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Chapter Twenty-Six: The Hogwarts Dragons

"I'm not sure about this, Harry," Angelina said as Harry and Katie all but dragged her to the Quidditch Pitch.

"Angelina, you and Katie are the best Chasers in the school," Harry said. "You just have to play, or we don't stand a chance." They arrived to find half the school there already, and players circling the pitch. Cedric was on the ground talking with the lead Ravenclaw Chaser, Stephanie Harlow.

As they arrived, Angelina called up to her, "Did he smooth talk you into trying out, Stephanie?"

Harlow turned and saw Angelina, Katie and Harry coming. "He gave it a pretty good try. Said I might get a chance to play with the Flying Foxes of Gryffindor. Heard about Alicia—too bad, that."

"Yeah, but I'm sure she's happy," Angelina said. "Think of all those beaches in Brazil—and her letter said the bloke was only a year or two older and already working with her to interview a second."

"Great for tan lines, those beaches, right Potter?" Stephanie asked.

Harry felt his cheeks burn. "Has everybody in the ruddy school heard about that?"

"Oh yes," Katie said. "And I'll have you know, Harry, that I have much better tan lines than she does."

"I don't have any at all," Angelina said.

Stephanie grinned. "I don't either, and on a white girl that's even more impressive. Wanna see?"

"Not right now, thank you," Harry said quickly.

The girls laughed, and Cedric chuckled as well. "Right, well, I see our Chasers and our seeker. And here come my Beaters."

Vincent Crabbe was a large, powerfully built young man with a close-shaven head the shape of a lump of mashed potatoes. Standing two inches taller than him with a head of thick, greasy black hair walked Gregoria Goyle. Not only was Gregoria taller than Vincent, she had more facial hair and broader shoulders. She also had the largest breasts of any student in Hogwarts, and the most muscled arms.

"Thanks for coming, you two," Cedric said.

"Slytherin should be represented on the team," Vincent said.

"And in a position that lets us beat others up," Gregoria added with a rather messy grin but a surprisingly soothing contralto voice.

"We're going through with the try-outs for the reserve team," Cedric said, "but I've played against all of you and I think you're the best in your positions, so this is our starting team unless we see some real surprises today. We'll go through the drills with the others before we make the announcement. I should let you know that there are reporters in the stands. This is a big deal with an entire Ministry department organizing everything, so be on your best behavior, okay? Angie, if you're willing, I'd like you to be my second."

Angelina blinked in surprise. "Thought you'd want Stephanie."

"I wasn't slated to be a house team Captain," Harlow said. "And you deserve it, girl. Wood might have called the shots officially, but everyone in Slytherin and Hufflepuff knew you were drawing up half the plays. Go with it, you'll be great."

"Okay," Angelina said, smiling easily. "I'll take the job, if just to keep you on your toes, Diggory."

"Then it's settled. Say hello to the Hogwarts Dragons!"

"Perfect," Harry said, with the rest nodding their agreement. "Absolutely perfect."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

There were no surprises during the drills, and after they finished an hour of drills, Cedric joined Headmaster Dumbledore on a raised dais in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch while the stands bristled with students and media.

"It has been a most productive session," Professor Dumbledore said, his voice amplified by a charm to cover the whole pitch. "Mr. Diggory, have you made your team selections?"

"I have, Professor, thank you," Cedric said with an ease and comfort before the crowds that made Harry envious. "I have decided for the sake of the team that I will play Keeper, since that is my greatest strength. For my Chasers, I am proud to announce that we will have two Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw starting—Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell have demonstrated for the past three years that they are some of the finest Chasers Hogwarts has ever produced, and joining them from Ravenclaw is Stephanie Harlow, the 'Claw's best flier. For Beaters, I have selected the Slytherin Destroyers, Vincent Crabbe and Gregoria Goyle. And finally, for Seeker I selected the most successful Seeker currently playing at Hogwarts—Harry Potter."

As Cedric called each player's name, Madam Hooch ushered them onto the stage with their brooms. Harry as the last concentrated mainly on not falling or making a fool of himself as he walked up the steps onto the stage. "These are the starting players of the Hogwarts Dragons!" Cedric said.

Their Quidditch uniforms switched to a dark blue and gold with the Hogwarts crest of all four houses on their left breast.

