Dragon Child by Kirkmenistan
Chapter 3 - School by Kirkmenistan
Author's Notes:
Big Chappie for this story.
The strong survive, but the cunning thrive. This was the first rule that the youngling learned.
The dragon known to the keepers as Jet, due to his jet-black hide, was smart, scary smart. The meat was offloaded in the young dragons enclosure on the floor in a large pile. The enclosure being approximately the size of four Quidditch pitches with cliffs all around to keep them in. Being unable to fly, the young ones quite literally dug in at the bottom of the pile. But Jet did something different; the keepers watched in awe as he swooped around the top, snatching a portion from the top of the pile. The top of the pile was currently out of reach of even the larger young ones, so he was well out of reach. He would swoop around once, swallowing the slab that was always just large enough for him to swallow in the time with his dual jaws always dragging the meat down his gullet before he returned for a second portion.
By the time the elder dragons could reach the top of the pile they found it sorely lacking in meat. Jet on the other hand was resting almost invisible on his perch. It was high up, and the position of the sun was always perfect so that the glare hid him from the dragons near the food. He times this perfectly after watching the feeding schedule for only three days. Jet watched with amusement, disdain, and utter confusion as his fellow younglings squabbled. There was enough food for all, there was no need to fight over any of it, and yet they did.
He watched as they fought for tiniest of things. Fighting for food, fighting for dens, fighting for good resting spots, fighting because the other looked at them 'challengingly', fighting because somebody scraped a claw on a rock and made a particularly annoying sound; it was endless. He watched as they made mistakes. How many gained scars. How they left blind spots around them. How they didn't tuck in their tail, and how the skilled opponent used their tail to swipe. His tail was rather long, whip like, and even at this young age small razor sharp spikes were growing there. They were always focused on the one opponent, everything dissolved into a red mist. Jet never had a blind spot, he never lost control. To lose control was to lose ones self, and that was dangerous. His four eyes were open and watching constantly. He didn't need much sleep either.
He always had more energy. Boundless energy to use. Energy to burn. He started experimenting with his fire. He had seen some of the elder dragons use it to scare of the new babies, or to heat a particularly comfortable patch of rock. He enjoyed seeing how the rock changed colours when he breathed fire. And then watched as it started to turn white and then melt. He started to expand his perch. Melting the rock and shovelling it outwards. Building walls around the edge, creating a crude roof, sheltering it from the rain. Digging into the cliff he was creating a cosy den warmed by his body. He started to stash meat when he felt the weather change; it grew colder. The winter of 1983 was one of the coldest on record. Jet was three years old when the cold snap landed. Keepers rushed around the enclosure trying to capture the young dragons. Trying to keep them safe through the winter. Nobody saw Jet. He was quite comfortable in his nest, eating meat occasionally. Slowing his core systems down to a crawl he slept with one eye open, always looking at the small entrance to his den that he could just fit through.
The keepers were fearful for Jet. He was not frail, but still rather small and young. He would probably starve in the winter and die in whatever hole he'd found for himself.
xxXxx
The end of winter found the keepers torn, battered and worse for ware. Taking care of twelve young dragons would do that to eight wizards and two witches. They had started to run out of meat and they couldn't re-supply the small lodge easily. However, once the snow had started to melt and the young dragons entered their enclosure again, there was no sign of Jet. He was missing still. They put out the daily ration of meat into the enclosure. The young dragons once again dug into the bottom. Though many were old and large enough to fly they didn't try to copy Jet's trick. They usually lost focus when they tasted the juicy red meat and crashed into something. They swiftly gave up after that, but then the keepers saw a black blur flying over the mound. Many cheered with delight as they saw their smallest and youngest dragon feeding in his unique way. Only he wasn't so small anymore.
In his hibernation Harry's magic had no outlet. Heating rocks to a melting point was a trick only some of the oldest dragons could achieve due to its magical draw. His magic had grown used to being used almost constantly, and suddenly having no purpose or outlet had caused the magic to look inwards on things to pass its energy to. It saw flaws in the young Child's hasty transformation. Its tail was far too fragile to use as a whip with its spikes, so the bones were reinforced. Its wings would only just carry its weight without using any magic, so they were resized to allow for maximum flight with minimum magic use. Its stomach could only digest meat at a certain rate, so the metabolism was increased. And most of all, the size of the body was increased. The reason that the dragon keepers had not seen him at first was because he was melting his way out of his nest. Needless to say, he was hungry. While his stomach was being sated a small snitch like device with a viewing crystal upon its face was flying around looking for any dens that may exist in the enclosure. The dragon keepers were shocked to discover Jet's nest. It was deep, with a large sleeping area lighted with spruce boughs. The snitch was about to end its recon when all light left the area. The pilots believed that there must have been an error. Then they picked out four green eyes at the entrance, a flash of white flames, then nothing.
xxXxx
Jet awoke in a new place. Damned red lights. Damned Wizards. He was now four years old. He was now the smallest dragon for his age, only nine foot from nose to tail, but his wingspan was massive; it was at least 24 feet wide.
