Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own two broken nails. How pissed off am I?

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…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions

WARNINGS for this chapter: Non-con Het, OC

Also warnings... : This story is quite dark. I think black becomes me.

A/N

DUNNAH! The unlucky number! Shock Horror! Quelle D'Omage! Que Desastre! Taihen and I could just keep on going on that tangent, but I won't.

Sorry this took so long. I suck like a hungry whore who's had her stomach unclipped.

In future I hope to be able to drum these chapters out faster. The problem is I write a huge amount in a few days and then get a ridiculous review (see previous chapter for that little anecdote of my ire) or something and my muse falls into a bottomless pit, twitching and drained and crying for his mummy. And then it takes a while to get back on track. This month's distraction was Ikkakujuu. Unicorn boys are very, very distracting, I can tell ye. sigh But it's soooo worth it. Trust me, darlings. SOOOO worth it. Espesh for Looby art. nod nod She's the artist I've collaborated with. Give her a visit at Whee

Lots of stuff happens in this chapter too, even though it's short. Pwomise. And only a few more chapters until the divine Draco makes his... hrm, well, it's not his first appearance by any stretch of the imagination. Hrm. Well... he'll be in it! And it'll be good! I PROMISE.

Oh, and

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEEE! I'm 18 now! I turned 18 on the 11th of June! Scaaaary stuff!

'Are you receiving?' asked a husky voice. Dumbledore stared into the communications device Karkaroff had given him during the Triwizards Tournament. For emergency purposes, of course. Thankfully, it had found a use, carried now by the last senior prefect of Durmstrang Academy.

'I am receiving,' Dumbledore replied gently. Several of the staff were gathered around, each failing to mask their concern and guilt that the concern was not for those struggling survivors.

'There are fourteen,' the boy's voice said. 'We have lost three already. I have seen two emergency units attempting to get to us...' he broke off to hack and cough. 'Our... Our route is nearly inaccessible and something... dogs our passage. I...' the figures behind him screamed as a shadow flapped over head. The picture blurred and sound became augmented.

'Do you know how to portkey?' Dumbledore said hurriedly. They were running out of time.

'No,' the boy said firmly. 'But we can all apparate.' Dumbledore ignored their youth and carried on.

'Do you know Hogsmeade?'

'We were instructed on its location,' the boy confirmed. His voice was monotonously efficient.

'Find cover then, and apparate if you can,' Dumbledore said quickly. 'If not... London?' The device crackled.

'Alrigh-' the image died and the sound crackled awfully, before the communicator fell silent and slowly dissolved into ash. There was a long silence.

'He sounds more like a soldier than a child,' Professor McGonagall complained. A few of the teachers hummed and nodded their agreement. The atmosphere in the office was oppressive. Dumbledore slowly leant back in his chair, sighing.

'We should expect them imminently,' Dumbledore said efficiently.

'Albus,' Professor McGonagall sighed. 'They're cut off and under attack. It could be-'

'Madame Pomfrey, we will need beds prepared for their arrival. And can all staff be aware that the school day may be interrupted...'

'Qi-Lin, also known as Kirin or the Asian Unicorn is an integral part of far eastern mythology. Even today, in places such as Fukuoka, Southern Japan there are festivals held for him each year. It is unclear whether or not Qi-Lin was a single individual of a dying magical race, part of a herd of creatures that has since gone underground or still alive today, keeping watch on the civilisations he affected. All that is known for sure is what is documented in his legend. Class, open your textbooks to page 7 in chapter 9, Eastern Mythology.'

Harry opened his textbook and flipped forward to the allotted page. Professor Willotree let the class do most of their learning on their own, Charming a set of questions to shape their notes onto their desk. The class would read, chat quietly amongst themselves, doodle, and Professor Willotree would amble around, stopping at desks to chat with students about their theories, ideas, favourite myths and expressive doodles. She had an airy, kind nature, and it was almost impossible not to like her. Harry could tell she, like he, had been raised a Muggle, and therefore her intense fascination with the magical world was clear in her sparkling green eyes. The classroom was bright and airy, even on cloudy days it seemed. The walls were full of huge high windows on two sides, bathing the class in warm light. It was a high room, with a beautifully painted arched roof, and mystical leafy trees stretching up to them. Often there was some sort of mythological creature pottering about in the room, but even when there was not, the trees were filled with beautiful multicoloured decorative birds that sang and twittered amongst the trees and little puffs of green smelling incense that floated out of the various burners. Harry had to admit that although the class was less hands on that say, Care of Magical Creatures or DADA, he liked it. If anything, it was a relaxing environment, and as his last lesson in the week (just before lunch on a Friday), it seemed to relieve all students of their burdens, if only for an hour. Silver was on his desk, and seemed totally calm, watching as various adverts flashed across Harry's ruler. Bertie Botts every flavour beans! As much as you can carry for 5 sickles! Limited offer!... Trouble with your tarot cards? Auntie Fortuna has answers to all your fortune telling queries... Hair loss? Tried everything and found no solution? McYeti's-

