Author's Notes: It's been more than a few years since I've read the Harry Potter Books so there might be a ton of inaccuracies. Point them out to me and I'll gladly be changing them. This is also very much an AU story now.
Also this is non-epilogue compliant. I hate the epilogue. Argh.
The prologue is rather long since it covers most what happened to Harry before the HPXDM starts which will be the main content of the story. I also have a tendency to re-edit like crazy due to the fact that my writing sucks and needs constant rechecking to get right. _
One last thing: I am in horrible need of a BETA slash Editor. My tenses need sorting, my spelling needs rechecking and plot points need organizing. I haven't written anything in years and it shows!
Reviews much appreciated! Sometimes it's the only thing motivating me to write.
Warnings: I love creature fics but hate the idea of Mpreg so there will be none of that here. Also boy love and anyone who hates that go away.
Eventual Pairings: Harry x Draco, Ron x Hermione and other pairings still to be thought of.
Disclaimer: The idea of the Harry Potter books is owned by the amazing J.K. Rowling and not me. The only thing I own is the sad pathetic plot in this one particular story and everything else is hers (=3=)b
Prologue
A whole year had passed since that fateful incident that had basically culminated on turning the Boy-Who-Lived into The-Man-Who-Vanquished-The-Dark-Lord. Harry had learned far more spells in the few weeks he'd spent searching for the Horcruxes and fighting in the War than he'd learned all the years he'd studied at Hogwarts. Admittedly the basic spells taught in the first few years of his magical schooling had proven surprisingly useful. A good example being that a well placed Lumos was still entirely useful in any and most dark places.
Briefly, Harry recalled the memory of the night when he'd finally faced off against Voldemort. The wizard by that time had barely resembled a human being. His eyes glowing fiercely red while his features had grown to resemble a reptile even more. The threats spat out on the battlefield had mostly been said in Parseltongue which at that point in time hadn't really made much of an impact on Harry's consciousness. Thinking back now, sitting here on the couch at his own home, he couldn't help but wonder why the Dark Lord had refused to speak in human tongue. Such an odd thing to do especially in war where communication was basically the lifeline that held an army together.
That night had been almost like a dream. A nightmare really. Everything had happened so fast. There had been no time to think about what he was going to do. Harry had stunned, maimed and nearly killed numerous Death Eaters with no hints of remorse. There just hadn't been any spare instances for guilt to have wormed its place into his thoughts.
Hermione often recounted to the dark haired wizard of the fact that his fight with the Dark Lord had been quite a spectacle against the night sky. Magical spells in all colors of the rainbow had sizzled and burned fiery trails in the still air. Flashes of bright lights, sparks and lightning bolts had pierced the atmosphere of the battlefield seemingly at random burning more than a fair share of those who hadn't managed to dodge quick enough.
Ron had pointed out then, that more than half of those fighting had apparently stopped their own battles to watch Harry dueling it out with their Master. Suffice to say, the match was obviously between two who were equal in power, if not in prowess.
Dying had been an odd experience, Harry wistfully recalled. He had caught a glimpse of his parents, experienced the ultimate happiness for a brief few moments suspended in time before he had been forced back into the pain that was reality and life.
It was horrible that so many had died: Professor Snape, Tonks, Dumbledore but that was the harsh realities of war. The gruesome price everyone paid for the sake if an ideal. Past was past and it did him no good to dwell on such depressing thoughts.
Harry rolled his shoulders and sighed. The action not really doing anything to relieve the deep ache that seemed to have settled itself right around the area of his shoulder blades for what seemed like weeks now. It was an odd sort of pain, somewhat gnawing in character that often evolved into a spastic sort of cramp that radiated up to his neck.
Heaving yet another sigh, he promptly plopped himself down on the couch in the middle of living room and contemplated the house around him. Grimmauld Place was still as horrifyingly dark and gloomy as when he first saw it back in his school days. Of course it didn't quite have that "end of the world" feel as it once had. Reason being: he'd already gone and saved the world a few months back and a spooky house wasn't as scary in comparison to a life and death battle with a mad dark lord.
