Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Dragon Singer

Chapter Three-

Dumbledore couldn't possibly be so stupid. He wasn't… he should know better, right?

How could he not have seen them? Sirius could see them, plain as day, and he hadn't even looked that hard. Somebody had put Blood Wards around the Dursley house, once upon a time. Probably Dumbledore himself, considering who had placed Harry with the Dursleys in the first place.

There were still remnants of those wards in place. There wasn't enough… there wasn't nearly enough left of them to actually do anything to keep somebody safe, but the remains were still there. The house had fallen apart due to years of lack of maintenance, but the remains of the wards were still there. A Death Eater would feel some mild discomfort walking past this house, but nothing that would truly do any harm. There was certainly no need to remove them.

But… maybe Dumbledore didn't know? Surely, if he'd realized, he would have done something long ago. Harry had been missing for more than five years, now, and it was assumed that he was dead. It was one of the first things he'd learned after escaping Azkaban. And as soon as he'd realized that, that his godson was missing and presumed dead, Sirius had given up all thoughts of Pettigrew.

He'd escaped that damned prison to try and find him, after seeing him on the shoulder of a young man who was entering his fourth year at Hogwarts. One of a set of twins, he thought. His memory was a bit fuzzy where that was concerned. But he'd wanted to find Pettigrew, to kill him for betraying Lily and James the way he had. And then he'd learned that Harry was gone. Presumed dead. Dumbledore had placed him with the Dursleys, and then he'd lost him.

What did revenge matter if Harry were dead?

But the fact that the Blood Wards still stood, or that there were at least remnants of them… Harry couldn't be dead. It was a fact of magic. If a Blood Ward still remained, even in the smallest part, then the person it was meant to guard couldn't be dead.

Which meant that his godson was still alive, which meant that he still had a chance, however small of one, to fix things. To meet him. To apologize for being so very stupid and going after Pettigrew and getting himself arrested.

He could find Harry.

All that he had to do was… well. That might be why Dumbledore couldn't do anything with the remains of the wards. It wasn't exactly light magic that he was about to perform, was it?

What did it matter, though? He'd already done his time in Azkaban. He'd done thirteen years and he'd never even committed a crime. He might as well commit a few crimes to make it worth his while, right?

He closed his eyes, concentrated, and drew the wand he'd taken off an unsuspecting wizard in Diagon Alley. It wasn't as good as his own, but it worked and that was really all he could ask for. He drew his power to him, and cast.

The remains of the Blood Wards shattered around him with a sound like a thousand windows breaking. He opened his eyes and a vortex appeared before him, swirling dark and black and red and angry. He didn't even hesitate before stepping through.

He was going to find his godson, and Merlin help the person that tried to take him from Harry's side again.

ooOOooOOoo

It was the middle of summer when the dog wandered into his life, stinking of magic. He'd felt the strange magic earlier in the day, but hadn't understood what it meant. Now he did. It had brought this dog here, to him. Why?

Singer stared at the giant, black, shaggy beast and wondered why it had chosen now to appear. It wasn't… there was something about the dog… It wasn't a dog. But it was a dog.

"~Be careful around that, Singer,~" Marlis warned, shifting his great body to glower at the dog. "~That isn't a dog. Can't you feel the magic around it?~"

Singer closed his eyes and concentrated. There it was, beyond the magic that had brought it here. A feeling around the dog much like the humans of the Reserve. It wasn't a dog at all, as he'd suspected. It was a human pretending to be a dog. How… interesting. "~Is it dangerous?~" he asked Marlis.

"~Maybe yes, maybe no,~" Marlis answered.

Singer's eyes narrowed at the unhelpfulness of the answer. "~Like dragons, then,~" he muttered. "~Dangerous, but not dangerous at the same time.~"

While Marlis sputtered indignantly about how no dragon was dangerous to Singer, Singer knelt next to the dog who had sat patiently in front of him. "Hello," he offered.

