Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.
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Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer
Chapter 7 – Presents For All
8:05am
Monday, 31 July 1995
Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England
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Neville Longbottom always thought that his sleeping habits were rather strange or at the very least, backward.
During the school term, at Hogwarts, he loved nothing more than sleeping in. Sure, he was never late to class and always managed to have breakfast, no matter how fast he had to cram it in, but, on the whole, he preferred to sleep. Especially on the weekends.
But during the holidays, when everyone else he knew slept as late as they could – some, like Seamus, even until midday – Neville found himself waking at dawn. The reason was simple enough: to work in his greenhouses. Leaving them all-but-unattended for ten months of the year meant that, once he returned home, there was simply so much work to be done to get them tidied up, ensure that the plants already there were healthy and then to begin the new work that he'd planned for himself during the school term.
Neville loved nothing more than working with his plants. And, to be quite honest, even if only to himself, he was quite proud of what he'd accomplished with his plants over the years.
Thus, while on holidays, he was always on time for breakfast, even if he did have to rush to get himself cleaned up and made spotless, just as his Gran expected, on some mornings.
Today was no exception.
He was there, waiting by the tea tray for his Gran's entry with but a bare minute to spare.
As always, she gave a slight nod and smile to him when she entered the room. Neville returned the smile and began pouring the tea, making sure to prepare it precisely the way she liked. Once it was done, he carefully walked across to the table and placed it at her right hand.
"Good morning, Gran," he said, bending down to give her a kiss on her cheek.
"Good morning, Neville," she replied. "My thanks."
The ritual complete, Neville slipped into his own seat. His Gran, he knew, wasn't really a morning person either; at least, not until after she'd taken her first cup of tea. Until then, it was best to be where he was supposed to be, doing what was expected to be doing and to not ask too many questions.
The silence, though, was broken by a tap at the window.
Placing his knife back down from where he'd just picked it up, Neville looked around and blinked at the owl that could be seen sitting on the outside ledge.
A glance at the clock confirmed the time; it was still half an hour early for the owl that brought the Daily Prophet and for the usual post owls to arrive.
"Neville? See what the owl wants, if you please," his Gran instructed.
"Yes, Gran," Neville replied, even as he was scrambling from his chair.
Within moments, he was unlatching the window and allowing the owl to jump inside onto a table placed just below the window. It took one careful look up at him before regally extending its leg. Neville's eyes widened at seeing his own name written on the envelope.
For him! But he never got mail when he was home on holidays. Well, that wasn't strictly true, he did get a handful of letters just the day before, but they were all the expected ones, from relatives who felt obligated to send him basically the same thing every year.
After taking the letter, Neville fed the bird an owl treat from the bowl that sat on the table and then watched it leave.
Then, having closed the window, he retook his seat, picked up his knife and slit open the envelope. The paper that fell out was different from the usual parchment; it felt smoother, thinner. Muggle, he decided. But that wasn't the only thing in the envelope. Shaking it upside down, a clear, plastic bag dropped into his palm. Lifting it up, Neville peered inside to see a couple dozen tiny seeds. He frowned at the lack of recognition that they generated for him.
"What do you have there, Neville?" his Gran asked.
"Seeds," a surprised Neville replied.
"And who are they from?" she asked.
Quickly, Neville shook open the letter and scanned to the bottom.
"They're from Harry!" he exclaimed and then, noting the very top of the letter, elaborated. "He remembered my birthday!"
From the corner of his eye, Neville noted his Gran give a nod but his main focus was solely fixed on the letter in his hand.
Happy birthday, Nev!
Sorry if this gets to you a bit late, I've got no idea how fast owls are at delivering letters. I figure, better late than never, hey, mate?
You've probably already found my present to you? They're seeds from a plant that's native here in Romania. Clopotelul dobrogean (Campanula romanica) is its scientific name, if that's any help to you. Anyway, they produce this amazing blue flower that look like a bell. I first noticed them because I saw a fairy the other day and followed it. It led me to a patch of those flowers and there were dozens of fairies flittering all over them. Guess that they love them or something. No idea if they've got any other magical properties, but that can be something for you to discover as you grow them.
Anyway, I hope you like them.
How are you? How's the hols going? Doing anything exciting?
Me, I've begun my work with the Dragon Sanctuary as you know. These dragons can be a bit full-on. I've had so many requests from them to either paint them or to paint the walls of their caves or simply to go flying with them that I could be doing nothing else for the next year and still not get it all done. Unfortunately for them, I don't have time to paint all that much and my free time is limited as it is. I've started a couple of portraits and a carving as well but it's slow going, you know?
