Harry came to in the Hospital Wing. He sat up, wincing a bit at the stiffness in his arms.
"Oh, Mr. Potter, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey noted. She had a rack of potions in her arms. She placed it on a nearby table, then walked over to him. "You're incredibly lucky, lad. I regrew the skin as best I could, but that scarring will remain for the rest of your life. They might fade slightly, given time, but that'll be all. I'd say be thankful those arms of yours didn't get much uglier, but to be frank, I don't think they can at this point," Poppy muttered, shaking her head sadly.
Harry looked to his arms, and immediately wished he hadn't. Bile attempted to rise up, but was beat back down with sheer willpower. Harry still couldn't resist the shiver of revulsion that ran up his spine.
Besides the layer of normal nicks and scratches that had piled up over the years, there were now pale, circular patches littering the skin. His arms were a rainbow of multicolored skin. There was his normal, fair skin, which was disturbingly scarce. A few darker patches, shaped haphazardly, from accidents with Fiendfyre- that stuff was just as likely to bite the hand that fed it as it was the rest of the world. Then, there was the completely blackened, dead matter which had been fried beyond repair by thousands of volts of electricity. Those dark, branching lines were the result of his repeated failures at taming lightning, something he refused to give up on. And now, the paper-white regrown flesh where razor-sharp shards of ice ripped through, which had sprouted from his bones like glacial flowers, according to Poppy. Channeling enough ice to stop dragon fire had obviously come with some backlash. His nausea made a reappearance, and Harry took it as a cue to yank the sleeves of his robes down.
Well, he tried to. Unfortunately, they had been shredded yesterday, so he settled for turning his head away. Poppy sensed his silent disgust, and sighed. She touched his shoulder to get his attention.
"I've done all I can. For now, you just rest. You can leave when you're ready."
Harry nodded, laying back down to catch some sleep.
He felt a bit better, now that he was wearing a fresh set of robes and gloves, hiding his mutilated body. He'd been covering his skin as much as possible while in public, so to be anywhere except the Room of Requirement with his arms exposed felt incredibly wrong. Fortunately, Poppy knew how he viewed these… Disfigurations, and refused to let anybody visit him in the Infirmary. That woman really was too good for him.
Yanking on his sleeves, to be doubly sure they were in place, he glanced at the golden egg sitting on his Room-provided dresser. For such a harmless little thing (little being relative- it was twice the size of an ostrich egg), it sure had caused him a lot of trouble. Then again, he probably wasn't the only one, considering the screeching howls of the Hungarian Horntail yesterday. Oath-breakers, egg-destroyers, kin-killers. One of these was not like the others, and Harry wanted to find out why.
Harry nodded at Charlie Weasley, who looked more than a little shocked to see the boy anywhere near the dragons, considering his disastrous encounter.
"Uh, hey Harry? What're ya doin' out here?"
"I need to talk to the Horntail."
"...I don't think that's how it works, lad."
"The dragon was speaking Parseltongue in the arena. It will work."
"Well, if you say so. Just, try not to make another dragon-sicle, will ya? She's been a little testy ever since."
The bellowing roar that echoed through the Forbidden Woods made it clear that that statement was an understatement. Charlie winced.
"Uh, by the way, does Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall know you're here?"
"The Headmaster gave me permission."
"Alrighty, then. Good luck, I guess."
Harry nodded, then walked over to the warded cage containing the Hungarian Horntail. The brown-as-dirt beast zeroed in on him instantly, pupils narrowing to microscopic slits. Moments later, the ground shook with the force of an earthquake, the rattling of chains filling the air as the dragon strained against its numerous restraints. Harry stared dispassionately at the display of feral rage, waiting until the magical creature eventually tired itself out, huffing and puffing from her exertion. He was silently thankful that the dragon handlers had tied her mouth mostly closed, though. Those flames were no joke.
When the Horntail finally settled a bit, Harry undid the Disillusionment on the egg in his hand, presenting it to the mother. He took the marginal widening of the pupils as a good sign. Crouching down, he placed the golden egg on the ground, tilted it onto its side, then rolled it over to the dragon with a hard push.
