Hi, so this is my first fic. I don't own potter and so on.

This is just a very fast prologue to get things started. Later chapters will probably be a little bit different.

I have no beta and my native language is Finnish, so I apologize about all errors and weird phrases.
Can`t give warnings, because I don't yet know what will be needed, but I do like to read dark stuff, so there may be some warnings in future.
Comments and constructive criticism is very welcome.

Updated 31.7.2014, betaed by Shyannie

It was a summer. A boy named Harry was sitting on the floor. Harry was not a particularly happy boy at the moment. He had felt, was feeling a devastating loss. All at once, some of his oldest hopes and dreams had been mashed. He had lost the future that might have been. If only he hadn't acted so rashly… At the same time would there really have been any other path that he could have chosen?

It was too late to change anything though and his feelings were myriad of sadness, self-blame, depression and hatred. Why had this happened to him? They were supposed to care about him… Why couldn't they just tell him the truth? Every year he had to live with the fear of unknown and unanswered questions. People telling him that it all was for his own good and ordering him to follow orders blindly.

Then he was left all alone again, haunting the upstairs of his "home". A summer without any news or information was again in the front of him. Even Hedwig was gone, as it had not felt safe to have her near the Dursleys'. She was too important, too precious. It was better that she was safe elsewhere, even if he lost her companionship for the summer.

Hedwig was now safe, but now he had no way to contact anyone. And he needed to contact someone. For among all the other emotions, apprehension and fear were starting to grip him.

Something strange was happening.

It had started as an itch, but developed to something else. The Dursleys had seen it first... They had ordered him to wash away the dirt on his skin, only to find out that there was no dirt. Instead a little black scales were growing on him. They were as dark as night and smooth like glass. They weren't fragile tough, Harry felt that he could hit the scales with a hammer and they would not bend. He could now feel their weight on him.

They immediately locked him in the cellar. After all, they had learned that he could escape far too easily from the bedroom upstairs. They just didn't know what else to do with the freak. Taking the boy to hospital was just unthinkable! Contacting those freaks that their nephew associated with was certainly not an option. So they tried to ignore the situation by locking him out of their own and neighbors sights- and their own.

It was hard to say who was more alarmed, Harry or the Dursleys. The Dursleys had only their dull imagination that shied from all unusual things, when trying to come up with explanations of what was happening. Harry, however, had heard and read of all kinds of wizarding diseases and maladies, both real and imaginary. He also had a fair bit more imagination than the Dursleys.

He had tried to pry out some of the scales, but that had hardly really worked. His only accomplishment was a puddle of blood and pain. It could have been possible to get rid of the scales by cutting them off with his skin, but that hadn't seemed to be a very wise option. Now he kind of hoped that he had the nerve to cut the scales off when they first appeared. The scales had grown and multiplied alarmingly fast, and by now he would die from blood loss or infections if he tried to remove them.

So all he could do was to think about Sirius' death or panic about the spreading scales. Oh the joy.

It was only few weeks into the summer, and the scales had already grown and spread to cover almost all of his skin. Petunia had screamed in the morning when she had bought porridge. Apparently the scales had spread to cover his face during the night. Needless to say, he had heard quite a bit of yelling from upstairs, but nobody opened the door to the basement for the rest of the day.

Harry was panicking more and more. In the beginning, he had probably been in some kind of shock. Few days had gone by and everything felt so unreal. He had wished with all his heart that he could just wake up in his dormitory and everything would be normal. Or at least as normal as was possible in a school full of adolescent wizards and witches.

That didn't happened. Harry was feeling an increasing need to escape Privet Drive. To see his friends and to get help. Someone in the magical world could get rid of the scales and heal him. It would no doubt require some nasty potions, but that would be okay. Or what if it was too late? If this was some spell that Voldemort had cast without anyone noticing. The scales were similar to those of a snake and snakes were definitely something that gave Voldemort a hard-on. Would the scales just consume and kill him or give Voldemort a power over him?