"Since we are going up against some very good teams," Cedric continued, "we recognize the need for a strong reserve squad. For the reserves, Derrick Boyle of Slytherin will play Keeper. Our Chasers will be Cheryl Hastings from Hufflepuff, and Stephanie's partners from Ravenclaw, Donna Chamberlain and Terri Boot. The Beater reserves will be Fred and Georgina Weasley, while our reserve Seeker will be Cho Chang. Give a big hand for the team, people!"

The reserves climbed onto the now crowded stage while the audience cheered. Harry almost yelped when Cheryl Hastings from Hufflepuff, a seventh year, leaned over and into his ear said, "So, I hear you have a thing for tan lines. After we're done here, I could show you what a real witch looks like underneath a robe."

Harry was proud of the fact that he didn't jump away and scream. Instead, fighting to keep his voice even, he replied, "Probably not a good idea between teammates, you know."

"Tell that to Johnson and Weasley," she said before straightening.

Afterward, the team gathered back in an anteroom in the castle that had already been prepared with two tables with eight seats each—the first team sat at the first, lower table with Dumbledore, while the reserve squad sat at the second table with Hooch. Reporters filed into the room with their photographers.

The first question came from a younger witch with bejewelled horn-rimmed glasses. The woman's magic looked cold and slimy to Harry. "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. Congratulations, Mr Diggory, on making Captain. Can you tell me, a fellow Hufflepuff, how such a handsome and capable young wizard such as yourself has kept from being bonded yet?"

Harry stared at the woman, indignant that she lied about her house, and appalled that she would ask such a horrific question. Worse yet, Cedric didn't seem bothered in the slightest. "Well, there are several attractive witches in school, but I don't see a need to rush into something like that. I've spoken with both Elder Starling and Dame Cassandra of the Starling Coven about it, and they agree that it is better to approach it calmly, patiently and with forethought. When I bond, I want to not just find partners for life, but to also bring honor to my coven."

It was a text-book perfect speech and obviously impressed the mostly female reporters in the audience, some of whom even clapped.

Skeeter then turned her overly magnified eyes to Harry. "And you, Mr Potter? Many readers are fascinated by you, of course. The Boy Who Lived, a magical polyglot, an accomplished Occlumens at thirteen, and a Seeker on track to have more wins during your career than any other Hogwarts Seeker ever. Now that you're a fourth year, have you given any thought to bonding?"

"Er, ma'am, I'm only fourteen," Harry said. "I don't really give a lot of thought to anything."

The audience laughed and Skeeter gave him a false little clap while she sat. Harry glanced at Dumbledore, whose blue eyes seemed to say, Well done, my boy. Well done.

The questions continued for another thirty minutes before finally the press conference was finished. Afterward, walking back to the castle, Harry looked hard at Cedric, laughing and talking easily with Angelina, Katie and Stephanie Harlow, while the reserves walked behind.

By a mixture of Harry's slower step and the leader's quick one, he found himself back with the second group, walking next to Cho Chang. "Congratulations on making first team, Harry," Cho said.

A quick look at the older girl showed him she was sincere, if a tad jealous as well. Still, she had said it, and that alone meant a lot. "Thanks. I didn't think I'd be on the team at all—I thought Cedric was going to be Seeker."

"No, he's a better Keeper," she said. "When he took over as Seeker, Hufflepuff started losing."

Now that he thought of it, Harry realized she was right. The Hufflepuff team under Cedric had never really done that well. "So why was he picked as Captain?"

"His father is a department head, Dumbledore is wooing his family's coven for something, and the covens themselves want to put him in the spotlight so that a few older, more firm-handed witches will take him in."

"What do you mean?"

Cho looked at him in much the way Lee Jordan did during that first Christmas at Hogwarts while talking about sex. "You mean you don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

"You'll find, love, that our Harry is selectively naïve about a lot of things," Georgina said, walking up and wrapping her arm around his neck. "He got his Snitch and Dragons talk from Lee, believe it or not."

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry!" Cho said, and again he saw from her magic she meant it.

"Lay off, will you!" Harry said, pushing his way from Georgina's arm. "What are you two talking about?"

"Reason Cedric's not bonded yet is because he has no affection for the girls," Fred said from his sister's side.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, still not following.

"At all," Cho confirmed. "Stephanie moved on him last year when she heard that he'd talked about me. Caught him in the prefect's bath with some seventh year bloke named Jacob. The Heads swept it under the rug and Jacob got safely bound to a pair of witches in their late twenties. That's probably what Skeeter was aiming at. She probably knows, but if she tried to publish anything about the Starling Coven's darling wizard, Dame Cassandra would destroy her and probably take down the Prophet as well."

