A/N: My thanks to DS2010 and my regular reviewer BrightWatcher for their feedback on the last chapter.

In this installment: more plot, dragons everywhere, and some of my favourite lines of dialogue.

Chapter Ten: Dragons in Disguise

Harry told Ron about sneaking out under the Invisibility Cloak to the Restricted Section, and he related the argument between Quirrell and Snape with as much detail as he could remember, but he refrained from mentioning the mirror with his parents. That was private, and he wanted to keep it to himself.

"Wow, who knew Quirrell had it in him to stand up to Snape like that," Ron remarked. "Shame you didn't find anything about Flamel, though."

"I'll try again tonight," Harry said.

What he didn't tell Ron was that he only intended to spend a minimal amount of time in the Restricted Section before going back to the room with the mirror to see his parents again. And sure enough, Harry had been in the library no more than fifteen minutes before his desire to see his parents took him to the old classroom. He was half-afraid they wouldn't be there anymore, but there were James and Lily, beaming at the sight of him. Harry smiled back, feeling the ache of longing in his chest, and sat cross-legged in front of the mirror. Tonight, he had decided to talk to the figures.

"Hi, Mum, Dad. I wish I could have known you," he began. "Lucius and Severus have told me a few stories, but they never say much about what you were like, Mum. And all they told me about you, Dad, was that you were an amazing flier, but unbelievably arrogant and an insufferable man-child. Their words, not mine." Harry smiled wryly. "I don't know how much to believe. I like to think you were as noble as Godric Gryffindor, but I know you probably weren't perfect. I'm not perfect, and if I'm so much like you, then you weren't either. I still don't like to imagine that you teased Snape as badly as Lucius says you did. Hagrid has nicer stories, but even he admits you were a terror. Hagrid does say you matured eventually, and he only has good things to tell me about you as an adult — he's probably biased, but…that's the stuff I want to believe."

Harry sighed. "I suppose that's the whole problem, isn't it? People can tell me lots of stories, but I'll never really be able to know you — either of you. People remember things differently, and I…I want to believe some of the stuff they tell me, but not others." He reached out and touched their reflections and pretended he could feel the warmth of his parents' bodies instead of the cool glass.

"I guess this is the closest I'll ever get to knowing what you were really like."

As Harry was now a member, however informally, of the Malfoy Family, Lucius and Narcissa fully intended to see that he was given the same excellent education as Draco. However, given the need for secrecy where Harry was concerned, it was decided that the Malfoys would personally take charge of Harry's lessons themselves rather than risk entrusting him to an outside tutor.

When Harry found out that he was to be taught at home, his reaction was less than enthusiastic.

"I'm not going to school anymore?"

His tone was distinctly whiny, in Severus's opinion — seven years old or not, the Potions Master was not about to let James Potter's son get away with whining at authority figures. If Harry was to grow up without becoming as insufferable as his father, he would need a firm hand. He trusted Lucius to provide this — while Narcissa might be inclined to mother the boy as much as she did her own son, Lucius had experienced firsthand the trouble a Potter could wreak and was well accustomed to containing their mischief.

Severus was not disappointed.

"Watch your tone, Potter," Lucius said firmly, but not unkindly. "It's unbecoming for a seven-year-old to whine like a toddler."

Harry frowned, as if the thought had never occurred to him before. "Why am I not going to school?" he asked in a more appropriate pitch.

Lucius scowled. Narcissa hurriedly intervened. "Harry, haven't you been paying attention to what we've been telling you since you arrived here?" she chided gently.

"Of course I have!" Harry said at once.

"And what have we repeatedly stressed about your presence here?"

"Um…" Harry thought for a while before comprehension dawned. "It's supposed to be a secret. From…" He attempted to remember the name of the wizard who had placed him with the Dursleys. "Dumbbell-door?"

Severus nearly choked at his alteration of Dumbledore's name to two everyday objects, but Lucius merely nodded and said, "Yes, Dumbledore, and everyone else, as well. Therefore, among other precautions, you will not be going to school."

"Oh." Harry's face fell.

"What's the problem, Potter?" Severus demanded, finally losing his patience. Harry jumped at being addressed by the hook-nosed professor; Lucius he had grown accustomed to, after four days at the manor, but this was only his second time meeting Severus, and his first actually speaking to the man.

