There were three arrivals at Hogwarts that day, none of whom we expected. The weather, unfortunately, perfectly disagreed with the mood of the first too and perfectly agreed with the mood of the latter. It was a cold, wet, and gloomy day — unseasonably so, by McGonagall's claims. It wasn't storming, it was just blech, gross.
By comparison, the first arrival was bright like a ray of sunshine. Blisteringly bright, like the scorching desert sun.
We were eating breakfast — Dumbledore, Hagrid, and the five of us — in the great hall when a furious screech cut through the air. The angry white blur deliberately crashed into Dumbledore, pecking and clawing at him with unholy rage.
It was Hedwig.
And, clutched in her talons was a worn, crinkled envelope that had definitely seen better days. It was, in fact, the very letter I'd sent to Dumbledore weeks ago.
When Dumbledore finally managed to extract the letter from her angry talons, he was bleeding from cuts and scrapes. "My dear girl, I am so sorry I made you fly all that way and back," Dumbledore apologized. "What an odyssey. Here..." he pushed his plate towards her. "I surrender my bacon to you."
Hedwig glared at Dumbledore, as if offended that the mere suggestion she would be appeased by bacon, took the bacon in her talons anyway, and flapped over to us. She landed on Grey's head and promptly started eating, utterly unconcerned with the fact that the last time we'd seen her, we'd only had one head.
"Hello again, Hedwig. We're so glad your safe," Yellow cooed gently. Hedwig bobbed her head before stuffing her beak with bacon. None of us were dumb enough to mention that the letter she'd carried all this way was pointless now.
"ɪ ᴀᴍ sᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪᴢᴇs ᴜs! ʜᴇᴅᴡɪɢ, ʜᴇʟᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟꜰ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏᴏ!"Red cheered, managing to keep his jubilation to a mostly indoor volume in the process. He offered her a claw full of meat grabbed mostly at random, of which she nibbled at.
Grey, whose head she was standing on, was staring at himself through the rest of our eyes. "an owl hat makes me feel fancy." Hedwig puffed up proudly, while the rest of us chuckled. "i am happy you are back, hedwig."
"Well what do you know? Hedwig got Grey to smile. Clever girl."
"HOOO!" exclaimed the cheerful bird.
The second arrival came a few hours later, similarly to our great surprise. At the time, we were helping Hagrid haul logs (or whole trees in our case) to be chopped up for the common room fire places and the kitchens (according to Hagrid, real fires smelled better and made better food than magical ones). It was Dumbledore strolling down the hill that let us know something was going on.
"Afternoon, Dumbledore, sir." Hagrid let the head of his axe rest against the stump we were using as a chopping block. "What brings you out here?"
"Hagrid." The headmaster nodded in greeting. "I'm afraid I must steal Harry away from you for the afternoon."
"What's going on, Professor?" Yellow asked for us.
Dumbledore smiled merrily. "I have something of a birthday surprise for you, Harry."
"BIRTHDAY?! WAIT, IS TODAY OUR BIRTHDAY?" Red demanded.
"It's been a month since we got here already. Huh. We hadn't noticed," admitted our most relaxed head. He turned to Hagrid. "How time flies when you're having fun."
"Ain't that the truth," Hagrid chuckled. "Why, this has been one of the best summers I've had in a long time."
"I'm glad you all are having fun," Dumbledore said.
Only for Grey to interject, "i'm not."
"Well, mossst of usss. Grey'sss jussst a downer," Green sharply quipped. He motioned for Dumbledore to continue.
"Right. If you would come with me up to the castle?" said the headmaster.
"We can carry you, if you like," Blue suggested. "It' be a bit quicker."
"So long as you stay on the ground. I'm not one for heights these days," Dumbledore said, even as he was quickly moving into position for us to lift him onto our back. The bounce in his step gave away the enthusiasm he had — what Gryffindor would ever turn down a ride on the back of a friendly dragon?
Once he was firmly settled into place on the back of Red's neck, we started forward. With each lumbering step, we took care to walk as smoothly as possible, for the motions that felt "slight" to us were proportionally much larger to Dumbledore — who was also much more fragile than Hagrid. But for every one of our steps, we covered the ground of six or seven of a grown man's longest strides; thus, we made it to the castle much quicker than our aged headmaster could have done on his own.