The reptilian eyes never left his form, but when the egg was close enough, a clawed paw swallowed it in a scaly grip, dragging it closer. Finally, the dragon looked down, to ensure that the egg was still in one piece. Harry took the chance to relax his muscles without startling the beast.
"You… Are a strange one, human."
Harry almost took a step back in surprise, but held his ground. He saw the forked tongue flicker out from the massive maw, and assumed the muzzle was just loose enough that the dragon was still able to speak.
"Perhaps I am." The Horntail raised a scaly eyebrow.
"No perhaps about it, Two-Leg. Never before has one of your kind been able to speak the King's Tongue without the gedwëy ignasia. Truly, you are peculiar."
"The… What?"
"The Silver Hand. Although, I suppose it has been quite some time since... Just this once, I will forgive you for your ignorance."
Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. "I am honored, oh great serpent. What is the King's Tongue?"
"It is the language with which you speak now, human."
"Parseltongue?"
"No, you fool!" the dragon grunted. "That is the Snake's Tongue, the language of the common serpent. No, I refer to the dialect of the truly powerful, of us majestic dragons!" she trumpeted, stamping a foreleg for emphasis. "And the Stone-Eye Serpents, which you smell of. Odd, I had thought them all long-gone."
"The… Stone-Eye Serpents. Are you talking about the basilisks?"
"If that is what you meatsacks call them. Regardless, they are the only of the common serpents to ascend to our level, few though they were. Truly worthy adversaries- many a legend has been sung of epic battles with the Stone-Eyes. Tell me, human, how did you encounter one?"
"There was a cavern underneath the castle." He gestured to Hogwarts. "A thousand-year-old basilisk was terrorizing the students, so I killed it. It bit me, but I was healed by phoenix tears."
The Horntail stared at him, trying to verify the truth of his statement without outright asking. Apparently, she was satisfied he wasn't lying, and tilted her large head. "So, the venom still runs through your body. It also explains why I can smell traces of the Firebird in you. Truly, human, you have had many experiences. Slaying a Stone-Eye, being saved by a Firebird, and subduing me… Perhaps you will do." A razor-sharp claw flicked against the ground twice, and two similarly shaped objects rolled over to Harry. One of them was the golden egg he retrieved in the Second Task. The other…
"Why are you giving me your eggs?"
"You earned the fake one. As for the other… I feel that you will be able to take proper care of it."
"So you knew the golden egg was a fake? Why did you defend it so fiercely, then?"
"Simple. It was mine." Her scaly lips curled in a facsimile of a smile.
"Fair enough. Although, why would I need to take care of your egg?"
"I am old, human. It is a miracle I was able to conceive in the first place, but birthing another litter has sapped much of my strength. What remains will not allow me to keep my young alive. Not without certain… Sacrifices."
Harry tilted his head. "Wouldn't the dragon handlers take care of them?"
"For a time, yes. However, there will come a time when my children will be too large, too fierce, for humans to properly take care of. When that time comes, the humans will release my children into the reserve… And they will be slaughtered."
"What? Why?"
"When you get to my age, you make many enemies. It is inevitable. As the strongest dragon in that part of the world, I have been able to protect both myself and my previous young from my foes, but they are many. Every now and then… Something slips through the cracks."
Harry didn't know what to say to that solemn tone, so he remained silent. The Horntail shook her head, refocusing on the present.
"Regardless, I wish to ensure that at least one of my eggs survives past a year."
"Perhaps it may not be the best idea to leave it with me, then. I live a dangerous life."
"Dangerous for a dragon? Or dangerous for a human? There is a distinct difference- you meatsacks are soft."
Harry conceded the point with a nod, deciding not to argue. He'd just have to do his best, as daunting a prospect as it was. He crouched down to gather up the eggs, and was surprised when the egg- which looked more like a jade rock- began rocking upon contact with his hand. He glanced up at the dragon, who merely stared back at him blankly, as if she was expecting this. The sound of cracking drew his attention back to the egg at his feet, and he watched in fascination as the shell fractured. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a broken section lifted up, revealing the emerald-green snout that pushed it out of the way.
The baby dragon glanced around with squinted eyes, squawking in effort as it managed to finally crawl out of its prison, mucus covering its skin in a glistening film.
"A female," the Horntail whispered, gazing softly upon her child. "She will be among the strongest of her kind. Name her, human, and let it be one befitting her status as my daughter."