"I like school," Harry confessed.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "You will have your chance at school life when you go to Hogwarts. Until then, you will be taught here, at the Manor. Besides," he added, "most witches and wizards are taught at home until they are ten or eleven years old, and there is no reason whatsoever for you to go to a Muggle school."

Harry perked up upon hearing this. "You mean Draco studies at home too?"

"Yes, Harry, he does," replied Narcissa.

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Harry. "We can study together! It'll be like school, but better, 'cause at school I always had to hide from Dudley…"

The normally unflappable Lucius shot a somewhat panicked look at Severus. Harry could not possibly be allowed to study with Draco's tutors, but how in Merlin's name was he going to convince a headstrong child that he and his only friend would be studying separately in the same house?

"It's actually a sensible suggestion, Lucius," said the black-haired man. He did not bother to lower his voice; Harry was now prattling on and on about the methods he'd employed in Muggle public school to avoid Dudley and his gang of 'Harry hunters' and would not notice if someone Acccio'd a book from across the room, Severus was certain.

Lucius, naturally, protested. "Are you suggesting I dismiss all of Draco's teachers and assume full responsibility for both their lessons?" he asked incredulously. "Severus, that's absurd! I haven't the time nor the inclination to play Headmaster to two boys. I have important issues to sort out at the Wizengamot, and Cornelius Fudge keeps petitioning me to help him advance his political career —"

"Narcissa and I will, naturally, share the workload with you," Severus pointed out, and Narcissa nodded in confirmation. "It's an unnecessary risk to continue to have tutors coming to teach Draco with Potter in the manor. Knowing the Potter penchant for mischief-making, it's almost certain the boy will do something to alert someone to his presence here sooner or later. And," he added, raising his voice slightly as Lucius opened his mouth to argue, "perhaps educating Potter along with Draco will have a stabilising influence on him. Your son would be a suitable role model to Potter, and his presence in the lesson might ensure that Potter does not end up maturing into a hellion like his father."

Harry had now moved on to gush about how incredible it would be to study with an actual friend (as he'd never had any real friends in school because any potential mates were all afraid of Dudley) and Severus irritably wondered if the boy was capable of keeping his mouth shut. Harry's excitement was plain to see, however, and it was with a resigned air that Lucius agreed to the idea.

"Very well," he conceded with a distinctly martyr-like manner. "But when we start to regret this — and mark my words, we will, at some point — I shall remind you that this was all your idea."

The third night Harry snuck out, he skipped the library entirely and made his way straight to the room with the mirror. He felt the same terrible longing as the previous two nights when he saw his parents, but this time he'd barely been there five minutes before a voice startled him so badly he dropped the Invisibility Cloak.

"Back again, Harry?"

Heart pounding wildly, Harry slowly turned to see Albus Dumbledore sitting on one of the desks by the wall.

"Professor!" he exclaimed. "I — I must not have seen you…" How had he missed seeing the Headmaster? He would have had to walk right past him to get to the mirror.

"Strange how short-sighted being invisible can make you," Dumbledore remarked sagely. The humour in his voice and twinkle in his eyes assured Harry that he was not in trouble for breaking curfew. The Headmaster slipped off the desk and came to stand beside Harry. "I see you, like many before you, have discovered the Mirror of Erised."

"Is that what it's called, sir? I didn't know."

Dumbledore looked meaningfully at the top of the mirror's frame, and when Harry followed his gaze he saw the inscription he had missed before.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

"What does it mean, sir?" asked Harry.

"If you think about it, I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself," said Dumbledore. "After all, the mirror shows you your parents, does it not?"

Harry stared at him. He wasn't sure how the mirror worked, but he was astute enough to realise that what it showed him was for him and him alone. "How did you know that?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," Dumbledore explained gently.

Abruptly, Harry felt his insides freeze. If the Headmaster had been here last night — as he must have been — then he would have heard Harry speaking to his parents, and telling them what Severus and Lucius said about them…

Harry's stomach twisted. Dumbledore knew. Four and a half years of careful deception, completely undone by an eleven-year-old's impulsive speech to people who weren't even properly real. What would Lucius say when he found out Dumbledore knew he had been raising Harry? What would Snape say? Would the Malfoys still be safe?

Harry's horrified thoughts swung to Draco. What kind of danger was the other boy in now that Harry had outed their secret?

