Hello darlings. I am TheVampireDragon, also known as Vamp. Welcome to Wings of a Dragon.

Some of you guys may recognize this name. That's because there used to be another Wings of a Dragon, also written by me. It was my first ever story, started in May 2010. I was updating pretty often, but I got grounded and wasn't able to write. That threw me off my schedule, and I went years without updating. Some of you may be wondering of this will be like that version. I can tell you right now that it will not be like that.

It will be better.

Fast forward to 2013. I was a Junior in high school, and I looked at the story, read it, and realized, Wow, this is complete and utter crap. No continuity of plot, no constant characterization, every last awful thing you'd expect from a middle school girl writing for the first time. And I was like, I can do this better.

So I rewrote it. All of it. And now it's being published once more.

I can tell you a few things about the story right now. First of all, it gets updated every three months. For the first few months, you may get multiple chapters in a month – this is because I currently have a backlog of chapters. Don't get used to it, loves.

Second of all, there is no ship. I know who I want Harry to end up with, but that won't happen till like the second or third sequel. In the meantime, Harry will be dating and crushing on people. Feel free to give me ideas for this. Harry is going to be straight in this story, but feel free to give me slash and femslash ideas for everyone else. The only people not up for pairing suggestions are Ron and Hermione. However, romance will always be on the back burner. This is an adventure story, not a romance.

My two major OCs will NEVER be paired with anyone from the HP series.

As this AN is getting long, I'll tell you guys whatever else I need to in the AN down below.

I do not own Harry Potter or the Inheritance Series, and I make no profit from this.

~Wings of a Dragon~

Friday, June 12, 1996

"What are you all doing here?" Harry asked, looking around at all the people gathered on the Muggle side of Platform Nine-and-Three Quarters. There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his face, a pink-haired Tonks standing just behind him. Standing next to her was Lupin, his face pale and drawn but bearing a friendly smile. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, both wearing shiny new jackets made of some scaly green material.

"Well," Lupin said, "we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home."

"I dunno if that's a good idea," Harry said at once.

"Oh, I think it is," growled Moody, limping a little closer, "That'll be them, will it, Potter?"

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, his magical eye evidently seeing something that they could not. Harry leaned and inch or so to the left, and sure, there were the three Dursleys, who looked positively appalled to see Harry's reception committee.

"Well, shall we do it then?" asked Mr. Weasley, peering at the Dursleys with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

"Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur," said Moody.

Mr. Weasley introduced himself to Uncle Vernon pleasantly enough, but the Dursley family obviously didn't appreciate it. Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed, but her frightened eyes softened somewhat when they landed on Harry. Dudley, meanwhile, gave a brave attempt at a nod to Harry, but failed halfway through, and resorted to trying to look as small and insignificant as possible.

"We thought we'd have just a few words with you about Harry," said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.

"Yeah," growled Moody, "About how he's treated when he's at your place."

Uncle Vernon indignantly replied, "I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house–"

"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley," growled Moody.

"Anyway, that's not the point," interjected Tonks, whose pink hair Aunt Petunia seemed to take as a personal offense, "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry–"

"–and make no mistake, we'll hear about it," added Lupin pleasantly.

"Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to," said Moody.

Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh his fear of wizards.

"Are you threatening me, sir?" he said so loudly that passerby actually stopped to stare. Underlying the man's tone was a dangerous, simmering anger that Harry recognized. It was the tone that Vernon used when he dearly wanted to beat someone, but couldn't because they were in public. It didn't seem to frighten Mad-Eye though.

"Yes, I am," Mad-Eye said, seeming pleased at how quickly this was grasped.

"And do I look like the type of man who could be intimidated?" barked Uncle Vernon.

"Well..." said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backward in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley."

He turned from Vernon to Harry. "So, Potter...give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along..."

Harry said his goodbyes to his friends, aware the whole time of how Uncle Vernon was slowly becoming more and more purple. Eventually he decided it was best to leave before Uncle Vernon exploded, and he lead the way out of the station, a fuming Vernon following along behind him.