"...Esmeralda."
"Yes… A fitting name. Beautiful and elegant, as she no doubt will become. Place your palm upon her snout, human. Make the connection."
Harry had no clue what she was talking about, but did as she commanded, the urgency in her voice making any other choice impossible. He plucked off the glove on his left hand, then held the scarred palm in front of Esmeralda's small head. Nostrils flaring and tongue flickering, the hatchling took in his scent, staring at the foreign object with her piercing jade gaze. Then, with agonizing slowness, she stretched her neck forward, and gently placed the tip of her nose against his skin.
Harry's first impression was that, contrary to his expectations, the dragon's flesh was rather soft. He felt none of the scales which glistened proudly on Esmerelda's mother's hide, glinting in the setting sunlight. Then, the rush started.
His hand felt frozen at first, before he realized that his senses were being overwhelmed by the intense heat searing through him. Before he could even cry out, he keeled over on his side, hand still held in place by some supernatural force. Burning heat washed over him, torching his nerves hotter than Fiendfyre ever could, locking his jaw in place purely through pain.
Then, it was over, and Harry took in a shuddering breath. It took him a minute to work up the willpower to rise from his place on the ground, and when he did, he turned a disoriented glare on the dragon.
"What was that!?" he demanded irately.
"Nothing to be concerned with," the dragon replied dismissively. "Simply your mind making contact with Esmeralda's, as well as the hundreds of generations before her."
"...What?"
"It is a unique ability, common amongst dragons, though unheard of to any other species. I believe the Riders of old referred to it as Instinctive Recall- we are able to access the memories and experiences of our ancestors, even those we are not directly descended from. Of course, the recall is not perfect, and cannot be controlled, but younger dragons are privy to more flashbacks, since they are the ones most in need of the knowledge. Bonded dragons have also been able to make consistent use of it, though the extent depends on the dragon. Some have more talent for it than others, as is the case with all things."
"Bonded dragons?" Harry asked, staring at the white oval on his palm. "Is Esmerelda a bonded dragon, then?"
"Indeed. The gedwëy ignasia on your hand is proof of that. It is also proof of your duty to revive the Order of the Riders, just as Eragon Kingslayer did ten thousand years ago."
"...I don't think I'm cut out for that sort of thing," Harry admitted wryly. The sheer amount of information was making his head spin. People used to ride dragons? That was the stuff of fantasies, even for wizards, who typically tended to do the impossible as part of their daily routine. "Besides, I'm already fighting in a war, of sorts. The strongest Dark Lord in centuries is after my head. I've no time to be running around, restarting ancient orders."
The dragon shrugged as best she could. "Well, far be it from me to tell you what to do. The Order has waited all these millenia- it can wait a few more. Know this, however; your actions will have far-reaching consequences, whether you acknowledge them or not. When word spreads that a new Rider has appeared- and it will spread, make no mistake- all manner of beings will flock to you. Some will be friends, many will be enemies, but they will all want something from you."
"Noted," Harry replied blandly. As dire as the warning was, he didn't think it was something to be particularly worried about. After all, according to the Horntail, this Order had been dead for ten thousand years- probably longer than Magical Britain had been around. He doubted anyone who knew about it was still alive, and any stories would probably be treated as mere folk tales after so long.
Idly, Harry realized he never asked the dragon's name. "What do I call you?"
The Horntail puffed up pridefully. "I am Igris, daughter of Tondry, and descendant of Saphira Bjartskular, Mother of Dragons!"
Harry tilted his head curiously. "Who is Saphira?" he asked. Igris deflated, shooting him a baleful glare.
"Saphira was the bonded dragon of Eragon Kingslayer, and stood by his side as he trained a new generation of Riders. While the Kingslayer trained the Riders, and thus became known as Father of the Order, she guided the hatchlings, earning the title Mother of Dragons."
Harry nodded slowly, processing that information. He peered down at Esmeralda, who was chomping on the remnants of her eggshell. "Looks like we've got a lot to live up to," he whispered, hesitantly reaching his ungloved left hand out to stroke her soft back.
The little dragon just burped.