Harry pulled the ruler away to underline one of the keywords in the book, placing the ruler under the line and mumbling the words. A shimmering luminescent line appeared, cheerfully illuminating 'Confucious'. Silver watched him quietly, pondering something. As Professor Willotree got into a passionate debate with Justin Finch-Fletchely over the possibility of Kirin's being lost unicorns, Harry felt a nudge at his hand. He looked down, to see Silver trying as discreetly as possible to worm his way under it. When he realised he was being watched, he squeaked and scurried away to Harry's ink pot, facing away from Harry rigidly. Harry frowned. What was Silver up to? Something crossed his mind. Perhaps... the little creature was seeking his comfort? Trying to work out if he really had to be so distant? Gently, Harry placed his hand over the little dragon's back, feeling it tentatively curve into his touch. He smiled, relieved. Silver was warming up to him. This was good. Silver laid down against the table, tucking his legs under him. Harry went back to his note making, chatting with Hermione as she gushed over the pictures in the book, rushed photos of something incredible swooping out of the darkness and disappearing in a flash, all hooves and grandeur and flame.

It was during Harry's Myth Studies lesson that the expected guests arrived. Harry wouldn't have known, except that Hermione, as a prefect had been whisked out of the classroom so fast Harry's head had spun. As he left the lesson with Silver peering out of the top of his shoulder bag, there was no sign that they had arrived, save for, as he headed down into the entrance hall to gain access to lunch, the sign of Filch mopping the floor. Harry, at the time, didn't know why, but Hermione and Ron burbled it to him the moment he sat down.

'There were survivors?' Harry asked, filling one half of his plate with mashed potatoes.

'Not many,' Hermione said quickly. 'But even fewer made it here... oh God, Harry! It was awful!-'

'-There must have been only five or six of them who made it,' Ron continued. 'They'd been trekking for days apparently. The no apparate zone extends really far from Durmstrang-'

'Oh Harry! The leader... he was carrying this girl, she couldn't have been more than second year. He led them inside, drenched in blood, handed her to a professor and just... fell down! I don't know if he died or... oh Harry, it was awful!'

'They took them all up to the infirmary straight away. Apparently we're supposed to take shifts guarding the infirmary from curious students until they're well enough. Me and Hermione got lumbered with this afternoon because we've got frees.'

'Well I haven't!' Hermione scoffed, and was about to go off on a tangent about how she was missing an important testing session for her Creative Magic project, when Harry cut in indignantly.

'But we were going to go out and practise,' Harry complained. 'Quidditch starts late this year, granted, but we've got to get back into practise ASAP. Roooooon!' Ron shrugged.

'Sorry, Harry,' he sighed. 'Prefect's duties.' He scowled at the look Harry gave him and Hermione sighed.

'You've got the whole weekend to practise quidditch, boys,' she said quickly. 'These Durmstrang children need all the help they can get. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will let you guard with us, Harry.' Harry shook his head, smiling serenely.

'Nah,' he said gently, watching as Silver picked fussily at the grub Harry had placed in front of him- all stodgy, fattening food. Chudley, who somehow had snuck into dinner, started eating it instead, and Silver found some fruit. Harry looked up at his friends.

'I wouldn't want to intrude. I'll find someone else to fly with.'

Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom were sitting in the Quidditch Stands, trying to get some peace and quiet to finish their Herbology homework. However, especially for Neville, this particularly task was infuriatingly simple, but longwinded and time consuming, and they were taking their fourth desperation break when Harry ambled onto the pitch, wrapped up against the wind, broomstick in hand. The boys looked at each other, before resolutely putting their books away. Who would actively choose homework over watching the Gryffindor seeker, the youngest in a century, practise?

Harry noted his friends, waving with a bright smile.

