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.
/ ( 0 v 0 ) \
Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer
Chapter 9 – Potter Discussions
3:35pm
Friday, 4 August 1995
Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania
.
The table was spread with books, all of them about dragons. Some were more general, giving an overview of the species. Others focussed solely on a specific breed. A couple narrowed in on one specific aspect of dealing with dragons, for example hatching an egg or how to render a deceased dragon down to get the most profit out of it. That last one had been pushed far away, the abhorrence that it was deemed worthy of only the trash heap.
The most prominent of all the books, the two that were being used and referred to the most, were Harry's copy of Dragons, the Complete Compendium and Newt's own Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them.
Of course, even these two were superseded by copious amounts of parchment, notebooks, pens and quills.
"So, you're saying that dragons have their own government?" Newt clarified.
"Definitely," Harry nodded. "They call it a 'Council' and have their own Weyr Leader and Elders. The Council chamber is tiered and the dragons only speak when the Leader, who remains on the floor in the centre where everyone can see him, says that they can. I'm not sure whether the ledges that the dragons sit on are hierarchical or if it's a 'first come, best seated', type of thing."
"Not unlike some human governments, then," Newt mused. "I'd always wondered. I'd definitely noted that they seem to defer to some dragons if they roared louder but I had just taken it to be an alpha dominance type structure."
"Hmm, maybe there is some of that, too?" Harry replied slowly. "I don't know how the Weyr Leader is chosen? Elected? Appointed? Some kind of battle or challenge? But it's definitely not the oldest, at least, not here."
"Perhaps something to ask, young Harry," Newt suggested.
"Right," Harry agreed and promptly jotted some notes on his pad.
"Now, tell me about the time you got to go into the Weyr Council Cave," Newt asked eagerly, leaning forwards.
"Well, I didn't know what was going on," Harry began. "One of the other dragons came and got me. It's actually hidden deep inside the mountain and you can only get to it by going into the Weyr Leader's cave and then through a really long tunnel. The dragons were already in place. I almost felt as though I was there for a job interview, which, when I think about it, wasn't too far from what was happening."
"What do you mean, Harry?" Newt asked and Harry noted that he picked up a quill and inked it at the same time.
"There were all these roundabout questions about me being the Speaker but them needing to see if I was worthy enough to Speak for them," Harry explained. "There's a difference, you see. I can speak to them in parseltongue but because I could, it also meant that I could translate for them to other two-legs … er, humans. The dragons needed to test that I could be counted on to say exactly what they said and to speak up on their behalf when needed."
"I'm guessing that they decided that you could be," Newt smiled, nodding pointedly at his Mark.
"Yep," Harry grinned and lifted his fringe up and away so that Newt could see it properly. "I asked Memzath what it meant, bearing this Mark of the Dragons. It basically means that I'm an ambassador."
"Which you told me before," Newt nodded. "And makes so much sense. Dragons are such sophisticated creatures, it's easy to see that they have their own social structure to go along with their intelligence. At least for anyone who's willing to take the time to look."
"Which most don't," Harry agreed.
"No, unfortunately, they don't. But we'll change them yet, won't we?" Newt exclaimed. "Tell me about getting your Mark."
"It was the weirdest thing," Harry frowned. "I still don't completely understand everything that happened. The dragons … sensed that there was an … an evil attached to me. Whatever it was, they couldn't explain it, they just knew that it existed. And they didn't like it. Not one bit. Memzath slashed my forehead, right where whatever it was was located, which I'm guessing was connected to my scar. I don't remember anything else, only waking up with the Mark in my own bed. Sirius tells me that Ramaranth brought me home; she carried me in her paws up and out of the canyon."
During all the time that Harry'd been speaking, Newt had been busy with his quill and parchment. Finally, he placed his quill down and pushed the parchment across to Harry. Taking it, Harry looked down and blinked. If he'd thought that his handwriting was akin to chicken scratch, well, that was nothing compared to Newt's!