Friday, June 12, 1996

Afternoon

All throughout the ride back to Privet Drive, Harry could tell that Vernon was silently fuming. From his position in the backseat next to Dudley, he could see Vernon's knuckles turning white from the force with which he griped the steering wheel. Quiet, unintelligible grumbles could be heard coming from the front seat. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were oddly silent, though Aunt Petunia glanced anxiously back and forth between her husband and Harry. Harry himself sat quietly, being very still. It was easy to tell that what Moody had said had set Vernon off, and Harry made sure to avoid getting his attention, in order to avoid a temper tantrum. He had no desire to be the victim of an automobile crash.

When Vernon parked the automobile in the driveway of Number Four Privet Drive, Harry, carrying Hedwig's cage, went back to the trunk and crouched down. Slowly and carefully, he released the latch of Hedwig's cage. With nary a sound, she hopped out and perched on his forearm, carefully lifting her talons to avoid cutting him.

"Listen, girl," Harry whispered, "You can hang about the house if you want, but don't come back to your cage. I have a feeling this will be a rough summer." Harry watched as she silently flapped her wings, soaring over the house and out of sight. Heaving a sigh, Harry turned away, opening the trunk and retrieving his luggage. The Dursleys were already in the house, so Harry hauled his luggage inside alone.

To his surprise, Vernon was waiting for him in the hall, an anxious Petunia hovering at his shoulder. The man had a nasty look on his face as he unlocked the cupboard door.

"Go on, boy," Vernon said, his teeth bared in a twisted parody of a smile, "Get in." Harry stared at him incredulously, then eyed the cupboard; he doubted he'd fit anymore. "Now, now, boy. After such a long journey, you must be tired. Get on in."

"Erm, I'm going to have to say no to that," Harry said, adjusting his fingers to get a better grip on Hedwig's cage. Vernon's face turned purple with rage, and he reached one meaty hand towards him. Harry raised the cage, preparing to whack his Uncle's hand, but Petunia's small, delicate hand on Vernon's thick arm stopped them both.

"Darling," Petunia said in a quiet, soothing voice, "Mightn't it be better to allow him to go up to his room? After what those – those – what they said at the station – if they find out – if they think we're mistreating him – I just wouldn't feel safe, Vernon." Her eyes flickered towards Harry, and he was surprised at what he say there – gratitude, maybe?

Harry and Vernon lowered their arms as Vernon thought, his hatred for Harry debating with his desire to protect his family. In the end, though, there was no contest; no matter what else could be said about Vernon Dursley, he was a man who dearly loved his family. Harry relaxed as most of the tension left Vernon's body.

"Very well boy," Vernon said with a smile, his voice almost mimicking hospitality, "Go on up." Eying Vernon suspiciously, Harry heaved his luggage up the stairs to his room. "But don't think you'll get out of your chores, boy!" The man called up the stairs.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry muttered as he closed the door. As he moved to put Hedwig's cage up, he noticed a change in his room. Instead of bland white sheets, his sheets had been replaced with ones that were a pretty sky blue, a dark blue comforter folded at the foot of the bed. A blue rug had been placed on the floor, and Dudley's old, broken toys had been cleared off the shelves. Harry sat down hard on the bed, and noticed that the old lumpy mattress had been replaced with a new soft one. Something caught his eye, and he glanced off to the side. He did a double take as he realized that the pieces of paper that he had used as a calender in the past had been replaced. Instead of a white chart, a large-breasted asian beauty in a tiny bikini greeted him, her raised arms pulling her breasts into a position that made Harry blush heavily and avert his gaze.

Harry glanced at the calender again, before cautiously approaching. He flipped the calendar page over and found that the picture for July was just as obscene. Slowly, he looked through all the months, all the way to December, which featured a slender blonde posing in the snow.

Suddenly a knock sounded. Harry yelped and dropped the calendar. "Er, just a minute!" he called, hastily picking up the calendar and frantically flipping back to the current month. He hung it back up and opened the door, desperately hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt.