I also underwent some bizarre dragon ritual the other day. Did you know that dragons had their own Council and Leader and everything? Well, they do. Shocked the guys who've been working with dragons for years as well. Guess there's benefits to being able to talk to them. Anyway, they gave me this Mark which is apparently a Big Deal, at least it is according to everyone here. I've yet to get a chance to ask the dragons themselves what it means. When I do, I'll make sure to tell you.
Have you heard from Susan, Hermione or Daphne? You guys should all get together and do something over the hols, don't leave off your friendships just 'cause you're not together. I know what being alone is like and it's no picnic.
Anyway, I better go, Charlie wants me for something, slave-driver that he is.
Harry.
"And what does Mister Potter have to say?" his Gran asked when Neville lifted his head after reading the letter through twice.
"The seeds are my birthday present. They're from a plant native to Romania," Neville said. "Apparently, fairies like the flowers. He did promise that he'd send some, but I never believed that he'd actually remember …"
"Mister Potter is a good friend. Make sure that you write him back and thank him," his Gran instructed.
"I will," he promised as his eyes roved over the letter again. "Actually, Gran, can I be excused to go do that now? I think I've got a couple of letters that I should write."
He waited as patiently as he could, unsure what his Gran's raised eyebrow meant. Finally, she nodded.
"You may be excused," she said.
Like a shot, Neville was up and all-but-racing from the room, his letter and packet of seeds clutched tightly in his hand.
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9:15am
Monday, 31 July 1995
Greengrass Manor, Cumbria, England
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Cyrus Greengrass couldn't help himself but to sigh. The worst part was that he wasn't quite as careful in keeping it to himself.
"Cyrus?" his wife, Penelope, asked, her eyebrows raised.
Deciding to bite the cauldron, Cyrus nodded out the glass-paned French doors that showed the gardens just beyond the sitting room where the two of them were currently relaxing. There was no doubt as to what he was referring to.
Their eldest, Daphne was out there, walking aimlessly about. And while it wasn't unusual for either of their daughters to be outside enjoying the fresh air, especially in summer, her pose was most unlike her. Both of Daphne's arms were wrapped tightly around her middle and her head was bowed allowing curtains of her dark hair to fall and all but obscure her face from sight.
"She's moping again," Penelope observed.
"Indeed," Cyrus agreed. "Only this one is worse. She didn't touch her breakfast I noticed."
"I saw that, too. Her plate was still full when Dipsy removed the breakfast dishes," Penelope replied. "You do know why she's being like this, don't you?"
"I may be male, but that doesn't make me clueless," Cyrus replied. "She's pining for a boy."
"Not just any boy," Penelope corrected him. "Her first real crush. And today just happens to be his birthday."
"Hmm," Cyrus frowned.
He'd hoped by now that his daughter's infatuation with the Potter boy would have started to wane. Not that he could completely blame her. Cyrus had seen the warning signs in her letters throughout the year. She'd begun talking about him more and more. And there were even a few letters that had been directed specifically to her mother that he still wasn't privy to. The boy was from a good family with an impressive heritage. In other circumstances, he'd have been ecstatic with the match.
But then Potter's upbringing had been introduced. His muggle upbringing. The boy had come into the Wizarding World full of prejudices and ideas and flaunted them in the face of tradition. He'd been hounded and degraded – rightfully so, in Cyrus' opinion – for holding them. And his Daphne had been caught up in them as well, threatening their own family name simply by proximity.
Cyrus had tried to do his fatherly duties, to protect both his daughter and their name. He'd forbidden her from interacting with the boy – not that she'd heeded him. He'd even spoken to the boy personally in an attempt at scaring him off. Unfortunately, and most unexpectedly, Cyrus had come away from that meeting more than a little impressed.
And then, at the Third Task, he'd seen Daphne and Harry kiss. The worst part of that was seeing that it was her that had initiated it. He'd known then that she'd fallen hard for him and that she was going to be like this once he left.
"They've exchanged letters since the holidays have begun, you know?" Penelope said.
"I'm aware," Cyrus replied. "She's going to be like this for a while, isn't she?"
To his consternation, his wife actually laughed at him.
"Oh, dear, you have no idea," she said. "Neither of them have said the words or even had a proper conversation about their relationship but the way that she talks about him tells me not only what's in her heart but that she's going to be like this all summer. At the very least."