It took much longer than he would have liked but eventually, Harry began to decipher the writing. And when he finally did, he blinked again. It was the story of his visit into the Weyr Council Cavern, everything about what it looked like and, added to the end, was the recount of how he'd been given his Mark, what it meant and also what it looked like.
"I know, my writing's never been easy to understand," Newt chuckled. "Luckily, Tina can understand my writing. She's been doing it for years. If I know her, she'll even rewrite it up for us, maybe make it sound a little easier for others to understand as well."
"Um, okay?" Harry said, handing the parchment back.
Newt stared at him. "I was expecting a little more than that, Harry. What do you think? How do you imagine wizards and witches around the world will react to hearing the story and understanding that dragons have their own government?"
"I'm sorry, what? React? How will they hear it?" Harry asked, shaking his head.
"Oh, I didn't mention that bit, did I?" Newt chuckled. "This will be your first column in The Daily Prophet. I've owled the editor and your godfather's signed off, of course, assuming that you agree. A new article every two weeks."
"What?" Harry asked.
"It doesn't have to be anything too detailed. Actually, it's probably better if it's not too detailed," Newt explained. "Just talk about your interactions with the dragons. Those hatchlings of yours will make excellent writing points. Tell the world what it's like for dragons growing up, what they do, how they develop and become a part of dragon society. People everywhere will eat it up and want to know more and, as a bonus, hopefully learn to understand and appreciate the dragons the way you and I do."
Harry leant over and reread the article that Newt had written, this time with different eyes.
Others would read this? They'd read about his encounter with the dragons of the Weyr and him being given the Mark and what it meant? He tried to picture Neville or Susan with the newspaper in their hands, maybe over breakfast. No, there was nothing in there that he was ashamed of. Well, maybe the part about fainting and needing to be carried home. But who wouldn't have if they'd been in the same situation?
"Okay, I think it looks good. And it would be pretty cool to have my own newspaper column," Harry mused.
"Excellent! Then it's settled," Newt beamed. "I'll give this to Tina for her to do her magic and then I'll send it off to the Prophet."
"Thanks, Newt," Harry said earnestly. "You'll help me with the next one, too?"
"It'd be my pleasure, young Harry," Newt smiled. "And we can use these articles to help hone the book we're going to be writing."
/ ( 0 v 0 ) \
8:15am
Saturday, 6 August 1995
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, United Kingdom
.
Albus Dumbledore's eyes read and reread the column in The Daily Prophet. This was not how he expected to hear from Harry Potter, or more precisely, how he'd hear about Harry Potter. The boy was supposed to be coming back to Hogwarts at the beginning of next month. At least, that was the plan. Albus' plan.
This, though, this threw even more doubts on that happening than he'd originally been having.
Once again, he let his eyes run down the column and key words and phrases leapt out at him.
"A Dragon's Tale, Living and Working with Dragons by Harry Potter … Weyr … their own Council, not unlike the Wizengamot that runs our own government … worthy … Speaker, not just to, but for dragons … Mark of the Dragon … scar."
And then that description. Oh, that description was unbelievable. The dragons had detected an 'evil' attached to young Harry. Of course, Albus knew precisely what that was. The fact that they'd obviously done something to dispel it was quite …
Albus froze. He wasn't quite sure what the right word was. Worrying? Annoying? Frightening?
In any case, it opened a whole slew of questions that Albus never in his wildest dreams imagined would be asked. If that part of Tom was no longer attached to young Harry, what did that mean for the prophecy? Was it still in play? Were these dragons the thing that Tom 'would know not'? Could Tom feel that part of him being destroyed?
Many of the answers, Albus felt, still lay with Harry Potter or, more precisely, with getting The-Boy-Who-Lived back to England and Hogwarts in particular. It was even more imperative than ever. There had to be a way.