To his surprise, Dudley was standing there, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. Harry stared, dumbfounded, until Dudley cleared his throat and held out the cup.

"I brought you some tea. Can I come in?" After a moment, Harry nodded and opened the door a little more, moving off to the side. Dudley lumbered into the room, passing Harry the cup, who took it automatically and sat on the bed after closing the door. The two cousins stared at each other for several long moments, the cup warm in Harry's hands. Dudley coughed and said hesitantly, "It's Masala Chai. The tea, I mean. It's, er, Indian. It's spicy. Mum bought it, but Dad and I don't like it. I thought you might like it. Try it. It'll make your tongue tingle."

Harry looked down at the tea. It smelled good. He took a cautious sip, not putting it past Dudley to have put glue in it or something, and all sorts of unfamiliar flavors flowed over his tongue. After swallowing, his tongue tingled, feeling warm and cold at the same time. As Harry took another sip, Dudley began rambling.

"It's got cinnamon in it. Nutmeg, too, and something called cloves. It said on the box that it was supposed to have milk, so I put some in, and sugar, too, cause I thought it wasn't sweet enough."

"It's good," Harry interrupted. They stared at each other, Dudley searching for something to say, and Harry waiting for Dudley to get to the point.

"Do you like the room now?" Dudley asked, "Mum redecorated it. Chose the bedspread and the rug. She went with blue because that's a boy's color, and we didn't know what your favorite color is. She wanted to get you a little armchair, but Dad wouldn't let her. I picked out the calendar though."

"Erm, yeah, I do," Harry said. After taking another gulp of tea to keep his head, he asked, "Why'd you do it?"

He did not expect Dudley to look away and shuffle his feet. "Well, I was thinking," Dudley began.

"Was that hard?" Harry interrupted snidely. Instead of retaliating as expected, Dudley remained strangely silent. It unsettled him so much that he muttered, "Sorry, go on."

Even more strangely, Dudley accepted that without complaint. "Anyway, since last summer I've been thinking. And I realized something. See, Mum and Dad always told me that m-magic was a bad thing. That it killed and hurt and that the people who used it were happy to make other people sad. But you saved me. Saved my life, with magic." Dudley paused to take a breath, and Harry almost told him that he hadn't saved his life, just his soul, but Dudley continued before he could, "And I realized that magic doesn't just do bad things – it does good things too. And I realized that if magic could do good things, and you and your kind were raised properly, then you would only do good things, not evil things, with your magic. And I told that to Mum, and it took a while, but eventually she understood. We tried explaining it to Dad, but he wouldn't listen. And, And, Harry, Mum and I are sorry for the way we treated you."

Harry stared at his cousin, too shocked for words. After a few minutes, he managed to choke out, "I – that's – Damn, Dudley, I don't know what to say."

"Well then don't day anything, you scrawny git," Dudley said, "Let's just start over." He held out a large, meaty hand to Harry, "Hullo, my name is Dudley Dursley, and I'm your cousin."

After a moment, Harry solemnly reached out and took Dudley's hand, "It's nice to meet you Dudley Dursley. My name is Harry Potter, and I'm your cousin."

And thus began a new relationship between the two boys.

Saturday, June 13, 1996

Late Morning

Aunt Petunia had not changed quite as much as Dudley had implied. Her behavior towards Harry was much improved, but it was obvious she was trying hard not to fall back into old habits, with only limited success.

"Will you set the table for lunch, boy – I mean, Harry?" Her tone was civil enough, but her face was pinched with disappointment – hopefully not directed at him. Nevertheless, Harry nodded and set the table. When he was done, he turned to go back upstairs to his newly redecorated room.

"Where are you going? You're not done yet." Harry turned back in surprise. Aunt Petunia's face was surprisingly soft as she said, "You forgot to set your own place, Harry."

