Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter or Eragon universes.

Edit 11-03-25: This Chapter was edited by TheDarkRanger1160. This Chapter would not have turned out as well, without your help, thank you!

Any mistakes that remain are my own.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Time flew by, and Harry had grown accustomed to life in Carvahall. At first, the villagers had been very curious but also suspicious of him. But soon, the old women resumed their usual gossip while the men went about their supposed work.

Harry sat at the kitchen table, cutting potatoes, while Brom, seated across from him, was hunched over a drawing of the Palancar Valley.

"If you want to leave the valley, you need to travel south to Therinsford, Harry," Brom said, leaning back.

Harry stood up and examined Brom's map. "What about Ceunon?"

Brom snorted in amusement. "Only a fool would attempt the direct route to Ceunon from here. First, you'd have to cross the Spine, which most people avoid for good reason."

Harry frowned. "Why? What makes the Spine so dangerous?"

"Aside from the wolves and bears just waiting for an inexperienced meal?" Brom asked with a smirk. "Somewhere far in the north, the Urgals have their villages, hidden deep within the Spine, or so it's said. And I'd love to remind you of what happened to Galbatorix's army when they tried to march through the Spine."

Harry sat back down. "I know. He lost almost his entire army. I still don't understand why you drew me this map."

Brom pulled out his pipe. He walked over to the fireplace, where a fire crackled, and held the pipe's opening to it. With his back to Harry, colourful rings of green, red, and blue smoke soon rose into the air.

"I've spent months teaching you what you need to know to survive in this land. You know the history of Alagaësia, and in this short time, you've become a skilled swordsman, Harry. It's time for you to see the world with your own eyes," Brom said, turning to face him.

"Go to the Varden and join them. They need you, Harry. You can make a difference in this war!"

Harry closed his eyes, letting Brom's words echo in his mind. Without warning, vivid memories of battle shattered his thoughts. He was back in the forest, watching the green light hurtling toward him. The stench of blood and death filled his senses. His hand gripped the knife so tightly that his veins stood out, cold sweat forming on his skin as he heard Ron's voice…

"All of this – you brought it here. It's because of you that they died!"

"Harry! Can you hear me?" asked a young woman's voice.

He opened his eyes and saw Katrina standing in front of him. She held his shoulders, concern evident in her eyes. Behind her, Brom watched him with narrowed eyes.

Harry shook his head. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered.

Katrina didn't let go. Her brown eyes radiated warmth. "You're lying."

Harry could almost feel the words burning in his hand. He clenched it into a fist and met Katrina's gaze.

"I don't lie," he said firmly. "I really am fine."

Katrina released him, squinting slightly. "If that's the case, then surely you won't have any trouble getting up and coming to the village, right?"

Harry sighed, exhausted. Since he had arrived in Carvahall, Katrina had made it her mission to make him feel at home in the village. He had tried to isolate himself to find some peace, but Katrina had worn him down until he finally gave in.

Though he would never admit it, he was glad he had. She had become a good friend. If Brom wasn't dragging him out of bed for sword training, Katrina was the reason he got up in the morning.

He didn't feel attracted to her, but something about her warmed him from the inside.

"Why? Did something happen?" Brom asked.

Katrina ignored the old man. "You said you know about medicinal herbs, right, Harry?"

Harry set down the knife, his hand aching from how tightly he had been gripping it.

"Yeah, I had a good teacher who taught me a lot about healing. Why?"

Katrina grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Albriech has a severe leg injury, and Gertrude doesn't know what else to do. Can you help him?"

A faint light returned to Harry's eyes. He reached for his backpack, stuffing in some dittany leaves he had gathered near the stream.

He walked to the door and turned to the others. "What are you waiting for?"

Katrina gave him a wide smile and turned to Brom. "Are you coming too?"

Brom shook his head. "No, I have other matters to attend to, and you won't need an old storyteller anyway. Go on without me."

Katrina led Harry to Horst's house. He had only been here a few times, but the fine details on the window frames showed the years of work that had gone into his home.

Horst's wife, Elain, opened the door for them. Her face was pale, and her hands were trembling. Katrina rushed to her and embraced her.