Cyrus' eyes followed his daughter as she ambled about, occasionally pausing in front of some flowers. As he watched, he considered his wife's words. This was not how he liked to see his daughter. He preferred the happy, albeit studious and often serious, version of her that she normally was. But if her thoughts were going to be fixed on a boy, on Harry Potter, then maybe he ought to be having another conversation with said boy. Unfortunately, having that type of conversation was best done face to face and Potter was currently in Romania of all places.
"My dear," he said slowly, 'it's been some time since the family have had a holiday overseas, hasn't it?"
"Indeed, it has," she replied and he didn't fail to note the way the corners of her mouth were upturned and a smile was growing. "Four years, to be precise. Not since Spain."
"What would you think about us going on holiday this summer? Perhaps even leaving within the week?"
"I think that would be a splendid idea," she said. "Would you like me to begin organising? I can have Dipsy begin packing as well. Oh, and if we're going, we really should tell Daphne and Astoria the news. Where should I tell them that we're going?"
Cyrus could see what she was doing and decided that it was simply easier to play along.
"How about Romania?" he said. "After the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, I seem to have developed a fascination for dragons and I believe that we could learn a lot by seeing them in their natural habitat."
"That sounds like a marvellous idea," Penelope replied. "I'll go tell the girls now."
He watched as his wife quickly rose and exited into the garden. He saw her get Daphne's attention and then the two of them begin talking. The loud, excited squeal that rang through the closed doors told him precisely when Daphne received the news of their impending holiday.
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12:00pm
Monday, 31 July 1995
Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania
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"Happy birthday to you!"
As the last words of the traditional song ended, Harry leant down and blew out the candles on the cake. And promptly had the candles explode, covering his face with something that Harry didn't know if he wanted to know what it was.
Straightening up, he blinked and then scowled at the sudden, raucous laughs that erupted from all those standing around the table. Touching his fingers to his cheek, he looked at them. The tips of two were bright yellow, another pink and the fourth green with some sort of coloured powder.
A small round mirror was thrust into his hands and Harry stared at his face. His eyes widened at the vast array of colours he could see. It was as though a rainbow had thrown up on his face. Every colour imaginable and some that he'd never considered mashing together were there. And it wasn't just his face, he discovered as he moved the mirror slightly. The front part of his hair had been equally covered in the multicoloured powder.
Looking up, Harry noticed that, while everyone was either still chuckling at him or at the very least had a huge grin on their face, the one who was laughing the hardest was his godfather.
"I assume that you're responsible for the trick candles?" Harry asked lightly as he shifted his position slightly.
"I saw them in Gambol and Japes," Sirius laughed. "Couldn't resist."
That was good enough for Harry.
All at once, he leapt at his godfather, managing to get his hands around the man before he realised what was happening. And then it was simply a case of rubbing his face and hair everywhere that he could reach. Sirius' shirt, face, neck, hands., everywhere. Over and over, Harry moved his head about, making sure to cover as much of his godfather as possible.
Finally, after the two had tipped over, landed on the floor and rolled about and incidentally caused everyone else to scatter, the two rolled apart, panting hard from all the laughing that they'd been doing.
Harry looked across to see that it'd worked and his grin grew even larger. Most of the top half of Sirius was now multicoloured. He was a riot of colour and looked completely ridiculous.
A hand reached down and Harry grabbed it, allowing Remus to haul him to his feet.
"Good one, Cub," Remus laughed. "Padfoot here needs to be taught that others can prank just as well as he can.
"Couldn't agree more, Moony," Harry said.
He rubbed his hand over his face, glanced down to ensure that, yes, it was indeed covered in a kaleidoscope of colours and ruffled the Marauder's hair, the exact same way that Moony liked doing to him.
"I think, together, we can teach him his place," Harry grinned.
"If you three have finished being today's entertainment for the rest of us, I think we'd all like to get ourselves a piece of this cake before we have to go back to work," Alexander laughed.
"Sure thing, Boss," Harry grinned. "Where's that knife?"
In short order, the large rectangular slab of chocolate cake with the dragon motif done in icing that adorned it was stabbed and then sliced into two dozen pieces. For a second, Harry had half a thought of mashing a piece of that cake in Sirius' face but on second thought, decided that wasting cake that tasted so good was a bad idea. As was the thought of what Sirius would do if a food war was started.
"I think that there's just enough time left for presents before we have to get back to work," Charlie said a little later. "Here, you go, Harry. Happy birthday!"
"Thanks, Charlie," Harry replied happily taking the parcel.
Quickly, he ripped off the wrapping to find a blue-grey coat. Reverently, Harry ran his hand across it even as he stood and held it up. It was long and would easily reach to mid-calf with a slit up the back that would make riding a broom easy.
