Hey Guys! So, here's an early update!

Disclaimer: I do not own How to Train Your Dragon or Harry Potter.

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Dragons: Race to the Burrow

Chapter 1: To Those Who Ask For It

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The light from the setting sun penetrated the narrow windows as Albus Dumbledore sighed and rubbed the bridge of his crooked nose, his half-moon glasses resting beside his pointed hat on his desk in his large, circular office at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was an ancient looking man dressed in midnight-blue robes, with long white hair and beard, both of which were long enough to be tucked under his belt.

He opened his piercing blue eyes and examined the copy of The Daily Prophet that lay in front of him. Half of the front page was covered with a large picture of a valley covered in thick, ragged greenish ice. Massive chunks of rock and splinters of wood marked the places where buildings once stood.

ROMANIAN DRAGON RESERVE ATTACKED, FOUND COVERED IN ICE FOLLOWING THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ALL DRAGONS

The Imperial Dragon Reserve in Romania was attacked yesterday, on July 2nd 1996. According to the witnesses, the attack took place shortly after dusk. By the time the Auror Response team made an appearance, there were no dragons to be seen in the reserve and most of the valley was inexplicably covered in thick ice. More than half of the employees were found dead under the ice, and a lot of those who are alive are being treated at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

There have been no official statements from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures about the disappearance of all 316 dragons of the Reserve or the pitiful state of the place. The newly appointed Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, has said nothing save for his assurances that 'the Ministry is inquiring into the matter', and has avoided all questions. No viable theories for why the valley was found covered in ice have been put forward, and experts from all over Wizarding Britain have come up short.

Obtaining reliable testimony has been difficult seeing that most of the eye-witnesses are in no condition to provide it. But if the few that have spoken are to be believed, then the attack was led by He Who Must Not Be Named himself, accompanied by his followers, who among the wizarding population are better known as the Death-Eaters. If that is the fact, then this incident marks the fourth Death-Eater attack in the past month.

Eric Burgstorm, a gatekeeper at the Reserve Head Office who was released from his shift mere minutes before the attack, said, "I was heading out to the Apparition station when a thunderous roar sounded from the valley. Believe me, I see dragons every other day and it was nothing I had ever heard before! So I run back to see what's going on and I see this absolutely gigantic beast twice the size of a Quidditch pitch with tusks longer than the Hogwarts house tables! And before I can do anything else, there's those Death-Eaters swarming the place. So that's when I turn and flee for my life!"

Experts have discarded Mr Burgstorm's account with disbelief. "There is no such Creature," states Silvanus Kettleburn, formerly the professor of Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "The man is lying through his teeth!"

Whereas Xenophilius Lovegood, editor of The Quibbler, seems to have different views. "The description given by Eric seems to match those provided by historic accounts dating back to the Viking Ages, which speak of the Mighty Bewilderbeast, the King of all dragons," Mr Lovegood writes. "Archives suggest that the Bewilderbeast was an ice-spitting dragon, and as the Alpha, had the power to control all other dragons." His comments have been met with scepticism and incredulity, but since there is no proof suggesting otherwise, Mr Lovegood is yet to be openly contradicted. Though underhand comments questioning his sanity have not been scarce.

There have been speculations about the Dark Lord having found a way to recruit the dragons onto his famous army of dark creatures, which in the last War consisted of all manner of unholy abominations including inferi, banshees, harpies, giants, trolls...

...Continued on page 3

Dumbledore put his glasses back on wearily, and looked up as Fawkes the Phoenix gave a melodic trill from its perch. And as if on cue, the empty fireplace filled up with bright green flames and Dumbledore turned his attention to the face that had appeared within it.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Charlie Weasley exclaimed urgently.

"Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye as he stood up and went closer to the fireplace. "To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"

"I'm sorry for just calling in through the floo like this, sir, but have you heard about the attack on the Imperial Dragon Reserve?" Charlie asked worriedly.

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore replied. "Arthur informed us in the Order meeting last night that you were already on your way home at that time."

"Sir, does the Order have any intelligence on what exactly happened out there? Was it really You-Know-Who?"

"I'm afraid we know little about the events of last evening, as Severus has yet to report back. He has been unresponsive ever since the term ended," Dumbledore told him gravely.

"Professor, the reason I called is that the day before yesterday, me and my team were assigned a covert mission," Charlie said, his voice lowering in tone. "We were to deliver a young Norwegian Ridgeback to Gringotts for security purposes."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

"The goblins didn't want the Ministry to know," Charlie continued in the same hushed tone. "So they paid the Reserve to deliver it in secret. They originally wanted a Hungarian Horntail, but the Reserve couldn't give away one of those without the Ministry finding out. So Gringotts settled for a Ridgeback."