"Harry, can you do something for Albriech? Gertrude doesn't know what else to do, and if the wound gets infected, he could lose his leg," Elain sobbed.

"I'll do what I can. Where is he?" Harry asked.

"Please, come in. I'll show you the way," Elain said softly.

Harry followed the two of them up the stairs, which were decorated with small dragons. When they reached the top landing, he looked down a long hallway lined with many doors. One of the doors stood open, and loud voices echoed from within. One of them was Horst's.

"I still can't believe how foolish you both were. I didn't forbid you from chopping wood without my supervision for no reason!" Horst growled.

"Dear, your sons have already been punished enough," Elain said as they entered the room. Albriech lay on the bed, while his brother Baldor sat beside him, holding his hand.

"Thank you, Elain," Gertrude said, who was busy boiling scraps of cloth for bandages and to clean the wounds. "Your sons are young and reckless; hopefully, they've learned from this."

Baldor looked up. "We only wanted to help you! Winter is coming soon, and we wanted to prepare enough firewood."

Horst rubbed his chin. "I understand that, but if your brother's leg gets infected-"

"It won't," Harry said firmly. "I'll make sure of it."

Horst narrowed his eyes. "Are you certain? I've known many good men who died from wounds like this."

Albriech whimpered.

"Stop scaring the boy, Horst," Gertrude scolded. "All of you, out. Albriech can't recover with all this noise. Go on!"

"But I want to stay with my brother! It was my idea-" Baldor began, but one look from his mother silenced him.

Together, they stepped outside. Before leaving the room, Horst turned to Harry. "If you need anything-"

Harry nodded. Horst cast one last glance at Albriech before closing the door behind him.

Gertrude sighed. "Well, what's your plan, Harry? I know a bit about herbs, but Albriech has lost a lot of blood."

Harry set down his backpack and looked at Albriech's leg. The cloths were soaked red, and he suspected the wound was quite deep.

"Is there still hot water in the kettle?" Harry asked.

Gertrude nodded.

"Good. Then add some salt to it. In the meantime, I'll prepare the dittany," Harry instructed.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out the dried dittany. Carefully, he stripped the leaves from the plant, placed them on a clean cloth, and folded them inside. Then, he took a jug and dipped it into the kettle, letting some of the salted water drip onto the dried leaves.

"What kind of plant is that?" Gertrude asked.

"It's called dittany. I found it near the river, close to the Spine," Harry replied as he folded the cloth.

"You were in the Spine?" Gertrude asked, eyes wide.

"Yes, but not far," Harry reassured her. "Can you help me change the bandages?"

"You might want to keep that to yourself," Gertrude muttered and removed the cloths from Albriech's leg. The wound underneath was a deep gash just below his knee.

"You're lucky you didn't hit the main artery," Harry murmured, cleaning the wound with saltwater before pressing the cloth with the dittany leaves onto the wound. Thankfully, Albriech temporarily passed out from the pain, so they didn't have Horst breaking down the door in his haste to reach the lad.

Greenish smoke rose into the air, and when it faded, Harry saw that the bleeding had stopped.

"I've never seen a wound heal so quickly," Gertrude whispered. "It's like magic."

Harry grimaced. "He'll still need time to heal properly. But you won't lose your leg."

His words were directed at Albriech, who had opened his eyes again.

"Thank you, Harry. Do you think I'll be able to walk again soon?"

Harry smiled. It felt good to finally do something useful with his own skills.

"I'll talk to your father and tell him to give you a few days to rest. Sleep and fresh air will do you good," Harry said.

He grabbed his backpack and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Horst and Baldor were seated at the table, while Katrina helped Elain prepare tea.

Horst looked up as Harry and Gertrude entered the kitchen. "How is he?"

Gertrude gave a warm smile. "Give him a few days, and he'll recover. I've never seen anything like it, Horst. It was almost like magic."

Horst sat back down, relieved. "Magic, you say, Gertrude?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "It wasn't magic. Dittany is just a unique healing plant, and I was lucky to find it near the Spine."

"The Spine, you say?" Horst murmured. "Well, I don't care where you found it, Harry. I'm just relieved my son is going to be alright."

Harry nodded. "He will be. If that's all, I should be heading home now."

Elain furrowed her brow. "Why?"