"Harry, do not worry," Dumbledore said soothingly. "I did not hear what you were saying to your parents last night. I know it was an intensely personal experience, and I would not violate your privacy by eavesdropping. I give you my word that I stopped listening once I realised what you were doing."

Harry's heart stopped racing quite so badly. "You didn't hear anything?"

"Nothing beyond your initial greeting," Dumbledore assured him.

Harry breathed a massive sigh of relief. He knew Dumbledore thought he was merely relieved that the Headmaster hadn't eavesdropped, but Harry was releasing a much greater worry. It briefly occurred to him that Dumbledore could be lying about not having eavesdropped — but then surely he'd already be talking to Harry about why he was living with the Malfoys?

"So," Dumbledore said then, "Harry, my boy, knowing what you do, what do you think the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry's gaze returned to the inscription at the top of the mirror, and he frowned.

"It might help if you read it backwards," Dumbledore hinted.

Harry blinked, and rearranged the letters in his mind. "I show not your face, but your heart's desire."

"Well done," Dumbledore praised.

"So…" Harry considered. "The mirror shows us what we want? Whatever we want?"

"Yes and no, Harry. The Mirror of Erised shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts."

Harry looked back at the mirror. His parents were still there, waiting. Lily had wrapped her arms around Harry's reflection and was resting her cheek against the top of his head.

"Harry, the Mirror can show us an extremely tempting vision, but it can give us neither knowledge nor truth," Dumbledore cautioned. "Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

"I know it's not real," Harry admitted quietly. "And I know it's not possible. I just wish it was."

The Headmaster smiled sadly at him, full of compassion. "Many wish for things to be different, but that is impossible. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, Harry. Remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable Cloak on and get off to bed?"

Harry sighed, but he knew it was for the best. He picked up the Cloak from where it had fallen to the floor.

"Sir — Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," the elder wizard said with amusement, "but you may ask me one more thing."

Harry hesitated for only a split second before he blurted, "Why did you send me to live with my aunt and uncle? Wasn't there anyone else — anyone magic — who could have taken care of me?"

Dumbledore's brow furrowed in bemusement. "Are you unhappy with your aunt and uncle, Harry?"

Harry remembered just in time not to correct Dumbledore's use of the present tense. For the briefest moment, he regretted asking — he didn't want to lie to the Headmaster. He chewed his lip as he debated how to answer.

"Well…they're not very nice," he said finally. "And they never want to talk about my parents, so I never got to hear about them. They hate anything to do with magic and never told me anything about it. For a long time I didn't even know I was a wizard."

"Ah." Dumbledore closed his eyes, exhaling softly. "That is unfortunate. I had hoped your aunt would have gotten over her disappointment."

That threw Harry. "Huh? What disappointment?"

"That, my boy, is a matter between sisters, and it's best not to interfere," Dumbledore said wisely. "I do apologise on your aunt's behalf, however — it isn't right for her to take out her frustrations on you."

"So you're sorry for putting me with the Dursleys?"

"I'm afraid I can't say I am, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously. "I am sorry that you've suffered neglect at the hands of your aunt and uncle, but I am not sorry for sending you to live with them."

Harry frowned. "But why did you do it?" he pressed, realising that Dumbledore had not actually answered his question. "You must have had a reason."

"I did, and I do," Dumbledore conceded. "But that is a story for another day. I will tell you the tale when I believe you are ready to hear it, but for now, I ask you to trust that I had only your best interests at heart."

Harry studied the Headmaster's kindly face for a long while, searching his eyes in particular. Narcissa had often said that you could tell what type of person someone was by their eyes, and Dumbledore's bright blue ones were more secretive than most. They were, however, ultimately full of earnest benevolence, and Harry felt he could trust the Headmaster in most matters, if not with the truth of his living arrangements.

"All right," he agreed, and Dumbledore's mouth crinkled into a wide smile.

"Thank you, Harry," the Headmaster said sincerely. "Now, off to bed."

Lucius was ruthlessly efficient in dismissing his son's contingent of teachers, though he was considerate enough to write them excellent letters of recommendation so they could easily find employment elsewhere. After all, it wasn't their fault they were being let go, even if the dismayed expression on most of their faces when he gave them the news indicated that they thought otherwise.