'Nice weather for flying,' he joked as he was buffeted by another gust of wind. Silver's head coiled out of the open neck of his jacket, snuggled in the spare folds of his scarf. Slowly, Harry mounted his broomstick, feeling it hum beneath hum. The magical energy of the broom was like a caged bronco, just waiting for the gate to swing open and its rider's punishment to begin. Silver was staring at the broom in a confused, almost nostalgic way. Harry grinned, patting his head.

'You'll be fine,' he said gently. 'Besides, feeling the wind on your face might do you some good. Help you fledge and all that.' Silver gave a him a look that smacked of doubt, but Harry ignored it, kicking off and pressing himself to the broom, racing the wind into the heavens. Silver let out a long drawn out whine of shock as they ascended, but even though only his head was bared to the element, began to lean with Harry as they took turns and swoops up high. Not that Harry was paying attention. Flying... it was therapeutic to him. He had total control of his broom, this powerful object that would take him anywhere, a primal beast of man's creation. His own. The wind lashed his face, cold but not bitter, rather fresh, rejuvenating, making his pulse race and his face tingle. Here, he was himself. There was no throbbing scar, no Snape, no stupid Daily Prophet articles, and as much as he loved them, no Hermione and Ron. His mind just emptied, honing keen instinct and he ducked and dived, oblivious to the world. Balance. Focus. Daring. He had it all and he was its master. He wasn't weak. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't cold now his jacket's zip had fallen open.

Wait.

Harry's broom swung to a smooth halting hover in midair as he patted his coat desperately. It was then that he saw the little speck of grey spiralling downwards.

'Silver!' he yelled, dropping into the Wronski feint, vertical and plummeting, desperate and faster than he had gone before. The tiny creature was still falling, but he was catching up. That ground was getting horribly close...

'Here!' he called out to the bracelet. 'HERE!' but it was no use. Since Malfoy Manor, it just hadn't worked the same. And that was a nuisance, particularly now. Pressing himself closer to the broom, Harry cursed to himself.

'Faster!' Harry hissed, wishing for once that his broom was something alive, something he could push beyond its limits. He was catching up. He reached out a hand. He stretched his fingertips... and Silver shot past him back upward. Letting out a cry of surprise, as his spectators, Neville and Dean, cringed, Harry swung sharply out of the dive, his feet clipping the grass as he pulled up. Dean and Neville were running towards him.

'That was amazing, Harry!' Neville gushed. Shaking Harry nodded swallowing hard as if to force his innards back into their rightful places.

'Thanks,' he managed. Dean wasn't quite so complimentary.

'What the hell were you doing?' he snapped. 'Were you aiming for the floor or did the notion of becoming a human pancake suddenly appeal to you?' Harry frowned.

'Neither,' he said shortly. 'I was aiming...' he looked up. 'for that.' All three boys looked up. The sky, though bright with afternoon sun, was overcast, and the grey-painted clouds which tumbled together like a blanket were aflame with the white tickles of sunlight as it defied them and powered on through to earth. Much closer than that, about 20 feet up, something was suspended in the air, fluttering in a confused and not entirely practised manner on a pair of tiny white curly wings. Silver squawked in an uncertain sort of way, blinking down the vast distance between it and its keeper. On the ground, Harry whooped, glad of the chance now to defy Blaise Zabini's purist babble, almost in the way a protective father looks to outdo the other football dads. Silver looped a little crookedly, before trying again and again, more fluid every time. A pair of watchful eyes, now safely placed, looked on, a soft but humourless smirk playing on white-pale lips. And whilst all this occurred, as the penndragonne grew stronger, the inexperienced mind within, lost and trapped in a form not its own, sunk deeper and deeper away in to the mists of quiet memory.

After the close shave the afternoon had provided, Harry was quite ready for a calm sit down and a hearty meal. Silver, coiled across his shoulders, glowing with pride, kept beating the tiny puffs of feathers, chattering away in aloof quacks and squawks. Silver huffed indignantly when Harry jostled him when the boy slumped onto his space on the Gryffindor benches. Snorting, Silver beat hard with his newly discovered wings and soared into the air, only to plummet almost immediately through malpractice onto the clean white plate, criss crossed with the grey blade marks from years of use. Thankfully, the pre-dinner raucous covered up the pained squeak that was emitted as the little silver body deflated against the china. Reflexively, Harry scooped Silver off the table and into his lap, gently smoothing down its feathers as it peered over the tabletop prudently. In a flash, the plates flooded with food as candles bobbed overhead, igniting in a flood of twinkles to signal that dinner had officially begun. On either side of Harry, save for the spaces immediately next to him, the benches filled and people began filling their plates with gusto. Not to be left out, Harry joined in, filling also the little side plate Dobby always made sure he was provided with after a little chat he had arranged with the loyal house elf. It was a good five minutes before Ron and Hermione showed up, bickering.