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. "I just want to get back in time-"

But Elain was already guiding him to the table. "You're not leaving tonight without a warm meal, Harry."

"But-"

Katrina, still by the fireplace, winked at him, and he just sighed. "Fine. But I want to help."

Elain pursed her lips but eventually nodded. "Alright. You can start by sitting down at the table with us."

The hours passed, and Harry opened the door to his hut with a broad grin - one that quickly faded when he saw Brom sitting at his table.

"Never heard that you shouldn't enter someone else's house uninvited?" Harry asked, annoyed.

Brom shrugged. "How is the boy? Were you able to help him?"

Harry eyed Brom for a moment until a cold gust of wind blew in, and he closed the door behind him.

"Yes, his leg will heal."

Brom raised an eyebrow. "Good. I hope you didn't use magic for that?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. He set down his backpack. "No, I didn't."

Brom sighed in relief. "At least it seems like you're using your head. That's something the Varden can work with when you join them."

Harry pulled out a chair and sat down across from Brom. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Brom raised an eyebrow. "You're going to the Varden, aren't you?"

Harry met Brom's gaze firmly. "I have no intention of joining the Varden. I see no reason to do so."

"You see no reason-? What exactly do you mean, you won't join the Varden?" Brom growled, anger creeping into his voice.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

"I meant exactly what I said," Harry stated through clenched teeth.

Brom narrowed his eyes.

"Harry, I'm no fool. I heard what you said. I want you to explain yourself! You could change everything in this war!" Brom demanded, his voice tense.

Harry turned away from Brom. His eyes were tired, and his heart felt cold. The decision hadn't been easy for him, and he still wasn't sure if it was the right one.

"I'm tired of all of this, Brom," he whispered, rubbing his eyes with both hands.

"Since I was eleven years old, I had to fear for my life and fight. I never had time for myself, to do what I wanted. It was always, 'Don't worry, Harry, we'll manage,' and in the end, I was the one who had to do everything alone. No one ever listened to me."

"That may be true, Harry. But we still have a responsibility to the people of Alagaësia. You could save thousands of lives!" Brom countered, studying Harry with a stern look.

"And I would have to take just as many lives!" Harry shouted back. "I ended up in a land where I don't know anyone, and I don't even know if I'll ever see my friends again. Why should I fight for anyone in Alagaësia? Why should I fight at all?" Harry's chest rose and fell as he gasped for air, shaking his head to calm himself.

"Every night, I have nightmares about what I've been through, about the people who died before my eyes. I've done enough for others. Now, for the first time, I want to think about myself. I am not a soldier, Brom."

A cold wind blew through the hut, and Harry closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the chair in front of him was empty. Brom was gone, and the door to his hut stood wide open.

After the argument, Brom hadn't shown up again. The only visitors Harry received were Katrina, Gertrude, and occasionally Horst.

Horst came by every few weeks to give Harry his broken tools, which Harry could quickly and easily repair with a simple spell - not that Horst knew. No one in Carvahall knew that Harry could use magic, except for Brom, and it was going to stay that way.

To hide his magic from everyone, Harry built a small forge outside his home because of the growing demand from people in the village, asking him to repair their respective items in exchange for a small fee.

Horst's surprised look had been quite something to see. He admitted to Harry that he had only given him a few spare tools to tinker with, never expecting him to actually fix them.

But that wasn't all that occupied Harry's time. He had decided to start a small garden and had dug up the dittany, moving it closer to his home. Although he didn't like herbology as much as Neville, he had spent several years tending the Dursleys' front yard, which gave him enough experience to cultivate the plants.

This also led to occasional visits from Gertrude, who was quite knowledgeable about plants herself. Harry told her about the properties of the herb, and together they developed a dittany-based paste.

A few of the villagers were concerned. Much wanted nothing to do with what they called the magic plant. They had heard of Albriech's miraculous healing and were deeply suspicious of it.

"That's like magic! It will only bring misfortune!"

"He will doom our village!"

But even the opponents of dittany eventually disappeared, as they all experienced the plant's benefits firsthand.

From then on, Harry finally found a sense of purpose in his life.

He was no longer the freak at the Dursleys' or the Boy Who Lived.

