure, landing in his outstretched palm. He swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. A second later, the Hungarian Horntail followed him, flapping her massive black wings. They soared higher in a circle, dancing around each other, neither actually trying to gain an advantage. They were just enjoying the flight and each other's companionship until Harry realised that he needed to end this fast.

'I'm going to go take the fake egg now, is that alright?' He said.

The dragon chuckled, flapping her wings lazily. 'I'll race you to the ground.'

And with that, they both plummeted.

***

Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.

It was hollow and completely empty - but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room.

"Shut it!" Fred bellowed.

"Ahhh! My ears!" Cried Seamus Finnegan.

Harry cocked his head towards th egg and listened carefully, nodding thoughtfully.

"Ok, mhm, mhm, that's cool, ok." Then very calmly, he closed the egg.

The room was silent, the absence of the horrible noise a relief.

"How did you understand it?" Neville said cautiously, nervously pulling apart a bread roll.

Harry started.

"What? I didn't understand it, what are you saying?" He laughed nervously, then grabbed a custard cream from Fred and bit into it.

And then promptly transformed into a canary. At least it was a nice diversionary tactic.

The days passed, and the day of the Second Task drew nearer. Hermione was out of her mind with worry.

"Harry, you need to work out what the Second Task is!" She hissed to him while they were studying in the library together. Harry hummed noncommittally, flipping a page in the book he was reading.

"It's fine, I'll be fine," he said, not looking up from his book.

"Harry!" She said, exasperated. On the other side of her, Ron cleared his throat.

"Yeah mate," he said awkwardly. He was never the one who reprimanded Harry for not doing his work. "You need to get your act together."

"Oh no, no, I have my act together. I've got a plan, it's fine."

"Well then, what's this plan?"

"Uh, dunno."

"OH FOR MERLIN'S SAKE."

The day of the Second Task arrived, and Harry was awake bright and early. He left Norbert curled up under his pillow and breezed through breakfast, floating past bewildered students in the corridors, humming lightly to himself. Ron had not been in his bed that morning, and Hermione wasn't in the common room waiting when he came down, but he wasn't surprised. He'd been expecting it.

Harry calmly walked outdoors and to the Black Lake just before the task was supposed to start, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Just before he arrived, however, Dobby appeared in front of him with a crack.

"Harry Potter, sir!" He squeaked. "You need to get your Wheezy back! Do you know what you need to do?"

"Yep!" Harry said cheerfully. "I'm fine."

"But Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby protested. "You hasn't prepared anything! Here, take this." He tried to push a ball of what looked like slimy, greyish-green rat tails into Harry's hand.

Harry shook his head and pushed it away. "I'm fine, Dobby. I'm prepared. You don't need to worry about me."

"Alright, Harry Potter," Dobby said reluctantly. "Good luck, sir."

And with that, he disapparated.

Harry walked the remaining distance to the Black Lake, and spotted the figures of the other champions standing beside the judge's table. He walked up to them and flashed a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Once they were all ready, Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and cast a Sonorus, his voice booming towards the stands.

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air, and the stands erupted with cheers and applause. Harry hung back, watching what the other champions were doing.

Once they had all finished their preparations and were already halfway into the water, Harry pulled off his shoes and socks and waded into the water.

With his enhanced hearing, he heard quite a large number of people in the stands screaming at him.

"Harry, what are you doing?!" Someone yelled, louder than the rest.

"Swimming!" He bellowed back, grinning, and then dived into the water with barely a splash.

A little known fact about dragons: they were very in tune with the elements. They flew through the air, had literal fire boiling in their stomachs waiting to be released, were able to breathe underwater, and when they died, they turned into stone. Mountain ranges, hills, even boulders are all the petrified remains of dragons from long ago.

But the point is, Harry was perfectly at home underwater. He had spent many days swimming around in the Black Lake in his dragon form, where he knew he couldn't be seen, and had gone deep enough to meet and befriend the merpeople. It was because of this that he had a decent understanding of Mermish, though he was absolute pants at speaking it. However, he knew enough to understand what the song in the egg meant.

Harry sped on, swimming through the familiar rocks and underwater buildings, avoiding the areas where the Grindylows lived, going slower than he usually would. He reached the merpeople's dwelling, and he waved at a few familiar faces, who shouted greetings at him.