The dog offered him a paw, and Singer couldn't help but smile. That was an entirely human custom, shaking hands. He reached out and hesitantly took the dog's paw in his hand. The dog waited a second before barking once, joyously, and bouncing around him in an excited circle.

"~I'm keeping him,~" Singer decided. "~Human or not.~"

He could understand not wanting to belong to the race that had birthed him. After all, he hadn't always been what he was. Perhaps this not dog had been through something similar in his life.

ooOOooOOoo

"Say, Charlie," Sean began as they carefully wrapped a baby dragon's broken wing. She'd fallen while trying to fly for the first time, and the results were… rather painful.

Singer had cried when he'd brought Charlie and Sean to her. Charlie hated it when Singer cried. He would have done just about anything to make it stop. Binding a dragon's broken wing was certainly the least of what he would have done.

"What's up?" he asked, holding his hands steady and not looking at his friend. The bones in the poor baby's wing were quite delicate, and he didn't want to do anything to keep them from healing properly.

"Have you noticed any… new additions to reserve?" Sean asked, his voice wavering.

Charlie snorted. "You're talking about the Grim," he said, not doubting it for a second.

It had happened about a month or ago, earlier in the summer. A Grim had shown up on the property, though nobody had died. And the Grim hung around Singer almost constantly. Charlie had grown used to the sight of him, but the other keepers who didn't spend as much time with Singer still hadn't quite adjusted to its presence. Sean was the fourth or fifth person to ask him about it.

"Of course I'm talking about the damned Grim," Sean grumbled. "What else would I be complaining about. Has Singer said anything about it?"

Charlie shook his head. "He hasn't," Charlie answered. "He seems to be treating it as a… as a pet, actually. It's… sort of amusing. I caught the two of them playing fetch the other day."

"Sorry, you caught them what?" Sean asked, his voice jumping a bit in shock.

"Playing fetch. Singer had a stick he was throwing for the Grim, and the Grim was going after it and bringing it back. They seemed like they were having fun." Charlie carefully snipped the bandage on the wing and held his breath. When the bandage held his breath left him in a relieved sigh. That was done at least.

"Playing fetch with a Grim," Sean was muttering, shaking his head. "I think there's something not quite right in Singer's head."

Charlie bristled. "He's fine," he said shortly.

"Oh, don't get all offended. You know that I'm right. Kid has to be a little bit off his rocker to spend all his time with the dragons the way he does."

Charlie raised one eyebrow. "The way that we do?"

"That's not the same and you know it!" Sean protested. "He doesn't have any human friends, not really. Not… I mean, okay, I think you might be his friend. He seems to like you. He certainly spends a lot of time with you. Did you think we wouldn't notice the way he creeps into your tent at night?"

"So you're saying he's crazy because he spends time with me," Charlie said. "Thanks, Sean."

His friend groaned and shook his head. "That isn't what I meant either. It's just that you're the only person he ever spends time with. Sometimes he'll visit Jacques, sure, but we're all pretty sure that's work related. And other than that, it's you or nothing. He comes to you when there's a problem with the dragons. He comes to you when he wants to spend time with a person. He never even talks to the rest of us. Don't you think that's… odd?"

Charlie hesitated. He knew why Singer didn't spend much time with humans other than himself, though he still wasn't sure why Singer had chosen him to befriend. He just didn't know how much he should tell Sean. But… "He's not crazy," Charlie said finally. "He just… he didn't have many good experiences with humans before coming to the Reserve. He's just a little shy. That's all."

Sean eyed him for a few minutes, then shrugged. "I guess. So… the Grim. Do you think we could convince Singer to stop playing with it so that it goes away? It's freaking us all out a bit, you know."

Charlie closed his eyes and laughed softly. "If you want the Grim gone," he said through his chuckles, "then you ask Singer."

There was nothing more said on the subject of getting rid of the Grim, as Charlie had suspected. Nobody was quite brave enough to approach Singer and ask him to get rid of it.

ooOOooOOoo

"Are you ever going to stop being a dog?" Singer asked quietly.

