Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter three

Disclaimer: I am the rightful owner of a Renault clio. However, that has nothing to do with anything ;;

Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…

WARNINGS: None for this chapter.

Sunlight tempted Harry away from his beautiful dreams as it streamed through the tiny fabric holes in his curtains, heating the air to a brilliant warmth in his little cocoon of darkness. In the background he could hear Dean getting up, and Seamus greeting him sleepily before crawling back into bed. Saturday mornings were always lazy in his dormitory. On certain Sundays, people were up and about far earlier due to Quidditch, but Quidditch was indefinitely postponed due to the ministry still conducting tests, gathering evidence and clues and generally cleaning up after the October incident. Harry rolled over, snuggling into his pillow. Hedwig had left a big hole for him. His post, which he had received like clockwork for years, stopped coming for about two weeks until other owls started filled in. It hadn't even crossed his mind to replace her. He really didn't know if he'd be able to. He pondered casually, however, whether or not the little penndragonne would be able to carry his mail, short distance at least. With a start he sat up, realising what he was thinking about, and couldn't help but smile. He drew back the curtains, smiling, expecting to see the little silver creature, curled up, innocent and beautiful in it's little box, perhaps purring a little in it's blissful sleep. Of course, that would have been too easy. In fact, there wasn't even a box there anymore.

'What the-' Harry spluttered, dropping off his bed to his knees and scrambling around under his bed in a faint hope that it had been 'dislodged'. no such luck. He sat up, cobwebs gracing his natural bed head, before turned to greet Seamus's amused gaze. Ron snored loudly behind his curtains.

'Silencio,' Seamus snapped, flicking his wand, eliciting not only the Spell, but several sparks. He frowned, sniffing.

'Have you seen my dragon?' Harry asked, a little breathless from the sudden exertion. Seamus shrugged.

'Not since I went to bed, no,' he drawled thickly, scrabbling for a tissue. Harry groaned and pressed his face to the floor, looking around the whole room for a trace of the little troublemaker. Seamus sighed, rolling over and shutting his curtains with his wand.

'I think I might just stay here all day…' he mused drowsily.

'You do that,' Harry muttered, getting to his feet, scratching his nape. He looked around the room for any trace, eyes falling on the wide open door.

'Seamus, did you go downstairs yet today?' he asked, remembering how he had left the door slightly ajar so as to let some air circulate. Seamus groaned.

'O'course not,' he growled before Harry heard the tell tale signs of him snuggling under copious amounts of feathery blankets.

'Dean?' he called into the bathroom which joined to the bedchamber. Dean shouted no through his toothbrush. Neville grumbled something about deadly nightshade in his sleep, rolling over. Ron's snores were beginning to break through the silencing Charm already. Harry cautiously walked out onto the stairs, cursing as the cold stone burnt at his naked feet. Something hit him and he hurried down the staircase. The penndragonne was confined to it's box. He was surprised it had managed to get to the door and get it open without help, but there was no way in hell it could have gotten UP the stairs without assistance. That only left…

'Penndragonne?' Harry called, voice a little crackly from his heavy sleep. As he turned the final curve in the stairs, he prayed that the images of the bloody, battered dragon corpse stuck in it's box wouldn't meet him when he reached the bottom. He was gratefully relieved by an empty stairwell. He could here mutterings from the common room, and a sudden squeal. He peered inside and spotted a group of first years gathered around the floor by the portrait hole. He frowned and stormed across the room. They parted like the red sea, except for a couple who were crouched down, giggling. They were trying to turn over a box, which kept jumping, shaking and emitting the distinct sounds of a hyperactive, helium infused pitbull. Harry groaned and flipped over the box. Pressed to the inside, yelping at the sudden movement, the familiar serpentine creature hissed and shivered, it's body near white. He opened it's bleary eyes, blinking slowly, before focussing on Harry. Yowling, it launched itself and sunk it's teeth deep into his finger. Harry did his best to ignore the pain as the dragon panted and huffed. He could see patches of light bruising on it it's beautiful hide, and it wasn't putting all it's weight on one hind foot. More than anything, it just seemed exhausted. It had probably taken most of the night to get here, so it wouldn't have had a chance to sleep.

