Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Harry Potter or The Last Dragon Chronicles (aka, The Fire Within Series). They belong to JK Rowling and Chris D'Lacey respectively.

Stuff: Well, I've only come across one other crossover of its kind—Of Wizards and Dragons by Crazy ASN (btw, if you're reading this, your profile pic is creepy). It was really good—you all should read it. If you don't know anything about The Last Dragon Chronicles, that one has an overview of the main stuff at the beginning. For those of you who don't know, Lucy has a kind of thing for squirrels (keep your mind far away from the gutter on that one). I've decided to make a story containing these two amazing series'. It's kinda been on my mind since I randomly realized that Lily and the Pennykettles are so similar (no, literally, randomly. I was just listening to music, not even reading either of the series). Not HP/LP. Oh yeah, for those of you who have read The Last Dragon Chronicles, since this is obviously before Fire Eternal and the events at the end of Fire Star, should David be in this? I could introduce him during the Christmas holidays (yeah, I know about the Ball and stuff), but should I?

Review: Please? I'll be good!


The Mark of Oomara

Lucy Pennykettle sat apprehensively in the stands, red and gold scarf wrapped firmly around her neck, watching in mingled awe and anger as the creatures of her dreams were released in chains. They were beautiful, and it seemed like such a crime to keep them locked up—not that she didn't understand why. They were different than her draconian ancestor—more barbaric, and as far as she knew, completely unable to communicate with humans. They would attack the crowd within seconds of being let loose, but that didn't mean that Lucy had to appreciate the reason they were there in the first place.

It was Lucy's first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was also the first time in over two hundred years that the Triwizard Tournament was taking place. The tournament had been outlawed in 1792, having been deemed too dangerous for students to compete. Now, for a reason Lucy only wished she knew, it was being revived.

The tournament was a competition between the three most prominent magical schools in Europe—Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and, of course, Hogwarts. A champion was chosen from each school to compete in three very dangerous tasks. The prize— the title of "Triwizard Champion" and a thousand galleons to the champion and bragging rights to the school. Lucy didn't really understand why anyone would want to risk their neck just for money and fame, and so was supporting the only champion she saw as sane—Harry Potter.

She had been drawn to the older boy ever since she had first laid eyes on him. He was a fourth year, famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Voldemort (another thing Lucy didn't understand was why everyone was afraid to say his name—it wasn't like a name could hurt you) and well-liked—or so she had thought. The moment his name had come out of the Goblet, three-fourths (or rather two; the Slytherins hated him on principle) had turned against him. The Gryffindors hadn't, as a whole at least, but neither did they believe him when he vehemently announced to the entire common room that he hadn't entered. They were simply ecstatic that one of their own was in the tournament.

But is wasn't his fame or charisma that led Lucy to believe that he was telling the truth—no, it was his eyes. The eyes that were too old for a fourteen-year-olds face, eyes that held shadows and secrets—eyes that were the exact same shade as her and her mother's. Harry wasn't a normal fourteen-year-old, by any means—but neither was she a normal eleven-year-old. A cannon went off.

She had heard rumors of Harry's escapades during his first, second, and third years, and wasn't quite sure which to believe. Of course, she had befriended him—he was in desperate need of someone who believed him and didn't care if it was a first year—but she didn't want to upset him by asking. She mentally flinched as Cedric caught fire—even if he had entered the tournament of his own free will, he was nice.

Harry really had been desperate for a friend, even one who was three years younger than him. Ron Weasley had turned against him due to jealousy—apparently he was going to apologize after the task was over, and if she was there she wouldn't be responsible for her actions—and while Hermione believed him, she spent more time with Ronald than she did with Harry, trying to convince the redhead to apologize. Though her heart was in the right place, she really didn't see that Harry needed her more than Ronald did at the moment. So Lucy had drawn the black-haired boy into a conversation at the lakeside one afternoon when he was alone, asking about Hogwarts and explaining that she had grown up in the muggle world. She found to her surprise that he had as well, going to live with his aunt and uncle after his parents were killed by "He-Who-Must-Be-Hyphenated", as Harry had called him. It seemed that she wasn't alone in her disbelief of the wizarding world's faintheartedness. Oh, flaming skirt, that had to hurt.

She had consciously had to restrain herself from asking about his mother's appearance. Did she have red hair? Lucy really wanted to know. She knew the chances were slim, but if she was a daughter of Guinevere…well, Harry would be even more special than everyone thought.

Though they had not known each other for very long, Lucy and Harry had gotten rather close. She secretly regarded him as something of an older brother. Especially after he had rescued her from those Slytherins a couple of weeks previously. Malfoy looked rather nice with red hair that had little gold lions running all over it. Even better was that he hadn't been able to get rid of it all day and none of the teachers believed it was Harry. Not even Snape, as it was such a difficult bit of magic to perform. Ah, how many points was Krum going to lose for smashing half of the eggs? They really should have some protections around those—what did the dragons ever do to them?

Great Gawain, now it was Harry's turn. Lucy unconsciously leaned forward, biting her lip in anxiety. That dragon looked pretty nasty. Why wasn't Harry doing anything? He was just dodging and hiding! Oh, good, now he had his broom—Lucy had never seen him fly before. He was incredible, but really—trying to beat a dragon in the air? She had done it a little in her flying class, but nothing too spectacular. Ouch! Dragon's tail to the shoulder, that couldn't be good. And—he had the egg!