As we entered the courtyard in front of the main entrance, we bent down to let Dumbledore slide off. "Thank you, Harry. If you all would wait here for just a moment..."
"Of courssse."
The headmaster disappeared into the castle, the massive doors of which were officially becoming tight. At the rate we were growing, we had maybe a week — ten days, tops — before we were too bloody huge to fit into any part of the castle, save for the Chamber of Secrets (and we had probably three months before even that was too small an entrance).
Thirty seconds later, if even that, Dumbledore returned. And with him came—
"RON!" "YOU'RE HERE!" "When did you get back?" "It's so good to see you!" came the cacophony of our many shouts, all directed at the red-haired boy walking out with Dumbledore.
"Bloody hell, mate! You're even bigger than I imagined!" Ron exclaimed.
"He grew," spoke another red-headed man. Not Aurthur Weasley, who had also emerged from the castle, but one of his oldest sons. "A third again the height from the photo, I'd wager."
"Charlie Weasley?" Blue hazarded a guess.
"Right you are," Charlie affirmed.
"Hello again, Mr. Weassssley," Green added, nodding in the man's direction.
"We thought you were still on vacation."
"Well, Ron wanted to come back a bit early to see you," Mr. Weasley explained, "as did Charlie. Molly and the rest are still in Egypt, and will be for the rest of the week. They'll come and visit when they get back."
"WE LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING THEM!" Red bellowed happily. "NOW THE ONLY QUESTION IS: RON, CHARLIE, MR. WEASLEY, DO YOU WANT TO FLY WITH US?"
Of course, they did.
Laughing and giddy, the three Weasleys slid off from three of our necks and straightened out their windblown hair and clothes. "That was every bit as wicked as I imagined," Ron laughed.
"Wait until you see what we can do when we don't have passengers," Blue boasted. Behind us, our tail swung happily, like a dog's, reflecting our shared pride. Even Grey was smiling a bit.
"I can't wait." He laughed a little more. Then, stamping down on his laughed, he pointed at us with a stern expression on his face. "Alright, serious question..." He paused. "What condiments would you coat Malfoy with before eating him?"
Wait, what?
"Ron!" Arthur exclaimed. "No feeding your classmates to a dragon! There's no way that Harry would—"
"KETCHUP, AND LOTS OF IT!" came Red's rumbling reply.
Arthur's protests died on his lips. "You wouldn't really eat one of your classmates?"
"Of course not. What do you take us for, monsters? Please."
"But we would ssswallow an enemy. It isss up to Malfoy to figure out which he isss," Green hissed casually, as if he were merely discussing the weather. "Come to think of it, it was hisss father that ssslipped Ginny the cursssed diary, back in Diagon Alley. One hasss to wonder if our freeing of Dobby wasss enough of a punishment."
"Do keep your murder plots to yourself, Green." Blue rolled his eyes, while green stuck his tongue out at him. "And no, Mr. Weasley, we won't eat anyone." For now, we thought but did not speak aloud. Humans smelled good, a bit like pork, and we would be lying if we hadn't thought about eating someone.
Speaking of smell, there was an odd scent coming from Ron. Not bad, just strange. We honestly couldn't figure out what we were smelling, other than the fact that it was appealing to us in the same way that garbage was now appetizing. We put it aside for now; given the conversation we were still in the middle of, bringing up their scents probably wasn't the best idea.
"Ron, what was Egypt like? They have any good food there?" Yellow asked, forcefully changing the subject.
"Yeah. They had this thing called shwarma that was pretty good. They cooked a huge chunk of meat on a giant spit, shaved it off, and served it in a wrap."
"You had me at 'meat on a ssspit.'" Green licked his lips.
Blue shook his head. "Honestly, you're such a glutton, Green. Were we ever this bad when we were just Harry?" When nobody answered, Blue clarified, "That wasn't a rhetorical question. Were we a glutton as Harry? I don't think so, but maybe..."
Ron shrugged. "Well, you did buy out the trolley in our first year on the train. And you could pack it away at meal times. I mean, not as much as me, but then I know I've got an insane appetite."
"Maybe it's not ass new as I thought, then," Blue mused. "Huh."
Sometime during our conversation, Charlie had pulled out a notebook and a tape measure from somewhere (perhaps he'd conjured it?). "Mind if I take some measurements of you while you're talking? I want to document you to share with the other dragonologists."