"And since your team left the Reserve before the attack, might I be correct in my assumption that the dragon is still with you?" Dumbledore asked, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"Yes, exactly," Charlie said. "The thing is, Professor, since there are no dragons in the Reserve anymore, and the goblins turn their security dragons blind, I think we might have the last healthy dragon on our hands that the Death-Eaters didn't capture."

There was a pause.

"No one in the team is ready to take such a huge responsibility," Charlie explained. "If the Death-Eaters really do have the dragons, and it comes out that we handed the last one over to Gringotts, they'll be calling for our heads!"

Dumbledore frowned in thought and stroked Fawkes' feathers, who had landed on his shoulder when Charlie was speaking.

"This is indeed a very sensitive matter," he agreed. "For the time being, I suggest you bring the dragon here, to Hogwarts, where it would be safe from the Ministry's eyes. We shall decide on an appropriate course of action when we obtain a clearer picture of the situation."

Charlie thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. "I think that would be a good idea," he conceded. "If we set out now, we will probably reach Hogwarts well before sunrise."

"I will inform Hagrid," Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling. "I am certain he will be very excited."

Charlie seemed to remember something then. He grinned. "And Professor, tell him it's Norberta."

oOo

As Professor Dumbledore walked back from the grounds into the entrance hall after informing a very enthusiastic Hagrid about the development, he stopped as he faced a very battered-looking man in flowing black robes and greasy jet hair.

"Severus," he said, waking over. "Where have you been?"

Severus Snape scowled.

"The Dark Lord has lost his mind," he growled out.

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. Bitter as he was, Snape rarely went all out like that.

"Has he, now?" the old wizard inquired.

"Yes! He has performed a summoning ritual!"

It was safe to say that hardly anything could surprise the old Headmaster after all this time, but that fact managed the feat. Very effectively, too.

"I would never have thought…"

"He has been angry and unpredictable ever since Potter injured him in that mind battle in the Department of Mysteries," Snape stated. "And yesterday, he performed a wretched summoning ritual to contact another Realm!"

There was a pause as the Headmaster processed the words.

"And did he…?" Dumbledore asked, having no desire to entertain that train of thought.

"YES!" Snape spat. "He drew magical energy from all the Death-Eaters to hold the passage open while he went in alone and came back with another man and an enormous demonic ICE-SPITTING LIZARD!"

Snape was panting now, the look on his face murderous. "He called it the Bewilderbeast," he continued, when Dumbledore just kept staring. "Some kind of dragon Alpha eight times the size of the Great Hall! And it commands all other dragons!"

"How can Voldemort hope to control such a creature?" Dumbledore asked, trepidation rising.

"Oh the Dark Lord can't, but the man he brought with him, some Drago Bludvist, he can! He controls the wretched creature!"

"And why would this Drago Bludvist agree to aid Lord Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked suspiciously.

Snape scoffed. "The Dark Lord has made a deal with him. Bludvist helps the Dark Lord in using the dragons to scourge Wizardkind, and in return, once he has won the war, the Dark Lord shall aid him in taking over his Realm."

"How?" Dumbledore asked bluntly.

"Bludvist already has a whole damned dragon army in his Realm. And the Dark Lord has agreed to let him take our Realm's dragons back to his to add to his dragon army," Snape was looking thoroughly miffed now. "Yes, the rumors are true. It was the Dark Lord who attacked the Dragon Reserve, along with that lunatic, Drago Bludvist, and his behemoth of a dragon."

"So not only has he planned to massacre wizards and muggles alike using the dragons, there is a whole other Realm that shall suffer the consequences?" Dumbledore checked.

"Yes!" the Potions Master snapped indignantly.

oOo

A few hours later, in the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, Harry Potter's eyes snapped open as he abruptly sat up in his bed, wide awake and sweating profusely. He raised a hand to touch the burning lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, which hadn't so much as tingled since the battle in the Department of Mysteries almost a month ago.

He was a skinny teenager with untidy jet black hair, bright emerald eyes, a horrible eyesight which warranted the need for glasses, and of course, his famous lightning-bolt scar. He heard his snowy owl, Hedwig, hoot softly from her cage as he covered his face with his hands and tried to think clearly.

He was certainly no stranger to random visions of Voldemort's activities. And seeing that the last one had led to the death of his Godfather, Sirius Black, it was pretty safe to say that he hated them. And thankfully, he hadn't gotten any since that fateful night at the Ministry. That is, until tonight.

The vision he'd had tonight had been very strange, even for a vision. He couldn't remember the finer details of what he had seen, but as his gaze landed on the folded newspaper from that morning, something clicked. His eyes widened and he stood up to pace around the small room, gripping his hair and once again ignoring the worried hoots from his feathery companion.