"But why would that…oh." Harry's eyes widened as he looked back at where Cedric was telling a joke with Stephanie, who laughed uproariously. On his other side, even Angelina seemed more relaxed around him than she did around other wizards, except for Fred. "Is that why the witches seem so relaxed around him?"

"Yeah, they know they won't be able to bond him until he's good and ready," Cho said. "Chances are he cut a deal with Dame Cassandra to finish school, but he'll get bonded right after, I bet you. Too much is riding on him, see."

Harry looked at his fellow Seeker for a long minute before he said, "You really like him, don't you?"

Cho nodded sadly. "He really is a great guy, Harry. He's smart, powerful, kind and considerate. He's everything I've ever wanted in a wizard. But I also know that even if he did one day bond with me, he'd never really love me."

"Love's for idiots," Georgina declared. "Give me a good solid shag and a bottle of potion, and I'm good as gold."

"Good enough for our folks," Fred said.

"And it'll be good enough for us!" Georgina added.

"And all it'll cost to watch is two galleons," Cho said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "You two really are pervs. See you, Harry. Congratulations again." She started walking faster to catch up with Cedric.

"Poor, stupid bint," Georgina said. Harry saw a gleam in her eye, though, that made him think she didn't really mean it.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Tuesdays and Thursdays were for the optional classes. Harry had Care for Magical Creatures in the mornings, and much to his dismay, despite his attempt to switch over to Arithmancy, Divination again in the afternoon. This year they were concentrating on Arithmancy as Divination, which according to Trelawney was the original point of Arithmancy in the ancient days, before the post-Hogwarts era spell crafters took it over to begin explaining the mechanics of magic itself. It was hard—as difficult as trigonometry or beginning calculus in Muggle studies.

The first two weeks of the course was spent with a constantly drunken Trelawney trying to introduce the key concepts, teach them the rudiments of the magical math and the additional runic symbols used in the science. "Next year, when you become eligible to take Ancient Runes, take it," Trelawney told the whole course. "Doesn't matter if you're doing this class or Arithmancy, the ancient runes are the alphabet of true magic—the symbols of the Gods' own language. Take it, learn it, and remember it, and you'll all do well."

On his fifth class, the third Tuesday of the year, Trelawney finally got back to her normal routine of making them write down any visions they had over the summer. Harry shrugged and wrote about his vision of Voldemort, and the after effects of pain and bleeding from his nose and even his eyes, which he'd never had before.

He turned it in and forgot about it.

On his way to class Thursday, Trelawney stopped him from entering the tower. "Go to the Headmaster's office, Potter," she said, slurring the words a little. "He wants to talk about your parchment from last class."

"Right," Harry muttered. He headed towards the Headmaster's office and walked right in when the gargoyle's guarding the passage opened upon his approach. He, like all the students, knew where Dumbledore's office was, but very few had ever seen it. This was Harry's first time, and he was surprised at just how large the space was. There were books to be certain—hundreds of them, but they were on shelves spread haphazardly around the huge space. Most of the office was dominated by tables filled with an unusual array of odd objects, ranging from odd, puffing crystal constructs to rubber ducks with faded yellow paint.

Instead of shelves, the walls were dominated by large portraits of past headmasters. Given that Hogwarts was a thousand years old, he expected to see hundreds of portraits. Instead, there were perhaps twelve—including the first headmaster, Godric Gryffindor himself.

Harry stared at the different faces that had run the school over the centuries. Gryffindor and Dumbledore were both exceptions, being male. Those two, with one other, were the only Wizards to head Hogwarts. All the other heads had been witches.

"You asked to see me, Headmaster?"

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said without looking up from the parchment he was reading. Harry was startled to see a wisp of his own familiar magic on the parchment—Dumbledore was reading his assignment. "Please come and sit."

Harry did as instructed and waited with forced patience as Dumbledore finished reading the parchment. When done, he leaned back in his throne-like chair with a sigh. "Professor McGonagall informed me that you had a vision of Ms Lovegood some weeks ago and helped save her from a most cruel prank."

"Yes sir."

"She also mentioned that that Ms Lovegood spoke to you in your vision."

Expecting to talk about Voldemort, Harry was not prepared to discuss Luna. "Well, yes. She asked for help. In the vision, I mean."

Dumbledore placed his fingers together and stared at Harry for the longest time in silence, his magic burning low in his frail old chest. "Do you know why she was treated so poorly?"

"No, sir."