It was very unusual for Harry to sit at the table. Normally, he was sent back to his room to eat – or, during childhood, to his cupboard. Often as a child he would be allowed to sit at the table, but not eat. As he set his own place and sat down, he fully expected not to get any food, or at least lower quality food. But as Aunt Petunia served the food, he received the same ham-and-cheese sandwich and crisps that the Dursleys did, if in somewhat smaller proportions. Aunt Petunia passed him a glass, and he was surprised to realize it was pomegranate juice. He had loved pomegranate juice as a child, but the Dursleys had kept it from him out of spite.

This was just surreal.

Sunday, June 14, 1996

Early Morning

The next day, Harry received treatment that was in line with what he had come to expect from the Dursleys. Vernon woke him up at six in the morning, handed him a pair of gloves, and told him to weed the flower beds. Harry, yawning, stumbled out of bed, changed his clothes, and set to work. As he worked, he kept an eye out for wizards – both Death Eaters and any Order members that might be there. Once he saw a flash of pink and thought that he had found Tonks, but it turned out that Number 6's nine year old had dyed their poodle pink.

As the minutes turned to hours, Harry had to wrench himself out of his thoughts more and more often. Thoughts that he didn't want to have. Thoughts of Sirius.

Sirius...

In his mind's eye, he saw Sirius fall through the veil, that mixture of surprise and anger etched onto his face. He saw Bellatrix Lestrange's face turn from surprised to pleased to joyful. Joyful. Joyful at the death of his godfather. Harry felt the anger and hatred burn inside of him, and he grit his teeth as he longed to have his wand at the madwoman's throat.

His scar gave a large, painful throb.

Harry immediately fought to calm himself. Anger and hatred were emotions that Voldemort understood. He couldn't leave himself vulnerable. Instead of the hatred he felt for Bellatrix, he thought of the love he felt for Sirius, the unbreakable camaraderie between him and his best friends. As expected, the pain in his head promptly abated. But thinking of his friends reminded him of something Hermione had told him before leaving with the Dursleys.

"You mustn't blame yourself, Harry."

But Harry did blame himself, if only partly. If I hadn't gone there, he'd still be alive, Harry thought mournfully, Lestrange killed him, but I let her. Harry squeezed his eyes shut to keep his tears from falling. But some fell nevertheless, dripping from his bowed head to his gloves, sliding down onto a dark leaf. Harry glared at those mocking droplets of water, and viciously ripped the plant that held them from the ground.

"BOY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

Harry's gaze snapped up to his enormous, furious uncle, then over to the plant he held in his hand. To his horror, it wasn't a weed, but a clump of yellow and orange tulips. Harry looked back to his Uncle just in time to be viciously backhanded. His head snapped to the side, and his body bowed backwards with the force of the blow. He hit the dirt, disoriented, the tulips falling out of his hand. He laid there, dazed, for a moment, before some instinct compelled him to roll out of the way. A large foot just barely missed him, the air whistling as it went by. Before Uncle Vernon could try to kick him again, Harry scrambled to his feet. He felt the right side of his face begin to swell, and he couldn't see out of the fractured lens of his glasses.

"BOY! THOSE WERE YOUR AUNT'S PRIZE WINNING TULIPS! HOW DARE–!"

"Stop," Harry said, chest heaving, as he pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at Vernon, "Just stop." Vernon immediately fell silent, his small eyes locked on Harry's wand. Harry could see the fear in the man's eyes.

"Now boy," the man said lowly, "You don't want to use that. Just put that away. Someone might see it."

Harry, in fact, did not want to use his wand. Although Voldemort was back, this did not necessarily mean that the restriction on underage magic had been lifted. And even if it had been lifted, casting on a muggle would bring him severe punishment. But if Harry put his wand away, he would be at the mercy of his angry uncle, who was undoubtedly even angrier because of Harry's wand. So Harry did the only thing he thought he could.