He was Harry, an ordinary villager in Carvahall, knowledgeable in healing practices, helping others with illnesses and injuries, and occasionally repairing tools.

While Harry held himself back from the King's affairs, he kept picking up information from the merchants or the few people that were passing through the village. With each passing year, it seemed that the situation in the kingdom was getting worse and worse.

Despite the whispers and rumours that were involving the Varden, Harry distanced himself from them.

Even when he heard that small groups of Urgals appeared near the Spine that had attacked the traders more frequently in recent years, he thought nothing of it. None of the creatures had dared approach Carvahall before, and he doubted that they ever would.

Then, in the first winter, the first merchants arrived, and Harry was able to earn a few crowns through the trade with dittany. He couldn't help but grin at the thought that this was probably why the Sorting Hat had considered placing him in Slytherin. After all, he was profiting from the injuries the merchants had sustained on their travels.

All it took was a presentation and the merchants were quickly won over by the am. Harry was careful not to oversell, though, and the merchants had to swear to never mention his name or Carvahall when they were discussing the Diptam.

It was one of the reasons why Harry no longer harboured guilt about receiving the hut as a gift. He had made amends promptly and settled his debt over time, that and the fact that the hut was a wreck to begin with and that he had to fix it himself, it was free however, and they were gracious enough to let him stay.

With the crowns, he was able to buy himself a magnificent black horse with brown eyes, which he named Ares, after the Greek god of war and courage.

Harry wanted to start exploring the neighbouring towns with Ares in the coming spring. So far, he had only been able to experience Carvahall and finally wanted to make sure that the stories Brom told him about Alagaёsia were truthful and not biased in his hatred of the king.

Harry could have travelled sooner, but he had gotten so used to life in Carvahall that he did not feel like leaving for the time.

Another reason was also Katrina.

Katrina was the only one in the village Harry would say he was good friends with.

That didn't quite get the point.

Within the three years, the new acquaintance grew into a very close friendship that Harry cherished more than anything.

Despite not discussing his past with her due to her intuition about something being amiss, Harry felt comfortable enough to confide in her about other things, even things he hadn't shared with Ron or Hermione.

He didn't always tell the truth, but from a certain point of view, the gist of the statement was always true.

Three years later

"Harry?" Katrina called out.

"Here!" Harry groaned and buried his face in the pillow.

Harry heard footsteps, followed by a deep sigh.

"Still in bed?" Katrina frowned when she pulled the covers away from him, ignoring his shouts of protest, exposing his skin to the cold air.

"Did you have to do that?" Harry grumbled and covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a yawn that was escaping.

Katrina stared at him for a few moments until she stepped forward and ran a hand through his hair.

Katrina frowned and replied, "You've been up again for so long? Even my father, who does nothing but work, doesn't work half as much as you do."

"Not work, no," Harry answered with a frown of his own.

When he couldn't sleep, he spent his time trying out new runes. Last night's results nearly burned his shack to the ground.

Harry reached up and gave Katrina a hug.

"You need a bath, Harry. You stink," she scolded him, and wrinkled her nose.

Harry leaned back from her with a bright grin and started heating the stove.

"Tea?" Harry asked with a smile as he watched Katrina nod eagerly.

"Gladly! Your drink is the best in all of Carvahall," Katrina replied and returned his smile.

Harry snorted amused. "Don't say that around Quimby. He's still bothering me because I don't tell him how to make the tea, among other things."

They chuckled and waited for the water to boil. Harry grabbed a couple of mugs from the cupboard and filled them up.

"Careful, it's still hot," Harry told her as he handed her the mug.

"Thank you, Harry," Katrina said as she blew carefully over the tea and took a slow sip.

"Ah, your tea is always special, Harry," Katrina sighed contentedly, and leaned back in her chair.

Harry took a sip as well and asked, "So why are you here exactly?"

"Not that I don't like your presence, but you did tell me yesterday that you wouldn't be coming today."

Harry watched in amusement as Katrina fidgeted in her chair and looked at him sheepishly.

"I didn't know who to talk to about this," Katrina started. Harry deftly arched an eyebrow.

"I could never go to my father with this... Horst would be an option, but I just wouldn't feel comfortable speaking with him," Katrina murmured.

