Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter according to authorities; this is all I am allowed to say under advice from lawyers due to pending legal procedures. I do however own Tom Felton. We have previously agreed to this situation. If you don't beleiev me, ask him. He's currently locked in my basement.
(A/N) before the story, no offense to Americans. I myself am one. It just seemed more true in my mind.
Through the Eyes of a Dragon
Prologue:
"So you say this is affecting children everywhere?" A man with long silver hair asked; his blue eyes twinkling. This had definietly not been a problem in his youth, and he was very curious of the cause of these new circumstances.
"I'm afraid so, Headmaster." A woman with an extremely stern expression sighed exasperated. A few tendrils strayed from her normally perfect bun, it was a sight to behold. But her hair was the last thing on the woman's mind.
"I'm afraid I don't understand. Isn't this a condition that only affects those American children?" Dumbledore said pointedly. He was pretty sure he had seen something on those funny sets that the muggles found so amusing. He faintly recalled the name, was it Dateline, MBZ?
"It started with them. But you know those Americans are always starting trends. I believe I passed a Starbucks and McDonalds on my way via the Hogwarts Express." The woman quipped.
Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively at the wry humor of his close friend. But one stern look from the tight-lipped woman clued him in that this was no joke.
"Well I must say I am quite delighted. Those House Elves never did make my coffee the way I like it." Even the woman smiled a bit. It was common knowledge that the only elf that could make a decent cup of joe had just left them, for some House. Maxwell house to be exact. It was still a sore subject for all those caffeine mongers within the school. Namely, everyone.
The air became tenser as both realized that the pressing matter they had just artfully avoided must be brought back up again. Neither wanted to speak of it again. Who would have thought that one of the best schools of witchcraft and wizardry of all time, lead by one of the best wizards of all time, would ever offer such a course.
"Well Minerva, it seems as if we have a new course on our syllabus this coming September." The man spoke after the pregnant silence. Slightly amused at the situation, not that he would ever show it. Minerva would murder him. Hell hath no fury like Minerva McGonagall scorned.
"They won't even know what hit them." She muttered under her breath as she descended the stairs and skillfully avoided the stone gargoyle. Those kids were in store for a lot.
"Oh and Minerva.." Dumbledore called from a top the staircase. "I believe we have to make some sort of—er--arrangement for the children." She had been expecting this, and was needless to say, disappointed. With teen-agers and their hormones, no one could be trusted. She grimaced slightly at the prospect.
Minerva nodded curtly and set off to her office in which she began to make last minute preparations for the new class. Carefully weeding out those mature enough for the couse. Seventh years. She even chuckled softly when she realized that they were probably the least mature. A long year it would be. She once again got lost in her thoughts.
"When I was young, weight was never a problem." Her mutterings lost among the indifferent books that surrounded her.
(A/N) I know its short but it's just the prologue. I haven't gotten to the meat of it. It will probably begin with the first class and skip all formalities. Just fair warning, so you don't think I forgot or lost a chapter. Oh and silly me, I forgot the most important thing, Review!