Albus spun from the window and threw his copy of the newspaper to the floor. He then dropped his hands to his desk and his head bowed as he thought. Unexpectedly, his eyes fell onto the stack of parchment that he'd been given as the Chief Warlock.
And right there, sitting right on top, might just be his answer: a proposal for a new dragon reserve in the United Kingdom. A proposal that already had a small sub-department attached to it.
Yes, yes, he mused. There might be a way to use that.
/ ( 0 v 0 ) \
11:05am
Saturday, 6 August 1995
Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England
.
Amelia Bones sipped at her tea, as was polite, before carefully placing the cup back upon its saucer and then the two down onto her lap. The pleasantries had been observed, even the small talk. The game had been played. It was time to get down to business, to find out why she'd been invited here, to Longbottom Manor, in the first place.
"It has been quite some time since the two of us have been able to talk without interference," she opened.
"There has not been a need before this," Augusta replied.
"You're saying that there is one now?" Amelia asked.
"I am," the Dowager Lady replied. "Tell me, what do you know of Albus Dumbledore's … interference with the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter over the past decade?"
Amelia blinked but otherwise she knew that her face remained impassive. It was hard to surprise the Head of the DMLE; Augusta had just managed it.
"I know of some," she replied cautiously. "Perhaps if I knew to what specifically you were referring to, I might be able to answer more fully?"
"Pish, Amelia, enough with the games," Augusta said, leaning forward and placing her own cup and saucer on the table between them. "We're never going to get anything accomplished if we keep to the script."
One side of Amelia's mouth curled up in amusement. The two might not be quite the same age, but both were considered formidable women in their own right. For Amelia to suggest that they needed to simply 'get down to business' meant that there was definitely something very wrong.
"By all means," Amelia said, bowing her head in acknowledgement. "In that case, shall I open with the fact that I received a very interesting letter written by Mister Potter himself, delivered by my Susan which had some, shall we say, very damaging allegations against the Hogwart's headmaster in it?"
"Indeed?" Augusta replied, with a raised eyebrow. "If that letter contains even half of what my Neville relayed to me about this past school year, then it would make for some very interesting reading."
"Augusta, you don't know the half of it," Amelia stated dryly. "If I thought that I could get away with it, I'd be putting Albus Dumbledore on the stand to answer some very choice questions about some very illegal activities. Unfortunately, Dumbledore has built himself a web of support that spans decades and I know that, not only would he get off with, at best, a 'slap on the wrist', I'd be committing career suicide."
"That bad?" Augusta asked. "That does sound a little more comprehensive than Neville's own version."
"It's possible that he didn't know the whole story," Amelia replied. "I know that Susan didn't. May I call for my house elf?"
Augusta raised an eyebrow in surprise but otherwise merely gave her consent.
"Tolly!"
Instantly, a small house elf wearing a soft, white toga-like dress with the Bones family crest prominent on its upper right chest appeared.
"Yes, Mistress?" Tolly asked.
"Kindly go to my personal study and retrieve the muggle envelope sitting in my top righthand drawer of my desk," Amelia instructed.
"Yes, Mistress," Tolly replied with a small curtsey.
Dual pops in the space of thirty seconds indicated Tolly popping out and then back in with said envelope in hand.
"Thank you, Tolly, that will be all," Amelia replied.
As the house elf popped away, Amelia leant forward and handed over the envelope.
"I'll need it back, obviously, but I don't believe that Harry would mind you reading it."
She leant back then and retrieved her tea to sip it while she awaited the Dowager Lady Longbottom to read the three-page letter.
"You're right," Augusta said a short time later. "Quite damaging indeed and, if all correct, much of it is illegal. Stealing a piece of paper with Harry's name on it and entering him in the TriWizard Tournament; not to mention this prophecy, both are highly suspect before you even begin to consider the rest. And you're right, there's little that you can do about it. 'He said, she said'. Not exactly useful in a court of law."