The walls now had a refreshing new wallpaper design which was entirely Molly Weasely's doing. The matriarch of the redheaded clan having proclaimed that the old color was more than maudlin enough to drive anyone to suicide and promptly replacing the wall color schemes with light blue and white. Her choice explained by the fact that she thought that Harry loved to fly and the sky should always be with him even when he was indoors. It lent the house a more modern feel which Hermione said was a good thing. Although, to the Wizarding World's savior, it just made the house more like Harry's home and less like the Black's Family Estate.
There were, indeed, still times where Harry felt like the furniture was eying him with suspicion but most of the creepier stuff had long been moved out and replaced with more functional and modern pieces. The galleons they had earned from the sale of the old antiques were more than enough to remodel most of the house's interior as well as help finance the apartment that Hermione had planned on renting with Ron. The two having finally gotten together nearly half a year after the final battle.
The black haired wizard couldn't help the grin that blossomed on his face despite the irksome soreness that permeated his back when his gaze alighted on the newly redone mantel above the fireplace. It was a veritable album of pictures of everyone he knew. Picture frames with the members of the Order of the Phoenix, his best friends, classmates, all the staff in Hogwarts and a few pictures of his owl Hedwig. It reflected the fun times and sometimes the more sorrowful episodes in his life; the glaring picture of the Potion's Master being a prime example. Despite their differences, Harry knew without a doubt he was going to miss the irascible Potions Professor. One thing you could definitely say about Snape was the fact that he made sure Harry's life was never boring.
Harry stretched his arms upward in hopes of alleviating the tenderness nagging at his back and propped his legs up on the table in front of him. Kreacher was still making quite a nuisance of himself somewhere deep in the bowels of the house but had eventually learned, after more than a few shouting matches with Harry, that constantly reminding a man of his family's faults led to rather painful curses and more than a few priceless artifacts broken. The green-eyed man thought it was mostly the broken antiques that had mattered more to the cantankerous elf rather than the curses. Harry, admitted to himself honestly, wasn't really that good at curses after all.
Everything he'd done so far still hadn't helped with the near constant back pain which lingered like a small itch scratching at the back of his thoughts. Maybe it was time he started thinking of brewing that pain potion Hermione had been forever nagging him to mak but just not at this moment. He was feeling lazy and the warmth permeating the house, which was a rare event being that Grimmauld was naturally chilly in all seasons, was suffusing him with the dreaded disease called: laziness. Rather terminal sort of disease, that, Harry thought to himself and closed his eyes. Maybe a short snooze on this comfortable couch would help ease the pain.
A few moments passed where nothing but the ambient sounds of the large house floated through the air accompanied by the soft inhalations of a sleeping Harry Potter.
"BLOODY HELL!" The words cracked liked a sudden shot of lightning into the stillness of the scene.
The black haired man suddenly shot out of his seat and doubled over as large waves of dark vein-like marks started crawling all over his skin. They originated on his back and was immediately followed by a dusky bluish-purple haze that suddenly manifested to surround Harry's contorted form on the couch.
"Merlin, the pain!" Harry hissed between his clenched teeth, knuckles white as he hugged himself to help distract from the agony suffusing his body.
The tortuous pain was slowly crawling around his body in what resembled, in his mind, what dying by inches would feel like. He could practically sense the burn climbing centimeter by aching centimeter through his limbs beginning from somewhere in the center of his back. His heart was like a trapped bird flapping desperately for escape in his chest as it tried to pump the blood that looked to have changed into boiling lava around his body.
Harry could only squeeze his eyes shut and wonder why these sort of things always happened to him of all people. Concluding that either the fates really hated him or they were just bloody sadistic bitches.
A soft gasp escaped his suddenly parted mouth as the pain rocketed up a few notches centering on his upper back and feeling almost like pressure was building up inside his body waiting to be released explosively. Harry didn't know what to think. Everything was happening so quickly.