His thoughts were interrupted when Vernon threw the door open and blundered his way into the basement. The vein in his temple was pulsating angrily and he was shouting about ungrateful freaks and abominations. That was all familiar to Harry, but the gun that his uncle was waving around was definitely not.

Before Harry could say or do anything Vernon aimed the gun in his general direction and pressed the trigger. The bullet flew faster than any spell and before Harry had time to duck, it struck him. Harry felt the bullet him like a mighty hammer blow and felt the vibrations in his bones. It threw him out of balance and he started to fall. The bullet, however, could not pass the hard scales. Instead it ricocheted and ended up in Vernon's chest cavity. That's karma for you.

Vernon's expression turned from anger to shock. The gun dropped from his hands and he clutched his chest. He collapsed to his knees and brought his hands before his eyes. They were bloody… Bloody like his shirt that was just getting redder and redder.

At that moment, Petunia and Dudley ran to the room. They started both to yell and scream. Harry rose up so that he was leaning against the wall. His chest hurt, the screaming was hurting his ears, and his mind was full of incoherent babble. When his mind cleared a little there were three thoughts that screamed above the rest.

He tried to kill me. He's dead, dead, dead. Have to get out of here. NOW

His magic heard his plea, and whisked him away.

Harry woke up in a forest clearing. It was night and the moon was shining upon him with soft light. He could feel the roots and stones digging into him. His throat was painfully dry and the thirst motivated him to look around in hopes of finding something to drink. He could see a little pond that reflected the moon and the tall trees around the clearing. Harry stood up and walked unsteadily to the water's edge and drank deeply. Only after he had quenched his thirst he remembered the dangers of spoiled water. He watched the waves in the pond and wondered if he had just poisoned himself. However as the ripples across the water ended he was able to see his image for first time in weeks.

Maybe he screamed as loud as Petunia had.

Well, at least he wouldn't have problems with taming his hair anymore, as his whole head was now covered in the scales. Even his eyelids had very small scales and instead of eyebrows he had a ridge of scales. Where Voldemort was snakeface, he was now some kind of lizardboy. There was only one spot in his forehead that remained uncovered.

Except even that small bit of a skin was rapidly being covered. His eyed widened as the last gap was covered by a scale and he could feel a massive amounts of magic rising all around him. There were suddenly waves upon waves of magic and they all crashed upon him. It felt amazing. It was like pure power was running in his veins and revitalizing him. It felt like he was one with the magic and like he almost could see the shape of the magic and truly understand its song.

It was bliss. If he ever lived through this all this, and one day have sex, it would probably feel boring after this. The feeling only grew until it felt too good. The feeling was so pleasurable, that it started to be pain. In the end he could not take it anymore and remain sane at the same time, and so his brain shut down.

When he woke up, he was in a different clearing. The trees here were smaller and he was lying in a puddle. Or he thought he was. The feeling of water was different than he was used to, probably because he no longer felt it with his skin. He was aching all over so he just closed his eyes again and laid there for a moment.

Harry's mind started to woke slowly, and he started to recognize that something had changed. He felt different. He could hear things that he normally would not have; the voice of crickets was louder. and he could pinpoint clearly where the singing birds were. His body also felt somehow different. He opened his eyes again and looked down to the puddle he was laying in.

This time there was no scream. Instead, he roared with a voice of mountains.

He could not see Harry the boy-who-lived. Or Harry the amazing lizard boy. Instead, there was a sleek and black dragon staring him with green eyes. He scrambled onto his legs and almost trampled the wings that were sticking out of his back. Dazedly, he looked around the clearing and realized that it was still the same clearing, but he was seeing it from vastly different perspective.

He felt that he should be panicking quite a lot at the moment. Maybe dragons were unable to panic, because he was more stunned and little bit alarmed. How had this happened? Had this really happened? Perhaps he was really just sleeping in somewhere. Maybe he had gone mad or died?

What the hell I'm supposed to do now, he thought. Well, at least one thing is sure. If someone had asked me what magical being I would like to be most, a dragon would have made my top list.