Draco was largely indifferent to the mass termination, as he'd never really bonded with any of his tutors, but he was far more animated about the fact that he now had a classmate.

"This should be fun," he said with relish to Harry the morning of their first joint lesson. "It's so boring being the only student."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. He too was looking forward to this.

Until Snape swept into the drawing room and made it abundantly clear that he would tolerate no chit-chatting, whispering, or noise of any kind during his class.

"I am teaching you one and only one lesson every week," Snape stated plainly. "The two of you are primarily Lucius's and Narcissa's responsibility and I already have an extremely busy schedule at Hogwarts. Therefore, I expect your full and undivided attention whenever I am teaching, and if I sniff so much as a hint of mischief, I will immediately cease all involvement in your education and you can explain to Lucius why he has to teach you science."

Having delivered his foreboding warning — the only one they were going to get, Draco knew — Snape then proceeded to lecture the boys on the concepts of matter and space.

When Harry returned to his dorm, he was surprised to find Hedwig perched on the windowsill next to his bed. She looked at him reproachfully as he hurried to take the parcel in her beak, as if to reprimand him for making her wait so long.

"Sorry, girl," he apologised contritely. "Who's this from?"

He turned the package over to see the small card stuck to the front, covered with Draco's neat, precise handwriting. A happy grin spread across Harry's face.

"Artemis finally came, I see," he said, reaching out a finger to stroke Hedwig in the crook of her neck, just the way she liked.

His owl hooted sharply and Harry hastily withdrew his hand. Hedwig gave him one last glare and flew out the window, presumably to return to the Owlery, as Harry gazed wryly after her. She was obviously still annoyed with him.

All thoughts of his pet were forgotten as Harry turned back to his present. The card was short, saying nothing of why it had taken so long for Draco to send the gift, but Harry was just glad that the gift had come. Not for the item inside — though it turned out to be a very nice set of charmed quills that would make his writing neat without extra effort on his part — but because the fact that it had been sent meant that, while Draco might not have entirely forgiven him, he was at least not angry enough (anymore) to shut him out completely.

As the Hogwarts curriculum was focused purely on magical subjects, the primary education of young witches and wizards (Muggleborns excepted, of course) before they attended the school consisted largely of other, non-magical, but still useful, subjects — such as mathematics and geography and grammar — as well as basic control techniques to limit the occurrences of accidental magic. In some wizarding families, children might also be taught fundamentals of what they would later cover in more depth at Hogwarts, such as rudimentary Charms, Potions theory, elementary herb lore, and simple Defence concepts.

In the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Astronomy ranked very highly, and was a revered topic introduced to most of its members at an early age. The earliest patriarchs of the family had been fascinated by the stars, and subsequently the vast majority of Blacks were given names taken from stars, constellations, and other celestial objects. Now, thanks to Narcissa, the tradition had carried over into the Malfoy Family. Predictably, it was Narcissa who handled the boys' Astronomy lessons. Draco had been learning about the stars since he was two years old, but for Harry it was both a totally new subject and supremely boring.

"Why are we learning about stars?" he complained to Draco one afternoon after their Astronomy lesson. "What's so interesting about burning bits of gas so far away we'll never get to reach them?"

"Harry, it's part of our studies," Draco said patiently. "Astronomy is important because compared to the whole universe, Earth is tiny. There could be anything out there on the stars! Even the Muggles are smart enough to learn astronomy."

"Ugh." Harry's displeasure was clear. While Draco liked Astronomy for its intellectual and cosmological aspects, Harry preferred more a more hands-on approach, and as such the study of stars was unappealing to him due to the necessity for quiet observation.

"Also," Draco added casually, "Astronomy is a big part of Divination, if you're interested in that."

"What's Divination?"

"It's the branch of magic that predicts the future."

Harry's eyes grew round. "Wizards can predict the future?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Harry, my father told you about the prophecy about your birth, didn't he?"

"You mean that was — oh!" Harry exclaimed in astonishment. "Prophecies tell the future?"

"What did you think they did, dummy?"

"Erm…I sorta thought they might be stories…you know, like fairytales," Harry admitted sheepishly.

Draco stared incredulously at him. "You thought…a fairytale…made You-Know-Who come after you?"