'I don't care what you heard, 'mione, you heard wrong. You saw them. There's no way any of them are going to be up and about yet, let alone making eyes at you through gaps in the curtains.'

'He was not making eyes at me,' Hermione huffed, sitting down heavily, face tinged strongly with crimson. 'And besides, Madam Pomfrey told me- not me overhearing, Ron- that I was to look out for the new student. What precisely is that supposed to mean, Ronald, if not that one of the newly arrived Durmstrang students is going to be let out?' She swayed a little in her seat, before hastily loading her platter with food. Her eyes looked a little glassy. Ron scoffed, shoving a large forkful of mash into his mouth.

'You're just excited because he's goodlooking,' he snarled bitterly.

'Oh get a life, Ron,' Hermione snapped back, her breathing shallow and quick. She took a rejuvenating draft from her pumpkin juice. Harry shook his head between them, looking down into his lap to Silver.

'Hello Harry, how was your afternoon? Oh not too bad, thank you very much. I had a very nice flight-'

'Hello Harry,' Ron droned. Harry smirked at him.

'Sounds like you two had a nice time,' he offered. Ron grunted.

'S'borin,' he grouched, swallowing a mouthful of chicken. 'Spent most of the time telling nosy first years to bog off. Other than that, it's just me and Hermione standing there like a right pair of lemons, trying to ignore the questionable moans and groans.' He shuddered. 'The least Madame Pomfrey could have done was put a silencing Charm up. Lazy cow.'

'Ron!' Hermione chided, before swooning into Harry's side. Silver chirped at her irritably through a slice of roasted duck.

'You ok Hermione?' Harry asked cautiously as her helped her to sit back up. She drank deep from her cup again, nodding vigorously.

'Of course I am,' she snapped. 'I've just been standing up all afternoon. Stop fussing.' Harry and Ron shared a mutual look as Silver scrabbled determinedly for a Petis Pois. Harry pushed it across the saucer to the hungry Penndragonne.

'Are you sure-' Harry began, but was cut off by a hand tapping lightly upon his shoulder. Harry turned, eyes widening as they met with a face he already knew. In his lap, Silver froze, claws half way to another pea, a crumb of duck meat hanging from his jaw. His pupils dilated and he trembled in terror, shrinking back into the protective shadow of Harry's body.

'Hello again,' the owner of the hand purred, his voice soft and slick and satiny. 'I had so hoped we'd meet again.' Hazel eyes glinted with some unrealised mischief as they considered the stunned face before them.

'H-Hi...' Harry managed, indeed stunned. Ryan Abarov had come to Hogwarts.

Hermione left dinner early, complaining of light-headedness and fever. Although Harry had advised her to pop in and see Madam Pomfrey on her way to bed, she was heading straight for the dormitory, knowing that Madam Pomfrey was really far too busy to be bother by her silly little troubles. Besides, the strangeness of her fever was that the further she walked, up and up flights of stairs, along corridors, past drafty windows and chill-blasting open archways, the better she felt. As she alighted the seventh flight of stairs, she sauntered through the familiar and quiet territory, she felt almost herself again, the soft click of her shoe heels keeping her company and the glint of her polished prefects badge in the corner of her eye. She smiled to herself. Silly Harry, fretting over nothing. He had far more important things to be worrying about than a little fever. Her mind drifted to Ron, and her smile widened. She shook her head. Ron must have been pretty sore about the Durmstrang students arriving, even more that he had caught her making eye contact with what he saw as 'the enemy'. Nothing had changed since Krum. Typical Ron to be so ridiculous.

'Completely ridiculous,' said a voice behind her. 'After all, we've barely met.' Hermione spun on her heel and staggered backwards a few steps. Her head swam as a sickly warm fuzz began to dominate it once more.

'I'm sorry,' she mumbled, raising a hand to her sweltering forehead. 'I didn't realise I'd said anything out loud.'

'You didn't,' responded the accented voice. She raised her eyes and gasped, feeling that familiar burning hazel boring it's blistering heat deep inside her flesh. The boy frowned, raising a bandaged wrist.

'No need to look so affronted,' he pouted, tugging on the ties of his bandages coyly with his teeth. The soft tenor of his voice seemed to lull her, but not into security, but into maddening warmth that sent tingles of forbidden pleasure across her skin. Hermione averted her face, stumbling backwards a few steps, stars danced in her eyes as she hit the wall, knocking her head against it a little.