Harry swam on, going in the direction of the village square. There were four people bound to the statue that was situated in the middle of the square, and he grinned, continuing on.

Ron was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was Fleur Delacour's sister. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep, their heads lolling on their shoulders, bubbles rising from their mouths.

Harry swam towards the statue, signing greetings to the crowd of merpeople that were singing in around the statue, and they signed back cheerfully. Since it was hard to speak underwater, he had learnt and taught the merpeople some words in sign language, and they proved to be a useful form of communication.

Harry hovered in front of the hostages, looking at the ropes of weed that were tying them together. It was thick and slimy, and very strong. However, it was not an issue.

Looking around to make sure that none of the other champions had caught up yet, he undid a little bit of the transformation on his fingers, turning the blunt, human nails into sharp talons. He sliced through the rope like it was butter, then transformed his hand back.

Ron floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water. Harry hung back and waited for the other champions to arrive, laughing and chatting with the merpeople (awful gossips, they were). He wasn't particularly worried, he knew the champions would come eventually, but he stayed behind just in case.

Cedric reached the hostages first. He had cast a Bubble Head Charm, making his features seem distorted.

"Got lost!" He mouthed, looking panic-stricken. "Fleur and Krum're coming now!"

Harry gave him a thumbs-up, and watched as Cedric pulled a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free, pulling her up through the water and back towards the surface.

A while later, a monstrous shape cut through the water towards them: a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark... it was Krum. He appeared to have transfigured himself - but badly.

Krum swam straight to Hermione and tried to chew through the rope, but with the way his shark mouth was angled, it was quite... difficult. Have you ever seen a shark try to bite through anything smaller than a dolphin? It's not pretty. Their mouths just aren't made to deal with small, slippery things.

Scared that he might accidentally gore Hermione, Harry found a sharp stone at the bottom of the lake and swam up to Krum, tapping him on the shoulder and handing it to him. Krum nodded in thanks and continued to cut the rope, finally freeing Hermione and without a glance back, started swimming away.

An hour had almost passed. Harry frowned, wondering what Fleur was doing that was taking so long. Once he had waited a bit longer and realised that she probably wasn't going to come, he swam towards the little girl still tied to the statue.

"No Harry, your task is to retrieve your own friend, leave the others," said Frank, one of the mermen. Frank wasn't his real name, but his real name was too hard for Harry to pronounce, so he had shortened it to something that was easier for his set of vocal cords.

But I can't leave her here, Harry signed.

Frank sighed. "You and your stupid 'saving people thing'. Fine, but only because I can't be bothered to go through an argument with you, so let's just skip that step."

Harry grinned and freed the girl as well, then grabbed her around the waist and the back of Ron's robes and kicked upwards. It was much harder to swim in his human form, and with both Ron and the girl weighing him down like a sack of potatoes, he was worried that he wouldn't be able to reach the surface in time.

Oh well.

***

Norbert was trying to learn how to shapeshift. She was sitting on her tiny hind legs on the bed, comically dwarfed by Harry who was sitting in front of her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she kept huffing wisps of smoke in frustration when she peeked one eye open and nothing had changed.

"You need to be patient," Harry said, laughing. He'd been trying to improve her understanding of the spoken language, instead of that telepathic-flash-words-into-brain thing they'd been doing so far. It was a good skill to have, especially since they were so involved with the human world.

'I am!' Norbert whined, sparks mixing in with the smoke pouring out of her nostrils. 'But nothing's happening!'

"Maybe you should try something smaller first, like a cat," Harry said. "I don't expect you to transform yourself into a human right off the bat."

'But you did!'

"I was a special case. I was under a lot of stress."

Norbert huffed again.

"Ok, let's do this one more time. You have to concentrate, and focus on your magic. You got that?"

Norbert nodded, her orange eyes closed once more.

"Now picture the form you want to take, and pull on your magic, and just kinda let it... wash over you."

Norbert frowned, face scrunched up in concentration. There was a sudden flash of orange sparks, and then there was a young girl crouched on the mattress where the tiny dragon had been sitting.

She looked to be around six, with short black hair and strange orange eyes, the pupils slitted and catlike. There were still scales scattered around her skin, and her nails were sharp.

It wasn't perfect, but it was an improvement, Harry thought. They'd have to work on it though.

Norbert lifted her hands and stared at them in amazement, patting her face and giggling.