"There are actually several reasons. First off, the Lovegood family is Proscribed. The Covens formally condemned the family, kicked them out of their Coven, denied them protection under the law, and seized most of their accounts. Luna's mother died under questionable circumstances shortly after that, but there remains a great stigma to the Lovegood name. Additionally, starting last year, Ms Lovegood told her roommates that she had a guardian spirit who watched out for her whenever she went on her evening…" He peered at another parchment over the rims of his glasses. "…walkabouts, she calls them. She calls the spirit a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. When questioned by Professor Flitwick on what a Crumple-Horned Snorkack looked like, she described…well, that doesn't matter. Miss Lovegood is known to have some flights of fancy, but quite often these flights of fancy have a small basis in truth. For instance, as an Aether, Ms Lovegood is so attuned to her magic she could feel if the ambient wards of Hogwarts were directed to observe her, even if only in a passive manner—a manner consistent with, say, a certain magical map, for example?"

"I didn't know that, Headmaster."

"Perhaps not. Well, let's discuss this current vision of yours. The witch's name, in case you were wondering, was Ellspeth Hockering. Her body was found in late August by Muggle authorities in Liverpool. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was able to obtain some of the evidence from her body, enough to identify her killer as Bartemius Crouch Junior. Of course, the problem with this match is that Bartemius Crouch Junior died fourteen years ago, shortly after being sent to Azkaban for the torture of Neville Longbottom's parents."

"You believe me, then?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Mr Potter, we have already established your credentials as a confirmed seer and oracle. While our initial thoughts were that you were an oracle only, I suspected there was more to it, and that Occlumency and some training in Divination would prove you were an actual seer. We have proven beyond doubt that I was correct. Not only are you a seer, you are an unusually perceptive one."

"It hurts like…well, very badly, Professor," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded. "I would suggest you contact Madam Pomfrey about a small potions kit for those situations where you find yourself in need to immediate relief. What I wanted from you, though, was your memory of the vision."

"You can do that?"

"Indeed. Come." Dumbledore stood up and led Harry to a huge cabinet against one wall. As they approached, the cabinet opened of its own accord, and as it did so a huge stone bowl rolled out, as if the pedestal were part of the same mechanism that opened the doors. The interior of the doors were lined in glass vials contain silver strands of magic.

"Are those memories, sir?" Harry asked.

"Indeed they are. How did you know?"

"They look just like your memories when you're summoning a Patronus."

"Interesting." Dumbledore led him to the bowl, which had a strange, swirling mist in it that looked like it was not quite a fluid, but heavier than a gas. "This, Mr Potter, is called a Pensieve. It is perhaps the greatest creation of Perenelle Flamel, the most accomplished witch in history. Of course, being six hundred years old does leave quite some time to accomplish things. It is a way to view one's memories with magically enhanced detail. With your permission, I would like to view your memory of the vision."

"How?"

"Just think of the vision, hold your wand to your temple and say 'De Mnemonikos'."

"Any specific wand movement?"

"Not at all."

Harry closed his eyes and with his Occlumency in place, pulled the hated memory back. His head hurt just thinking it as he placed his wand to his temple and said the Greek words. He felt a pull on his thoughts and then stared at the shimmering silver mist on his wand tip.

"Very well done, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Now place it in the Pensieve, please."

Harry did as instructed. The memory seemed to swirl about with the heavy water-mist. "What now?"

"Now, we view it." He dipped his old, bearded face into the bowl, and with a shrug Harry did the same.

They emerged in a room so blurry it was impossible to make out anything but the grossest details—the vague shape of a man on a bed; the movement of the woman toward the bed. Words sounded garbled, and individual features were impossible to make out at all.

"Is this what it's supposed to be like?" Harry asked.

"Not at all," Dumbledore said, though he did not sound surprised at all. "It is proof of a higher power, really. I occasionally like to view the memories of visions from confirmed seers because it reaffirms my faith. Come, my boy."

The pulled out of the memory, and with a deft flick of his wand, he pulled the memory from the Pensieve and placed it back in Harry's mind. "What do you mean about faith?" he asked after the unusual, puckering feeling of a returning memory faded.

"It is impossible to duplicate a seer's memory of a vision," Dumbledore said. "Legilimency fails, as does the Pensieve. The Department of Mysteries has speculated with some convincing arguments that it is because of the precious nature of such visions. Glimpses of the future are gifts of the gods, received in pain and often the blood of their chosen receptacles. That makes them sacred and divine, and thus protected. It is only a theory, of course, but one that brings me comfort. As I approach my next great journey, I hesitate to think that I shall simply end. The idea, that there are higher beings makes me believe rather firmly that there is also a higher plane for our magic—that is to say, our soul—to ascend to."