"Well, I don't know — lots of people believe in stories that aren't true," Harry defended himself, while suppressing the horrified shudder at the thought of being targeted so. He still found it hard to accept that he'd been singled out for death as a baby by a psychopathic Dark Lord.

Draco, meanwhile, looked like he wasn't sure whether to be aghast or admiring of Harry's audacity in thinking Voldemort paranoid enough to believe that a fairytale could come true, even if it was about his own downfall.

With the first Sunday of January came the return of Hogwarts' student body. The Great Hall went from fairly quiet to noisily bustling as almost a thousand young witches and wizards trooped in for the start-of-term feast, chattering in pairs or groups. Draco came in flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, as usual, and no matter what Harry did to try to catch his attention, he steadfastly refused to look at the Gryffindor table.

Talk about mixed signals…Harry groused mentally, rather hurt. Apparently, although Draco had calmed down enough to send his Christmas gift to him, he was still too mad to want to speak to him.

Draco might be ignoring him, but Hermione was not. She beamed widely and waved when she saw Harry and Ron, and immediately went to take her usual seat opposite them.

"Hello!" she greeted. "How was Christmas?"

"Fine," said Ron.

"Fun," said Harry. Ron might be used to Fred and George's antics, but they had truly enlivened Christmas for Harry.

Hermione lowered her voice, though it was unlikely that anyone would hear her amidst all the chatter. "Did you find anything?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"We've got loads to tell you, though," Ron interjected.

"Later," said Hermione as Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown sat down nearby.

After Dumbledore welcomed the students back and everyone had eaten their fill, the Great Hall emptied. Harry tried to time his exit with Draco's, but the blond boy managed to evade him.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not have a chance to talk in Gryffindor Tower because the return of the students meant that the regular noise and rowdiness of the common room was in full force, and there was nowhere they could speak privately. After chatting casually about non-consequential things — what they did at Christmas, Hermione's visit to the museum, what Hogwarts was like during the holidays — the trio called it a night and went to bed.

The next day, during the lunch break between classes, Harry and Ron told Hermione about Harry's Invisibility Cloak and about Quirrell standing up to Snape.

"That's not good," Hermione said with a frown. "If Quirrell were scared of Snape at least he might be more careful about doing whatever he's doing. If he's not frightened anymore, he could move faster."

"Nothing's happened so far," Ron pointed out. "Besides, we've got bigger problems."

He proceeded to fill Hermione in on how he and Harry had found Hagrid in the library the day after Christmas.

"So?" asked Hermione. "I know Hagrid's not that bright, but he does read."

"It's not that, Hermione," said Harry. "Hagrid wasn't just in the library to read. He was looking up stuff about dragons."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed.

"It's true," affirmed Ron. "After he left, we went to look at the section he came from, and there were all these books about dragons piled on the table. Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide; How to Train Your Dragon — all titles like those!"

"You don't think Hagrid's actually getting a dragon, do you?" Hermione whispered. "It's against the law! He could get in serious trouble!"

"I don't think Hagrid really cares," said Ron. "I mean, he's got a three-headed dog named Fluffy locked up in the castle…"

"Ron, shut up!" hissed Harry. He'd spied Draco loitering only a few feet away; one glance at his face told Harry that he'd heard every word. Draco's expression was one of blank shock; and then, an instant later, it morphed into furious betrayal. Before Harry could begin to think of anything to say, the blond Slytherin turned and stalked away.

Ron and Hermione looked stricken.

"Do you think he heard?" Ron asked apprehensively.

"I know he did," Harry said grimly.

"What are we going to do?" fretted Hermione. "It's Malfoy — if he hears that Hagrid's got a dragon…"

"We have to visit Hagrid and warn him not to get one," said Harry. "Maybe if he knows Malfoy knows, he won't go through with it."

"He'd be mental to keep trying," agreed Ron. "Let's go!"

"We can't go now!" Hermione objected. "Break's almost over."

"Who cares about Magical Theory?" said Ron. "If Hagrid gets a dragon and Malfoy reports him, he could wind up in Azkaban."

Hermione looked torn. "But we can't!" she moaned. "If we skip class we'll get in trouble!"

"Azkaban-level trouble?" Ron said pointedly and disbelievingly. "Harry, you know we have to go as soon as possible."

