This story is dedicated to Bernie, coz I promised I would dedicate it to her... no real reason...
The first week of the summer holidays found Harry James Potter trudging through the tall unkempt grass of the fields on the outskirts of Little Whinging, and the evening air was hot and stuffy. Since the moment he had returned to Privet Drive, Harry's mind was filled with the memories of what had occurred in the graveyard. Cedric dying, Voldemort returning, Harry felt like he had the right to be depressed. He had taken to escaping from the house, and walking to this last place of peace. It was always quiet, and what with the heat wave, most of the people in the area were taking shelter indoors. He reached the centre of the grassy wasteland, and dropped unceremoniously to the ground, flopping onto his back. He closed his eyes, and just lay there, trying to clear his mind. He knew he shouldn't be wandering away from the 'safety' of the house, but he didn't enjoy being cooped up with the Dursleys.
He hadn't told them about what had happened, and they were ignoring him, unless he had to do work. Away from Hogwarts, Harry was beginning to lose the will to continue to go on. People were dying, and Voldemort was back, and Harry was only fourteen! Well, fifteen in two months, but he was too young to have suffered so much misfortune. He lay on the ground, wallowing in self pity, until he heard a noise.
He sat bolt upright, and searched the area around him frantically. Not another attack, not now. He jumped to his feet, pulled out his wand and whirled around, searching his surroundings for a threat. After a minute with no movement, Harry frowned in confusion. He could have sworn he heard his name...
With his peace interrupted, Harry decided to head home. It was getting dark by now, and Dudley and his gang would soon begin their search for someone to beat up. Harry would rather it wasn't him. He put his wand back in his pocket, and began to head home.
Out came the wand again. He knew he hadn't been imagining things. He pointed his wand at the growing darkness. "Who's there! Show yourself, coward!" He readied himself for battle, lowering himself into a crouch, ready to jump out of the way of any spells.
There! The sound was definitely coming from the south. Being the Gryffindor he was, he ran in the direction of the danger. As he ran, he searched the area in front of him, constantly scanning.
Harry dropped to his knees, clutching his head in pain. It felt like the voice was ricocheting around in his skull. He fell forward, and his head came into contact with a hard rock. The voice stopped. Grumbling, Harry opened his eyes, rubbing his head, on of which he could feel a bruise forming. Upon seeing what it was he had hit his head of off, Harry yelped, and scrambled backwards, pointing his wand.
Before him, in a circle of blackened and burned grass, was a beautiful green stone. After a minute of pointing his wand at the stone, and it doing nothing, Harry sheepishly lowered his wand. Slowly, he edged towards the stone, fascinated by how the fading light glittered and danced across its emerald surface. Gingerly, he reached out and laid his hand on the smooth tone. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, he felt a tendril of magic leave his palm, and probe the stone. It felt strange, but not unlike the feeling of channelling his magic through his wand. Almost immediately after his magic touched the stone, it shook, and began to crack. Harry jerked his hand away, and sat transfixed as he watched the stone- no, the egg, begin to hatch.
It rocked back and forth, cracks appearing all over its surface, and then, a little green head poked its head out of a hole, experimentally. Harry sat very still, his mind going back to the last creature he had seen hatch from an egg such as this. Norbert, Hagrid's dragon. Harry's eyes widened with shock. A dragon? In Little Whinging? It really was just Harry's luck.
The little green creature continued to struggle out of the egg. Eventually, it had escaped, and Harry gaped in shock at the sight of the small green creature before him. It yawned widely, tiny pearly white fangs glistening in the light, and it shook of the membrane that covered it, the remnants of its time in the egg. Once the membrane was off, it unfurled its small wings. Harry gasped in surprise, and the little creatures head darted in his direction. Their eyes locked. Harry held up a hand, "Nice dragon..."
The dragon cocked its head to the side, and took an unsteady step in Harry's direction, before toppling over, as it had forgotten to close its wings. It mewed, and Harry chuckled, reaching out automatically to help it up. The moment his hand came close enough to the dragon, its head darted out, and gently bumped into Harry's hand, and immediately, he was filled with unimaginable pain. Harry lost consciousness.
When he came to, it was fully dark, he was lying on his back, and there was a burning sensation coming from his hand. He lifted his hand into view, and saw a strange silvery design on it. He tried to sit up, but a warm heavy weight on his chest prevented him from doing so. He looked down, and found himself face to face with the little hatchling. Harry held very still, and simply stared. The little dragon began to make a low humming noise, and rubbed its head against Harry's face. Along with this movement, Harry felt something brush against his mind. Strangely, it didn't feel wrong. In fact, Harry felt as if there had been something missing his entire life, and he was now finally complete. He smiled at the little dragon before him.
"Hello," he said softly, "Where did you come from?" The dragon made a little mewing sound again, and crawled forward on his chest so it could sniff his hair. Harry sat up gently, cradling his dragon in his arms so it wouldn't fall. The hatchling cuddled into his arms, burrowing into his shirt, and curled up. He gazed at it in fascination as it began to snore.
He simply sat, gazing at his new companion with wonder and awe. Without a doubt, he knew he loved this creature more than anything, and that he would not allow anything to harm it. He stroked its emerald green scales with a finger, and the dragon began humming in its sleep. He smiled softly.
Shur'tugal ,the mysterious voice echoed. Harry swivelled his head around, searching for a threat, hugging his dragon protectively to his chest.
Eka weohnata néiat haina ono, Shur'tugal, I will not harm you, Dragonrider, this I promise to you inthe ancient language, the voice echoed from the darkness again.
"Who are you?" Harry demanded into the darkness, "Stay away from us."