'In my hands,' Harry said to the bracelet, before picking up the creature. It's clawed pinched feebly at him as it whirred away, teeth still clamped over his index finger. He stood up, clutching the creature close to his chest, where it feebly struggled, biting a little harder. The first years gazed up at him as if he had just fed the five thousand, and he turned and walked away, leaving the shoebox on the floor as a reminder, or perhaps because his hands were too full of clawing biting midget dragon to pick it up.

'You've got to give it points for guts,' Seamus pointed out. Dean and Neville nodded as Harry chased the limping dragon around his bed, wielding his wand as an aid.

'And for surviving,' Dean added. 'Look how fragile it is, and it still bounced. I have to admit, I'm impressed, little guy.' The Penndragonne stopped and rushed to the side of the bed closest to Dean, ranting like an over excited Macaw. Harry took the opportunity to fire off a healing Spell at it's hind leg. It leapt up, shrieking as if it had been shot, before landing and shooting a jet of fire into the bedding. Thankfully, they didn't ignite, but the stunned creature swallowed it's smoke again, and collapsed wheezing and twitching. Harry picked up the wriggling mass, cast a few pain relief Charms and quickly got onto to the 'Asma Relivis'. The dragon groaned and wormed it's way out of Harry's hands, trying to find a gap in the Charm on Harry's bed, before dejectedly flopping onto the covers, bawling like a sulky three year old. Within seconds, it's voice died, and it was asleep. Seamus leant up on his elbows from his bed.

'When you're out of it's firing range, it sure is amusing to watch,' he noted. Neville nodded, staring at the creature, bug eyed. Harry gingerly picked it up and laid it upon his pillow, where it unconsciously snuggled. Harry chuckled and relaxed on his bed, yawning a little.

'Breakfast?' he said drowsily. Dean shrugged.

'It's only ten…' he paused to yawn. 'We've got plenty of time yet.' Ron made a derisive grunting noise from behind his curtains.

'I really need to work on my silencing Charms,' Seamus muttered miserably. Harry smirked, getting up and wandering to the bathroom. Neville followed him surreptitiously.

'That thing's amazing, Harry!' He hissed as Harry loaded up his tooth brush.

'He's alright,' Harry replied, knowing deep down he was kidding himself. This thing was more awesome the new Firebolt gold edition there were promising by next year. Neville smiled.

'When he warms up to us a bit… could I… maybe hold him?' Harry raised an eyebrow, scrubbing at his teeth. Neville started to prepare his toothpaste. 'My grandmother has a painting of one of these at home. I thought… maybe… I'd get Colin Creevey to get a picture of me and it together, so she can see… maybe…' Harry smiled through his toothbrush and nodded. Neville beamed.

'Cheers Harry!' he cooed, before plunging the brush between his lips. Harry was about to clear his mouth of suds for the second time when an ear piercing scream filled the room, reverberated off the walls, and a vicious crack crept across the mirror. He ran back into the main dormitory, where Dean was writhing next to Harry's bed, trying to plug a bleeding ear with tissue, and Seamus had vanished under his covers, swearing in muffled yells.

'What happened!' Harry asked.

'What!' cried Dean, disorientated.

'What happened?' Harry repeated, and Dean squinted to lip read. He pointed to the Penndragonne and wound off into the bathroom, eliciting a gurgling cry from Neville. Harry looked down at the creature. It had awoken, obviously screaming, and was now trembling frightfully, eyes bugged, limp and miserable. Slowly, Harry picked it up, but it did not resist, eyes unseeing, wrapping it's tail around his wrist. Harry sat down on the bed and pulled the dragon up to his chest. It was whimpering now, and it locked it's claws into his pyjamas, pressing it's head to the hollow of his throat, whimpering meekly. Harry could feel the soft vibrations of it's muttering against his skin, and he frowned.