Harry thought quickly. "First thing after class," he decided. "Malfoy won't do anything so soon, I don't think — and as far as we know, Hagrid's only thinking about getting a dragon. It'll take him some time to actually find one."

"Yes, that makes sense," Hermione agreed, relieved.

Ron was rather more glum. "I hope we don't regret this."

Harry stared into the telescope with all his might, aggressively searching the sky for identifiable shapes, but after a few minutes he pulled back, disgruntled.

"I don't see anything," he complained.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Draco. "The sky's full of stars!"

"Yeah, lots and lots of stars," Harry conceded, "but where are the pictures?"

Draco was confused. "Pictures?"

"Star pictures," Harry clarified. "The ones your mum told us about."

"There aren't any pictures in stars."

"Yes, there are," Harry insisted. "The pictures with all the funny names…the ones made up of many stars together…one of them has your name, remember?"

"Oh!" said Draco, finally understanding. "You mean constellations."

"Yeah, those."

"They're up there," Draco assured him. "I've counted five already."

"Where?" Harry demanded.

"Look, there's one." Draco pointed at a cluster of four faint stars arranged in a rough parallelogram, just next to a single bright star. "That's Lyra, the harp."

Harry squinted critically at the constellation. "It doesn't look anything like a harp," he said petulantly. "And where are all the lines?"

"What lines?"

"The lines that join the stars to make the shapes!"

Draco started laughing. "There aren't lines like that in the sky, dummy."

"But there are!" Harry persisted. "Your mum showed them to us!"

"Harry, the lines are only there to help you see how the constellation is arranged," Draco explained. "They only help you see the picture. In the sky, you've only got the stars. You have to draw the lines in your head."

"That's a silly way to do things," Harry declared. "How am I supposed to know what the shapes are if there aren't any lines in the sky?"

"I didn't decide to do it this way."

"Who did?"

"Dunno. The Ancient Greeks, I s'pose, since we get Astronomy from them."

Harry sighed. "I will never understand Astronomy," he moaned.

"It's not so bad," said Draco. "You only feel like that because you're new to this. But it's okay — I can help."

"Thanks." Harry looked up at the sky again. "Which one is yours?"

Draco smirked. Directing Harry's gaze to the right spot, he traced his finger through the long line of stars that made up the dragon constellation.

Harry observed in silence for a few moments. "It's really long," he remarked finally. "How many stars are there in it?"

"Fifteen," Draco said proudly.

"It's supposed to be a dragon, right?"

"Yes."

Harry glanced slyly at his friend. "Does that make you a dragon, too?"

"Do I look scaly and ugly to you?"

Now it was Harry's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about? Dragons are cool!"

"Dragons are dangerous, powerful, and you never know what they're going to do." Draco paused. "Actually, I think I like the sound of that. But I don't like the way they look."

"You don't like wings?"

"The wings are fine. Most dragons aren't very nice-looking, though. They look evil and scary and very, very fierce."

Harry's eyes grew round. "Dragons are real?"

"Of course they're real. There's not so many of them now, but the Ministry of Magic still has to do a lot to Muggles from finding out about them. Obviously, they haven't always been good at it."

"Wow!" exclaimed Harry. "You're named after a dragon — real dragons!"

"I'm named after a constellation, which happens to symbolise a dragon," Draco corrected.

"And dragons are real," Harry said happily. "That makes you a dragon."

Draco wasn't sure how that logic worked, but he wasn't about to attempt to divine the strange inner workings of the brain of a Gryffindor-to-be. Of course, he couldn't be sure that Harry would Sort into Gryffindor, but his father seemed to think he would — and Gryffindors, particularly seven-year-old ones, were not known for logical thinking.

"Fine," he conceded. "Let's just say I can be like a dragon, but I do not look like a dragon."

"Okay," Harry agreed readily.

The boys looked at each other.

"This conversation didn't really make any sense," Draco offered after a beat.

"No, not really," Harry concurred.

A moment later they both burst out laughing.

Mere seconds after the last bell had rung, Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed down to Hagrid's hut, still carrying their quills and books.

"Hagrid, it's us!" called Harry. "Open up, we need to talk to you!"

What followed was the fastest entry into Hagrid's home ever. Hagrid opened the door, hustled the three of them inside, and quickly closed the door behind them again.

