A oneshot where Harry's youth and misery is obvious to even the dragon.

You smelled like the Red One, but different, like you were around the Red One's kin. Your misery poured off of you in waves, almost obscuring your true scent, together with sorrow and anger. Your people screamed and hurt my ears.

What were you, little one? You were not the dragon-humans that fed us, loved us, pained us. You were not food. You were not quite human, either. You smelled like one of the Great Cousins.

You stood there. You were not muscled like the one before, or tricky like the one before him, or strong like the female. You were small, sickly.

A hatchling, of course. Why else would you be so miserable?

Are you lost, Little One?

Your faces are more mobile than ours, but we react more with our bodies. Had you been a true dragon, your tail would have thumped the ground. Your scent smelled overwhelmingly of shock.

You speak?

The stick you had previously clutched like a lifeline dropped to the ground. Why you clutched it so, I did not know. Why would you hold something so fragile so dear?

Of course I speak, Little One. Are you lost?

You grunted a bit, your mouth flapping like the edge of a wing-cloth. Your people were silent now. Was that all it took for them to shut up? To croon at them? Truly, these humans are simple.

No. No, I was sent out here.

My tail twitched. Spines shivered and clattered against each other.

What parent would send their hatchling into another's nest? Your humans make no sense.

Well… You looked hesitant, as if you were about to be scolded. Your eyes, large behind your funny pieces, flickered to a certain part of the stands. My parents aren't here. They died a long time ago.


Hermione, previously on the verge of bursting into tears from fright for her friend, was teetering on the edge of laughter. The audience as a whole seemed stunned, but Hermione knew her friend well, sometimes even better than Ron. She could read him, and while he seemed to be uncomfortable, he wasn't scared, per se.

No, he looked like he was facing down Molly Weasley in a particularly motherly mode.

Something that was further backed up as the dragon was practically on her belly, crouched and creeping towards Harry like a cat that had no idea what the thing was but was determined to investigate it. Harry said something—she could see his lips move—and the dragon inhaled deeply, and the audience gasped with it.

She let out a minor, hysterical giggle that sounded more like a hyena than a teehee.

But no, the worst the dragon did was make Harry have to readjust his clothes and fight to keep his loose shirt on from the sudden vacuum. The dragon crooned, and Harry's half-bewildered, half—flattered?—face flashed before the dragon whipped her tail around and slammed into the back of Harry's legs and carried him into her nest before crouching over it protectively. There was a startled yell from Harry, a scream from some Ravenclaw, and a thump as Fred fainted. A torrent of cursing and half-hissing, half-growling came from the nest—now she could hear it clearly as Harry yelled at the dragon—and the dragon looked down, and seeing Harry climbing out of the nest with an irritated look on his face, gently picked him up by the back of his shirt with one massive claw and plopped him back in it.

At the edge of the stadium, the dragon handlers looked dumbfounded. So did everyone else, for that matter.

The hissing faded away with a croon from the mother dragon, and all she could see was the back of Harry's head, but it was clear that he was exasperated, waving his arms around from inside the massive nest as he talked. She was certain it was one of his patented, "No really, I'm fine!"s, or a variation thereof.

The dragon flicked an ear, but otherwise seemed to be ignoring him. Then Harry said something that made her look down again, and Harry seemed to be pacing and gesturing some more, and then the dragon looked up again—straight at her and the Weasley family surrounding her.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, and Mrs. Weasley almost joined her son in unconsciousness. All the freckles were stark against white skin as every person in the vicinity paled with the force of the dragon's stare.

There was a whooshing growl, and then a rumble that sounded almost more like a purr of a housecat.


You were confusing.

Your family, but not your parents?

All you did was nod.

And the Bushy One, she protects you?

As much as she is able. As much as they are all able to.

Something rumbled and crashed. Your eyes flickered back and forth from me to your family.

You get into trouble?

The cheeky grin you gave me was all the answer I needed. I shook my head. Go. If you need me, I will be there. My thanks for taking the imposter. And I bopped you with my snout.

You stumbled back, clutching the imposter, grinning widely. You were adorable. And tiny. And fragile. I wondered what kind of trouble you got into, and the magnitude of it, and how you got out of it. And then I remembered that smile, and of course you grinned your way out.

Go, Little One, or I might keep you for myself!

You laughed as you ran, misery dispersed like fog against the sun.

I rumbled contentedly to myself.

A little bit odder than my usual Harry Potter things, but it was fun to do. I've not yet written in first or second person seriously, and it was an interesting exercise. I'll probably have to come back to this later, like the adventures of the mysterious, motherly dragon and the Little One. XD

Let me know what you think, please!