'I did it! Ha, human hands are so strange.'

"Well done!" Harry said, clapping lightly. "But try saying that out loud."

Norbert frowned, trying to get used to the strange feeling of blunted teeth and a shorter tongue.

"Gneursh," she gargled, then shook her head, trying again. "Brufsh."

Harry roared with laughter, doubling over and wheezing. Norbert growled, scowling at the boy she saw as an older brother.

'There's no need to be rude about it.'

"Yeah," Harry said, still chuckling, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "But it was funny."

Then, there was a sharp tap on the windows, startling the pair. Norbert jumped and there was a sudden puff of smoke, and when it cleared, Norbert was once again a tiny dragon sitting petulantly on the mattress.

Harry choked, and when Norbert lifted her head to glare at him, he burst into laughter again.

***

The Third Task. A maze. Absolutely genius, but the Quidditch field was ruined. It wasn't as if they needed a smooth field to play, but it was the disrespect that counted.

Harry hurried through the maze, making his way past the obstacles, thanking Hermione for the Point Me spell.

The Triwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away. Harry walked closer, then wrinkled his nose. There was a strange spell wafting off the Cup, something dark. It wasn't the smell of death and mould that he had learnt to associate with Voldemort, but there was the scent of Dark Magic wafting around the cup, mixed with something familiar.

Harry's mind flashed back to the beginning of the year, at the World Cup, something...what was it...the Portkey! The Cup smelled like a Portkey!

Suddenly a dark figure hurtled out onto the path in front of him. Cedric was going to get there first. Cedric was sprinting as fast as he could toward the cup, and Harry knew he would never catch up, Cedric was much taller, had much longer legs- he was going to get caught in a trap-

Then the Acromantula attacked.

Once they had fought off the giant spider, Cedric looked around at Harry, who was holding onto the hedge to support himself, clutching at his stitch. Cedric took a deep breath.

"You should take the cup. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."

This was his chance.

"Alright then," Harry said. "Thanks." He then walked forward and grabbed the handle of the cup. Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling colour, the horrified face of Cedric the last thing he saw.

***

There was a dragon in front of them, using his body to block the entrance to several of the deepest vaults in Gringotts. He looked ill and sickly, his scales turned pale and flaky, his eye milky and unfocused. There were large, vicious slashes across his face, and there were heavy cuffs on his hind legs, which were chained to massive pegs that were driven deep into the rocky floor. His wings hung limp at his sides.

Griphook passed around the small metal instruments called Clankers, and they advanced around the corner, shaking the instruments. The dragon let out a hoarse roar, his wailing cry pain piercing through Harry's mind, and Norbert squeaked in distress from under Harry's collar.

Horrified, he stopped shaking the Clankers immediately, but the damage had already been done. The dragon whimpered and retreated, and Harry could see him trembling. He tried to walk towards him, to try to comfort or help him, to do something, but Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, shooting him a warning look.

"We'll help it later," she said, dragging him along. "But we need to focus on retrieving the Horcrux now."

They had the Hufflepuff Cup. They had lost the Gryffindor Sword in the process, and they were currently chased by a crowd of goblins, but they had done it. Now, they just needed to escape.

Harry shot a spell into the crowd of goblins, and sprinted towards the tethered dragon. He pointed his wand at the thick cuffs that bound the dragon to the floor, and yelled, "Relashio!"

The cuffs broke, and Harry caught the attention of Ron and Hermione.

"Harry - Harry - what are you doing?" Cried Hermione.

'Hello, sir,' Harry said to the dragon, still shooting spells at the goblins. 'I'm Harry. I've come to free you, are you alright?'

'Aaargh!' Said the dragon. Harry shrugged, it was the best he was going to get with the state the dragon was in. As he got nearer, he saw just the amount of damage that had been inflicted on the dragon, and he could barely stop himself from lashing out in fury. 

'Excuse me,' he said politely as he clambered onto the dragon's back. 'Oh, sorry about that.'

Harry held out an arm and helped his friends climb on.

'Sir, we've undone your tethers. You're able to fly now.'

And with that, the dragon reared, opening his wings. Harry hissed when he saw the state of the wings, with their torn edges, and seethed silently, but there were other things to address at the moment. With a huge flap, the dragon soared into the air, and with the help of Harry mentally directing him, they fived towards the passage opening, the goblins hurling puny daggers that barely scratched the dragon's scales.