"No," Amelia frowned. "Even the man's interference in the Tasks for the TriWizard Tournament, how he created favourable conditions to ensure that Harry not only survived but had a chance of being competitive would be considered as being anything but good by those old fuddy-duddies. Anything that should ensure a British win, would be applauded, even."
"Not that young Harry exactly went along with those plans," Augusta chuckled. "Painting and fishing!"
"Yes, he did make the Tournament out to be a bit of a farce," Amelia agreed. "At least our own young ones had the opportunity to becomes friends with him, as they always should have done."
"And there's another problem to lay at Dumbledore's feet, placing the scion of a Most Ancient and Noble House in the hands of muggles, I ask you?" Augusta near-growled.
"Indeed," Amelia nodded. "I take it by your original question that you have something additional to what is in Harry's letter to me that you wish to discuss?"
"I do," Augusta replied and closed her eyes for a moment as though she were gathering her thoughts. "The House of Potter has been one that has been most prominent within our society for more centuries than most others. It may not be one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but that is mere quibbling in this day and age when so many of that number have become extinct."
"You won't hear any argument from me," Amelia agreed. "I believe that both of our husbands campaigned for the Potters to be added to the number, replacing one of the fallen Houses."
"Without success," Augusta nodded. "However, even without that status, the House of Potter does have two major seats, in two of our most important facets of our society that it has been granted in perpetuity. Neither of which it currently sits."
Amelia frowned. Obviously, Augusta was referring to the Wizengamot as one of those seats, but for the life of her, she couldn't recall what the second was.
"The Wizengamot and the Hogwarts Board of Governors," Augusta continued. "I have done a little investigating, especially in light of what Neville has told me. Young Mister Potter has no knowledge – as far as I am aware – of the place that the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter holds, nor of the seats that he should be sitting."
"Should be sitting?" Amelia repeated, her mind whirling.
Harry was the same age as Susan – fifteen – and one age could not take their place on either seat until such time as they came of age, at seventeen. But then it clicked. Harry was already 'of age'. He'd be emancipated when he agreed to participate in the TriWizard Tournament.
"I would think that Sirius Black would be educating Harry on his duties and the role of his House," Amelia said carefully.
"Hmph," Augusta snorted. "You know Sirius Black even better than I do but my opinion of him was never high, not even before his years of incarceration. One can always hope that he is doing his duty."
"I'm certain of it," Amelia replied.
"Whether he is or not," Augusta waved away her assurances, "there is a matter that should be addressed."
"Which is?" a curious Amelia asked.
"Those seats on the Wizengamot and the Board of Governors," Augusta stated. "Both are currently occupied by proxy, the same proxy that has been in place for nearly fourteen years and I'd bet the entire Longbottom vault that Harry Potter has neither met Elphias Doge who sits in both of those seats, not appointed him at any time whatsoever!"
"Doge is sitting the Potter seat," Amelia repeated, her eyes wide.
Augusta was right. And the fact that Doge had been there so long meant that she'd never questioned it, nor considered what seat he was sitting in.
"Dumbledore," she whispered.
"Correct," Augusta replied smugly. "Dumbledore. He appointed Doge to those seats as the Potter Proxy."
"He needs to be ousted. But the only one who could do it is Harry Potter himself," Amelia stated slowly, understanding exactly what Augusta was saying. "And replacing Doge would also take away a major part of Dumbledore's voting power which would then give me more leeway to do my job rather than constantly being hamstrung by the number of second chances that Dumbledore seems determined to give to every Tom, Dick and Larry that turns up in front of the Court on any charge you can imagine."
"I'm glad that you see my point," Augusta smiled.
"What do you have in mind?" Amelia asked.
/ ( 0 v 0 ) \
4:55am
Sunday, 7 August 1995
Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania
.
Harry grinned, enjoying the feeling of Daphne's arms around his waist, her body pressed against his back as he flew through the trees up the side of the mountain. Her breath against the back of his neck also seemed to have this interesting response in his own breathing, making it faster and shallower.