"Don't follow me," he said, backing up and keeping his wand trained on his relative. He kept backing until he hit the fence, where he groped blindly behind him until he found the gate. He exited and continued backing through the neighbor's gardens, keeping his wand trained on Vernon even once he was out of firing range. It was only once he hit the fence of a garden five houses away that he put his wand away and turned away from his uncle. Harry hopped the fence and raced through the garden, hopping the fence again on the other side and racing away from Privet Drive. At some point he crossed Magnolia Crescent, and from there he zigzagged through the houses and chose random streets to go down, hoping to confuse any pursuers. Eventually, he found himself in the playground of his old primary school, which was devoid of children since it was summer break.

Feeling nostalgic, Harry wandered over to the school dumpster. He looked up at the roof he had once appeared on – although now that he thought about it, it was more likely that he flew rather than Apparated. Next he wandered over to the swing set and sat down on a particular one. When he was five, Dudley had pushed him off this swing set and taken it over. But just a few minutes later, an older kid had pushed Dudley off, right into a rock, chipping one of his baby teeth. Harry smiled at the memory, then turned his gaze to the small forest beyond the school.

As children, they had been told not to go into the forest. While there weren't really any dangerous predators left in Britain anymore, a forest could still be dangerous to small children. But every child had tried to get in at least once. Now, looking at it, Harry felt old childhood curiosity well up again.

Harry hopped off the swing and walked across the football field to the chain-link fence. Hooking his fingers and trainers into the holes of the fence, he quickly scaled it and dropped down the other side. Leaves crunched underneath his feet as he landed. Harry glanced back towards the school, then headed into the forest.

The idea that it might not be safe to enter with Death Eaters on the loose only briefly crossed his mind.

Sunday, June 14, 1996

Late Afternoon

Harry was growing bored with the forest. In the beginning it had been fun, the forbidden element adding a bit of thrill to his explorations. He hadn't been concerned about any danger, since he had been able to hear automobiles rushing by on a nearby, though invisible, road.

But now the forest was silent except for the sounds of nature. Away from civilization, the trees were taller, the underbrush thicker, and the wildlife bolder. Harry paused to untangle his sleeve from a thicket of thistles.

Snap.

There it was again. Harry had been hearing noises for the last ten minutes at least. Occasionally, he would catch something moving out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, nothing was there. Harry was sure something was stalking him. He didn't know if it was a Death Eater or not, but he wasn't taking any chances. He had become strategic in his movements, looking for a place to hide. Finally he found a clearing.

Harry darted across the open space, deliberately making as much noise as possible. He hid in some bushes on the opposite side of the clearing as the noises increased in volume.

The bushes shook violently. Harry tensed, pulling his wand out and preparing himself. The undergrowth parted...

…And a furry gray head pushed its way out.

Harry sagged with relief and put away his wand. It was obviously just a dog, a very, very large mixed mutt. It was dirty and its ribs were just barely visible. It was obviously just a stray who had followed Harry, thinking he had food. Harry gave a chuckle. So scared of just a dog!

...Wait a moment...

Was it just one dog? Was that a second dog entering the clearing? A third? A fourth? A fifth? Had an entire pack followed Harry? How strange.

Harry's blood ran cold as he looked at the second dog to enter the clearing. He recognized that dog.

Several years ago, a man a few streets over had bought a purebred Rottweiler. The dog had quickly gained a reputation for being vicious and aggressive. When Harry was 12, the dog had attacked a four year old, and then his older brother when he tried to rescue the child. The older brother lost an eye, and the four year old lost three fingers. The family sued the owner, and it was decided that the dog should be put down, despite the owner's protests. But when the time came, the owner claimed that the dog had 'run away' in the night.

Looking at the other dogs, Harry saw that they were all as large and aggressive looking as the Rottweiler. These were no ordinary strays. Harry prayed that they hadn't realized where he was. Currently, the dogs were pacing throughout the clearing, sniffing the ground. Trying to get away without exposing himself, Harry slowly crawled backwards on all fours. Painfully, painfully slowly, the dog filled clearing began to disappear from sight. Then, one dog began barking loudly, cuing the rest to join in, and he knew they had found his scent.