The dragon roared and blew fire at the tunnel, blasting through layers of rock and marble. He clawed his way through, fighting through the dust and falling debris. Behind him, Harry heard Hermione casting as she helped the dragon enlarge the tunnel, and he scrambled to pull his wand out to help.

And then, at last, they had blasted their way into the main reception. The dragon took off for the entrance, following the smell of fresh air, and launched itself into the sky.

***

Harry reached the edge of the forest, and he stopped. Dumbledore was wrong. He wasn't a Horcrux, had never been. It only seemed that way because he had been housing a part of Tom Riddle's soul, because it seemed that eating Horcruxes were not the way to destroy them completely. The link between him and Voldemort had been artificial, false, and he had been able to get rid of it any time he wanted. He just needed to regurgitate the souls and burn them with his fire.

But still...this war needed to end, one way or another. The last battle between The Boy-Who-Lived and The Dark Lord needed to happen. With a sigh, Harry fumbled for the Snitch in the pouch at his neck, reading the words etched into its side.

I open at the close.

He pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered, "I am about to die."

The Snitch cracked open and the Resurrection Stone tumbled into his open palm, so very small for such a fabled object.

Harry closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times. He opened his eyes and looked around, smiling at the bittersweet sight in front of him.

Lily and James Potter stood before him, transparent, neither ghost nor truly flesh, and so so young. Harry's heart ached. They had been barely older than twenty, barely out of teenage-hood. They had been thrust into a war that wasn't theirs to fight, and died too early.

And together, the small patchwork family of three made their through the old trees that grew closely together, following the duo of Death Eaters they had found to exactly where Harry needed to go.

He saw Voldemort in the clearing where Aragog and his family used to live, sitting with his hands folded over the Elder Wand.

"No sign of him, my Lord. The hour is up," said Dolohov.

Voldemort drew his wand, twirling it between his long, pale fingers.

"I thought he would come. I expected him to come," Voldemort paused, and the silence was deafening. "I was, it seems... mistaken."

"You weren't."

Harry stepped forward into and pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, the Resurrection Stone he slipped into his pocket.

"HARRY! NO!" A voice yelled. It was Hagrid, bound and trussed up like a turkey, tied to a tree nearby. He struggled against his bonds, eyes wide underneath his messy hair.

"NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH-?"

He was cut off when Rowle flicked his wand at Hagrid, his mouth moving but no words forming.

Voldemort and Harry looked at each, two sides of a coin, complete opposites, yet so similar. Except for the whole dragon thing, but the point still stood.

Voldemort raised his wand, head tilted. He pointed it at Harry, who did nothing. He saw the mouth open and a flash of green light, allowing it to hit him in the chest.

Dramatically, Harry flopped to the ground, boneless, and held his breath, shutting his eyes.

He could feel the cold hard ground pressing against his face, could feel the metal of his glasses cutting into his temple. He made sure to remain very still, even though he had fallen into an awkward pose. Harry then heard a thump and several people shuffling around, and ached to see what was happening. He cracked an eye open.

Voldemort seemed to have fallen, and various Death Eaters had come forward, but were now returning to the crowd.

"I do not require assistance," Voldemort said. "The boy... is he dead?"

Hands touched his face, and he could hear a woman's fast breathing above him, her long hair tickling his face and creating a curtain that blocked the view from any onlookers.

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?" Narcissa Malfoy whispered, barely audible if it weren't for Harry's enhanced hearing.

Still pretending to be dead on the floor, Harry nodded slightly. He felt the hand on his chest withdraw and heard the rustling of fabric as she sat up.

"He is dead!" Narcissa called, and the audience immediately responded. They shouted in triumph, and there were bright lights flashing through Harry's lids as they were shot into the air in celebration.

"You see?" Voldemort screeched. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!"

Harry had been expecting it, after all, he was in the company of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself. However, the spell hit his back, where his scales were thickest, and didn't affect him in the slightest.

“Now,” said Voldemort, “we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No — Wait —”

And they made Hagrid carry him.

Harry could feel Hagrid's enormous sobs from where he was cradled gently in his arms, and forced himself to remain still and limp. Hagrid stumbled his way through the forest, back through the close-growing tree, past the centaurs and finally, they reached school grounds.

“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone." Voldemort said, then made a pretty little speech about the new, peaceful world he would bring about.