'L-leave me alone,' she pleaded, listening to the bold steps that came ever closer to her. She jumped as hands hit the wall either side of her head.

'It's not coincidence that we meet again,' he whispered, face so near to hers that cold breath fluttered against her cheeks, causing a delightful contrast she fought to deny. 'I discovered that you had certain properties that could be very useful in my time here.'

'Stop,' Hermione begged, summoning some resolve. 'Ryan... isn't it?'

'I suppose,' Ryan drawled, hazel eyes flickering with torchlight.

'Then Ryan... I,' Hermione sucked in a breath. 'I don't know what you're doing but... stop... it must be some curse... you... can't do that here.' Ryan considered her for a moment, before bowing his dusky head, snickering.

'I'm serious!' Hermione demanded. 'I-I'm a prefect... and I'll have to report thi-'

'Oh really?' Ryan said firmly, cold fire flashing in his eyes and he spoke mere millimetre from her lips. Hermione's eyelids fluttered, tears welling in fear and enforced lust. Ryan pulled back a little, lifting a hand to examine his fingernails.

'Hermione,' he whispered. 'You are a singular woman. A real diamond in this slag heap they call a school.' Hermione's fingers pressed into the wall. It was growing hot.

'You're intelligent, pure, and,' Ryan's smile widened. 'You have a proximity to those that concern me that I would be hard pushed to find in anyone else.' He smiled. 'Especially in anyone else quite so irritatingly attractive as you are.'

'Shut up,' Hermione spat, thrashing her head. Her body seemed unable to move. Ryan laughed lazily.

'I'm serious,' he drawled. 'Long, feminine hair, soft features, bright eyes with long dark lashes,' he blinked lazily, and Hermione shivered as hazel turned to amber. Ryan continued.

'A nature so pure and honest, a virtue yet intact-' he stepped forward in one movement so that his body, lean and straight was flush with hers. She muffled a cry by biting her lip, lost to the Charms that Ryan's true form knew so well.

'With curves like this,' he whispered into her ear. 'It's incredible to believe that that's true.' He touched the very tip of one finger to her hip bone, and watched her tremble. Her hands were singeing in their vice grip with the wall.

'You,' she hissed, her breaths desperate and shallow. 'You destroyed Durmstrang... with heat...'

'Clever girl,' Ryan purred nastily, stepping away a little. 'But you won't remember that soon.' Hermione narrowed her eyes against the desire.

'You're going to curse me,' she hissed. 'Dumbledore will know.'

'Dumbledore knows about as much about me as he knows about Persian rugs,' Ryan snapped, revealing sharp teeth that made Hermione cringe. 'And why would I curse you when I can do this to you so easily?' He ran a finger along the curve of her cheek and down her neck in a singular lethargic swipe. Bolts of energy flooded her form and her mouth fell open, body arching in desire as heat and pressure flooded down.

'You see?' Ryan jeered. 'It's really not that difficult.' Hermione whimpered as he took his hand away, tears trickling down her cheeks.

'Now,' Ryan whispered. 'I have a task for you. It won't disturb you, so there's no need to look so upset.' Hermione jumped at his tone. Ryan smiled softly. 'You're going to keep an eye on that Penndragonne you gave to your friend. And him too. I want to know everything they do, so you'd better pay attention. I want to know of any sign of change, anything at all that happens to them. Got it?'

'Go to hell,' Hermione whimpered. Ryan laughed.

'I'm glad to see we have an accord,' he whispered, tracing a burning pattern on her neck which stung viciously. 'Of course, you won't remember any of this, so it's of little consequence.'

'You won't... get away with this,' Hermione snarled, and Ryan seized her by the throat.

'Oh, I think I will, spy.' He pressed himself to her again, feeling her body quake. 'Once I seal the Spell, you're as good as mine.'

'I don't...' Hermione puffed, 'believe you.'

'That's not important,' Ryan drawled. 'Goodnight.' And with that, he pressed his thumb hard on her neck and savaged her lips in a brutal kiss. Hermione screamed, but not in horror or pain, but in the uncontrollable violent pleasure that assailed and took over her body so easily and so quickly. She fell limp into his arms within seconds, blood trickling from a split lip.

'Good girl,' Orion whispered, licking the blood away possessively and sweeping her into her arms. 'Good girl.'

r+r PLEASH