It was late, very late, and the Reserve was all but asleep. He was in Charlie's tent with the dog who was not a dog and Charlie, who looked rather surprised when the question was asked. Dog had been with him a long time now, for the better part of a year. It had been summer when they'd met, and now it was after Christmas.

Singer had to say, he found winters to be much more enjoyable now that he had Charlie's tent to sleep in. Not that he didn't love sleeping with the dragons, and not that they weren't warm, but Charlie's tent always seemed so very inviting after a long day spent in the cold with the dragons. And Charlie's bed was soft and comfortable, and Singer liked sleeping next to his Intended.

"Sorry, Singer, what did you say?" Charlie asked hesitantly.

Singer shot him an irritated look. He hadn't stuttered, and he hadn't missed any words. He and Charlie had been working on that, and now his English was almost as good as his Parseltongue. He still stammered and searched for words here and there, and he still tended to hiss on 's' sounds, but he was perfectly understandable.

"Asked if he was ever going to stop being a dog," he repeated. He didn't like repeating himself. Charlie knew that.

"Singer… he's a dog. They don't generally stop being dogs," Charlie said, sounding confused.

"Not a dog," Singer said. He shifted a bit on the couch and prodded Dog with his toe. "Human." He was getting short in his irritation, and he really should stop that. Charlie didn't deserve his irritation for being confused. Charlie couldn't feel the magic, not yet. And if he could, he probably had no idea what to feel for. Singer hadn't until Marlis had mentioned it.

ooOOooOOoo

Charlie studied the dog in the tent with them. Apparently not a dog, actually, which meant that he'd had a strange man, or woman, sleeping in his tent for the past few months. And that was… disconcerting, to say the least. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, then closed it again.

"Singer," he finally began, and waited until Singer looked away from the not dog to look at him questioningly. "The next time you know that something isn't what it appears to be, do you think you could tell me a little sooner?" he asked weakly.

Singer's brow furrowed. "Why?" Singer asked, his head falling to the side. "Dog hasn't hurt anybody."

"We don't know that. There aren't… there aren't many reasons for somebody to abandon their identity and become something else, Singer. Most of those reasons aren't exactly good."

Singer's expression shuttered. "I did," he said quietly. "I don't remember much, but I know that I did."

Charlie slipped off couch and knelt in front of Singer. "And your reasons weren't good, were they?" he asked gently. He carefully took Singer's hand in his own, only to have Singer jerk his hand away.

Singer glowered at him, then looked away and shrugged. "He didn't answer me," he said instead, steering the conversation away from his past. As Charlie settled back onto the couch, Singer asked, "Are you ever going to stop being a dog?"

Dog let out a small huff and looked away. There was a moment of silence, and then in the blink of an eye there was a man sitting on the floor before them, unshaven and unkempt and oddly familiar to Charlie. Where had he-

"I didn't do it," the man said hoarsely, and Charlie realized. This was Sirius Black. The criminal who'd escaped from Azkaban. The Ministry was going mad trying to find him, but they'd had no luck. Charlie supposed they wouldn't have, considering that the man was spending his time as a dog on a Romanian dragon reserve.

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?" Charlie asked, his eyebrows raising. "You killed fourteen people, Black. You're the reason the Potters died." He reached for his wand, then thought better of it. He wasn't exactly the most accomplished duellist, after all, and Black… well, Black had been an Auror.

Sirius Black let out a wounded noise. "I am," he agreed, and looked down. "It was my idea to switch Secret Keepers, after all. I thought that I would be the obvious choice. So I…" He shook his head. "I told them to change it. To switch to Peter, because nobody would ever suspect him. But Peter was a Death Eater, and the little shit turned them over to Voldemort, and when I confronted him, he turned into a rat and escaped and pinned the deaths of everyone on me. They were so angry, they threw me into Azkaban without so much as a trial."

Charlie considered the story. It was… interesting. Plausible, maybe even likely. He certainly never remembered reading about any trial of Sirius Black. But… "Why come here? You could have gone anywhere. Why choose here?"

