AN: I may have copied parts of a paragraph from Eragon in this one with little to no modifications, look for these [ ] brackets. Anything I'd write would probably end up really similar anyways. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and the Inheritance Cycle. I do, however own the plot. (Well, part of it)

-X-

It was a dark and stormy night. Harry just finished his chores outside and ran in the house dry. He was thankful that he did not need to do anything in the heavy rain. He quickly dusted the bookshelf and mopped Dudley's dropped glass of orange juice, (Harry was actually wondering if Dudley intentionally did so to give him more work, he kept doing it every night), put all his cleaning utensils in a nearby cabinet and went as quietly as possible into his cupboard so as to not alarm the Dursleys. He sighed. Another day done with the Dursleys.

-X-

A thud in the dark. Harry suddenly woke up. He peered into the darkness. No. Aunt Petunia was not banging at the door, screaming at the top of her voice for him to wake up and cook breakfast. The rest of the Dursleys were probably not up and about either, seeing as it was a weekend in summer break. There seemed to be no reason for him to awaken at all.

He peered into the darkness. This would be one of the times he'd imagine that he was in a far larger room with the lights off, and living with a family he loved.

Another thud, a loud squeak. Harry shot up. Surely there was no rat or something was there? There was no hole big enough for even fresh air to enter.

Squeak. Thud, thud. Squeal. The sounds repeated themselves as Harry looked for the origin of the ungodly noise. It was the green stone from the playground.

Harry took the stone and put it on his lap, hoping that he could make it be quiet before it wakes up the Dursleys. He was very fond of it, and did not want it taken away. The stone jumped in his lap. He just held in a yelp. The stone dropped to his cot.

"Quiet, will you?" Harry hissed to the stone.

The egg stopped squeaking, but the thudding became more frequent. He felt quite silly, talking to it, but at least it listened. He pulled it away from the edge of the cot. It was a curious thing, actually, why would a normal stone squeak and rock and make sounds? And why would a stone listen to him? Maybe this is why someone tried to destroy it? If they did, it was obviously unsuccessful.

A crack appeared on the stone's surface. It was small, but noticeable. A cracking sound started coming from the stone. More cracks appeared all over its surface. Harry was panicking. What's happening?! The egg kept rocking and cracking apart. Did I do something?

The cracks made a rough circle around a pointy end of the stone. The piece seemed to be pushed by something in the stone. It fell to the cot. A small head poked its way out of the hole. Is this an egg? It seemed to be. The head was followed by a long, snakelike neck, and a strangely angled body, and a long tail.

Harry could barely see the animal in the dark. It was obviously an animal, based on its shape, a lizard of some sort. Harry opened the cupboard door to look at it with the stairwell light. The animal looked at him with lamp like eyes, and followed him out the cupboard.

Harry recoiled in surprise. In front of him, looking like an over eager puppy, was a small green dragon.

It was barely larger than one of Mrs. Figg's cats, but held more grace and elegance than anything he had seen before. It had forest green scales on his back (the same colour as his own eyes). [The dragon fanned its wings; they were what had made it appear so contorted. The wings were several times longer than its body and ribbed with thin fingers of bone that extended from the wing's front edge, forming a line of widely spaced talons. The dragon's head was roughly triangular. Two diminutive white fangs curved down out of its upper jaw. They looked very sharp. Its claws were also white, like polished ivory, and slightly serrated on the inside curve. A line of small spikes ran down the creature's spine from the base of its head to the tip of its tail. A hollow where its neck and shoulders joined created a larger-than-normal gap between the spikes.]

Harry stared at the dragon in wonder. It stared straight back at him, before deciding that he was not worth its attention. It began crawling around the living room and hit the sofa with a short squeak. It jumped onto the cushion and turned towards him. [Its mouth was open pitifully, like a young bird's, displaying rows of pointed teeth.] Harry sat down on the sofa near it and placed a hand nearby it. The dragon sniffed his hand and tried to nibble his shirt sleeve. Harry shifted and giggled at the dragon's antics.

[Tentatively, Harry reached out with his right hand and touched its flank. A blast of icy energy surged into his hand and raced up his arm, burning in his veins like liquid fire. He fell back with a gasp. An iron clang filled his ears, and he heard a soundless scream of rage. Every part of his body seared with pain. He struggled to move, but was unable to. After what seemed like hours, warmth seeped back into his limbs, leaving them tingling. Shivering uncontrollably, he pushed himself upright. His hand was numb, his fingers paralyzed. Alarmed, he watched as the middle of his palm shimmered and formed a diffused white oval. The skin itched and burned like a spider bite. His heart pounded frantically.]

Harry blinked, wondering what happened. [Something brushed against his consciousness, like a finger trailing over his skin. He felt it again, but this time it solidified into a tendril of thought through which he could feel a growing curiosity.] It was as if he was blind all his life and just saw for the first time.

[A scaly leg scraped against his side, and he jerked back. But the energy did not shock him again. Puzzled, he rubbed the dragon's head with his right hand. A light tingling ran up his arm. The dragon nuzzled him, arching its back like a cat. He slid a finger over its thin wing membranes. They felt like worn leather, velvety and warm, but still slightly damp. Hundreds of slender veins pulsed through them.]

[Again the tendril touched his mind, but this time, instead of curiosity, he sensed an overpowering, ravenous hunger.] Harry stood and went to the fridge to look for some leftovers. He knew that the Dursleys hated it and it was free game for him. There was a reason why he cooked larger batches of food if he could. He pulled something from the back and offered it a plateful of cold chicken breasts.

The dragon just sniffed at it for a few seconds before digging in. It ate all the meat, bones and all, in a few minutes.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" Harry smiled at it and rubbed its scaly head as he wondered what would happen to the dragon. Harry obviously wanted to keep it, he was always able to take care of himself and most of this household. He could probably take care of a pet, dragon or otherwise, but how was he going to feed it? It was just a hatchling and yet ate the whole plate of chicken. He knew that the dragon would learn to hunt someday. He just hoped it would learn quickly. The Dursleys liked their meaty food and rarely wasted it, and what would the Dursleys do to it when it was discovered?

The longer he wondered, though, the more he wanted it. He never had had something for himself. This would be his first exception. Mind set, he picked up the dragon, careful to avoid the claws and spines, put it on his cot,

and laid down himself. He would keep the dragon in his cupboard, and when he could, he would put it on the tree at the base of the garden. That tree was a good place to hide from the Dursleys, he tested it when he was escaping from Dudley. Few knew that he was so adept at tree climbing.

Smiling to himself, the dragon curling next to him, he slept peacefully for the first time in years.