The keepers had discovered that the dragon known as Jet could fly under it's own muscle power. Jet could also produce fire hot enough to melt solid granite rock. He was also the immediate target of older junior dragons. Some of whom were up to eighteen foot long. However, they didn't know Jet. He was strange. He was a freak. Four eyes, two set's of teeth, ridiculously sized wings, no battle scars whatsoever, and a pure black hide, so easy to spot; he was an easy target, or so they thought.
Immediately upon his rousing the initial protective wards went down. As Jet stood he noticed as several large juvenile dragons approached him, setting aggressive stances. Fighting again. Why the fighting? Jet began to fly away as he always had. Then he noticed the older dragons fly up to him. His rear eyes focused on his pursuers and his forwards eyes focused on his flight path. At the moment this path was up.
Several dragons fell behind until only one was perusing him. A male. He was pushing himself to catch up to the little subordinate, but Jet didn't stop. Flying upwards and upwards. The male was struggling to catch up to him. Then Jet did the impossible, he speeded up. Flying faster and faster as he started to channel magic into his wings. Eventually the young male lost sight of the small dragon. Exhausted, he started to circle his way down to the ground.
xxXxx
Height, he needed height. He had done this trick before. It was how he cut down the bough limbs with clean slices. His tail spikes and become rather vicious scythes with the sharp side facing towards his nose. Once he had flown as high as was necessary he did a graceful 180 turn and fell back to the earth. His four eyes locked onto the spiralling dragon. This must be done correctly. Now, wing or tail, wing or tail...
Jet tilted his wings and began his descent. There was a sense if giddiness, but he pushed it away as he streaked towards his prey. He saw the other dragon notice him, but by then it was far too late. Leaning forward and pulling in his wings Jet became a blurred, spinning wheel. He felt a small jerk, but that was the only indication his tail had just sheered through it's target.
His wings snapped out again as he almost gracefully pulled out of his spin and landed, his front eyes locked onto the rapidly falling male dragon as his back eyes watched for cowardly attacks on his back while he waited on his kill.
xxXxx
The young exhausted male spiralling towards the ground heard a whistling. It looked around seeing no threat, only to look up. There! A flash of black, streaking directly towards him. Then he heard a painfully loud boom and his eyes blinked shut instinctively. Then, pain. Spiralling downwards, desperately trying to gain altitude. His left wing wasn't working correctly. He looked at it, only to find that it wasn't there. He screamed in terror as he fell towards the earth. Flinging blood all around him. He looked down to see the black dragon on the floor, drawing a symbol on the ground. It looked like two crossed sticks…
SLAM!
xxXxx
The Senior Keepers rushed out of their hut looking for the injured dragon. They knew that the juvenile horntail known as Thorn was rather vicious to the new dragons. But what they saw stopped them dead. They saw the small black dragon calmly gnawing his way directly into the gullet of Thorn, searching for something.
They were about to halt the dragon from stealing any of the precious organs. He would ruin them! Each dead dragon, depending on the quality that Thorn left them in, was worth about five hundred galleons! But then the dragon found what it was looking for. The heart of Thorn. It happily swallowed the treat, and then began to scorch the innards. Spells flew from the wizards' wands at the young dragon. All of that money! The precious potion ingredients were being ruined by this young dragon!
As soon as one of Harry's eyes picked out the red lights he hunkered down to the ground behind the corpse. He was trying to get at the best part of the dragon, it's fire glands. The organ that produced the flammable substance in dragon breath. Hidden behind layer upon layer of tough fire-resistant armour. Burning it off was the easiest way. But these damned wizards. Always trying to take what was rightfully his.
He snarled and breathed a low powered burst at a few of their wand hands. Wands were turned to ash and hands severely burned as he finished retrieving his treat.
Harry flew off into the enclosure looking for a suitable nesting sight. And he left several moaning wizards clutching their arms.
Several appreciative female dragon eyes followed his exit. A dragon so small capable of killing the one known to the humans as Thorn was quite a feat. And to do so without a single scratch upon his body? Unheard of. As well as standing up to the keepers. So Brave…
xxXxx
Once the wizards had removed the corpse of the charred husk of dragon meat one of them noticed an X drawn into the ground at the centre of the crash zone. Jet couldn't have done that, stupid dragons couldn't even speak. Even Mermen could speak and they were half fish! How could they possibly calculate or predict the landing of such a wildly flapping creature? Dragons were not that smart, were they?
xxXxx
In the Hills an elder dragon watched the new dragons arrival. He liked this new one, it was smart. Unusually smart. It would need to be taught before it became a problem.
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