Raising Esmeralda was going to be different from raising Naga. The hatchling didn't have a lethal gaze, meaning the Headmaster was allowing Harry to tote her around the castle, the reptile curled around his shoulders like a scaly scarf, nevermind the fact that he was already wearing one. That was how he ended up in his current situation, with Fleur Delacour fawning over his new companion.
"She is adorable," the French girl cooed, scratching Esmeralda under her chin delicately. Slightly perturbed at the new face, Esmeralda fussed a bit, pulling away and burying her snout into Harry's scarf. "And it seems she prefers her papa's company," Fleur giggled, not the least bit upset. Harry sighed.
"I am not her father," he replied blandly. Fleur gave him a sly grin.
"Perhaps," she allowed. Her expression turned somber moments later. "How are you feeling, Harry?" He stared at her blankly, and she elaborated. "You froze an entire dragon- that is not something people simply walk away from. If I remember correctly, you had to be rushed to the Infirmary," she said, a trace of accusation in her voice.
Harry shrugged. "I am alive," he said simply, skirting around her and continuing on his way to the library. Fleur made an indignant noise, spinning to fall into step beside him.
"That is not what I meant."
Harry continued walking without a word. To his annoyance, Fleur followed him all the way to the library, trailing behind him as he quickly scoured the shelves, glancing at a few books here and there. Finally, his irritation got the better of him.
"Is there something you need?" he hissed aggravatedly. Esmeralda, sensing his mood, squeaked menacingly at Fleur, though the young lady was unfazed by both boy or dragon.
"Yes. I would like a proper answer to my question," she shot back haughtily, crossing her arms.
"What part of I am alive did you not understand?" Harry growled, running his fingers down the spine of a book.
"I understood it, but I am not satisfied."
"And how is that my problem?"
Fleur smirked victoriously, as if he'd taken the bait. "Oh, Harry, don't you know it is bad form to leave a woman unsatisfied?"
It took Harry a moment to decipher the emphasis she put on the last word, but once he did, he turned and gave her a glare so cold, his next exhale was icy. He was channeling a bit more frost than normal, in an effort to not spontaneously combust and set the very flammable books on fire- he had a feeling Madam Pince would not appreciate that. Esmeralda whined at the sudden chill, and he patted her with an unusually-warm hand as an apology.
Instead of entertaining the conversation further, Harry merely grabbed a few tomes on dragon care and marched over to Madam Pince's desk. The librarian gave the hatchling a distrustful glance, but dutifully checked out the books, handing them back to Harry. He gave her a nod of appreciation and strolled out of the library, pointedly ignoring Fleur.
She was still following him. Harry's eye was twitching, and it took immense effort to resist the urge to simply drop her with a Stunner right then and there. The only reason he didn't- aside from the fact that he wasn't sure if she wouldn't pick up where she left off when she awoke- was that he had no clue what the male students in this school, or the other two, would do with her unconscious body. He had classes with Draco Malfoy; he didn't trust the majority of them to be even halfway decent.
So, he suffered in silence, stomping quietly through the snow on the way to Hagrid's shack.
"Where are we going?" Fleur asked again, and like last time, she was ignored. She huffed, but didn't seem to be expecting a different response. "You know, most boys would kill for the chance to have someone as beautiful as me even look at them twice."
"Then go bother one of them," Harry snapped gruffly, eyes scanning the treeline of the Forbidden Forest. The more dangerous inhabitants didn't typically come this close to the castle, but it was better to just keep an eye out, especially now that he had Esmeralda with him. She wouldn't be able to defend herself properly for a few weeks, at minimum.
"No. They are boring. They would spend the entire time drooling over me, and telling me how pretty I am," she grumbled, though there was a touch of vain pride. "You, however, seem to be resistant to my allure. I've been meaning to ask about that- why are you not affected?"
"How should I know?"
Fleur raised a delicate brow, seemingly not believing him. The expression irked him on a spiritual level. This woman could really push his buttons. Maybe she was related to Draco.
"It's probably because of the Occlumency," he grumbled. Fleur nodded in understanding (so much for it being an obscure art).