The rope-like shadows that was taking over his body started sending out tendrils all over Harry's trembling form, centering especially on areas around his eyes, mouth, back and extremities. The haze enclosing him kept shifting from a deep purple to an indigo blue with occasional bits of floating green essence that resembled the Avada Kedavra curse intermingling within and around the aura.
Harry had felt the bite of the Cruciatous Curse more than once but never had the pain lasted this long. It seemed almost like an eternity and a half had passed with the agony never letting up. He felt that if a few more moments of this unrelenting pain were to pass he'd soon have a bed reserved for him right next to all of St. Mungo's cursed comatose patients. Merlin, the pain was inexorable and practically grilling every nerve ending he thought he'd had and more.
The last thing Harry heard was a sudden ripping, tearing, wet sort of sound before completely blacking out and slumping to the floor with a dull thud.
Things never seemed to conclude with a happy ending when it came to Harry Potter.
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Harry groaned. He thought he'd vowed that he would never again binge on more than a glass of Firewhiskey at a time to prevent "morning after" events like this. He really should have learned but apparently hadn't quite grasped the moral lesson just yet.
It was then that the pounding behind his lids came to his attention and the sensation seemed more than enough to wake the dead. At the same time; his head distinctly felt like a rink filled with bumper cars manned by psychotic sugar high muggle children, his joints ached like a rusty old hinge, his muscles were lax much like jelly and he thought his mouth tasted like something vaguely furry and a week old had gone to rot in it. And if that wasn't enough, it was then that he sensed something cold seeping into his clothes.
Wet? Moist? What in the world was he lying on?
Peeking a green eye open, he winced. Not exactly one of his smartest ideas. Harsh bright lights on hangover headaches were not a good combination by far.
Slowly and gently he raised his lids, squinting every now and then at the stabbing pain shooting into his eyes from the light, and peered under him.
Merlin, was that blood he was lying on?
Easing himself, even slowly, into a sitting up position seemed to fire up a hundred and one aches in his body and led to the thought as to what exactly had he been doing last night? It felt like he'd run a marathon, dueled Voldemort and played a rather vigorous bout of Quidditch before drinking a crate of Firewhiskey.
Ugh, he hadn't felt this terrible since he'd been fighting in the war and that one time when Ron decided that mixing Firewhiskey and muggle Tequila was a smashing idea.
It took Harry more than a minute to realize that he wasn't wearing his glasses and the world around him was disturbingly clear. The kind of clear where, had this been a television screen, descriptions like: crisp, vibrant and high definition would definitely fit. Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes before looking around the room again. Details like the exact roughness and texture of leather books were suddenly extremely vivid to his newly enhanced vision and he could detect what seemed like the tiniest dust mote floating in the air. The open book at the far side of the room now also became as readable to him as if it was just a few inches from his face. The visual upgrade was more than a little frightening particularly in comparison to how bad his sight had been his entire life.
Out of nowhere, the metallic scent of blood invaded his nostrils and started smelling as if an entire herd of cattle had been slaughtered right in front of him. He sucked in a breath, covered his mouth and barely prevented himself from spewing the contents of his stomach at the abrupt bout of nausea the aroma brought. His sense of smell was suddenly overwhelming and took more than a bit of time for Harry to get used to its sensitivity. What the fuck was happening to him?
Harry's eyes alighted on the hand in front of him and felt his eyes widen in alarm. He could barely comprehend what was staring him right in the face.
On the edge of his fingers were needle sharp, opaque but delicate looking claws remotely resembling those of a kitten's and on the back of his hands were an almost insubstantial smattering of ebony colored scales glinting with an emerald reflect in the light. He slowly flexed his hand and experienced the weird sensation of the claws retracting into his fingertips and leaving only a slight point at the end of his nails. It was then that Harry recognized the fact that his hands was covered in blood. The crimson providing a startling contrast against the black scales.
Harry spun around to trace the source of the bleed and almost smacked his face against the low set centerpiece table in the room. Only a reflexive dodge saved him from gaining an injury in addition to his current dilemma. The action though was enough to overbalance him and cause the green-eyed man to fall on his back which in hindsight was a terrible thing. Harry appreciated exactly how terrible a thing it was, as his eyes nearly crossed at the bevy of hurt that quickly enveloped all his senses.
Something was wrong with his balance. Something was also wrong with his back. Apparently that something wrong was in connection to the pain on his back and his disrupted balance. Evidently it also had something to do with the fact that it was somewhat heavy and seemed to be attached to his back which also happened to be attached to the pain centers in his brain and was currently sending brilliant flares of sizzling agony to his fried neurons. Ouch. Some more ouch, accompanied with an army of ouches.
He slowly twisted his head around and looked behind him. Wow was the only word that crossed his mind. I mean what else can you say when you suddenly wake up in a pool of what apparently was your own blood and happen to unexpectedly gain yourself a pair of black dragon-like wings. The appendages were still covered with a few pieces of what could only be skin, flesh and his own blood. Harry swallowed, cursed mentally and wished he'd never gotten off his bed this morning.
Unconsciously he felt the wings flutter at his distress, the sensations feeling like a pair of fingers fidgeting. He gazed at his newest additions with his newly enhanced vision and saw that the wings were rather small for his frame. Barely six feet in span from wingtip to wingtip and with the limited understanding he had of physics back from his old muggle school, a six foot wingspan was horribly inadequate to lift his five foot six frame into the air.
The newly gained accessories were also covered in a large armor of ebony colored scales that shimmered a metallic green under certain angles of light, much like the scales on butterfly wings. The elastic membranes in between the bony finger-like protrusions composing the wings were made of a thick, nearly transparent ,skin permeated with large branching vessels supplying the appendages with much needed blood. The membrane was covered at the dorsal portion with the same thick ebony scales on the bony ridges of the wings while the ventral portion was encased in such a fine weave of minute scales that they almost felt slick to the touch. They were, as Harry soon found, extremely sensitive when handled.
Hermione was going to kill him. Ron, he realized, would probably be happy about this.
Honestly, Harry wasn't sure how he was feeling and in the hotpot that were his emotions he was sure there was a rather large dose of: trepidation, frustration at the world at large followed by a measured dose of relief at finally having disposed of the annoying ache at his back.
Harry blinked then grabbed the wand he'd shoved down the back of his pants and summoned a mirror to him as the dread of what other discoveries he was about to uncover came to him. He quickly snatched the mirror that soon came zipping down the stairs and slowly raised it to eye level and gaped with awe.
No wonder his vision was so damn amazing. People had been telling Harry since he had been a kid that he had rather vibrant green eyes. Now though, his eyes were a rather scary shade of Avada Kedavra green. The kind of green where it almost felt like there was a glow behind his irises reflecting a shade of green only made possible by magic. His pupils were also slit like those of a cat's or dragon's in this case.
The changes didn't seem to stop there. He noted that his face shape seemed to be more angular ,almost completely wiping away the youthful look, and replacing that with the maturity of an adult though he was only 18 years old. He also saw that the tips of his ears narrowed to a slight point, nothing like those seen in muggle movies about elves, but a noticeable difference from normal human ears nonetheless. He ran the tip of his tongue on his canines and found that although they appeared rather dagger sharp they weren't enough to accidentally slice his lips on. Cut meat rather effectively yes, but not knife sharp. His tongue as well seemed to have changed and gained a point, much like his ears, and became similar to those found in reptiles albeit they weren't forked, which was a distinct blessing Harry mused.
Harry looked down and couldn't help but smirk. At least there had been one change he was quite glad to have gotten. He had finally seemed to have acquired the washboard abdominal muscles that all teenage boys dreamed of. He wasn't sure the price for it was worthy paying though…
He frowned.