"Katrina-" Harry began but was immediately cut off again.

"And Gertrude is like a dear aunt to me, but-"

"Katrina! Stop rambling." Harry exclaimed with an amused expression.

Katrina looked up from her lap and blushed.

"Sorry," Katrina murmured, immediately looking down at her lap again.

Harry got up from his seat and knelt down in front of her.

"You can tell me anything. I hope you do know that" Harry whispered and looked up into her eyes.

"Yes, I know that. Thank you, Harry," Katrina sniffed, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

"Shall we go visit Ares? You haven't seen him in a long time, and I'm sure he missed you already."

Her eyes lit up. "Fine," she agreed with a smile.

Harry got up and dragged Katrina to his self-made stable, where Ares was waiting for them.

He gave her a few minutes with Ares, who was very excited to finally see her again.

"Good boy," Katrina praised as Ares ate an apple from her hand.

"You spoil him way too much," Harry remarked with an amused frown.

Katrina shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't seen him in a while. Are you still planning to ride to Yazuac?" Katrina asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from the tense topic they had discussed earlier.

Harry quickly picked up on Katrina's attempt to change the subject. He knew her too well for that.

He rolled his eyes and said, "Perhaps, but let's not change the topic. What's bothering you? Did Roran end things with you? If so, I'll make sure to break his legs," Harry vowed.

Katrina took a deep breath and answered in a whisper.

"Roran is moving to Therinsford soon to work at the mill to make money," Katrina explained in a soft voice.

"Money? What for?" Harry asked with a confused look.

Harry was one of the few who knew that the two were a couple.

He had found it amusing when Roran had stood before him nervously, questioning Harry's intentions with Katrina. It had become common knowledge in Carvahall that Harry regarded Katrina as a younger sister.

'Even for Sloan the miserable git,' Harry thought with a wry smile. There was no love lost between Harry and Sloan.

When Katrina heard his question, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Anyone who knew Harry long enough knew that he was far too slow-witted with women.

"I really fear for the person who ends up with you, Harry," Katrina replied slowly. "He needs the money to marry me, you idiot."

Harry's eyes grew wide. "Oh."

After a moment of silence, Harry asked. "And Sloan? Does your father know about this?"

Harry doubted that anyone would be permitted to marry Katrina, given Sloan's protectiveness over her. He was sure, if Sloan had his way, he would lock Katrina away forever, so no man would have a chance to ask for her hand.

Never mind someone like Roran, a poor farmer who lived near the spine.

"No, my father doesn't know," Katrina admitted while she slowly combed Ares's mane.

"Harry, he will never give Roran his blessing," Katrina sniffed after another moment. Tears began to form and slowly ran down her cheeks.

Harry embraced her from the side, and she leaned into him.

"No matter what you do or whatever decision you make, I'll always be there for you," he promised her. "And if Sloan refuses to give you a dowry, don't worry about it."

Harry knew from several conversations with Gertrude that the older women in Carvahall placed great value on their tradition.

He gently wiped the tears from her face as she looked up at him with a questioning gaze.

"I inherited enough jewellery and gold from my parents that any princess would be jealous of you," Harry explained in a confident voice.

"B-But Harry, you can't d-do that for me," Katrina cried and Harry gave her a grin that he knew Sirius and his father would have been proud of.

"Katrina, when I came to Carvahall, I met a shy young girl." Harry looked her straight in the eyes and brushed a tear from her eye with his finger.

"That girl is 16 today, and she's growing up to be a beautiful woman." Katrina's face turned red.

"You know how I was in the beginning. I wouldn't be who I have become today without your friendship," Harry continued.

"You've become like a little sister to me. A sister I never had," Harry confessed, and Katrina threw her arms around him.

"Thanks, Harry," Katrina sniffled and sighed as Harry held her tight. "You're like a big brother to me too. Even if Father doesn't like you. And your hugs are really good now."

She gave him a bright smile and the two of them couldn't help but laugh.

After a few moments, both had calmed down and only heard Ares's snorting.

Katrina rubbed her tired eyes and brushed her copper-coloured hair away from her face.

"Oh, Harry? I met someone before I came here," Katrina said with a malicious grin.

