Harry didn't know how he was going to manage to fulfill his promise to Hagrid. He'd been in the library day and night for a week night (at least when he wasn't serving detention.) He'd read everything who could on dragons, much to the suspicion of Madame Pince. Harry knew he was pushing his luck by making his interest in dragons so apparent, but he couldn't let Hagrid down. He still felt so guilty…
And Harry suddenly experienced a slight pang in his forehead, and shook his head hard.

The feeling had been bothering him all week, and it was frequently accompanied by the hissing voice in his head. Harry was beginning to think he should mention this to someone…
It hadn't occurred to him before, but the fact that the "voice" wasn't his voice was rather disturbing. He was hearing some strange voice in his head? That really didn't sound like a good thing.
Harry shook his head again and pressed his palm against his forehead.

And Harry remembered.

He had been in the hospital wing, looking out the window, and he had felt a similar pain, although much worse, in the same spot. The feeling wasn't in his forehead. It was in his scar.

And he grew still more concerned. Now he was hearing voices and having strange pains in some evil curse scar. Maybe it had addled his brains in a way that the magic world was just exposing…

Harry went back to his reading. He wasn't going to mention the pain or the voice to anyone now. After all, maybe they would think the same thing and have him shipped off to some magical loony bin.

From what Harry had read, his best chance to get rid of Norbert was a dragon preserve. Norwegian Ridgebacks, he learned, were also a threatened species. They had been hunted to near extinction in the 1800's for their breath, which apparently gave a particularly desired flavor to food when cooked with.

'That should make him easier to get somewhere safe,' thought Harry, now taking off his glasses and rubbing his scar between his hands, now wondering desperately why the pain wouldn't stop.

"Hiya, Harry."

Harry leaned his head back and looked up at Sean's toothy smile. "Hey, Sean."

"Watcha reading?" asked the older boy, now taking a seat next to Harry and pulling the open book toward himself.

"Nothing!" said Harry, making a mad snatch for the book.

Sean let him take it, but looked at him strangely. "Dragons, Harry? What are you reading up on dragons for?"

Harry smiled apologetically. "Well, um, you see, in the Muggle world dragons are, just, fantasy creatures. They're really popular, and I was…I was just wondering if they actually anything like what Muggles think."

Sean laughed. "Well?"

"Well, I'm tempted to say no, since I have read anything about them stealing young maidens into their caves and allowing themselves to be slaughtered by noble Muggle knights."
He laughed again. "No, I should imagine not."

That sat in silence for a while, Harry trying to focus on reading, but still distracted by his scar.
Finally he gave up and made to leave. "Wait, Harry!" said Sean, grabbing his wrist.

Harry yelped as his vision scorched and a pain shut down the center of his skull. He jumped back, and looked around desperately as his vision returned. The library door swung closed just in time for Harry to make out the hem of a robe.

"Harry, are you all right?" asked Sean in shock.

"Yeah…I think so," said Harry. "Who was that who just left?"

"Who—oh. Oh, yes, Professor Snape and Professor Quirrel, actually. I didn't realize they were here…" Sean looked at the doorway darkly. "They've been turning up in very odd places together."

"Yes," said Harry. "How strange."
He left the library, not quite able to place the smell of singed flesh and hair.

Harry had a plan. He had been walking from the Great Hall one day after he had finished his lunch and overheard Ron at the Gryffindor table. "Charley says they just got a new Thornythroated Greyback and it's already sent three keepers to the hospital!" he said, gesturing excitedly and sending a spoonful of potatoes on Neville. "We might even get to go to Romania to see it since we might be visiting him this summer—"
Harry practically ran out of the Great Hall, ever-grateful for the plan forming in his head.

And now he was frozen above a piece of parchment. He had his plan completely worked out. But how, exactly, was he supposed to write this letter. "Dear Charley Weasley, you don't actually know me, but I'm friends with your brother Ron, well not actually friends, but he's in my year at Hogwarts. I'm Harry Potter, and I was hoping you could help me with a dragon problem…"

'Wow,' thought Harry, 'if that's sounds any worse on paper than it does in my head…'

He stared at the parchment for a little while longer before writing down,
'Dear Charley Weasley,'
It made him uncomfortable to say 'dear' to someone he didn't actually know, but he was quite sure this is how all people started letters, although he wasn't in the practice of writing many himself.

'Okay,' he thought, 'he knows I actually want to talk to him now. So…now I tell him who's writing him, right?'

'This is Harry Potter,' the letter continued, 'I attend Hogwarts with your brother Ron.'

'Alright,' thought Harry, wondering why his palms were sweating so badly, 'now he knows who I am and how I know about him.— I wonder if getting a letter from Harry Potter here is like a Muggle child getting a letter from the Easter Bunny…'

Harry was terribly confused, now. He didn't have any other way of introducing himself than just writing his name. But what if Charley didn't believe that he had actually written the letter? He decided he had to continue on the hope that Charley could suspend his disbelief just long enough…

'I know we don't really know each other, but I was hoping I could ask for a favor,' said the letter. 'A friend of mine has come into possession of a Norwegian Ridgeback. Please, don't bother wondering how. Even I don't really understand it all. Apparently, he's always wanted a dragon, a chance should have it that somebody decided to give him one. I don't think it was a particularly intelligent transaction on either's part, but now I'm helping him find it a home before it's too late. Since Norwegian Ridgebacks are a threatened species, I was hoping he could find a home on the preserve you work on in Romania.
'Your help would be very much appreciated.

'Sincerely,
'Harry Potter'

'There!' thought Harry. 'Done!'

He may have babbled on a bit, he realized in reflection, but the letter had been far to difficult to write to try again. He ran up to the owlery to find Blaise, gave him a few treats, and then sent him off with a letter, addressed very vaguely to 'Charley Weasley, Dragon Preserve, Romania.'