It was near midnight and pouring rain when Clay heard a knock from the door downstairs. Who is it this late at night? Clay thought to himself as he walked down the stairs. He looked through the peep hole and saw a rangy looking man huddling under the porch. Clay unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hello, Clayton, your dad told me a lot about you. May I come in?" The scraggly man asked politely. Clay waved the man in and asked, "Who are you, sir?"

"Ah, I am Rupert Squallus Rushing. You may call me Rupert, however," the man went to take a seat. Where have I heard that name before, Clay pondered as he took a seat. He noticed several scars on the man's face and a missing ring finger. Wait, it can't be…..

"Are you THE Rupert Rushing? I mean, I'm not trying to seem rude, but I've read several of the books about him," Clay trailed off, not trying to seem like an adoring fan.

"Ahh, yes. I am THE Rupert Rushing. I did kill Alexander the Terrible, but I'm sure it was not in the fashion that the novel depicts. As a matter of fact, I was preparing for Azkaban. It was not a heroic act that I did, just merely revenge," Rupert answered.

"I would like to learn some about it, sir. My friends and I used to reenact the famous Battle in the Sky with our toy brooms," Clay said hopefully.

"That was one of the few actually magnificent events I partook in," Rupert chuckled lightly before continuing, "well, I guess I could glean some information for my old friend's son. Honestly, if your father hadn't saved me, you would not hear any tall tales. As is widely known, Alexander himself killed my pregnant wife after I saved an Auror from his men. He and his men took turns raping her while I was forced to watch. After he killed her, he cut off my ring finger and said that my wife was dead; I would no longer need it. A week later, I took to a broom and killed four of his men in the Battle in the Sky. I crashed my broom in a tree and your father found me outside this very house, battered and broken. I thought myself a failure. I couldn't even avenge my own wife and unborn child. Your father hid me upstairs in the study. Alexander arrived with ten of his men. Your father, grandfather, uncle, and mother fought off Alexander, with your uncle losing an eye. Your father had me healed and offered to join me. He traveled with me part of the way until he was hurt. Finally, I killed over eight of Alexander's followers and had him wandless in a corner. Instead of doing what I should have done, I killed him in the memory of my wife. Instead of being considered the murderer I am, I was hailed as a hero…" A tear trickled down the man's granite face and he pulled two pictures from his pocket. "I am truly sorry I did not make it for the funeral, Clay. Take this, it is a photograph of your father and I after we returned. I know what it's like to lose a loved one. If you have any need of me, have your mother contact me. I must warn you, though, something wicked this way comes. Your father knew, he spoke with me about it. I cannot tell you what now. You will know in the end though. Oh, and your father had given me something to give to you. He will be delivered in the morning, I've checked with Hogwarts and you will be permitted to bring him."

Clay stayed up all night, like a child on Christmas, he was giddy with anticipation. He heard a rapping on the front door and leapt from his bed. He rushed down the stairs and opened the door. Clay opened the door and saw two men in tan suits. They had a wooden box labeled, "Live Animal." The wizard on the right asked him to sign a receipt. Clay grabbed a quill and put his name down hastily. The wizard tapped the box with his wand, and the wood disappeared. There was a cage with a dog sized Welsh Green dragon. Clay nearly passed out and was speechless from joy.

"The Head of the Beast Division of the Department of Magical Creatures, Charlie Weasley, will be by later today with your rules and tips on handling a pygmy Welsh Green. I suggest you do not remove him from his cage until Charlie gets here," the wizard to the right instructed.

Clayton saw a stocky red head apparate onto his lawn. He opened the door, stuck out his hand and grinned. Charlie clasped his hand, and Clayton realized he had a strong, calloused hand. "Hello, Clayton Wesson, I suppose?"

"Yes sir," Clayton smiled meekly.

"I'm Charlie Weasley, Head of the Beast Division. I'm here to teach you how to take proper care of your dragon. I would like to give my condolences to you and your mother while I am over. Is she here?" The stocky ginger replied.

"No, sir, Mum's at work right now," Clayton said with a light hearted shrug.

"Oh, well I'm sure I'll see her. She and I were sweethearts our fourth year," Charlie's eyes showed a faint sparkle while walking down memory lane, "your dad was in our year also. He and I were thick as thieves because of our fondness towards fire breathing lizards." Charlie chuckled lightly.

"Did y'all work together?" Clay inquired.

"Yeah, he actually got me a job after I hooked your mum up with him. She and I remained friends after the break up."

"That's awesome," Clay grinned. He and Charlie went down the stairs to grab the pygmy dragon. "Now, one thing about these, Clay, they can breath fire. However, they have been trained not to spout flames indoors and to never torch people. Have you given any thought to its name?"

"Well, I was thinking about the dragon my ancestors took care of, Drake," Clay said with a mysterious tone of voice.

"Yes, your father told me of the dragon, Chinese Fireball, I do believe. Drake is a fine name for one," Charlie replied as he crouched and picked up the small dragon, "now, these buggers can bite. A fierce little snap will take a finger, but the often nip at the owner playfully. They have a very protective demeanor also. While, they cannot talk, your father has told me about your rings. He showed me and let me experience an extremely deep emotion for any dragon lover. You cannot communicate empathetically with dragons. Only if they so allow it, and usually that takes some intimate time together."

Clay looked from the small mewling dragon to his ring and sent out his mind towards the dragon. He felt an odd feeling of nobleness, yet shyness. The dragons mind was aloof and began to play games with him. Prying into his thoughts and then back out.

Charlie chuckled, "See what I mean? Little Drake just has to get used to you."

They went out into the yard and set the dragon free. Charlie told Clay what he knew of pygmies and gave him a small book. "Read this for a little more knowledge on the subject." They began to practice charms in case Drake set anything on fire. Clay learned that Drake could only fly a maximum of thirty feet. As the sun was setting, Charlie said good bye, and Clay took Drake up to his room and went to bed, exhausted.