"So what do you think Voldemort is doing?" Harry asked.

"He is seeking a new body, of course," Dumbledore said lightly as he made his way back to his desk. "During your first year, he attempted to use you as a means of destroying the soul of his host, thus allowing him to permanently possess Quirinus's body. Such a complete possession would become over time quite permanent, and Voldemort would thus regain a new body. That attempt failed, and I daresay you will know better than to fall for such a trick again, given how very costly it was."

Harry knew very well that Charity Burbage had been Dumbledore's last living descendent, aside from her being Harry's friend and favourite teacher. "What's the Ministry going to do?" Harry asked.

"The Ministry? Why, nothing. Voldemort is a troublesome spirit, but as far as the Ministry is concerned, that is all. They are not interested in why this spirit lingers, or why it is so very powerful. For them to ask those questions will bring up terrible, painful memories. But it is enough to know Crouch is involved, either directly or somehow through the memory of his son. We'll continue to research, and maybe with time we will determine what he is up to."

"And that's it?"

Dumbledore looked intently at Harry. "What else would you have me do, Mr Potter?"

"Find Crouch and put him in jail!"

"We know exactly where he is: Spread over the North Sea, where his ashes were scattered. And that is why we can't take any direct action. The man you saw, the killer of Ellspeth Hockering, has been dead for fourteen years. Without being able to actually see your vision, there is absolutely nothing I can do."

Harry's shoulders hunched. "Then why did you ask to see me?"

"You're angry," Dumbledore said. "Why?"

"Why?" Harry stared at the man in shock. "I have girls attacking me like I'm a ruddy piece of meat, I had a professor scream at me because I had the gall to ask a wizard to act as my guardian to save the money you and Professor Lupin were going to let get stolen from me, I have to get married to at least two girls who are going to steal my magic and leave me weak, and on top of all of that I've started having bloody painful visions of murderers that you say we can't do anything about. And to just top it all of my bloody relatives admitted they've treated me like shite, that they don't care, and that they want me gone when I turn seventeen…"

Harry didn't mean to say any of that, not really. It just started dribbling out until it became a torrent. All he could finally say was, "It's not fair."

Dumbledore stared at him in silence again, his blue eyes twinkling furiously while his magic boiled. "You are very young, Harry," he finally said with a low, calm tone that was worse, somehow, than shouting. "So I attribute your naiveté to lack of experience. I assure you, if the world were fair, we'd all be dead. We have the power to manipulate the laws of nature in ways the majority of humanity cannot even comprehend. We are given easily twice to three or even four times the years of our Muggle cousins. And we spend our vast power murdering each other like brutish animals, taking whole families away. I know something of fairness, you see, and I assure you as bad as your life may seem, it is far, far better than many will ever know."

The worst part was the headmaster spoke softly, never raising his voice, and yet Harry felt as if he'd just endured a two hour shouting match from Vernon. "You're saying I should just buckle down and take it, then?" Harry said, not quite ready to give up his anger.

"That is entirely up to you, Mr Potter. Others have fought against the way things are, and yet things remain just as they were while those who fought are either no more, or have become a part of what they once fought against. If you choose to fight, be prepared to be utterly crushed. But if you choose to accept your role in this society, you may find some measure of comfort. You make the bonding process sound horrific, and yet it is a very pleasurable experience. Yes, it does weaken a wizard, but since all wizards bond, equality remains. No, your concerns are those of a child. When you are older, and your perspective has been filled by experience and fact, we can talk further about what is fair or not. In the meantime, I thank you for your time this afternoon. I believe you have Muggle Studies next, correct?"

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Off with you, then."

Angry, confused and powerless to do anything about it, Harry turned and left the headmaster's office. Before he reached the door, Dumbledore called after him. "Oh, and Harry?"

Without turning around, Harry said, "Yes, Headmaster."

"Leave Luna Lovegood alone. If you cannot stop stalking her with your father's map, I will be forced to confiscate it. The stigma of her name would do you no favors. Do you understand?"

"Fine," Harry said, so angry he didn't trust himself to say anything else as he pushed the door open and stalked out, When he was gone, Dumbledore lowered his head into his hands with a tired, bitter sigh, while nearby Fawkes crooned gently.

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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading.