Title: Eugene
Team: Ballycastle Bats
Position: Beater 1
A/N: This is for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Round 4.
Beater 1 Prompt: Write about a pet changing the owner's life - for better or for worse.
Additional Prompts: 2. (word) preposterous, 8. (action) running, 10. (plot point) receiving a pet as a gift, 12. (word) pillow, 14. (restriction) no names
Disclaimer: J.K. owns us all. I did not create the Draconus Miniscura, big thanks to TheMourningMadam for letting me play with the tiny creature for a little while. Please check out the original Draconus Miniscura in her story Fire and Ice.
Word Count: 2390
Beta: My wonderful teammates The Ballycastle Bats!
You couldn't tell by the formal sit down dinner that this was a birthday party. You couldn't tell by the formal dress robes even worn by the children; that this was a birthday party for a ten-year-old. The only items in the entire room that made this dinner a birthday celebration was the massive stacks of presents on a table on one end of the dining room. It was the presents that made this day special and made me feel like I wasn't lonely most of my days as my only company is the house-elves. I know it's preposterous but even the children of my parent's friends wanted to be here less than I did, why would they want to be friends with me.
Most ten-year-old boys would be bummed out if they had received a pet for their birthday. I'm not most ten-year-old boys, and since I've been so lonely, it's the perfect present. It takes all of the skills my mother taught me to arrange my features and hide my excitement. I've never had a pet before, and I can't believe that Mother convinced Father to let me get one now, knowing that in a years time I will be on my way to Hogwarts. I seriously doubt that either of them will care for the tiny creature whilst I am gone. I guess that's why we have house-elves now don't we.
The house-elves must have cleared an entire section of my room during the celebration, preparing a space for this new and exciting reptile. All the necessities of pet ownership waiting for me as I carefully carried the cage to the designated corner. I don't even know how my parents were able to get a hold of an animal this rare. It really didn't matter how many galleons your family had, a Draconus Miniscura is a rare reptile indeed. I must ask Father where he got him from. The miniature dragon was maybe thirteen inches long from snout to tail. The scales that covered it were smooth, with black and sunset colors blended together in swirls. It felt like petting a snake, I was scared at first but he seemed at ease, so I placed him inside his cage. He immediately went to one corner, where a tiny dragon sized pillow had been placed, and curled up and laid down, tucking his long neck under a translucent wing. The cushy moss at the bottom and the pillow making a nice bed. A water bowl placed in the opposite corner for him.
It was past the time I normally went to bed and since I knew Father would have books about the Draconus Miniscura for me to read in the morning. I decided it was time to go ahead and tuck in for the night. I was nervous about going to bed, I have never had another being human or otherwise in the room whilst I was sleeping. Tossing and turning, struggling with my pillow, I had to make sure I was in a position on my bed to be able to see his cage. He must have been in a very deep slumber; you could see little wisps of smoke rising from under the wing where his head was still nestled. I could see the first rays of sunlight by the time I finally let sleep take me.
I rubbed my eyes, ridding them of the last traces of sleep. I jumped up in bed, remembering my birthday present that now resided in my bedroom. It occurred to me that I still have no idea what I am supposed to feed him. Hopefully, Father did think ahead and get some tomes on the care of such creatures that would be waiting for me at breakfast.
As I rounded the corner to enter the second-floor dining room, the one my parents call the 'family dining room', but could still easily seat ten at the mahogany table. I see Father finishing up his own breakfast as Mother is excusing herself from the room. A tiny polite 'Hello' is more than I get most mornings, so I take it. No physical contact, even if it's the start of a new day. You don't have to be alone to feel lonely. It takes some time for Father to realize that I am seated next to him. Even then no eye contact is made, he could have been speaking to a house-elf for all the difference that it made.
"Son, I have left some light reading for you about your new pet. Please read through them today. I believe you are old enough for this responsibility, do not let me down." Father said without looking up from today's issue of the Daily Prophet.
I thanked him and reassured him that I did not take the precious present lightly, and would take great care of him. Asking where he got such a rare and precious beast. Apparently, someone found him and needed a favor from my father. Not many words were exchanged after that, just like every morning. Once I was finished, I excused myself from the table. He didn't acknowledge that I even left the family dining room. I walked as fast as my pureblood training dictated and headed straight for my personal library.
There they sat, there were only two volumes, and one looked more like an unofficial field journal. Quickly following the table of contents of the textbook to see what kind of nutrition this tiny dragon needed. The easiest items to find were glow-worms, but grasshoppers would be good too. I know I can find both of these things in the greenhouses, if not I could always ask my personal elf. She would be able to get them for me, I'm sure of it.
Later that afternoon glow-worms and grasshoppers in hand, I head up to my room to attempt to feed my new pet for the first time. After dropping the glow-worms in the tank, he looks over to them, and it looks like he is choking on something. All of a sudden, fire, a stream of it, a small flame but fire none the same, cooked the glow-worm until its blackened. He might have crisped the corner of his pillow, but he still he slinks over to the glow-worm, and scoops it up, swallowing it down in one bite.
I tried the same thing with the grasshopper. It hopped around the tank, crazy, knowing that it was moments away from its death. The jumping around scared my tiny dragon friend. His long neck lifting the lid in the nervous frenzy, allowing the grasshopper a means to escape. I tried pulling the legs off the next grasshopper, and he sat there happily munching on it's charcoal corpse.