There was silence when he finished speaking, and they proceeded forward, even closer to Hogwarts. When they stopped again, they were right by the entrance hall, the glow from the castle visible even through Harry's closed eyelids.

He waited a moment, then a terrible scream pierced through the air.

"NO!" Professor McGonagall screamed, and it took everything in him to stop himself from jumping up and announcing that he was still alive.

His friends' voices joined in with McGonagall's and he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to remain limp and motionless.

"You see?" Said Voldemort, laughing. "Harry Potter is dead."

But before he could say anything else, Harry's control snapped, and he opened his eyes, sitting up straight.

"Actually," he said, holding up a finger. "I'm not."

Then he turned into a dragon.

***

Chaos reigned. Screams from both Death Eaters and students alike rang through the air as they scrambled away from the massive dragon that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, several people whipping out wands and shooting spells which glanced harmlessly off Harry's hide.

"HARRY!" Hagrid shouted. "HARRY - WHERE'S HARRY?"

Harry turned his head around to look at the groundskeeper.

"It's me, guys!" He said, the words slightly garbled what with an unfamiliar set of vocal cords, unused to speaking in his dragon form. He twisted around once more, his massive green eye peering curiously at his friends standing at the Great Hall. "It's me, Harry!"

There was silence at his words. He took advantage of it and turned around to face Voldemort, who was paler than ever, and grinned in what must have been a terrifying display of razor-sharp teeth. Voldemort paled even further.

"And you, Tim Riddle-"

"It's Tom Riddle! And it's not Tom Riddle, it's Voldemort!"

Harry laughed. "Haha, classic Tim."

The Hogwarts students seemed to be in shock, no one moving or speaking, until there as a muttering amongst the crowd as someone pushed through.

Draco Malfoy squeezed his way through, muttering apologies as he jostled past elbows and stepped on toes. He made his way to the front of the crowd, then stood in front of Harry's friends and glared at the massive dragon.

"WHAT THE FUCK, POTTER," he said, hands on his hips. "YOU FUCKING WHAT."

And then many things happened at the same moment. 

Malfoy's words had snapped the audience out of their stupor, and hundreds of people were running at each other, spells flying, pausing to gawp at the giant black dragon that used to be the Boy-Who-Lived. At the same time, there was a loud thumping from the forest, and Grawp came bounding around the side of the castle, yelling, "HAGGER!"

The giants on Voldemort's side answered and they ran at each other, and just like that, the final battle had started. 

Harry flapped his wings and took off, spells bouncing off his scales, and let out a giant stream of fire at the enemy once he was high enough in the air, roasting a good portion of them. Screams and the smell of smoke rose up to where he was, hovering amongst the clouds, and he grinned, before diving back down to earth. 

Just before he hit the ground, he suddenly transformed into his human self again, landing in a roll. He didn't bother with a wand and dived into the fray, shooting off spells left and right, making his way to his friends' side, who were still at the front entrance, but now actively engaged in the battle. Malfoy was also beside them, a fierce scowl on his face as he caught the eye of his parents who were desperately gesturing to him to join them. 

Harry jogged up to his friends, shooting the odd stunner into the crowd every time a hooded figure got too close to him. They spotted him once he was about a few metres in front of them. 

"Harry!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around him. When she had finally released him, Ron immediately pulled him forward, checking him over for injuries. 

"Oh Merlin, Harry, mate, what was that?"  He said, hugging him as well once he was satisfied. "We were so so worried."

"Also, dragons?" Hermione asked.

Harry laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'll explain everything later, I promise."

"You'd better," Ron muttered darkly.

Then, without any further conversation, they turned to the battle. Harry saw house elves running around, waving meat cleavers and kitchen knives, hacking at ankles and trying to avoid getting kicked. He saw centaurs, drawing and releasing arrows into the crowd with deadly accuracy, picking off the Death Eaters one by one. He saw George and Fred fighting off five Death Eaters, duelling back-to-back, moving in perfect sync like they had been doing since birth. He saw Mrs Weasley, viscously duelling Bellatrix Lestrange. He saw warriors, fighting to protect their mutual home and family.

Voldemort was in the middle of the battle, flinging around spells left and right, not caring if he hit friend or foe. Harry transformed into a dragon and stomped around, flattening his enemies, then just as suddenly, turned human again and fired a few stunners at the panicking Death Eaters. He Apparated behind Voldemort and turned into a dragon yet again, and roared.