"That… Is a possibility," she allowed, making Harry frown in confusion. Wasn't Occlumency supposed to defend from outside influences, which should include the Veela Allure? She noticed the furrow of his forehead, and elaborated. "Even with Occlumency, some wizards are too weak-willed to resist the allure. Others can build a tolerance to it after repeated exposure, but only the truly powerful are able to completely shut it out. It seems the Boy-Who-Lived does live up to the legends after all," Fleur finished mischievously, smirking at him.
Harry paused, an unholy ire rushing through his veins. He clamped down hard on his rising temper with such viciousness that the air around him chilled significantly, startling Fleur. She yelped in surprise, taking a quick step away as the surrounding atmosphere became misty with condensation. Harry turned an icy glare on the young woman.
"Do not call me that."
Esmeralda nipped his ear with her tiny, but sharp, teeth, and Harry relaxed, turning forward to continue his trek. He did his best to send soothing emotions through his Rider bond with the little dragon, and it seemed to work, because she snuggled back around his neck. It probably also helped that he raised his body temperature a few degrees, to make up for his outburst. He'd need to be far more careful about that in the future; he had no idea how much temperature shock could affect the development of a hatchling, and he didn't want to accidentally stunt her growth (sure, Esmeralda would grow to be far stronger than him, but she was just so small right now).
It took Fleur a moment to catch up, though she warily kept a bit more space between them than before.
"Did I… Offend you in some way?" Fleur asked hesitantly. Harry didn't respond- didn't even glance at her. It was a bit of a dumb question, Fleur admitted to herself- of course she'd upset him. She just didn't know how.
The rest of the short trip to Hagrid's was quiet, and when they arrived, Harry pounded on the door harder than strictly necessary. Thankfully, Hagrid was particularly strong, so to him, it probably sounded like a rather gentle tap. However, the noise startled Harry enough that he forced himself to calm down. Moments later, the large man opened the door, beaming at the Fourth Year.
"Harry!" Hagrid boomed, "Y'alright, lad? Ye didn't look too good after that last Task." He ushered the teens in quickly, shutting the door behind them, blocking out the cold. His fireplace crackled quietly, filling the small hut with a comforting warmth. "And you're that Beauxbatons Champion, right? Fleur Delacour?" Hagrid asked the young lady.
Smiling brightly, Fleur dipped into a shallow curtsey. "Indeed I am. It is a pleasure to meet you."
Hagrid grinned toothily. "Aye, nice t'meet ya, too. Name's Rubeus Hagrid, but everyone jus' calls me Hagrid. C'mon, you two make yerselves at home, I'll put on the kettle. Oh, an' I made rock cakes!" He gestured to a plate on the table.
"Thanks, but I ate just before coming down here," Harry said, not eager to break his jaw. And it was probably petty, but he didn't do anything to stop Fleur when she politely grabbed one. She attempted to take a bite out of it, but could barely even make a dent in the hard surface. Then, when she tried to pull the thing out of her mouth, her teeth got stuck in it. Luckily for her, Hagrid's back was turned as he set about preparing tea, but Harry witnessed her struggle for a solid ten seconds. Eventually, Fleur managed to free herself, a furious blush tinting her cheeks. She glared at Harry, who at least had the decency to not laugh, before whipping out her wand and Vanishing the pastry with extreme prejudice.
"You could have warned me," she hissed quietly, elbowing him in the side.
"I could have," he agreed, completely lacking remorse. Fleur's hand twitched, like she was going to pull out her wand again, but she relaxed when Hagrid turned around. The gentle giant handed them both rather large teacups, which they had to grab with both hands, and Harry took a sip. It didn't really taste like tea… More like hot leaf juice. Still, it wasn't disgusting, so he drank without complaint. Fleur disagreed, if the flash of irritation on her face was any sign, but she didn't make a sound. He'd heard a few of the other Beauxbatons students complaining about how heavy and bland the meals in the Great Hall were, so maybe it was just a French person thing to be highly opinionated about food.
"So, how ye doin', Harry? Prepared for the next task?" Hagrid asked, settling down heavily in his recliner. Harry sat in a wooden chair next to the dining table, and Fleur sat across from him.
"No idea- they aren't giving us any clues about the tasks beforehand."
Realization dawned in Hagrid's eyes. "Ah, aye, I'd forgotten 'bout that. Would make it mighty difficult to prepare, when ya don' know what yer preparin' for, eh?" the huge man asked, chuckling. Harry nodded agreeably.