"If you find out what kind of dragon we are, pleassse, let usss know," Green said, granting him permission.
"I can say without a doubt that you're almost wholly unique." And with that, Charlie moved in to start measuring.
We turned our attention back to Ron and his father. "TELL US MORE ABOUT EGYPT! WHAT WAS IT LIKE?! DID YOU ENJOY IT THERE?!"
"It was brilliant, mate," Ron began. "We took an international portkey to get there, and it dumped us in this open area that had a good view of the Nile. After we got a hotel, we went exploring..."
Albus Dumbledore was finally doing something he had been neglecting for a while. Between his own never-ending duties as Headmaster, Chief Warlock, and Supreme Mugwump, his research into his newly draconic student's ailment, and his own projects, he barely had a moment to himself these days. And with how quiet the Harry Potter collective kept on the matter, it was no wonder it slipped his mind.
Yet he was here now, walking down the sidewalk of muggle Surrey in the middle of the day, his robes left behind in favor of a flamboyant, yet still muggle-worthy suit and tie. A simple shrinking charm had reduced his long beard and hair from waist-length to merely long by muggle standards, while another charm temporarily disabled the enchantment on his glasses that helped his eyes twinkle more than they naturally did.
He walked up to the door of Number Four, Privet Drive after only a few minutes of walking down the puddle-covered sidewalk, having apparated down the block and out of sight. One long, boney finger pressed the doorbell. He waited.
The locks rattled and the door opened just a crack. Petunia Dursley peeked out, her eyes searching his face, fining it familiar enough to recognize but not so familiar as to immediately draw a name. After a long moment, she said, "...Dumbledore." The door opened a little wider.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Dursley. Might I have a brief moment of your time? It's about your nephew."
"He's not here right now," She grumbled. "And we have company. She doesn't know." Petunia gave Dumbledore a pointed look. "I'd prefer if you kept it that way. In fact, I'd prefer if you weren't here at all."
From the back of the home, a loud and rather unpleasant woman's voice hollered, "Petunia, dear, who's at the door?"
"An old acquaintance," Dumbledore replied for Petunia. "I won't be here for but a moment." The last sentence was intended for the both of them. In a quieter voice, Dumbledore said, "I am well aware that Harry is not here, and hasn't been here for nearly two months now. Fortunately, he is safe and sound."
Petunia's expression didn't really change all that much, though Dumbledore didn't need to be a legilimens to see the ever-so-slight relaxation in her eyes. "It seems young Harry has contracted a very rare, unique, illness," he continued, putting emphasis on unique so that Petunia would assuredly understand it to mean magical. "He recognized the symptoms for what they were and left to get help from the proper specialists. As of now, he's being treated to the best of our ability, and while it wouldn't be safe for him or your family if he came home just yet, he is well on his way to recovery."
"If he is contagious, then I am glad the boy had the brains to run off. Is Dudley at all at risk?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "No. Not at all. Not unless you have any peculiar snakes of unusual size, in which case, Harry's condition is the least of your worries."
"Snakes."
"Harry was bitten and neglected to inform any of us, having gotten ahold of the treatment himself."
"...I see." She didn't, and again, it didn't take any mind-arts for Dumbledore to see that. "And when do you expect he will be back here?"
"Not before term starts this September, and, depending on how his treatment goes, possibly not after the school year. This will be a long process."
"And how much is this going to cost?" she asked.
"Not a penny." When Petunia raised an eyebrow, Dumbledore elaborated. "He saved the life of his best friend's younger sister, falling ill in the process. He will be taken care of."
Petunia's jaw dropped a little at that. She closed it back up quickly enough, but the incredulous glint in her eyes didn't fade nearly as fast. "Well then... I expect to be kept informed of his health and when he will be returned to us."
"Of course."
There was a beat of silence.
"Thank you, Dumbledore."
She shut the door.
Messaged delivered, the headmaster turned to walk away. Though, upon sparing a quick glance back through the sidelights by the door, he saw Petunia with her back against the wall, sliding down into a sitting position. Her hands were over her mouth.
Dumbledore hesitated, then continued walking.