Damn! Harry cursed internally. Even magic wasn't enough to give him some height. Ron was still going to tower over Harry's slight five foot six frame with his six foot two height. How annoyingly aggravating.
It was finally time to call back up.
Now if only he could find the address to Hermione and Ron's apartment…
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"OH MY GOSH HARRY!" Hermione's wide, chocolate brown eyes looked Harry from head to toe. "What in Merlin's name happened to you?"
"Oh, you know, the usual?" Harry couldn't help but remark sarcastically. Events like this were common enough when it came to him that he was a little surprised that Hermione was still startled enough to exclaim about his predicament. "Fate hating my arse happened, that's what." He finished.
The formerly bushy haired girl, now straight haired after discovering the wonders of a good rebond treatment, rushed to Harry and grabbed his face with steady hands. Hermione leaned in real close to observe all the alterations that had happened to the Man-Who-Vanquished-The-Dark-Lord, and turned his head side to side to make sure she didn't miss anything. The witch also examined his hands as well as other parts of his body he hadn't had time to see and noted that Harry had evidently also gained a trail of black scales that started from the nape of his neck down to about the middle of his back.
"I would postulate that you've been crossed with an Icelandic Shadow Wing." The intelligent witch pointed at the slight emerald gleam to his scales, "See that scale reflect? Only the Shadow Wings have that faintly greenish metallic hue although..." She trailed off and stared Harry straight in the eye. "I think the eyes have nothing to do with the dragon specie."
"What do you mean by that 'Mione?" The dark haired male wondered. He had long ago admitted to himself that he didn't have the brains to follow Hermione's train of thought most of the time. He and Ron often requiring the layman's version of the explanation.
Hermione crossed to the other side of her apartment towards the towering bookshelves she kept and pulled down a rather large leather bound book. Flipping a few pages open she ran her finger through a few lines on a page, exclaimed "Aha!" then speedily made her way back to Harry's side.
"See this." The witch drew attention to the picture on the book before them. "Most of the characteristics you have are here except for the eyes."
The moving illustration was composed of a icy mountain backdrop and a rather large black dragon as the central figure. The reptile was rather large, height readily matching the tall pine trees around it. The dragon's wings were huge and no doubt powerful enough to mow down numerable trees in one beat. They had to be big enough to be able to lift the dragon's bulk off the ground after all. The scales were smooth, more like a snake's, in contrast to the usual crocodile-like texture of most dragon scales. Harry looked closely and realized that the reptile's eyes were violet instead of green.
"The eye colors for this particular species range from red, violet and the occasional black." Hermoine looked up at him. "And those definitely are not your natural emeralds Harry."
"Then what do you propose?" The former Boy-Who-Lived asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Because right now I don't know what to think! Much less wonder what to do about any of this."
Hermione began to push Harry towards the comfortable leather seat in the middle of the room near the reading lamp. "Here sit." She seated him on the chair, before starting towards the bookshelves again. "I think I have an idea what might have caused this." She continued. "Ever since I saw all those magical forces shooting out of you and Voldemort during the final battle, I've been researching on the effect of magical resonance, dissipation and integration." The intellectual witch pulled out a few more books, and turned her attention to Harry, " Like, have you ever wondered what happened to a witch or wizard's magic when they die? Do they go right back into the magical ether of the world, or do they find another host to manifest in?"
"Wow Hermione, you've been pretty busy even with all the Post-War hubbub and Hogwarts correspondence courses McGonagal had us take." Harry commented.
The witch just smiled, "Oh you know me Harry. Lazying around has never been my thing." She made her way back to Harry with a new armful of books, laid them down on the table beside the chair the wizard was situated in, then dragged a nearby chair closer and taking a seat herself. "Anyway, to continue, I have discovered that sometimes if a witch or wizard is powerful enough and dies in the vicinity of someone who is as powerful, if not, more so. There is a great chance wherein the magical essence of the person nearby, who we can call the reservoir, provides a presence strong enough for the dying witch or wizard's magic to be attracted to, whose magic we can label as the Source. The magical essence from the Source then, somehow, infuses itself to an acceptable reservoir either killing them or being absorbed into the reservoir's own magical essence making them even more powerful."