"I'm not here to talk about the Tournament, though," Harry said. He unfurled his scarf, which Esmeralda had somehow wormed her way under, and carefully extracted the baby dragon from halfway down his shirt.
Hagrid gasped in awe, hands reaching out. Harry stretched an arm to meet him halfway, the hatchling cautiously scurrying across the human bridge. Esmeralda sniffed warily at Hagrid's meaty fingers for a moment. She seemed to decide him safe enough, because she leaped the tiny gap, landing in Hagrid's cupped palms, which nearly enveloped her. The tiny reptile craned her neck, squawking at Hagrid, making the man chuckle adoringly.
"Aw, it's beautiful!" Hagrid cried, gently running a thumb over the thin membrane of her wings. "But why do you have a baby dragon? And why'd ya bring it here? Unless, you want some help to stage a rescue mission like in Firs' Year?" he asked hesitantly. Hagrid had cried a lot that night- he likely didn't want to say goodbye to another hatchling.
Harry chuckled a bit at the memory. In hindsight, it had been such a stupid plan- they could've just gone to the Headmaster, like Hermione had suggested. But, that was before Harry had really gotten to know the old man, so they weren't sure if Dumbledore would resolve things quietly, or fire Hagrid.
(Across the table, Fleur was staring at him with wide-eyes. A very small, incredibly tiny, somewhat irrational part of her had been convinced that Harry never laughed, because she'd spent a fair bit of time with him since coming to Hogwarts- not that he really wanted to be there, but still- and he'd never even smiled. As far as she was aware, since he always covered the lower half of his face with that accursed scarf, but since the rest of his face never really changed from a stoic stare or heated glare, she felt it was a safe assumption. Apparently not, though, and that stoked the embers of indignation in her.)
"No, nothing like that," Harry said, voice thick with nostalgia. He never bothered trying to tamp down his emotions around Hagrid, his first friend in the Wizarding World. "I've discussed things with the Headmaster, and he has no problem with me keeping her around, so long as I make sure she doesn't set anything on fire."
"You sure she's not here to make sure you don't burn the castle down?" Hagrid sniped, surprising Harry. Occasionally, the man made snappy retorts like that, and it caught Harry off guard every time. Laughter bubbled up in his chest, and he did nothing to stop it from coming out.
"Maybe, maybe," Harry allowed, eyes glinting mischievously. "Or maybe she's here to help?"
Hagrid grinned widely. "Aye, that'd be a sight to behold- young Harry Potter an' his dragon having a fire-breathing contest. Speaking of which, has her fire come in yet?"
Esmeralda stretched her neck out towards Harry, and he ran a finger along her snout. "No, not quite. She only hatched yesterday. I'd give it a few days before she's running wild like Norbert."
"Norberta, actually."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Had me a chat with Charlie Weasley the other day, asked him 'bout my baby. He said Norbert's actually a female, so they changed her name to Norberta. Would explain why she was so feisty right out the egg."
"It would," Harry nodded, shooting a not-very-subtle glance at Fleur, remembering the incensed, fire-throwing Veela at the World Cup. She caught his eye, and though she didn't know what she was thinking, she knew it wasn't very flattering. She scowled harshly at him. He ignored her. "Anyways, I wanted to ask you a few things about how to take care of a dragon. I dropped by the library to grab some books, but I figured you'd know a fair bit about it, all things considered."
"Aye, I've done my fair share of research on dragon. Probably would've done it, even without Norberta- they're just so interestin', ya know?" Hagrid asked. Harry nodded. "Such gorgeous beasties," he sighed dreamily. A moment later, he returned from his imagination world. "Anyways, how you take care of your dragon depends on the kind of dragon, as well as the dragon itself. This pretty girl's a Horntail, right?"
"Yeah. The dragon from the task gave her to me."
Both Hagrid and Fleur looked surprised, but the large man continued on. "Well, Horntails grow a bit slower than Norwegian Ridgebacks, so instead of feeding her every half-hour, like I did with Norberta, you'd probably be fine keeping her to the same meal schedule as you. All meat, of course. Chicken and fish are best- they got a lot more vitamins and stuff, and they're lighter than beef and pork. She's not gonna be able to stomach the heavier stuff too well for a few days, maybe a week or two."