"Really? And who?" Harry questioned her, his eyes narrowing.

"Odele."

Harry groaned and Katrina laughed.

It was no secret that Odele took an interest in Harry. Although Odele is a lovely young woman, Harry just wasn't interested in her. They were too different.

"She was asking about you," Katrina grinned. She knew very well that Harry wasn't interested, but it was always a good subject to tease him with.

"And what did you say?" he asked in a dry voice.

"That you are not interested in her," she answered truthfully. "Even though you are a danger to any single woman with your bright green eyes and aristocratic face. Her words." Katrina added with a laugh when Harry buried his face in his hands.

"As long as she doesn't spread the word, I don't care," Harry said with a determined look that quickly disappeared when he saw Katrina's grin.

"Believe me, she's not the only one who has a crush on you. Some of the elderly women would love to have a chance with you."

Harry frowned at her.

"I take everything back. I hate you sometimes."

Katrina jokingly shoved him aside as they walked back to Harry's hut.

Harry went to his closet where he kept the Diptam containers and took out some.

"Can you take this for Gertrude?"

Katrina nodded and gave Harry a lasting hug.

Harry looked into her warm brown eyes and said, "Everything will turn out alright. Trust me."

"Thank you," she whispered when he let go.

Harry gave her another squeeze and Katrina was about to leave when she remembered something.

"I almost forgot. I'm supposed to tell you from Horst that the traders will probably arrive tomorrow."

She turned around again and wrinkled her nose. "And don't you dare forget the bath!"

Harry laughed and watched for several minutes as Katrina made her way to the village and finally disappeared over the hill when he suddenly felt his magic react to something.

Harry had been able to use his magic to sense his surroundings for some time, something that was very helpful when he started learning silent spells.

Madame Pomfrey eventually theorized that Harry's magic became so good at protecting him, when as a child his body needed much of his magic to heal from the injuries he had received from the Dursleys.

This was also one of the reasons why he was much less likely to accidentally use magic as a child, such incidents as dyeing his teacher's hair blue or appearing on the school roof were rare.

While other wizard children would have an incident of magic whenever they felt angered or sad.

Harry followed his magic outside, just behind his hut. There he saw a small white light appear on the ground, growing in size over time.

Small lightning came from the white light and burned the frozen meadow if the lights came in contact with it.

The light buzzed with energy, growing until it reached Harry's waist, and then it stopped, as if waiting for something to happen. He was about to take a step back when there was a loud crack, and his vision was filled with bright, blinding light.

He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes to get the white flecks out of his sight. The air literally vibrated with magic.

The scent of burnt grass lingered in the air, and a patch of scorched ground several square meters in size surrounded the area. The snow nearby had melted away, and at the centre of it all rested a sizeable, oval-shaped, white stone.

Harry had only one thought in mind.

"What in Merlin's slippery underpants was that?!"

Harry still couldn't believe what had just happened.

He did not dare to move from where he stood.

Somehow, that rock just appeared out of nowhere from behind his hut. That usually didn't bode well for Harry.

Not a good sign at all.

He took a cautious step forward, bending down slightly and slowly reaching out with his hand to touch the stone.

The stone was pleasantly warm, which was not surprising, given the burnt meadow.

Harry sat cross-legged on the ground and held the stone in his hands, placing it on his lap. The stone was smooth as ice and was white as snow except for fine ice-blue fibres crisscrossing the surface like a spider's web.

The extraordinary thing was that he could feel the stone literally radiate magic.

Harry studied the stone for a long time, and after several minutes of silence, he suddenly noticed movement from the stone, accompanied by a loud squeak.

Startled, Harry dropped the rock from his lap and pulled his wand from his wand holster.

With another squeak, the stone began to rock back and forth, and a familiar scene unfolded before Harry's eyes.

A feeling of nostalgia washed over Harry, as it reminded him of his first year at Hogwarts, when he had visited Hagrid and witnessed the hatching of a dragon egg.

And Harry would bet everything he owned that there was a dragon egg in front of him.

Harry frowned as he remembered something Hagrid had told him about dragons.

In an explanation that lasted several hours, Hagrid had explained to him in detail which conditions had to be met for a dragon egg to hatch at all.