Black looked confused. "Why not come here?" he asked. "Everything I could ever care about is here. Why would I go anywhere else?"

"You came here for me," Singer said quietly. "You've never left my side since you came here. Why?"

"You… you don't know. Of course you don't know. How could you? You were just a baby when your parents died. When I went to prison. You don't even know your real name." Black shook his head and let out a mournful little noise. "When I found out that you were missing, that they thought you were dead, I wanted to kill Dumbledore. More than anything else, I wanted him dead. But I went to your last known location, and I found the Blood Wards. And they couldn't be standing if you were dead, so I… I used some magic I probably shouldn't have and used the last traces of the wards to track you here."

Charlie froze and turned his head ever so slightly to stare at Singer. Singer, with his wild black hair and bright green eyes. Singer, who couldn't possibly be who Sirius Black was implying he was. And yet… and yet… Hesitantly, Charlie reached out and brushed aside the fringe of bangs that perpetually hid Singer's forehead and his eyes from the world. There it was.

It was thin, mostly gone really, and Charlie never would have seen it if he weren't looking for it. The scar. Harry Potter, here at the reserve while the Ministry had lost their minds trying to find him in time for his first year of school. Charlie's breath left him in a rush.

"What?" Singer asked, irritably. He shifted back and tugged on Charlie's hand until he dropped it. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"He can't go to Hogwarts, not like this," Black said quietly. "He'd hate it there. They'd have no idea what to make of him. It would be a disaster. And he's happy here, Charlie. You see that. You can't possibly-"

"Don't tell me what to do!" Charlie snapped. "I'm not interested in taking advice from a man on the run." He closed his eyes, then, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

Singer let out an irritated hiss. "Tell me what you're talking about," he demanded.

"Sirius is your godfather," Charlie said softly. "If it weren't for the fact that he was imprisoned, apparently falsely, he would have cared for you growing up. You were supposed to go to a school called Hogwarts when you turned eleven, which would have been… two years ago? Three? Anyway, when you never showed up, people went crazy trying to find you. They never did. If they knew that you'd been found, they would likely demand that you go to school there."

Singer growled, the sound low and dangerous. "I wouldn't leave the reserve!" he hissed. "Have duties here. I'm happy here. They couldn't make me."

"They would try," Black said softly. "They would do just about anything to get you under their control. There's…" He shook his head. "There's a prophecy. I don't know if they think it's been fulfilled or not, but there's a prophecy. If they believe that it hasn't been fulfilled, they'll do anything to get you under their control."

"Then Charlie won't tell them where I am," Singer said reasonably. "Right, Charlie?"

Charlie took another deep breath and let it out slowly. He could see what would happen if they tried to force Singer to go to Hogwarts. He would kill whatever wizard was stupid enough to try. He was young, yes, but he had all the power and the temper of a fully-grown dragon. And when he killed the wizard who tried to force him to go to Hogwarts, the Ministry would come after him. They would see him locked away forever, or worse. The Ministry wasn't exactly known for trusting things that were different, after all.

"I won't," he said softly, and ruffled Singer's hair. Singer brushed his hand away irritably. "I won't turn you in, either, Black. But if you put one toe out of line," he began, then shook his head. What could he do? Singer likely wouldn't let him turn Black in anyway. And Black could probably kill him faster than he could draw his wand.

"I won't," Black promised quietly. "For what it's worth, I swear on my magic that I wasn't the Potter's Secret Keeper, and that I didn't kill those Muggles, and that I have no intention of hurting H… of hurting Singer."

There was a faint glow as Black's magic lit up with the binding vow, and Charlie relaxed a little bit. It was something, at least.

"Do me a favor," he said quietly as he stood and stretched. "Don't be a dog when you're in my tent. It's weird."

Black let out that strange, barking laugh. "If you'd like. I guess I could get used to being human again every now and again."