"And you think I absorbed Voldemort's magical essence?" Harry interjected, alarmed. He didn't want anything to do with Voldemort. He'd rather be a squib than become whatever the madman was turning into.
"Hmm..." Hermione pursed her lips in deep thought. "Did you know that Professor Lupin had been conducting a side project for the Order of the Phoenix?" She turned to look at the picture resting on one of the tables in the room which contained a smiling scene between the Golden Trio and their much beloved werewolf professor, " He was tasked to research on the spell Voldemort was trying on himself. Professor Snape helped out once in awhile and so did I, which is why I know about it."
"So did he ever find anything substantial about it?" Harry asked. "I mean the only spell we knew he actually conducted on himself was the one that gave him his immortality and the Horcruxes."
"Apparently," Hermione continued, "there was another spell component in addition to that one. Professor Lupin told me, and Professor Snape agreed that it was possible Voldemort was trying to somehow infuse himself with a Basilisk. Gain some of it's properties like the killing gaze but most especially it's longevity. Basilisks can live for thousands of years you know? I wouldn't be surprised that the Basilisk you fought back in the Chamber of Secrets was a just a youngling."
"But I've looked at you and you haven't exactly keeled over sand died yet...or be petrified." Harry averted his gaze from Hermione just in case. He was glad that the opposite of his statement hadn't happened. The mere thought of it sicked him.
"Oh Harry, you don't have to look away. I doubt it was the Basilisk he was trying to use. I mean from the looks of you; the conjecture that he was using Draconic longevity was more likely. Professor Snape also told me that dragon essence wasn't that far off a spell component either. Only that it was profoundly hard to use dragon essence since dragons, by their nature, were extremely resistant to magic and using a Basilisk would have been much more practical to use. Although Voldemort being practical is hard to imagine" The intelligent witch concluded wryly.
"I'm still not certain what all this is leading to." Harry replied, sounding resigned. "Is it reversible?"
Hermione stared at Harry, the weary expression on his face looking out of place against the brilliance of his new draconic eyes. "I'm not sure Harry. Voldemort most likely anchored the spell into his very essence, or his soul if that monster actually had one, and soul spells are integral. Meaning that to remove a spell with a soul integration component you risk a very high chance of doing irreparable damage to the essence of a witch or wizard leading most probably to their death."
A faint flutter of wings was the only thing that could be heard for a long while. It was sobering news.
"I'm doomed." Harry finalized, taking his head into his hands. "Bloody Merlin! All the bad things always happen to me."
Hermoine drew close and hugged her dear friend close to her bosom. "Oh Harry, I know you're strong enough to survive this. You have to remember that this isn't all bad. After all, you essentially took in a dragon's traits and not actually Voldemort's even though he might have provided the conduit for the spell." She took Harry's head from his hands and made him face her.
"Look at me Harry." She started, voice determined. "You're nothing at all like Voldemort and no matter how many odd traits you might get from him I'm confident the inner Harry will win out and you'll always be my friend. You know that don't you?"
The warmth that permeated his heart after Hermione's statement nearly made him cry. Judging from the moisture on his cheeks, he wasn't entirely successful in holding back his tears. Harry hugged his best friend fiercely. "I wouldn't know what to do without you Mione!"
"Don't worry Harry, everything will turn out alright."
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Harry saw the door open, and felt the wings on his back twitch in reaction. It was rather unnerving to have something so big, be so sensitive to his every emotion. The green-eyed wizard was a little surprised to comprehend the fact that the pair of wings was indeed very much now a part of him. He fantasized for a moment on how the air would feel under his wings as he soared through the air and felt, for a brief moment, happy about the changes to his body.
Though, the black-haired wizard surmised, they seemed inadequately small to carry his full weight. Harry though was sure they could think of something on how to make use of his wings. If not him, then he knew for certain Hermione would.