The dim light didn't make it easy to see the trees but even after such a short time here at the Reserve, Harry knew the way well. Side to side, he swayed, never a jerk or a jolt, simple movements so as not to alarm or worse, dislodge his passenger.
At last, the trees thinned before disappearing behind them altogether. The ground below also vanished, dropping deep into the canyon.
Their timing, though, was absolutely perfect.
Just as Harry brought his broom to nothing more than a gentle hover, the first rays of the sun peeked over the edge of the far mountain. A soft burnt orange filled the sky before changing into yellows that dissipated as the dark blue of the sky began to lighten.
"This is beautiful, Harry," Daphne whispered into his ear.
"Just wait," Harry told her.
His eyes dropped down into the darker patch below their feet, searching for what he knew was coming. A hint of movement further out was his first sign and he smiled. Two more emerged from the depths of the canyon, the suggestion of great wings beating, bearing them upwards.
"Look," he said, leaning back into her and pointing down.
And then they began appearing. More and more dragons, flying up to meet the start of the day. A few Harry recognised instantly, knowing their names even. Others took a little longer but they, too, were friends. They were all friends. And now his dearest friend was going to get to go flying with his biggest friends.
Willing his broom forward, he shot them towards the dragons and was instantly recognised.
§Speaker§!
§Speaker§!
§Good morn to you, Speaker§!
§You have brought your two-leg mate to fly with us, Speaker§!
Harry blushed at that last comment. He was so glad that Daphne wasn't a parselmouth. His mouth even opened to tell Ramaranth that no, Daphne wasn't his mate, only his friend, well, maybe more but they'd deliberately stayed away from labelling what they were. Dragons, though, didn't understand that concept, despite how much he'd tried to explain.
"Harry? Why has the back of your neck gone red all of a sudden?" Daphne asked.
"No reason," he replied quickly, desperately hoping that she'd drop the subject.
To help with that, he increased speed, zipping in and around the dragons as they flew ever higher. He felt her arms tighten and he smiled, loving the feeling.
All at once, they reached the spot where the sun become fully visible above the mountain and the dragons paused, hovering where they were, their great wings lazily flapping just enough to hold them in place. One by one and then together, they trumpeted, creating a noise that was both extremely loud while being melodious and in harmony with each other.
"What are they saying?" Daphne near-yelled in his ear.
Harry leant back and half-turned his head to make it easier for her to hear him.
"It's not so much words, although there are some in there," Harry replied. "They're greeting the day. The best approximation that I've ever come up with is that this is like singing to them."
From the corner of his eye, he could see Daphne's head cocked, her eyes closed as she listened.
"It's beautiful," she said.
"Yeah, beautiful," he replied, knowing that he meant more than just the dragon's song, more than just the rising sun over the mountains below.
"Thank you for bringing me up here, for sharing this with me," she said, her now-open eyes sparkling at him.
"You're welcome," he smiled. "There's no one else I'd want to share it with."
He felt more than heard her sigh as she laid her head against his back.
Soon, it'd be time to return to the world below and start the day the human way but this, this was something special that he'd come to love. And today far more than he ever had before.
/ ( 0 v 0 ) \
2:31am
Monday, 8 August 1995
Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania
.
Harry jolted away. His heart was pounding. There was a roaring in his ears. Sweat poured off of him. Even before his eyes opened, he knew that he was sitting up, the blankets half tangled around him.
Jerkily, his eyes wide, he searched around his room. Black, pitch black. The middle of the night.
Something had woken him. He was sure of it. And not a dream. It was real.
§SPEAKER!§
The roar of a hundred dragon voices calling for him all at once was loud enough even from this distance for Harry to need to clamp his hand over his ears. Not that that drowned it out, the sound even reverberating inside his very head.
§SPEAKER! WE NEED YOU!§
Instantly, Harry was up and scrambling for the door, one single thought burning in his head: get to the dragons!