Charlie nodded and yawned. As exciting as this all was, he had an early morning tomorrow. He was on duty to watch over a particularly irritable nesting mother, and he started his shift in only a few hours. He needed to go to bed. He settled into his bed and curled up under the covers, his back to Singer and Black.

So… he knew the locations of Harry Potter and Sirius Black, the two most sought after people in England. And there was nothing he could do with the information. Nothing he would ever do with the information, because he didn't want to hurt Singer, and Singer was obviously quite attached to Black.

Charlie closed his eyes and wondered just when Singer had become so important to him that he was willing to harbor a fugitive for him. He was still wondering that as he dropped off to sleep to the low murmur of conversation between Singer and Black.

ooOOooOOoo

"Why Charlie?" Sirius asked hesitantly once the aforementioned dragon handler had dropped off to sleep. Charlie snored, making it relatively easy to tell when he was actually sleeping.

"Sorry?" Singer asked, studying him in turn.

"Why did you pick Charlie? He's nice enough, but there were any number of people you could have made friends with here at the reserve," Sirius clarified. His godson was… nothing like he'd expected, to be honest, when he'd come after him.

It had been a shock to see the human-dragon hybrid when he'd found him, and Sirius had no idea of what to make of him at first. But he'd stayed because Singer was his godson, and he wanted to get to know him. He'd had a feeling from the beginning that Singer had known he wasn't what he pretended to be, but as the months passed he'd begun to relax. Singer had nearly given him a heart attack earlier tonight when he'd called him out.

Still. Singer was happy, and healthy, and if he was a little isolated that was okay. It was more than Sirius had hoped for when he'd first realized that his godson wasn't as dead as people assumed he was. It wasn't a perfect situation, but it would do. Except for the strange obsession his godson seemed to have with Charlie, that was to say. He'd never seen Singer spend time with any human other than Charlie, unless Charlie was with him. It was weird.

"Will be my Mate," Singer said finally, after several moments of quiet consideration.

Sirius froze. "What?" he asked. That was ridiculous. Charlie was far too old for his godson. There had to be at least a few years difference between the two of them. There was no way in hell that he would let his godson… wait. No. That wouldn't do him any good. Singer didn't like being told what to do, Sirius knew that. He'd seen ample examples of his godson's stubbornness in his months at the reserve.

"There's a bond between us, though Charlie doesn't realize it yet," Singer was saying quietly. He was staring at Charlie, an expression on his face that took Sirius' breath away.

He knew that look. James had looked at Lily like that, and he'd… he'd used to look at someone like that too. Not that he'd ever noticed, of course. And now it was far too late for anything like romance. There would be no keeping Singer from this, Sirius knew. That expression… it meant forever.

"Have you thought about telling him?" he asked instead of protesting.

Singer shook his head. "Not time yet," he said cryptically. "But soon. When Heat comes, it will be time. And Charlie will have to decide."

"Shouldn't you tell him before that? Give him some time to decide?" Sirius prodded carefully. "That isn't exactly something people like having sprung on them at the last minute, after all."

Singer shrugged. "Maybe," he said quietly. "It's late. We have an early morning tomorrow. Arlina wants to try flying again now that her wing is better."

Sirius recognized the brush off for what it was and shrugged. When his godson climbed up onto Charlie's bed and went to sleep, he settled in on the nest of blankets Singer had left behind and tried to sleep himself. It was easier than he'd thought.

ooOOooOOoo

After finding out who Singer was, and who the Grim was, time passed quickly and quietly. Before Charlie knew it, it was summer once more. It would have been the end of Singer's third year at Hogwarts, not that it mattered. Singer would never go to Hogwarts, of that Charlie was certain. He would never tell, after all, and neither would Sirius.

And then, just as he was beginning to relax with that knowledge, the wizards from the Ministry of Magic arrived on the reserve. They were holding some kind of tournament at Hogwarts next year, and they wanted to use some of the dragons.

Somehow, Charlie didn't see this ending well at all, because he doubted that Singer would let that happen without a fight.