'Come on you,' he said reassuringly. 'Let's get some breakfast inside you and we'll see how you feel then.' Detaching said dragon from his clothes and nestling it on his pillows again, he quickly prepared some clothes for the day ahead, before collecting the still pliant creature up and hurried to an early breakfast.

'Two metres.'

Glare

'Alright then, four metres!'

Intensified glare.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'You're so demanding.' The Dragon's face softened to a self satisfied smirk. It had, grudgingly allowed Harry to heal all of it's injuries, and now felt no reason at all to be meek. They now sat, pretty much alone, in the great hall. Their only company was Luna Lovegood and the Grey Lady on the raven claw table, a few Hufflepuff first years chatting animatedly on their table and a sultry, sulking dark haired Slytherin girl on her respective table, reading her tarot cards. Harry was somewhat glad of this. The Penndragonne, despite it's poor attitude, seemed less tense when it was just the two of them. In the common room last night it had been so stiff and angry, and again this morning in the dormitory with Neville, Seamus and Dean. He couldn't help but smile at the tiny, self satisfied creature, head held high, neck arched regally.

'The table, then,' he said into his bracelet. The Dragon considered for a moment, a wisp of smoke trailing from it's nostrils in contemplation, before ambling off down the table with it's funny, waddling gait. Harry shook his head, grinning, before piling breakfast stuffs onto his plate. There was a clatter as a teacup fell over about four metres away. Harry looked up with a start, but the Penndragonne was soldiering away, pulling a saucer with it's forefeet, trying to walk backwards. Harry raised an eyebrow, and it glowered at him, before stopping next to a large platter of sausages. It rolled one off with it's forepaws, before scampering up the table for a hash brown. It ended up sprinting back on it's hind legs, holding to offending foodstuff in both paws and with it's mouth. Harry nearly choked on his bacon, but quelled his laughter with a long draft of pumpkin juice. The Dragon shot him a look of pure loathing, before retrieving a napkin and cleaning oil off itself. Harry shook his head and carried on eating. His thoughts drifted to the football match this afternoon, and to his lessons on Monday, and starting their advanced COMC project, before there was a stabbing pain in his forehead and he saw red and popping circles in his eyes. He didn't cry out, but he did slump forward in his chair, biting his lip until he drew blood, breathing fast and hard. As it always did, as it always had done, the pain subsided, but left some brief words in his head.

'What do you mean, you don't know! Unacceptable!'

Harry groaned quietly, easing himself back up to a sitting position. He took another forkful, chewing it thoughtfully, before casting a look down the table at his companion. The Penndragonne was staring at him, half way through moving a slice of melon to it's saucer, eyes wide, a look of pure, undeniable terror in it's silvery gaze. Harry sighed.

'I supposed you sensed that too,' he said gravely. 'Being an animal and all…' The dragon slowly blinked, it's eyes still wide and glassy. Harry ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. Other people had started dutifully flowing into the hall, though none had noticed the little lizard gawping at him.

'You can't stay all the way down there,' Harry chided. The dragon, snapping out of it's stupor, glowered at him before firmly seating itself and sucking the juice out of it's melon. Harry groaned.

'You'll get me in trouble,' he hissed. 'I don't think pets are supposed to come to breakfast.' And the word 'pet' the Penndragonne made a shrill, sharp tooting noise through it's nose before tearing flesh out of the melon slice, swallowing sulkily. Harry tried to ignore a few odd looks he got. Frowning, he raised the bracelet to his mouth. The Dragon froze, glaring hatefully.

'Don't make me use it,' he said, a threat in his tone. The dragon's eyes narrowed from the other side of it's saucer, and Harry heard the crunch of it sinking it's claws into the table. The meaning of it's glare was clear.

I dare you.