There were those that accused Dumbledore of being a master manipulator. That was true, sort of. He could read people well. He knew which buttons to press to get a desired result, and when that didn't work, he was skilled at improvising. It wasn't a skill he was particularly proud of. Especially now, for though Petunia had presented a cold, uncaring exterior, he knew he'd just scratched at scars in her mind that had, even now, barely healed.
It ate at him. He hated lying, even as innocently as that.
He stopped in his tracks. Faintly, surfacing from the back of his mind, came the memory of a young girl's plea-filled letter to study magic at Hogwarts with her little sister. That memory spawned a chain of thoughts that culminated in Dumbledore spinning around to return to the Dursley Household.
Unfortunately, his return to that house was interrupted when the magical pocket watch he was carrying rung, reminding him of the time and, more importantly, of the meeting he had with Cornelius Fudge in less than half an hour.
On second though, Dumbledore realized, perhaps it would be best if he asked Harry first before going through with his idea. He and his aunt hadn't exactly had the best of relationships.
The third and final arrival to Hogwarts castle came later that afternoon. We didn't see him arrive, and if it hadn't been for chance, we would not have known that the Minister of Magic was here at all; it wasn't exactly our business.
But we, including Ron, had stumbled across him. We'd been looking for Professor McGonagall to ask her how far along she was in the process of creating a reverse-animagus transformation and had been sent to the Headmaster's office at the suggestion of Professor Flitwick when we couldn't find her in her own office. Upon reaching Dumbledore's office, we'd found that the Gargoyle that normally blocked the staircase had already stepped aside. Taking that as an invitation, the six of us (we heads in our human forms) ascended the staircase, stopping to knock at the door.
Now, the thing to note here is that dragons have decently good hearing, meaning that each of us could hear that there was a conversation happening on the other side of the door. Then, the fact that there were six of us sharing our sense of hearing meant that we collectively could hear far more clearly than any of us individually. Thus, while not loud, the conversation came through rather distinctly.
"...choice in the matter. Albus, you must see that this needs to be done."
"Minister, I implore you, this isn't the best solution. There are children here. You want to expose them to dementors," Dumbledore's nearly pleading voice said. Whatever dementors were, they sounded bad.
"Albus, they will be outside the school grounds and instructed not to come in. It will be safe — both for the students that are here and against Sirius Black! Besides, I didn't come here to argue with you on this matter; the decision has already been made, and I came here merely to inform you of it."
"Cornelius, I strongly advise against this. But if you will not change your mind about stationing the dementors here, then I ask you to take all possible precautions. The effects on the minds of our children could be catastrophic if anything went wrong. Imagine the outrage if a child, like Lucius's son, were to be kissed!"
"What are they saying?" Ron asked. Green immediately shushed him.
Cornelius's voice faltered. "I... I see what you mean. Do not worry, Albus. I shall see that that does not, cannot happen."
"Thank you, Cornelius." Dumbledore's voice paused. "You know, I think we might have a few eavesdroppers." There was a whooshing sound. The door to Dumbledore's office clicked once, then swung open. We blinked in surprise. "Harry, Ron."
"We didn't mean to eavesdrop, professor," Blue insisted.
"Oh, I'm sure you meant no harm. Come in, boys." Dumbledore gave a friendly wave, beckoning us in.
"What in the world?" the Minister asked as he laid eyes on us. His eyes darted to our scar, first on Red's head, then on every other head. "Harry Potter? Why are there five of you?"
"Mr. Potter had something of an interesting delayed reaction to a mixture of exotic substances. And while we've reversed the majority of the changes, he has professed a desire to stay multiplied," Dumbledore explained.
We looked at the Minister, the same man who had sent Hagrid to Azkaban because they "had to be seen doing something." And though we could understand the sentiment, it still irked us that he'd just been chucked in prison without even a chance to defend himself. And whatever he was doing here, it was something that Dumbledore didn't like, which immediately knocked him down another peg in our book. Of course, we couldn't exactly voice our annoyance, but we could pull a little prank. (Thank you, Fred and George, for the idea.)
"Hello." "Minissster." "FUDGE!" "A." "pleasure..." "To." "MEET!" "You."
All five of us promptly suck out our hands for a handshake.
"Blimey, Harry, that was worse than the twins," Ron groaned, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand.
"The five of them are linked by a shared set of memories and a powerful connection of sympathetic magic. Despite having five bodies, they are effectively one being," Dumbledore explained. "You can see why he came to me for help."