None of the children was prepared for the temperature inside the hut. It was stiflingly hot; the windows were all closed, the curtains were drawn — and even for a January winter day, the roaring blaze in the fireplace was excessive.

"Blimey, Hagrid, are you trying to boil yourself alive?" Ron panted, shedding his heavy outer robe as fast as he could.

Harry, however, had caught sight of what was resting in the very heart of the fire. His heart sank. "Hagrid, please tell me that's not —"

One look at Hagrid's guilty face rendered the question moot. It was indeed a huge, black, dragon egg.

"Hagrid," Hermione moaned.

"When did you get that?" demanded Ron.

"Christmas night," Hagrid answered. "I was down in a pub in the village, havin' a few drinks, an' I got into a game o' cards with a stranger. I won the egg off him. Think he was quite glad ter be rid of it, ter be honest."

"You have to get rid of it," Ron said bluntly. "Malfoy heard us talking this morning — he knows you were thinking of getting dragon, and when he finds out you've actually got one…"

Harry wasn't sure if Draco would report Hagrid to the authorities — indeed, he wasn't quite certain what he would do with the information — but he did agree with Ron. Hagrid couldn't keep a dragon. Aside from countless reasons about the illegality, the logistics, and the need for secrecy, Hagrid lived in a wooden house.

Ron was still arguing with Hagrid. "Hagrid, I'm serious. Malfoy's an evil git, he won't even care about the dragon — but if he can get you into trouble, he will."

"I can't jus' throw it out," Hagrid protested. "It's almost ready ter hatch."

"Hatch?" Hermione's voice was higher-pitched than normal. "What are you going to do with it when it's hatched?"

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'." Hagrid pulled out a large book from under his pillow. "Look — Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit. Got this outta the library — bit outta date, o' course, but it tells me everythin' I need ter know. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket of brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognise diff'rent eggs — what I've got here's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

His face was positively beatific. Harry tried one last time.

"Hagrid, you've already got Fluffy to take care of. Can you really spend so much time looking after a dragon?"

"Fluffy can take care o' himself," Hagrid said stubbornly. "I can handle a dragon — I've bin preparin' since I got the egg. He's goin' ter be mine, see — we'll get along real well."

He crossed the room and stoked the fire; when he started cooing at the egg, Harry knew they'd lost.

"Don' worry 'bout me, yeh three — I know how ter be discreet," said Hagrid. "Malfoy doesn't know I have an egg, an' he won' hear of it from me."

"He won't hear from us, either," promised Hermione, "but Hagrid, I'm telling you, this is not a good idea."

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he used a pair of tongs to gently turn the egg in the fire.

When it was time to deliver their babies, many witches went to the maternity ward in St. Mungo's. However, given the state of the wizarding world in 1980, it wasn't safe for the Malfoy heir to be born in a public hospital when his father was a known Death Eater. Thus, Narcissa Malfoy gave birth at home, attended by a private Healer. It was a long, hard labour, made worse by the fact that Narcissa was quite a delicate woman, and there were moments during the night when Lucius feared he would lose both wife and son. When, at the break of dawn, he received the news that both Narcissa and his heir were safe and healthy, he felt true thankfulness for perhaps the first time in his life.

Actually, that wasn't quite true. The first time he had felt so grateful had been when Severus delivered news of the prophecy to the Dark Lord, and Lucius's moment of panic passed when he remembered that his son was due in early June, not late July. Of course, it was unlikely that the Dark Lord would have targeted his child in the first place, as Lucius had been nothing but loyal to him, and the so-called saviour of the wizarding world was to be born to parents who had thrice defied him — but ever since he'd learned that he was going to become a father, Lucius had found that his main concern was no longer serving the Dark Lord, but protecting his wife and child.

Though the Malfoys were exempt from the prophecy, the Death Eaters had discovered that there were two families who could fulfil it. The Potters and the Longbottoms were both expecting a baby at the end of July, and both couples had defied the Dark Lord three times. The Dark Lord and his allies were still trying to determine which of the two families the prophecy applied to, but Lucius, like Severus, hoped that it wasn't the Potters. Though he had long since severed his ties with Lily, the unexpected bond that had formed between them at Hogwarts still gave him twinges of guilt.

But there was no place for thoughts like these today. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that Narcissa was all right, and that his son had been safely born. Lucius entered the birthing room and laid eyes on his heir for the first time — and it was at that precise instant that he experienced a sobering epiphany.