"Didn't you mix brandy with the chicken for Norberta?" Harry asked, remembering the sickening bucket of slop.
"Yeah, but that's 'cause Norberta was right vicious. If I didn't give her some liquor, she might've actually burned me hut down!" Hagrid belted out a laugh. "Anyhow, you'll wanna make sure she gets fresh meat. Raw, you know. The blood's where a lot of the good stuff is, but be careful of the bones. Some o' those fish bones be mighty sharp- like needles, the finer ones. The House Elves should be able to help ya with that."
"I'll have to tell Pitts, then. He'll be able to handle it."
"Aye. So, that's really about it. Ye'll have ta keep her warm 'till her fire comes in, but otherwise, she can take care of grooming and whatnot on her own," Hagrid finished. He tickled Esmeralda's scaly belly, while Harry quietly digested the information.
"...I expected it to be more complicated," the Fourth Year admitted.
Hagrid shrugged. ""S like taking care of any other creature, really. When she starts gettin' an attitude, though, that's when the real trouble starts. Enjoy it while ye can- she won't always be this docile," Hagrid warned, though he was smiling.
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry promised, beckoning to his dragon. Esmeralda jumped off the top of Hagrid's head, which she climbed up to laboriously as they spoke, and spread her tiny wings, gliding down to Harry's much lower shoulder. "Well, I think I've taken enough of your time. I have a few things to take care, and I'd rather get them out of the way sooner than later," Harry said vaguely.
Hagrid nodded in understanding, rising to his feet to escort Harry and Fleur to the door. "Was nice talkin' to ya, lad."
"Likewise," Harry responded. "I'll probably come down this week or next to visit Buckbeak."
Hagrid grinned beneath his bushy beard. "Ah, he took a real shine to ya during class. I think he liked flyin' with ya. I'll see ya in class, eh?"
"Of course," Harry confirmed. Even though he was exempt from the end-of-term exams, he still went to Care of Magical Creatures, because it was incredibly interesting, and could actually teach him new things, unlike Charms and Transfiguration.
Fleur waved goodbye to the gentle giant as they began the walk back towards the castle. With every step they took, she watched with trepidation while Harry's lax mannerisms hardened- spine straight, shoulders back, eyebrows knitting down ever-so-slightly into a constant scowl. The idle swing of his arms became less sporadic, and his steps were measured, graceful. By the time they'd walked ten feet, he was the same blank young man she'd become acquainted with, who never showed any emotion other than anger or irritation.
Oddly enough, Fleur found herself missing the glimpse of the carefree boy she saw in that hut.
Because of the Champion's exemptions, Harry really only went to half his classes. As mentioned earlier, Charms and Transfiguration had nothing new to teach him- he'd already skimmed the textbooks for the later years, and learned the necessary spells and skills inside. Naptime- that is, History of Magic, was summarily ignored. More often than not, he skipped DADA, only going if he was bored of being cooped up in the Room all day. Herbology and Astronomy were skipped altogether, though he reviewed Neville's notes every now and then. Runes, COMC, and Potions were the few classes he regularly attended; the first two, because they genuinely interested him, and the third reluctantly. Harry tried avoiding pissing Snape off too much, not wanting the man to make a fuss which would inevitably end up wasting time.
Perhaps it was because he hid from the general populous of Hogwarts so often, that it came as a surprise when Neville mentioned something to him on their morning jog around the castle's perimeter.
"Ball?" Harry asked, somewhat skeptical. There hadn't been a formal event in the three years he'd been a student here- the parties in the Common Rooms after winning a Quidditch match didn't count. Although, since Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were here now, it made sense to host some sort of event to entertain the foreign students who hadn't been chosen by the Goblet of Fire.
"Yeah," Neville replied. "The Yule Ball. It's normally something Nobles do in their own manors, with people of their choice. If I remember correctly, Lucius Malfoy and Amelia Bones both host one annually, with another being held by the Ministry, though that's mostly for the workers who can't get off work."
"And you're telling me about this because…?"
"McGonagall told me to tell you that, as one of the Triwizard Champions, your attendance is mandatory."
"No."
"You don't have a choice, mate. The Champions and their dates are the ones performing the opening dance. It'd look really bad if you weren't there."