Harry shot up to his feet. He ran in the opposite direction from the dogs, leaping over logs and slapping branches out of his way. He could hear the dogs crashing through the undergrowth behind him – how far away were they? Seven meters, maybe? He couldn't use his wand on them – if the Ministry didn't qualify Dementors as an appropriate reason to use magic, they sure as hell wouldn't consider dogs appropriate. Perhaps he should climb a tree instead?

Harry looked around as he ran, and there it was – a tree with relatively low branches. Harry raced up to the tree and made a leap, but to his horror he found that his hands fell about a foot short of the lowest branch. He jumped again, but missed by an even greater amount. He glanced over his shoulder – the dogs were getting closer. He backed up for a last desperate attempt. He ran at full speed towards the tree and leaped. He was getting closer, closer - but it wasn't close enough, he wasn't going to make it – the dogs were around him now – then there was that warmth that he associated with his magic, and suddenly his chest slammed into the limb, his arms automatically wrapping around it. Harry scrabbled and kicked with his feet, trying to pull the rest of his body into the tree. He felt jaws snapping at his trainer, and he kicked out, connecting with a satisfying thump and a pained whine. Harry was almost in the tree and he fought harder to pull himself up.

There was an agonizing pain in his ankle, flesh splitting and bones protesting under the pressure they were suddenly subjected to. Harry glanced back over his shoulder and nearly screamed as he saw that the Rottweiler had clamped down on his ankle and was working to pull him down. Harry tried to hold on, he really did, but something had to give. He fell, and then the dogs were on him.

Harry punched and kicked and pushed, doing his best to fight the dogs off, but it wasn't very effective. He was on his back, the dogs trying to bite at his belly, and his body moved on its own, curling up and partially rolling over to protect his vulnerable organs. The dogs were undeterred, attacking his back instead. Harry flailed, and suddenly the dogs were being pushed back. He felt that warmth again, and saw the shimmer, like a heat wave, surrounding his limbs. The teen struck as hard as he could, and a dog went flying off into the bushes. Together, Harry and his magic fought off the feral animals.

Harry scrambled to his feet. Fueled by adrenaline as he was, Harry couldn't yet feel the pain of his wounds. So he ran as best as he could on his injured ankle.

But the dogs were persistent. The strange power that their prey had suddenly acquired frightened them, but a meal this big would feed them well. The prey was injured and weak, limping as it tried to run. It would collapse eventually, and they would feast. Until then, they would stay well back, to avoid encountering the strange power again.

As the dogs predicted, Harry's ankle soon gave out, and he collapsed into the dirt. As he fell he heard a quiet, hissing voice cry out, "Look where you're going, you fool!"

Harry turned his head to find himself nose to nose with an irritated adder. "Sorry," he hissed, the Parseltongue coming to him as easily as breathing.

"So the great brute can speak," the snake said, slit eyes scrutinizing him, "You're in awfully bad shape, speaker. What happened to you?"

"The dogs," Harry hissed with exhaustion, "They attacked me. They're trying to eat me. Please, help me."

The adder made a hissing noise that Harry's tired brain vaguely translated as a sigh. "Well, I suppose I can't let a speaker die as prey, especially considering your kind are so rare in this part of the world. Get into that hollow there."

Harry weakly crawled into the hollow made by an oak's large roots and curled up. The snake nudged some dead oak leaves in front of Harry and laid on top of them, where he blended perfectly.

The largest dog, a gray female, poked her head out of the bushes. Her eyes brightened as she saw the prey curled up in the roots of a tree. The pack, all of them born in the wild except for the stub-tailed black and brown male, came up beside her as they leisurely stalked towards the prey. She never saw the snake that buried his fangs into her throat. The other dogs yelped and backed up, surprised by the snake that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The female yelped and whined at the immediate and intense pain in her throat. Then, the swelling typical of adder bites began. Within moments, she was hacking and chocking as the swelling put pressure on her windpipe. Within a few minutes, she was dead, suffocated to death by her own body. Three of the dogs just stared at the adder, unsure of how to deal with this new threat.