"I'll say," the Minister agreed. He turned to look at Ron, who was in casual clothes rather than his Hogwarts uniform. "And you are...?"
"Ron Weasley. My Dad's Arthur; he works for you in the Misuse of—"
"Muggle Artifacts Office," Fudge finished. "Yes, I remember now. He's spoken of you and your siblings quite fondly."
"Now, boys, if you wouldn't mind waiting for a moment," Dumbledore said, "the Minister and I will be finished momentarily. Then I will be along to help you with whatever it is you needed."
The Minister gave a dismissive wave. "Oh, go ahead. I've said what I came here to say. I won't linger. Rest assured, Albus, I will do everything I can to ensure the safety of all your students."
"That is all I ask," Dumbledore replied.
"Then I shall be off." The Minister nodded his head, then strolled towards the small fireplace. It stretched upwards to accommodate his height. He grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and tossed it into the flame, then strolled in and vanished.
Once the man was gone, Dumbledore turned to us. "Now, how can I help you?"
"We were looking for Professor McGonagall," Ron said.
"Professor Flitwick suggested you might know where she is," Blue elaborated.
Dumbledore replied, "She is, I believe, seeking a few friends of hers to examine their own research. It seems we have hit a small snag in regards to your transformation, hence her travels to find a solution. She should be back soon enough, if you need her."
"No, that's all we really wanted to know," Yellow said.
"Professor, why was the Minister visiting?" Ron asked.
Dumbledore walked over to his desk and sat down. "Normally, Mr. Weasley, it would be rude to ask about meetings held in private," he chided. Ron blushed in embarrassment and looked away. "However, as it concerns the school as a whole, you and Harry included, I shall inform you. I suspect Harry hear heard a bit more than you did anyway."
"Dementorsss, right?" Green hissed curiously, making Ron gasp. "You sssounded upssset about them being here."
"Bloody Hell! They're sending dementors here? Why!? We're not Azkaban!" Ron shouted.
"No, but a man has recently escaped from Azkaban," Dumbledore explained.
"Sirius Black," several of our heads said. Dumbledore nodded. Blue continued. "Why would he come here, then? Is there something he wants?"
"You, most likely. He was a former friend of your parents, but apparently turned traitor and sold them out to Voldemort," Dumbledore explained. "Personally, I strongly doubt that he would come after you — or any student in Hogwarts for that matter — but the Minister is convinced otherwise." He paused, his eyes widening slightly. Then he let out a soft sigh. "And, of course, there's the fact that he slipped by the dementors before via some unknown means — which means that the dementors are quite useless even if he did desire to come here."
Ron looked a little ill at the thought. "Great, so we have a madman on the loose and useless dementors as guards. This year is going to be brilliant, I just know it."
"IT WOULDN'T BE HOGWARTS WITHOUT SOMEONE TRYING TO KILL US!" Red shouted defiantly. "IF HE SHOULD TRY TO HURT US OR OUR FRIENDS, I SHALL ENJOY ROASTING HIM ALIVE!"
"And I ssshall devour hisss flesssh," Green agreed.
"You two are disgusting," Blue quipped. "Not that I'd actually stop you."
"If I could perhaps convince you to not eat Sirius Black, that would be grand," Dumbledore replied. "While you may be a dragon, I'd rather you not become murderers."
"Consider it considered," Yellow replied, which did nothing to assuage Dumbledore's fears. "I, Blue, and Grey will not kill and we will definitely encourage those two to not kill as well, but no promises. We won't go looking for trouble either."
"You're quite a bit more bloodthirsty, mate," Ron remarked.
"becoming a dragon changed us," Grey muttered, his voice more sleepy than sad at the moment. "we aren't alone anymore, nor are we weak. they don't feel as pathetic as we once were... or still are..." Red grunted at Grey and crossed his arms, but didn't say anything.
"Well, as it seems I won't be able to convince the Minister," Dumbledore spoke, pulling the conversation back to the original topic, "I should warn you — especially you five — to stay far away from the dementors. I would be greatly saddened if you were to have your souls stolen for having ventured too close."
"We'll be careful," we assured him.
"Good. Now, if you would be so kind, would you please inform Hagrid the next time you see him? I wouldn't want him venturing too close either." We told him we would.