'Fine,' Harry hissed. 'Half a metre.' There was a horrible ripping, cracking noise as the Dragon was dragged along the table, it's strong claws tearing through the surface of the wood. Everyone turned to look this time. Even the grouchy Slytherin looked up from her tarot cards gloomily. The Penndragonne kept an entirely stern expression, despite the fact it's eyes were watering from the pain in it's claws. Harry picked it up and plonked it unceremoniously on the other side of his dish. It froze in his grip, and cowered a little after he put it down, before he shoved it's saucer to it's feet and carried on with his breakfast, aware of the stares and ruined varnish on the ancient table. The Penndragonne didn't try and run off, but it fixed Harry with a curious gaze when it thought he wasn't looking, before ripping and tearing at it's melon.

'GOOOOAAAAAAAAAAALLL!' Cried Dean, clapping Ron a high five. Ron, looking entirely bemused, had no idea what was so great. Harry laughed at his expression.

'You kicked the ball into the opposite team's net. That wins us a point, a goal.'

'Only one?' Ron said incredulously. 'Why not ten?' Harry rolled his eyes, patting Ron on the back sympathetically before Dean tried to rearrange them for another kick off. That would take at least five minutes. Harry chanced a glance over to the stands. Hermione had chosen not to play, complaining about more work to do and the fact that it was cold and she didn't feel like running around. So, instead, she was sitting in the stands (they were playing on the quidditch pitch), several enchanted blue flames fluttering around her, scribbling away on some parchment, surrounded by text books, letters and a novel which was open, and was being read by a certain silvery creature who was wrapped up in a cocoon made from one of Harry's jumpers. It had been highly unimpressed by this to begin with, but after the cold wind nearly blew him of the bench and he got the shivers, he deigned to use the item for warmth. Harry shook his head, smiling, as the penndragonne awkwardly tugged the page over and scanned the pages with it's little eyes. It brought him back to the purpose of penndragonnes. What was his art? What exactly was the penndragonne going to give him inspiration for? Quidditch perhaps… Harry shook his head again. No, the penndragonne seemed the more scholarly type, rather than a sports fan. As this thought crossed his mind, his senses fogged by thought, a hard, swift object cracked against his head and bounced off, and he stumbled forward from the blow.

'Christ!' he snapped, wheeling around. Pavarti had her hands over her face, her eyes wide with horror. Lavender was in stitches.

'Quite a kick on that one,' Dean chuckled as Harry watched the football rolling in the grass. 'Are you alright?' Harry couldn't help but smile as the throbbing in his head began to die down.

'Sure,' he confirmed. 'Let's get back to the game!'

'Have you finished your potions essay?'

'Yeah… just about,' Harry scribbled the last couple of words onto his parchment and went to hand it to Ron.

'Don't encourage him!' Hermione snapped. Ron pouted.

'I just need a few more ideas, that's all!' he protested. Hermione scowled at him, but he snatched up the parchment anyway and began hurriedly scanning Harry's spidery writing.

Harry yawned and stretched, his t-shirt riding up with the movement. The penndragonne made a grumbling noise from it's position on the table, where it was still pouring over Hermione's novel and looking very pale. It had been napping all day, but not properly sleeping. It looked exhausted, and kept shooting Harry meaningful looks, but since he couldn't guess their meaning, they were wasted.

'Eurrgh,' Ron groaned. 'I can't wait until we're finished the potions section of our sports medi magic course.' He put Harry's essay on the coffee table, where the dragon almost dutifully pulled it closer and picked up a pencil. 'I thought I'd gotten rid of Snape for good when I took it up!' Harry smirked, but said nothing. These were their last two years at Hogwarts. The students had now picked subjects that would help them on their way in the big wide world, rather than scraping through by drawing subjects by straws like he and Ron had in the past. Harry was studying Charms, transfiguration, potions, care of magical creatures, defence against the dark arts and Myth studies (his own personal choice) on time table, with the extra medical magic courses in his free time, and Ron was taking sports medical magic, care of magical creatures, Charms, defence against the dark arts, Craft Magic and domestic magics (his mother's personal choice. In this way, they spent half their timetable apart- Ron focussing on a broader variety of subjects whilst Harry had begun to push for the Auror job he wanted. Every time he thought about not being good enough for it, he felt ill. He wanted to arrest Death Eaters. He wanted to see their visage drain when he stood over Voldemort, and more than anything he wanted to see the filthy murderous bastard beg for mercy, cowering at his feet. The Penndragonne sighed him out of his thoughts as he scribbled chaste corrections on the parchment and drew a rude face. Hermione yelped as she darned a hole in one of her jumpers, pricking her finger. She sucked it petulantly, then returned to her work.