"Hey 'Mione I bought some Chinese food from that-" Ron's blue eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he beheld Harry who was standing nervously in front of him with black wings folded close to his back in anxiety.
"Hi." The greeting seemed rather pathetic but everyone knew Harry wasn't good with words.
"Blimey mate!" The redhead called out, "What in the bloody hell happened to you? And are those wings?"
Hermione suddenly appeared behind Ron, seemingly out of nowhere, bringing a tray with steaming hot tea. "Welcome back dear." She greeted, giving the freckled man a small kiss to the cheek.
Ron spun around and gaped at his girlfriend who had begun setting the tea set on the table as if Harry showing up with wings was an everyday thing. "How can you act so normally when Harry's all dragon'd up?"
Harry couldn't help but laugh. Only Ron could think up such amusingly accurate words like: dragon'd up. Wait a minute, how did Ron figure out that it was a dragon he'd been crossed with?
"And you!" The redhead accused Harry, "How can you be acting so calm about all this?"
The emerald-eyed wizard walked slowly to his irate best friend who looked just about ready to hide behind his other best friend. "Hermione had a long talk with me earlier and well...After having thought it through it isn't that bad…"
"That bad? REALLY?" Even after puberty had finished changing the redhead's voice, sometimes in stressful situations like this, it still squeaked mortifyingly. Ron blushed but plowed on to make his point.
Hermione having finally finished setting up all the while, had her hands on her hips with a resolute expression pasted on her face. "I know you've seen worse at magical gatherings, Ron. It's not like you're a muggleborn or muggle-raised like Harry and me."
"But but Hermioneeee~This is Harry we're talking about!" Ron pouted, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. "Even though accidental spell and potion transformations are common but this is our best mate we're talking about here! We can't just lie down and accept it without at least doing something!"
Harry couldn't help but finally laugh out loud this time. It was always hilarious to watch his best friends act like the devoted couple they were. Although sometimes it hurt just a little bit to realize he didn't have anyone to whom he could act like a spoiled child to and be loved for it.
"Hey Ron," Harry began, tilting his head sideways in query "How did you know that I've been crossed with a dragon? I know Hermione haven't told you since she's been with me this whole time."
The Weasely family member just shook his head in disbelief, "Oh Harry, Harry. I can't believe you!" Bright blue eyes met questioning vivid greens. "I actually DO have a brother who just happens to work with DRAGONS, you know?"
"Oh."
"Yeah thought so." Ron grinned, then pointed a finger to his temple, "And you thought I have nothing but Quidditch and Chess in here huh?"
"Sorry Ron." Harry apologized, chuckling at the same time. "My fault for underestimating the almighty Ron Weasely."
"Bow before the great genius!"
Harry made pretend motions of worshipping Ron which made Hermione laugh out loud.
"When will you two ever grow up?" She said in a tone of pretend resignation and hopelessness which only served to amuse both Ron and Harry even more.
Afterwards, it took only a few minutes for Ron to be fully briefed on the situation. The redhead reacted by slowly regarding Harry and grinning like a loon saying, "You've always loved flying Harry and I can't wait to race you with my new Mad Dash."
The aforementioned Mad Dash, being a new broom recently released into the market and was promised to be a very steady, if speedy broom, great for Keepers.
Harry loved his best friends. He really did.
"Anytime, anyplace mate!" the black haired wizard challenged back.
They two males laughed some more together, and did some bromancely hugging before joining a smiling Hermione at the table now filled with pastries and hot tea.
It was more than reassuring for Harry to know that, even though he'd suddenly turned into some kind of creature, his best friends would always be around to support him in all things. This was probably what it felt like to have a family. A real loving sort of family at that.
"It's kind of late for me to say this but….what's with the creepy glowing eyes Harry?"
"Ah…"
Chapter One to follow:
Where Harry gains a new job, meets a familiar aggravating blond and realizes that some things never change.
Revision # 1 (11/26/10)