Harry sent Neville a withering glare. "Is that supposed to make me care?"
Neville opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, reconsidering his answer. "I… Guess not," he admitted finally. "Although, the Headmaster will probably get on your case about it," he warned.
"I'll give him the same answer I gave you," Harry replied flatly. Sensing the conversation was over, Neville turned straight and focused back on the rhythm of his run.
He was accosted once more by Fleur, as was becoming unfortunately common as the months went by.
"Miss Delacour," he grunted gruffly. "Is there something you need?"
"Need?" Fleur asked slyly, "Can I not come see you simply because I wish to?" she purred, walking closer than strictly necessary. Harry's skin prickled.
"I would rather you didn't," he responded. Unconsciously, he quickened his pace, as if walking slightly faster would make much difference. To Harry's dismay, though, the trek from the Library to the Seventh Floor was somewhat tedious. He also didn't want to lead her straight to the Room of Requirement, meaning he needed to lose her somehow. Unfortunately, since she was sticking to him like Ron to the Chudley Cannons, he would have to wait until she left him alone of her own volition.
"So… There is talk of an event at the end of the month," she began casually. "It seems like it will be quite fun."
"Is that so."
"Yes, indeed." She spun around in front of him so they were standing face-to-face, and Harry reflexively came to a halt. The French Witch stretched her arms behind her back and leaned forward slightly, emphasising her chest just a bit. "You wouldn't… Happen to have any prior arrangements that night, would you?" Fleur asked, lower lip pushed out into an adorable pout.
"No," Harry replied, gaze gradually sharpening, somewhat incensed that she was trying any sort of seduction tactic on him. He had more important things to do than ogle an, admittedly, incredible beautiful young woman on the cusp of adulthood.
"Well, I also happen to be without a date, you know…" She trailed off, giving him a meaningful look.
"Is that so?" he asked.
Fleur took the fact that Harry was even speaking as positive, smiling radiantly. "It is," she answered.
"How unfortunate. Well, I'm sure you'll find a strapping lad to take you out," Harry said sarcastically, skirting around the Veela. "Have fun at the Ball."
Fleur's jaw dropped as she stared at his retreating back in shock. Moments later, she shook her head to reset her brain, and gave chase. She had to run a bit to catch up, but eventually, she snagged his sleeve, pulling him to a stop once more. Not exactly the best idea, since it just aggravated him more.
"That's not what you're supposed to say!" she cried petulantly, not caring in the least that she sounded like a whining child.
Harry raised a very judgmental brow. "What am I supposed to say?" he asked, though his tone indicated he already knew exactly what she was aiming for.
"You were supposed to ask me to accompany you! You don't have a date, and I told you I don't have one, either, so the obvious response is to ask me!"
"You want me to ask you?" Harry questioned, injecting an appropriate amount of confusion into the words. It was redundant, but Fleur was grasping at straws, and grabbed onto the opportunity like a lifeline.
"Yes!" she yelled, voice echoing in the hallway. "I'll even tell you what to say! Repeat after me; Fleur, would you kindly do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball? It's that simple!"
Harry nodded slowly, and Fleur could see the gears turning in his mind. Finally, the Fourth Year sighed, and turned to face her properly, causing her heart to swell with anticipation and excitement.
"Very well. Miss Delacour," and she barely frowned at the use of her surname, regardless of the fact that it was no doubt another subtle power play from the boy to maintain his distance, "Would you kindly do me the honor of leaving me alone?"
Not waiting for a response, Harry spun on his heel and marched away at a brutal pace, turning the corner before Fleur could even register his departure.
"...What!?"
Don't worry about the Dragon Rider thing- it won't really be that important. I just thought it'd be a cool piece of history. Harry won't become the third Father of Riders (after Eragon the First and Eragon Kingkiller)- he doesn't care about shit like that.
If you're mad that this chapter is short, sorry. Either I posted it as is, or lose motivation and draw it out even longer.
For those angry enough, you can come verbally abuse me on my dis c o rd server: dis c or /h SS uK6Nu (Remove the spaces, of course). If the link doesn't work, that's probably because it expired. In which case, either leave a review or send me a private message, and I'll give ya a fresh one, free of charge.