"Swedish Short-Snout?" Harry guessed.
"Yep," Charlie nodded. "Good eye."
"Well, I do know my dragons," Harry grinned.
"Here, Harry, this is from a few of us," Alexander said, giving him his next present, the first of a small pile as it turned out.
This was definitely turning out to be his best birthday yet. And he still had the presents that had arrived by owl waiting for him still sitting on his bed: Neville, Susan, Hermione and Daphne. That last one he was especially looking forward to opening.
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1:45pm
Monday, 31 July 1995
Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania
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Harry raced down the canyon on his broom, delighting in the speed and the feel of the wind whipping through his hair. He laughed as the first dragon began scrambling from her cave at the sight of him before racing along the canyon floor below him, her wings spreading and finally taking to the air to soar after him.
Four more dragons, including Ramaranth and Grouleth were soon in the air along with him all flying in formation. Harry, of course, waved to each and every one of them, plus numerous others on the ground who bellowed out greetings to him but otherwise he decided to save speaking to them until after he'd reached his destination.
It took a little less time than usual to fly the length of the canyon but he attributed that to the fact that he was becoming more familiar with it, where all the different turns were and the ease that he had with knowing what to expect.
Finally, the end of the canyon came into view and he swooped down to land right in front of one particular cave.
§Speaker? Are you here to Speak to Memzath§? Ramaranth asked as she too landed.
§I am§, Harry replied. §There's a few questions that I have for him that I need answers to§.
Ramaranth bowed her head. §I will lead the way§.
Harry nodded and waited for his first dragon friend to make her way into Memzath's cave. The fact that it also happened to be the entrance to the Dragon Council Cavern, he was sure was no accident.
The walk was long but this time didn't seem to take as much time, a fact that Harry attributed to knowing where he was going and what to expect this time around. Finally, after nearly ten minutes of walking, Ramaranth moved to the side and Harry could see the great amphitheatre hidden inside the mountain. Once again, he looked to try to discover the source of the light; again, he failed.
The Weyr Leader, he found, was standing in the exact centre of the floor, watching, waiting.
§Memzath§, Harry greeted the ancient dragon with a bow. §It is good to see you again§.
§It is pleasing to see you as well, Speaker§, Memzath replied, inclining his great head as well. §What is it that I can help you with§?
§I had some questions§, Harry replied, §about what happened the last time that I was here§.
§It was expected. Ask§.
Once again, Harry bowed, thinking that it would be the right, the honourable thing to do.
§I guess I really have two big questions and perhaps some smaller ones§, Harry began. §The first is to ask what happened when you scratched me? You said something about a darkness§?
§The first question you ask, I cannot fully answer, Speaker§, Memzath replied. §I will do my best to find the words that a two-leg would understand§.
Harry watched the great dragon pace backwards and forwards, his head bowed. Finally, he stopped and faced Harry once again.
§There was a darkness attached to you, of that we are all certain. It was easy for a dragon to sense when they thought to Look. The power and magic of my claw scratching you was enough to release the darkness from where it was being held. My fire consumed it§, Memzath said slowly.
§But what was it§? Harry asked.
§Something beyond dragon ken§, Memzath replied and Harry understood that there was no point asking that question again.
§Thank you§¸ he said instead. §My other biggest question is to find out exactly what having the Mark of the Dragons means§.
§It marks you to all dragon-kind as our Speaker§, Memzath replied simply.
§Okay, I can get that§, Harry replied. §But what does being a Speaker mean? Are there any special responsibilities? Duties? Privileges, even§?
The great rumbling that came from Memzath's belly and throat Harry knew to be a dragon's way of laughing.
§It means what it means§, Memzath stated. §You Speak for us. You are our voice to other two-legs. The trust of all dragons is in your paws. We have faith that you will only Speak to our good and that your words will defend us, just as our fire and claws will defend you if you ever need us§.
§That's all§? Harry asked.
§What more could it mean, Speaker? To Speak for all dragon-kind is a great honour that is bestowed very rarely. The Mark that I gave you will ensure that all Dragons know you for who you are when they see it§.
"I'm an ambassador, not a king," Harry muttered to himself. "I knew that book had to wrong."
§Do you have other questions that you wish to ask§? Memzath asked.
§Not at the moment, but probably later§, Harry replied. §Thank you for helping me understand§.
§Of course, Speaker§, Memzath replied with a bow of his head. §Until soon§.
§Until soon§, Harry replied.
Then, after giving one final bow, he turned and headed back into the tunnel