Voldemort, who hadn't suspected a thing until that moment, turned around and paled.

Then Harry opened his mouth, and with how big he was, he didn't even have to unhinge his jaw, but he still did because dramatics, duh.

And while Voldemort was still frozen in shock, he lunged forward and closed his cavernous mouth around both the Dark Lord and his pet snake with a loud, final crunch.

***

Harry leaned back in his chair and stretched, hearing the satisfying pop of his spine, and sat back, content. There was another class after lunch, he thought, perhaps Gryffindor and Slytherin third-years. He grinned, thinking over the lesson he had planned for them.

The war was over, had been over for about a year now. The world was finally at peace, Harry had secured himself a job at Hogwarts as the new Defence teacher now that the position was no longer cursed. The students still stared at him in amazement every time he passed them in the corridors, but he chalked that up to the newspapers still calling him the 'Boy-Who-Ate-The-Dark-Lord'. He figured it would pass sooner or later.

Norbert had left to travel the world, complaining about how Harry was becoming too domestic now that he had found his hoard (the students that came and left his classroom each day), but Harry knew that she was happy for him, though she would never admit it.

The white dragon, now dubbed Sir, because Harry's naming skills were very on the nose, was grumpily being looked after in the Romanian Dragon Reserve by Charlie Weasley and his colleagues. He had admitted that he liked not having to hunt for his food as well as having his nest cleaned for him, and he was steadily recovering from his trauma.

And Harry? Harry was happy.

He smiled, relishing in the feeling of the afternoon sunlight on his face. All was well.

Chapter Text

The white dragon rose, climbing higher and higher, leaving the smoking and ruined remains of Gringotts far behind. London unfurled below them, buildings and people getting smaller and smaller, until they were barely larger than specks.

The dragon didn't have any specific destination in mind, only to get away. He was doing it quite fabulously, though there were problems that needed to be addressed. The air was getting incredibly thin and it was getting harder to breathe, and still, the dragon pushed on, his powerful wings pumping up and down as they coasted along a convenient updraught.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, over the roaring of the wind and the popping of Harry's ears as the air pressure changed, barely audible if she weren't sitting right behind Harry. "We have to go down!"

'Um, excuse me, sir?' Harry said, not sure what to do, tapping the nearest spine on the dragon's back slightly. There was a slight rumbling noise, distant, and slightly muffled by the wind. Harry frowned when he heard it, but he put it out of his mind. It wasn't a problem. 'Sir, we need to go down!'

The dragon didn't reply with words, but a feeling of anger, rage, hatemurderdestroy wafted down the link to Harry, as well as an image of Harry, Hermione and Ron being thrown off the dragon's back.

'Please don't do that,' Harry said.

'Then fly yourself. I'm not a horse.' Harry blinked at the hoarse, angry roar that echoed through his head, the speech slightly stilted. It was obvious that the dragon hadn't spoken to anyone for a long time. Also, the rumbling from before was getting louder.

'Also!' Harry said, remembering the reason he had tried to communicate with the other dragon in the first place. 'Also, we need to go down, sir, we're too high up.'

'Bah,' the dragon said. 'I know where I'm going just fine.'

'But sir!' Harry protested. The dragon responded by very pointedly cutting the telepathic link between them, which was the dragon version of turning around and sulking.

Personally, Harry kind of liked being so high up, but his breath was forming little ice crystals in the air in front of him and he could see that it was going to become a problem soon-

And then everything went to shit.

They coasted over a large clump of clouds, and then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, an airplane appeared, less than half a kilometre away. And with the rate it was travelling, as well as how the continued to dragon fly stubbornly on, there would be some form of collision, and pain, and perhaps some high velocity severed limbs, very, very soon.

All three passengers of the dragon screamed, and Harry desperately hammered on the mental door that was the telepathic link between the two dragons.

'Sir- SIR!' He yelled. The dragon ignored him and flew steadily on, getting closer and closer to the plane. Suddenly, a reckless, stupid, idiotic plan popped into Harry's head. He laughed hysterically, despairingly, and in a fit of desperation, decided to go along with it.

He started to climb along the dragon's back. Hermione yelled something at him, but her voice was drowned out by the rumbling of the plane and lost in the wind. Harry clambered over scales and spines, steady and balanced from years of playing Quidditch.