One of those requirements was that the dragon egg had to be exposed to extreme heat.

Harry looked around but saw nothing but snow. He was quite sure that didn't apply here.

However, Harry was interrupted from his thoughts when the egg started to rock back and forth even more. He cautiously took a step back because dragons were after all dangerous creatures.

He snorted, when he vaguely remembered Norberta setting Hagrid's beard on fire just after the dragon hatched.

The egg stopped rocking, and Harry held his breath.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Creak.

Suddenly there was a small crack in the stone. Then one more. And another one.

Harry watched in suspense as a piece of the shell wobbled and finally fell to the ground. After another loud squeak, a small head popped out of the hole, followed by a slim body.

Harry could hardly believe it. He had his suspicions, of course, but actually seeing it was something else entirely.

A real dragon hatched from the egg!

Harry watched in amusement as the young dragon moved further out of the egg and began cleaning itself, barely noticing Harry's presence. But as the little creature looked up at him with a curious expression, Harry's heart melted.

The dragon was beautiful in Harry's eyes.

It was no larger than Harry's forearm and was the same colour as the egg. A pure white that reminded Harry of the marble used for Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank.

A line of small spikes ran down the spine from the head to the tip of the tail. In between, there was a slightly larger, hollow-like gap in the neck.

Harry moved cautiously and slowly towards the hatchling.

The dragon noticed the movement, and instantly the dragon's head whipped around and over to look at him. The dragon looked up at Harry with bright ice blue eyes, and Harry stared back, his own emerald-green eyes widening in amazement.

However, before Harry could do anything else, the dragon lost its interest in him and clumsily walked into his shack and started to explore the surrounding area.

"This is amazing," Harry whispered, clearly amused as he followed the dragon inside.

The dragon began to sniff around the room, inspecting Harry's sparse collection of furniture. It then started to scratch at the legs of the table with its small claws but quickly lost interest and moved on to explore other parts of the room.

After a vigorous flap of its wings, the dragon hopped onto Harry's bed and crawled onto his pillow, emitting a small squeak. It sniffed around the pillow as if searching for something until its eyes lit up, and it settled down comfortably.

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and watched in amusement as the dragon carefully nibbled at his sleeve and sniffed at the hand he carefully held out.

He cautiously reached out and touched the dragon's snout.

The moment his finger touched the dragon, he felt a burst of energy shoot through his hand, up his arm, and it felt like liquid fire coursing through his veins.

Harry fell off the bed and barely suppressed a scream. He felt his magic spiral out of control and run through his body.

After what felt like hours, the pain slowly subsided, leaving Harry on the floor, panting and sweating.

Harry opened his eyes and felt a strange weight on his chest. He lifted his head off the ground and looked straight into the dragon's blue eyes.

"Y-You did that?" Harry asked, while he still gasped for air.

Not a second later, he felt something brush against his consciousness. He could sense emotions like curiosity, confusion, and concern.

It didn't feel like someone was using Legilimency on him.

Legilimency was very direct and blunt, which in most cases meant that if the mind's defences were completely breached, only a broken mind would be left behind.

But the dragon felt warm and whole in comparison, with the curiosity of a newborn.

Harry was about to pull away from the bond when he saw a mental image of himself writhing on the floor. It was an odd feeling, seeing himself from the dragon's perspective.

He stretched his mind to the very edges of his consciousness, but this time he felt as if an invisible wall had peeled away from him, and Harry sensed the dragon's consciousness and its endless curiosity.

Harry sat up slowly, the dragon slid from his chest into his lap with a squeak and looked up at him with those wide blue innocent eyes.

"You are way too cute, looking like that," he said.

He hesitantly reached out with his hand again and was relieved that nothing happened.

The dragon rested its small, slender head against his hand, and Harry stroked the side of its jaw.

While the dragon enjoyed the stroking, Harry thought of what he needed to do.

He remembered the tales Brom had told him.

During his time at Carvahall, Harry had managed to snag books from the merchants that contained little information about Dragon Riders.

And if Harry wasn't mistaken, he had just become the focus of the local big, bad, dark lord, the Black King and his empire. Again. Joy.

Something he definitely did not want.

"Bugger me," Harry muttered as he watched the dragon close its eyes.