What should I do? he thought desperately. What could I do? The last time he had tried 'doing something' after one of his visions, Sirius had ended up dead for no good reason. But even if this was a trap, a set up, he couldn't just sit there and let things play out after seeing what he just had.

He paused and finally looked up at Hedwig. Dumbledore was the obvious answer, but he was hesitant to just trust the old Headmaster just yet, lest he assumed that Harry had forgiven him for his mistakes. Because he hadn't.

Having spent the past few weeks with nothing but his thoughts for company, he had come to the conclusion that although Dumbledore had been in the wrong to hide the Prophecy from Harry, he'd never meant to do anything but keep him safe. But that didn't mean he had the right to go behind Harry's back with things that very much concerned him, which he still hadn't forgiven the old wizard for. Dumbledore needed to understand that Harry wasn't a chess piece to be moved around in his game. His opinions mattered, and he had to be kept informed about things that ultimately concerned him more than anyone else.

But since the old Headmaster had seemed sincere in his desire to rectify his mistakes, Harry was willing to work on it, too, especially since Dumbledore had promised to keep Harry in the loop from now on.

No, he hasn't forgiven his mentor and didn't trust him like he once did. But he was willing to work on it if Dumbledore was willing to make an effort.

He looked at the clock on his desk which was almost in pieces.

10:27 PM

Sighing, he went over to his desk and picked up a quill and some parchment.

oOo

As midnight rolled around, Harry was once again jolted awake from his restless slumber as his tiny room was lit up with a brilliant yellow flash. He opened his eyes and sat up to see Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, perched on his desk with a little roll of parchment tied to its leg.

Fawkes gave a short trill as Harry quickly got up and made his way over, untying the letter from Fawkes' leg and unrolling it to read.

Dear Harry,

I am very interested in your vision, and I believe it may prove to be valuable information if my suspicions are correct. I will share more details with you when I arrive to pick you up in an hour. Molly has been quite persistent in her insistence that I bring you to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. And taking into account recent developments, I think that may be the best course of action.

Please send a reply with Fawkes in affirmative or otherwise.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore.

Harry just stared at the letter for a long moment, not believing his eyes. Dumbledore was getting him away from the Dursleys after barely a week of staying there? He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to get his hopes up, but an inquiring sound from Fawkes reminded him that he was supposed to send a reply.

Grabbing a scrap of parchment to scribble a quick reply and giving it to Fawkes, he stood back as the phoenix rose with a flap of his beautiful wings and disappeared in a ball of fire and a soft whoosh.

As he began to haphazardly throw his things into his school trunk, he recalled Dumbledore's words.

Please send a reply with Fawkes in affirmative or otherwise.

He had asked.

Dumbledore was trying.

oOo

Harry was exhausted as he followed Dumbledore into the little shed behind the Burrow.

Despite Harry's doubts, the Headmaster had rung the Dursleys' doorbell at precisely one AM in the morning. Uncle Vernon had been very pissed, but Dumbledore had very insistently made his way into the living room for a little chat. After thoroughly spooking out the Dursleys, he had taken Harry to help him persuade Professor Horace Slughorn to come out of his retirement. And then they'd arrived at the grounds of the Burrow, where the old wizard had requested to speak with Harry in private before they went in. Two Side-along Apparitions had left Harry pretty nauseated and wanting to hit the pillow with his face as soon as possible.

As they got into the shed, Dumbledore turned to face Harry.

"I must say I was quite surprised to receive your letter, Harry," he said. "You mentioned that this vision was different from the others?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry told him. "I saw Voldemort talking to a large man with dreadlocks. I can't remember exactly what they were saying, but it seemed as if Voldemort had made a deal with that man, something about mutual gain. They mentioned dragons. And that man... he wasn't afraid of Voldemort! At least, he didn't look like he was. And after they shook hands, they entered some kind of... whirlpool of light."

Dumbledore's eyebrows dipped in thought. "That's... interesting."

"And that's not even the strangest part, sir," Harry continued. "The vision shifted and I... I saw a handful of people in the air on dragons. Riding them."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "Are you sure it wasn't..."

"I'm certain, Professor," Harry insisted. "It felt real, just like the one before. There were five or six people, I think. They were hovering in the air in a circular formation above an island on the backs of dragons. And then, one of them tossed a pair of... cylindrical telescope-like devices into the air between them and all the dragons shot fire at them as one. The vision ended then."

There was silence for a long minute.

"Severus informed me yesterday that Voldemort has performed a ritual to summon a man named Drago Bludvist from another Realm," Dumbledore admitted as Harry's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"A-another Realm?" he stuttered.

"Indeed. And this man, he has a huge ice-spitting dragon with him which he controls. And the Bewilderbeast commands all other dragons."

"So it was Voldemort who attacked the Reserve and took all the dragons?" Harry asked in horror.

"With the help of his new ally, yes."

"Merlin's shaggy old-"

"Harry!" Dumbledore chastised.

"Sorry, sir, but this is..."

"Very worrisome indeed," Dumbledore agreed.

"Then is Luna's father, Mr Lovegood, is he right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry, Xenophilius' analysis of the attack on the Reserve is astonishingly accurate," Dumbledore said.

"How is the Ministry or the Order going to handle this?" Harry inquired.

"I'm not sure we can, Harry. Not with what we have."

oOo

Exhausted, Albus Dumbledore entered the Hogwarts castle once more. The sun was at its apex in the sky, it being noon, and he had gotten no rest since he had left to pick Harry up from the Dursleys'.

Charlie and his team arrived at Hogwarts' grounds with Norberta shortly after Dumbledore himself had returned from the Burrow. They'd set up Norberta some ways inside of the Forbidden Forest for the time being. Hagrid had been giddy with excitement at seeing the dragon he'd hatched five years ago, and had tried to approach the now grown up Norwegian Ridgeback with dark grey scales, black horns and ridges, and bright orange eyes.

He had gotten singed, but had come out alive with nothing injured except his feelings and some of his hair.

And then, just as they'd decided to feed the dragon, its thin pupils had suddenly narrowed to even thinner slits. Its whole body had gone tense, head raised high as if it were trying to listen to something they couldn't hear. It had begun thrashing wildly then, pulling against its restraints. Even with Charlie's whole crew of seventeen professionals and Dumbledore all trying together, they'd had a hard time overpowering and stunning it.

And then the first roars had sounded.

For the next couple of hours, the Wizarding village of Hogsmeade had been under heavy assault by a group of Chinese Fireballs. The Aurors had arrived quickly this time, and following them had appeared the Order of the Phoenix, led by Dumbledore himself.

Suffice to say, they had not fared well. They'd barely managed to hold the dragons at bay long enough to evacuate the village. And even then, five people had lost their lives, four of which had been burnt to a crisp in their home before they could make head or tail of the situation. The fifth one had been an old witch who had adamantly refused to flee and leave the home she'd shared with her long dead husband to its fate, the judges of which were ferocious fire-breathing lizards.

By the time dawn had arrived, there had been only a handful of buildings left standing in the once prosperous village of Hogsmeade, and half of the Aurors had been taken to St Mungo's for emergency treatment. The Order hadn't done any better. Dedalus Diggle had been put out of commission indefinitely, and a lot of others had suffered burns and injuries.

Voldemort had delivered his message very effectively. There was no hope of defeating the dragons if they fought for the Dark Lord.

The next few hours had been spent trying to find refuge for the escaped villagers and giving statements to the wizarding press and the Ministry.

Now, hours later, the tired Headmaster was roaming the halls of the Hogwarts castle as he often did when he was stressed. It felt oddly comforting to the old wizard, who firmly believed that centuries upon centuries of magic being performed within its walls by hundreds of witches and wizards had turned the castle more or less sentient.

And as he turned and stalked into the left corridor of the seventh floor and the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy came into view, a lone thought popped into his mind.

Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.

The Headmaster paused abruptly.

Could it be…? he thought.

Figuring it couldn't hurt to try, he walked over to the bare stretch of wall opposite to the tapestry. He took a deep breath and began pacing in front of it, repeating the same words over and over again in his mind.

The Wizarding World requires help, or we could never hope to overcome this catastrophe.

On his third pass, the wall began to creak and as he whirled around to look at it, a set of double-doors was materialising where there had been nothing only moments ago.

Very uncharacteristically tense and anxious, Albus Dumbledore pushed the doors open slowly and cautiously to reveal a tiny, featureless circular room. The only thing in the room was a cylindrical device, floating in the air midway between the floor and the ceiling, rotating gently.

It was maybe ten inches in length, made out of wood, metal, and glass. It was shaped like a dragon, with intricate designs and symbols carved all around its body. Two red gemstones had been placed in the eye-sockets of the carved dragon, and inside the dragon's open mouth, a number of hexagonal lenses were visible.

Filled with foreboding, the old wizard took a few steps ahead and into the room, raised his right hand, and gripped the device.

And his breath hitched at the sudden overload of information in his brain.

oOo

Sooooo, that's that!

Next update will be before Thursday.

Q.Q.: Did anyone guess what would happen by the title?

And what's the cylindrical device?

SPOILER Question: How much do you like Tonks?

Do review and let me know!

- DragonsAndBroomsticks