Lucy was screaming in her seat, though vaguely annoyed with everyone else—so now they were cheering for Harry, after they had shunned and ignored him. She rushed down to meet him, making it to the arena before Ron and Hermione. She saw McGonagall compliment him and beamed; he really had done well. She hugged him and followed him into the medical tent.

"You're insane, you know? Trying to out fly a dragon?" she let loose as Madam Pomfrey healed his arm. He grinned.

"It worked, didn't it?" Pomfrey rolled her eyes.

"Only you, Potter, only you," she muttered. "Now," she continued briskly, "I want you to stay put. You can go get your score in a moment." With that, she left.

"What's up?" Harry asked after a moment of watching Lucy shoot glances toward the entrance. "Looking for squirrels?" Lucy stuck her tongue out at him.

"No. Ronald was planning on apologizing after the task. I'm just waiting to see if he's gonna stick with it," she said haughtily, trying not to grin at his mention of squirrels. Harry sighed.

"Luce, I know that you don't like what he's been doing, but he's been my best mate since we were eleven—" he started.

"I know," she moaned. "But he's been such a—"

"Git," Harry supplied. She nodded and he sighed again. "I know. Look, how about this—I'll give him another chance, and if he does something seriously bad again, it'll be over." Lucy brightened a bit.

"Okay," she agreed. Harry suddenly remembered something. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out the figurine of the dragon that he had gotten from the draw.

"This is how they decided which dragon we'd be fighting," he told Lucy as she exclaimed over it. "We drew them out of a bag, and they had little numbers around their necks to signify the order. Mine's the Hungarian Horntail. I thought you might like it, seeing how much you like dragons." Lucy's face looked like it might split from how wide she was smiling.

"Thanks!" she flung herself on him in another hug, which he laughingly returned after stiffening for a split second. He wasn't overly comfortable with physical contact, but he could make exceptions.

"Er—" a voice interrupted them. Ron and Hermione were standing in the doorway.

"Harry! You did brilliantly!" yelped Hermione, still a bit pale from watching the task. But Harry stared straight past her, looking into Ron's eyes.

"Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet—I—reckon they're trying to do you in!"

Lucy stiffened. She couldn't believe that, after avoiding Harry ever since his name had come out of the goblet, Ron was suddenly back to being his "best mate".

"Caught on, have you?" Harry said coldly. "Took you long enough."

"Look, mate—" Ron began.

"No, really, I—" Harry started at the same time. Lucy poked his ribs and glared at Ron.

"No Harry," she said coolly, "I would like to hear his apology." Ron gulped at being faced with the vindictive eleven-year-old and turned back to Harry.

"I'm sorry!" he burst out. "I was a jealous git who couldn't get over himself! I shouldn't have said all of those things. I wasn't much of a friend." He hung his head. Lucy stared for a moment before nodding her approval. Harry rolled his eyes at her and walked over to lay a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"It's all over, mate. Just don't do it again," he threatened, grinning as he caught Ron's eye. Hermione stomped her foot.

"Merlin, you two are so stupid!" she yelled. The boys exchanged glances.

"But you love us anyway!" they chorused. Lucy giggled as Hermione closed her eyes exasperatedly.

"Now c'mon, let's get your score!" Ron yelled, leading the way out of the medical tent, jabbering about the other's tactics the whole way to the arena.

The dragon handlers were still having trouble with the Horntail when they arrived. Harry was both pleased and a bit surprised to find that he was now tied for first place with Viktor Krum of Durmstrang. McGonagall rushed over to them.

"Potter, the champions need to stay after for some instruction on the second task," she said briskly. "Bagman will be waiting for you in the champion's tent. And again, congratulations on your accomplishment." She gave him a rare smile that turned alarmed at Lucy's scream.

"Harry, look out!" Harry turned just in time to see the dragon limbs flailing around before a claw caught him across the chest. He flew back a good ten feet before hitting the arena wall and crumpling to the ground, unconscious. McGonagall rushed over to him as the handlers got the Horntail back under control.

"Weasley, go fetch Madam Pomfrey! Now!" she snapped authoritatively and Ron sprang into action. Lucy stared in horror as blood gushed from the wounds, wounds that were shaped in a design that Lucy had only ever heard about in the legends that her mother told her.

Right over Harry's heart was the Mark of Oomara.

Guess What! I'm a line!

A/N: So, let's assume that Lucy had at least some knowledge of the Mark of Oomara before the whole thing with David's publisher, and that the only reason she didn't recognize it then is because she thought it was an ink smudge. Personally, I think that it would be more noticeable if your friend was just attacked by a dragon and had blood pouring from the newly-formed Mark. For those of you who don't know—some history. Short version. The sybil Gwilanna made a hunter kill a young polar bear. When he struck the cub over the head, this mark appeared. In the time period of the series, Gwilanna marked Zanna (who is David's girlfriend during a large part of the series) with it on the arm (Zanna is also a sybil, though not as powerful due to her lack of proper training). It is generally a sign of great magic (i.e. when Zanna uses it on the reporter Tam Farrell, he loses all memories to do with Zanna and the Pennykettles). Sorry if this is vague and partially incorrect, but it is getting rather late, I am tired, and I haven't read the books in a while. Anyone who has a better explanation, please leave it in a review and I will post it on a later chapter. Anonymous reviews ARE enabled. Thanks.