For several months now he had felt increasingly uncomfortable with the Dark Lord's violent policies, and though he had never dreamed of defying his master, he had to wonder how the Dark Lord would have reacted had Lucius and Narcissa been the ones destined to bring the saviour into the world. In his heart, Lucius knew that, his long years of faithful service notwithstanding, the Dark Lord would not have hesitated to kill them all. He might have spared Lucius, but it was equally likely that Lucius himself would also have met his end.

Now, looking into his son's pale eyes, Lucius knew that his allegiance was no longer the Dark Lord's. It had been pulling away from him, but it had shifted completely to his family and only his family the instant he saw Narcissa cuddling their infant boy. And with this realisation came the frightening, burdening knowledge that if his family was ever to truly be safe, he would need to forsake the Dark Lord.

It was a terrifying thing to voice aloud, and a horrific situation to bring a newborn into. He could see the fear in Narcissa's eyes when he told her of his revelation, and he hated that he had to mar his son's birthday with such disturbing news, but he had no choice. If they were going to go ahead with this insanely dangerous course of action, he and Narcissa would have to start thinking how to protect their child. There was no one else he could confide in. Even Severus, distraught though he was over the possibility of Lily being the mother of the Dark Lord's enemy, could not be trusted to betray the Dark Lord.

Narcissa looked delicate, and she was worn out from a difficult delivery, but her core was one of pure steel. Despite her fear, her voice barely trembled as she stroked her baby's soft blond hair.

"He will need to be strong," she said of their son. "He will be in terrible danger until and unless we can find a way out."

"I know," Lucius confessed. "But he is a Malfoy, and we are not cowards."

"No," Narcissa declared. "My son cannot be a coward. He will need to have the character and constitution of a dragon to survive what is to come."

Lucius then had a flash of inspiration. They had never been able to decide on a name for their child, because neither had been willing to compromise on what they thought they should call their son. Now, however, there was only one name that seemed right.

"Narcissa, your family has a tradition of naming after stars, correct?"

"We do," she admitted. "Though my mother broke that tradition when she named me."

"Why not continue that custom in the Malfoy family?" Lucius suggested. "We can honour our son's Black heritage, and give him a name that means something in this troubled time."

"You have a specific star in mind?"

"A constellation," said Lucius. "The dragon, Draco."

As Harry passed under the giant archway at the main entrance of the castle with Ron and Hermione, a large, thick, hard wad of crumpled parchment was chucked at his head.

"Your face, Potter. It's priceless." As always, Draco put enough venom in his voice to come across as the arrogant, spiteful bully, but this time there was genuine fury barely simmering beneath the surface.

Ron, of course, immediately leapt to Harry's defence. "Too scared to face Harry head on, Malfoy? Is that why you had to lurk around waiting for a chance to throw that parchment?" he challenged.

"I'm not the one cowering behind a girl, Weasley," Malfoy sneered haughtily. Ron, his reflexes honed by years of living with Fred and George, had indeed ducked down the instant he saw the ball of parchment flying, and he had just happened to be behind Hermione when he did it.

Ron flushed, but Malfoy turned back to Harry.

"Anyway, Potter, I hope you told that pet giant of yours not to get a dragon," he jeered. "I mean, seriously, can you imagine the disaster that oaf could cause with a creature that breathes fire? Not to mention the fact that dragons are extremely illegal. I imagine he would get into very serious trouble, wouldn't you say?" And with an expression of pure malice, Draco took his leave.

"That git!" Ron exploded. "He's vile, he is — I hope he trips on those expensive robes and breaks his nose on the stairs."

"Harry, what are we going to do?" Hermione fretted. "You heard Malfoy — he's going to tell! Oh, I told him — I told him it wasn't a good idea!"

While his friends began making drastic plans to convince Hagrid to get rid of the dragon egg, Harry discreetly unwrapped the wad of parchment and found the boldly penned message scribbled inside; the way the words were written made them almost seem as if they wanted to attack him.

Midnight, History of Magic classroom. BE THERE.

A/N: This story has me consistently writing long chapters, for whatever reason. Seriously, the average chapter length is about 5,000-6,000 words - and this one is over 1,000 words beyond that. Reviews and comments on my efforts are much appreciated :)