'Why don't you just fix it?' Ron questioned. Hermione thwacked him with a ruler.

'Concentrate on your own work,' she chided. 'But if you must know, I'm testing out Blaise's Creative Magic project. A darning thread, that once darned into the fabric will prevent the whole item from tearing. I'm using one of your old jumpers to practise on.'

'You're letting something that flea-bitten Slytherin made touch my personal effects!' Ron bawled.

'Ron, do your essay,' Hermione groaned. 'And he's very nice actually. Not like the other Slytherin's at all. He's in the top five in the year academically-'

'Whoopdeebloodydoo…'

'-AND,' Hermione snarled. 'He is a very balanced, unprejudiced individual. Very likable.'

'Only you could say that about a Slytherin,' Ron groaned and Hermione darned.

'Ron, don't make me tell you again,' she hissed, and Ron hurried up his writing. There was a hint of a flush on her cheeks. 'Besides, the jumper's only an old one. You hardly wear it anymore. You threw it in Crookshank's basket about a week ago, but he threw it back out. Maybe once it's fixed…'

'If that string works.'

'-It'll be a bit warmer for him.'

'Or,' Ron sighed. 'You could give it back.'

'Oh now you're just being picky!' she protested. Harry sighed and shuffled in his chair.

'Ron, just do your essay,' he groaned. 'Hermione, stop fawning over Zabini. You know what his father is.' Hermione crinkled her nose distastefully.

'That's a bit prejudiced, Harry,' she muttered. He frowned and straightened his glasses, the penndragonne yawning lazily on the table.

'Better safe than sorry,' he growled. 'You know it was Crabbe and Goyle behind the last attack? We wouldn't have thought them capable of it. It's better in these times to be suspicious, for your own good.' Hermione sighed.

'Still,' she mused. 'it's a bit harsh to expect Blaise to be exactly like his father…'

'I don't see why not,' Harry shot back. 'What about Malfoy?'

'Malfoy is his father's clone, we all know that,' Hermione drawled. Ron's head shot up. Harry nodded.

'And Goyle and Crabbe- exactly like their fathers. Slytherin is chock full of bad eggs, and you know it.' Hermione frowned.

'Just because the needle's hard to find, doesn't mean it's not in the haystack,' she purred.

'Blaise is honest, and quite frankly critical of what the rest of his house are like.'

'More like two faced,' Ron chirruped. Hermione thwacked his leg with a notebook.

'You two are both so narrow-minded these days,' she complained. Harry narrowed his eyes.

'I think I have a right to be,' he sneered back. Hermione froze up a little.

'Ah…' she managed, before Harry began gathering his things, and scooping the half-unconscious Penndragonne into his arms, where it writhed feebly.

'Goodnight,' Harry sighed lifelessly, before trudging up the staircase. Hermione watched him go, clutching Ron's jumper tightly. There was a hurried scribbling before Ron threw down his parchment.

'Done!' he cried, before grinning at Harry's empty chair. His face fell.

'Where's he gone?' he asked dumbly. Hermione thwacked him again and embedded herself in her task.

Harry, though his curtains were shut, had them propped up on his pillow so that the silvery moonlight would spill across his bed. He had put the Penndragonne in it's box, but this time confined it to the table top in a hope of more successfully immobilising it. The dragon hadn't protested. It kept jolting as if forcing itself away from sleep as he himself tucked himself up, and failed to complain when he petted it goodnight. As Harry gazed into the brilliance of the waxing moon and, green eyes glittering in it's sombre glow, he did not notice the click of wobbly claws on the bedside table, nor the scrape of a bottle being dragged and tipped a little, before the thud of a body falling limp into peaceful, contented sleep.