It's been almost eight weeks since my birthday' the Draconus Miniscura has consumed my life. Finding more information about him, learning what types of things he likes and dislikes. For instance, he will tolerate glow-worms, but he loves grasshoppers, minus the legs of course. Our favourite game to play is kind of like fetch. I use the snitch from my figurine set that is charmed to fly around my room when activated. Lifting the lid on the tank, he jumps up the edge of the tank, knowing not to leave my room, I activate and release the snitch. He chases it around, flying circles and figure eights around my head. Finally, locking his pointy teeth around the toy, he brings it back to me, dropping it in my outstretched palm. The warmth of the toy made me weary at first; it is like he knows if he sets the ball alight then we won't be able to play anymore. The next time I run around the room as well, making it a challenge to get the ball back in my hand. This is how we spend hours almost every day, me running, and him flying, the snitch going back and forth between us.
Later in the day' I notice he is waiting in his tank, the lid is off again. But it's like he is waiting for me. I walk over to him and slowly reach down to place my hand on the bottom of the tank with my palm facing up. After moving the pillow out of the way, he does this cute little hop onto my hand. I raise it slowly out of the tank. This is the first time I'm actually holding him; I put him in the crook of my elbow. He doesn't weigh very much; I sat down in the chair nearest the window. Most of what I've been able to read about him, and heard from the person who found him, is that he thrives in arid, dry places. I took out a book about arid deserts. I wondered if Mother could charm his tank to make him more comfortable. The tank is plain, with some fabric for bedding. Surely, he needs something else to assure he is comfortable. I'd been reading about different types of environments that he would like in his tank for almost two hours. "This is a start, something I could do," I think to myself before my breathing soon matched his, and together we fell into a peaceful sleep. I woke up sometime later to the smell of smoke. I looked down, and the miniscura was still sleeping but from under his head was a tiny stream of smoke. The little demon had singed a hole in my robes. I grabbed him as gently as I could and placed him back in the tank. Hopefully, Mother will be able to charm my robes while she is working on his tank.
Mother and Father haven't noticed that other than meals, they have had exactly 5 conversations with me since my birthday. All conversations feel more like coaching sessions about this new Dark Lord I am supposed to befriend on the train to school. I look back at my birthday as a focal point because that is when he came into my life. There isn't a day I don't read with him wrapped around my neck and shoulder. A day where we aren't running around playing snitch fetch. Every day I venture further into the manor with him. I sometimes feel ashamed that I talk to him. I gave him a name, it's preposterous but I'm afraid if I say it out loud Mother and Father will finally understand how much he means to me. That he is my best friend, and I don't know what I would do if he wasn't in my life. The man that 'rescued' him said that it could be touch and go because he wasn't taken care of where he was before. But you wouldn't be able to tell he was ever mistreated or malnourished, there are days where he doesn't like eating, and there are days where he only lays on me, and it's normal for him to want to take a break and not play fetch. It's normal if that happens, even if it's a few times a week. It has to be normal.
The first time it happened we were in the middle of snitch fetch. He just collapsed while flying. He fell and hit the hardwood floor so hard; all the air left my lungs, I stood staring at him before my brain caught up, forcing me to run over to him. Gently cradling him against my chest, I leaned over and listened, he was still breathing. After sleeping for a couple of hours, he got up and ate his dinner as normal. It was a few days after that incident until we had tried to play again. I stopped venturing out of my room with him. Sometimes it took all of his energy just to walk around his tank. Recently, he didn't want to hop on the edge to play at all, he slept for almost 36 hours, and I knew something was wrong. I tried looking at all the books I could find to help me. It's almost every day now that he lays around. I can barely get him to eat, even his favorite legless grasshoppers. I spend most of my time lugging books from the library to my bedroom, so I could be near him while I research.
My brain was logical; I knew what was happening. I had been mentally preparing myself for days when I realized that he must have been on his own longer than anyone anticipated. Too long to be able to bounce back. Although, he has been with me for a year. It had been a wonderful year with my best friend. Another birthday comes and goes, with my parents buying presents for me, but not talking to me, only talking at me. Another stuffy pureblood dinner party with other pureblood children who didn't want to be there as much as I did just like always. Just counting down the time until I was with my best friend again.
Knowing all of this didn't make the pain any less when I woke up one morning, and he didn't.
The house-elves buried him for me, so I didn't have to tell my parents about his death. I don't think I will ever be able to tell anyone about his death. It's hard to accept death when you feel like there is a gaping hole where your heart used to be. It takes physical effort to breathe. Sitting next to Father, across from Mother. I can't even remember getting dressed or walking to the family dining room. I sat listening as Father spoke about the same things he's been spouting since I could understand words. I needed a distraction from this pain, so I listened.
For the first time, I actually listened. The more I pushed the emptiness down, the less it hurt. I looked how my father was sitting in his chair, his mannerisms as he spoke. Things that I could easily mimic, things I that could do even when living seemed like a pain. I could distract my heart and my brain if I pretended to be like him. If I pretended I wouldn't feel the pain, I wouldn't feel the overwhelming emptiness. Maybe if I pretended long enough, it wouldn't hurt anymore.