The Rottweiler snarled. Having been raised in captivity, it did not know of the danger that this small legless creature posed. It growled and paced a little closer.

The viper reared up and hissed threateningly. "Come any closer and you'll regret it, you filthy mammal," the snake warned. The dog payed no attention to the meaningless hisses and charged the adder.

Faster than Harry could follow, the snake struck once, twice. The first strike hit between the dog's eyes. The second strike, thought aimed for the dog's throat, hit the shoulder. But the instant burning pain in his head and shoulder was enough to make the dog back up a bit. A dry strike to the throat was enough for the dog to turn tail, the other three following behind it.

"Thank you," Harry hissed to the adder.

"No problem. It was fun," The snake eyed him, then said, "You should follow me. I know some people who can help you." The snake began to slither away.

"Wait," Harry called, struggling to get up and follow the snake, "You're going too fast, I can't keep up. My legs are hurt."

"Oh that's right. You use those appendages to move. You can't slither? No? Try using all four of those things then."

Harry dropped to his hands and knees, finding that it was somewhat easier to move after the snake. The adder still had to stop and wait for him occasionally, as he easily slithered around and over things that Harry struggled to crawl over.

"We're almost there," the adder assured him as he pulled himself over a boulder.

"Good," Harry hissed back, "This is so – oh!" The other side of the boulder was too steep, sending Harry tumbling down it. He landed on a narrow ledge of dirt, one of his legs hanging off into an abyss. He turned his head and saw that his leg was dangling over the edge of a deep gully, at least fifteen feet deep. The bottom of it was a very shallow stream with was littered with large rocks. Harry swallowed nervously, thinking how close he came to serious injury. He looked up at the snake, who was peering over the edge of the boulder. "That was close," he hissed to the snake.

"Very. Are you all right?"

"I think so – agghhh!" Suddenly he was falling, and then his body jolted, and everything went black.

Sunday, June 14, 1996

Very Late Afternoon

The adder coiled up on himself in shock. The dirt had crumbled beneath the speaker-human, and he had simply disappeared. He poked his head back over the boulder. The speaker-human was laying on his back at the bottom of the gully, a little pool of red staining the rock beneath his head.

"Well, shit," the adder said to no one, "I guess I'll have to bring them here." The adder coiled up on himself.

HELP! HELP! The adder screamed inside in his head, making his mental voice as loud as possible. HUMAN DOWN! IN THE GULLY! HELP! HELP! HE'S BADLY HURT!

All of a sudden, something ancient and powerful touched his mind, something much vaster than he. Then the presence retreated, sending a feeling of acknowledgment as it left.

Satisfied, the adder curled up to wait.

A powerful vibration rocked his body, a vibration equivalent to one given off by thunder. A magical snake or other animal would have interpreted it as sound.

Another vibration.

Another.

Then a shadow was cast over the land, blocking out the sun.

The adder raised his head and hissed in greeting.

The shadow descended.

~Wings of a Dragon~

For anyone who owns a Rottweiler, I don't mean to offend. When properly socialized, Rottweilers make excellent family pets who wouldn't hurt a fly. However, when they're not properly socialized, they've been known to attack people besides their owners. Combined with their immense strength, this makes them very dangerous. This Rottweiler was not properly socialized, and his owner was very irresponsible.

Did you guys like the adder? I did. He's not going to show up again though.

So, I have some questions for you guys. I am not European – I'm American, and more than that, I'm from the Deep South (also known to some as That-Place-That's-Full-Of-Bigots and Let's-Be-Uneducated-and-Mildly-Racist). While I myself am none of these things, I suffer from an unfortunate lack of knowledge concerning lifestyles outside of where I live. This story takes place in England. I don't live in England. I want you guys to be aware that I'm going to get stuff wrong. When I do, please correct me. Also, I would hate to have stereotypes in my story, so please, if you're European, tell me what it's like there so I don't get things wrong.

Thanks for reading, and please Review!

Love, Vamp