I mean no harm, young Shur'tugal. The last true dragon has hatched for you. I have long awaited the day when a Dragonrider would once again walk this earth. That day is today, on the night of the Agaetí Blödhren. Fortune truly smiles upon you.
"Who are you?" Harry repeated. The voice chuckled, the sound echoed by a deep rumbling.
I am the spirit or memory, of the dragons. Once, I resided on the skins of the elves, but the days of the elves have long since passed, and without them to host me, I am weak. Too long have I wandered, searching for the companion to my charge, who had yet to hatch after many millennia. I had feared for the youngling, but now it seems he was simply waiting for you to be born, and to be ready for him.
"The dragon is a he?" Harry asked stupidly.
The voice chuckled again, Yes, he is a he, and now he is yours, and you are his. Your souls are both bonded together, and it is my purpose to teach you both the ways of the Dragons of old. If you would allow me, I would bond with you, as I did with the elves of old, so I may share my knowledge, and teach you the ways of the Dragonriders.
Perhaps it was Harry's impulsiveness when it came to dealing with dangerous situations, or perhaps it was the gut feeling Harry had that he could trust this spirit, but slowly, he held out his hand. A moment later, a shimmering streak of mist flew out of the darkness, and twined itself around his hand. Another flash of pain, and Harry once again sank into unconsciousness.
This time when he awoke, the sun was beginning to rise, and the sky was a soft pink colour. Harry was covered in dew, and he was curled around his dragon protectively. He felt different, stronger. He groaned, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. He froze. Rubbed his eyes? Where were his glasses? Harry searched the ground, found them, and picked them up. Wait a second, he searched the ground? He could see! Harry blinked around in awe. He jumped to his feet, and almost toppled over at the unexpected speed. Since when had he been able to move so fast?
Since you became a Halfling, young Shur'tugal, the dragon spirit rumbled in his mind.
'A Halfling?' Harry thought.
Yes, half man, half elf. Though the elves are no more, their legacy now lives on in you, just as the legacy of the Dragonriders lives in you. I expect you look a bit different too, but you will have to look in a mirror to see. The voice paused for a moment, I looked through your memories as you slept, young one. To have suffered such hardship at so young an age... you are very brave.
Harry could feel his cheeks reddening, 'I did what anyone would do.'
The dragon laughed, You did more than any normal man would have done. I am proud to be bonded to you, and I'm sure the hatchling will be full of praise for his partner once he grows up some. That reminds me, what will you call him?
Harry scratched his head, 'Well I don't know any good dragon names... Wait a second, what should I be calling you?'
The dragon laughed, I do not have a name... I am a spirit, but in times of old, I was often referred to as the 'Memory' by the elves, or Manin. I suppose you can call me what you wish. As for your young hatchling, there are many fierce names for the green scaled dragons, but perhaps the most famous being Fírnen, the partner of the great elvish Queen Arya. Your dragons sire, I believe.
"Fírnen," Harry repeated to himself softly. "It sounds good, right. Yes, I'll call him Fírnen." As if aware of his new name even in his sleep, Fírnen uncurled himself from the little ball he had been sleeping in. He pranced over to Harry, and entwined himself around Harry's ankles. Harry laughed, and scooped Fírnen up, hugging him to his chest.
You had best head home, although your missing presence will not have been noted, I am sure your headmaster will be sending Aurors to guard you over the holidays. Return home, and get some sleep. If have much to teach you, and you will need to be strong.
Upon returning to Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry crept along the side of the house, and used one of the gutters to climb up to his window. He was strong, and he was amazed at how easily he could scale the building. He levered open the window, and gracefully slid through it, Fírnen sitting on his head, clutching locks of hair in his small talons so as not to fall off. Once inside, Harry placed Fírnen on his pillow, and crept downstairs to raid the fridge, grabbing some meat, and bringing it back upstairs. His relatives were still asleep, and the combined snores of both Uncle Vernon and Dudley filled the house with noise. He crept back into his room on silent feet, and gave the meat to Fírnen, who began to hungrily chew on it.
Harry turned around, his own stomach rumbling, and was about to open his wardrobe to get his pyjamas, when he caught sight of his reflection. He still looked like himself, but at the same time, completely different. His black shaggy hair looked darker than before, and it looked softer, not as messy. His already vibrant emerald coloured eyed looked even brighter, and his pale skin looked milky, rather than its usual unhealthy pale. His features were finer, handsome, and his ears were now pointed. He had gotten taller, and he guessed he was about the same height as Ron now. He actually had muscles, and after taking off his shirt, he found he was ripped, no longer the little thin kid he had been when he left the house. Twining around his body was a beautiful multicoloured tattoo of a dragon. Its head was on his chest, and its body, limbs and wings curled around his chest, back, arms and legs.
'Manin?' he asked in his mind.
I am the tattoo, Harry. This is my preferred form, and while on your skin, I can share with you all my power and knowledge. To you and Fírnen both.
'Thank you for finding me. I'll do my best to make you and Fírnen proud.'
Oh Young One, Manin chuckled softly, we already are. The egg would not have hatched for you if you were not pure of heart. You are a hero, and one day, you will achieve greatness, and defeat your enemies. This, I promise you. No more being helpless in the face of danger. I will teach you to be strong, and when you are ready, that fool known as Lord Voldemort will not stand a chance. Go to sleep, you have a big few weeks ahead of you.
Harry changed clothes and got into bed. He lay down, and Fírnen curled himself around Harry's neck. Perhaps life wasn't so bad after all.
Review if you want more, even if one person likes this, it's worth writing. Thanks for reading.