The plane was getting increasingly closer, the rumbling of the engines becoming deafening. The dragon finally seemed to notice that something was wrong, his head cocked sideways. Harry was clinging on to a large spike on the dragon's neck, inching closer and closer to his head.

And still, the plane was getting closer.

Harry finally reached the dragon's head, squatting precariously on his long neck. The dragon had definitely realised that something was wrong by now and was squinting in the general direction of where the rumbling was coming from, his face frowned as his ears twitched.

'SIR!' Harry yelled, trying again. This time, the dragon reopened the link grudgingly, and Harry almost sobbed in relief.

'What is that noise?' The dragon asked gruffly.

'No time to explain,' Harry said hurriedly, smacking the top of the other dragon's head. 'Don't ask questions, you need to turn left!'

The older dragon hesitated, and Harry was getting ready to change into his dragon form and get Hermione and Ron the hell away from the explosion when it happened, regardless of the consequences, when the white dragon swerved to the left suddenly, almost throwing his three passengers right off.

'...You're going to have to tell me where to go,' The white dragon admitted angrily. 'I have no clue where I'm going. I've been flying randomly this whole time.'

Harry laughed in relief, but not without a tinge of hysteria.

***

Hermione and Ron cornered him in the Great Hall, which had been transformed into a sort of temporary infirmary. The survivors of the battle had all ended up at the Great Hall, drifting around and generally looking lost, now that the fight was over.

Makeshift cots were scattered all around the Hall, students and staff alike tending to the injured and grieving the dead.

Harry had been standing over the injured form of Fred Weasley, hurt but thankfully alive. Percy and George had pulled him out of the way of the explosion at the Room of Requirement, and while he had been hit by stray pieces of shrapnel, he had been saved from the brunt of the explosion.

Before long, he was joined by the rest of the Weasley family, all clamouring around the small cot, George clinging to his twin's side. Once everyone had assured each other that none of them was hurt too badly, Ron and Hermione turned around to stare Harry down, almost predatorily.

Harry shuddered a bit, grinning wryly at the irony of the hunter had become the hunted.

"Ok, you gotta tell us what that was about, mate," Ron said, Hermione nodding behind him.

"Did you become an Animagus? But no, Animagus forms never come in mythical creatures... Oh! Except for Merlin himself, who was a dragon, if I remember correctly, so that's still an option... Did you find some sort of transformation magic somewhere? Harry?" Hermione said, barely pausing for breath.

Harry laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You see, the thing is, um." 

"Yeah?" Ron said, gesturing for Harry to continue. "Get to the point."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He knew that his friends would continue to love and accept him just as he was, but after spending his entire life keeping his secret, well, a secret, it was hard to just let everyone know.

But here goes nothing.

"I'm a dragon," Harry said, much quieter than he meant to, but it didn't matter. The Great Hall had silenced, and his admission echoed through the cavernous hall.

Then, Ron snorted.

"Yeah, that's funny mate, but what's the real reason?"

Feeling bolder, Harry said it again.

"I'm not kidding, I'm a dragon."

Ron was slowly turning pale, and Hermione stood, frozen next to him.

At the moment, Norbert poked her head out from under his colour and looked around curiously, then clambered out and hopped off his shoulder, transforming into a human before she landed.

"I just woke up, what's going on?" She said once the cloud of smoke had faded, her speech still slightly slurred, but much better than it had been before. Harry turned and glared at her, knowing full well that she had been awake the whole time. She glanced at him and gave Harry a cheeky wink.

"Is- is that, what is happening?" Ron whispered, his freckles a stark contrast to the paper-white his complexion had become.

Harry huffed in frustration, his control slipping a tiny bit as sparks flew out of his mouth along with his breath. Everyone in the Great Hall collectively took a step back.

Norbert laughed.

'This is very funny,' She said, so that only Harry heard her. 'Humans are hilarious.'

"Don't be rude," He reprimanded her. "I know they're funny, but you still have to be nice about it."

"What is going on?!" Ron said frantically to himself, though it seemed that everyone else was in agreement with him.

"I'm a dragon, that's what," Harry said, seeing the humour in the situation, and deciding to make a joke of it. It would be a lot better on his nerves. "And I just ate the Dark Lord, so if you'll excuse me, I need to go brush my teeth."