Harry Potter and the Love of the Dragon

Harry padded into the kitchen at 4 Privet Drive in his 5^th summer holiday between years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The last year had been, all things considered, fairly uneventful which had come as a shock to everyone. Following the resurrection of Lord Voldemort (the most feared Dark Wizard of modern times) at the end of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts the entire wizard world had prepared for a menacing attack by him and his Death Eater followers, and Harry had been protected more carefully than ever before. However, there had been no attacks on the Ministry of Magic, no siege on the school and most surprisingly, no mass-murders of Muggles or Muggle-borns. Common opinion seemed to be that he was gathering his forces once more but Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix was doing likewise and had come across little opposition.

"Don't burn the bacon, Harry," spat Aunt Petunia. "I want everything to be perfect for my precious Duddiekins."

'Hmm, deja vu,' thought Harry. He seemed to remember similar orders when he turned eleven. Yet again, it was Dudley's birthday and he was celebrating his 'sweet' sixteenth. Harry was to prepare breakfast in bed for Dudley and was left to it whilst Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley open his morning presents in his bedroom. When he was sure they had gone, he pulled his wand out of his pocket and listened carefully for any noise outside in the hall. This summer holiday Dumbledore had authorised Harry to practise magic and had provided wards around the Dursleys' home so that the Ministry could not sense the spells. It had been decided between Dumbledore, the head teacher of Hogwarts and Professor McGonagall, Gryffindor's Head of House that Harry be allowed extra practise due to the fact that an attack from Voldemort sometime in the future was inevitable. The only restriction was that he could not use magic to harm the Dursleys. This upset him a little, but he adopted the policy from his first holiday from Hogwarts at Privet Drive before Dobby dobbed him in. What they didn't know could hurt them.

Harry tapped his wand on the frying pan with bacon in and it began to sizzle happily. He pulled out eight pieces of bread and threw these in too. After about two minutes more of carefully applied wand waving he had produced four heart attacks on four plates.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he swished-and-flicked at the tray of plates and glasses and strolled out of the kitchen, up the stairs and straight into Dudley's bedroom. "Here you go," he said unnecessarily loudly. The three of them jumped back from admiring whatever was sat on Dudley's bed.

"You better not have contaminated that," complained Uncle Vernon. He set his plate on the floor, clearly refusing point blank to eat any of it. Dudley however, tucked right in after a deep inhale had confirmed to himself at least that the breakfast was safe to eat. Vernon turned back to the bed and handed Dudley his next present.

"This is from Aunt Marge," he informed Dudley, pointedly ignoring Harry who was stood behind him.

"The card says, 'I'm sure you're man enough to handle this present, Dudders, now you're sixteen.' I hope it isn't a dog," whined Dudley. He lifted the lid off the huge box -which happened to have air holes - and screamed blue murder. Harry found this rather funny - he thought that Dudley's scream sounded like the one Lavender had let off when she came across a spider left in her bed last term by Fred and George Weasley.

Dudley jumped off his bed and ran into the corner of the room whimpering. Uncle Vernon, giving his son a quick scowl, looked into the box too. "Ahh," he bellowed. "What is Marge doing, sending you this. Doesn't she remember what I told her about your...previous experiences?"

Harry was confused. What could they be talking about? Aunt Petunia glanced inside the box next and, after a quick shriek, she dragged both Dudley and Uncle Vernon from the room, shutting the door after them leaving Harry alone in there with the box. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to look in there. What if it was one of Aunt Marge's puppies? He hadn't exactly had pleasant experiences dealing with the little bastards either. Grabbing hold of his mind, which had run halfway to Paris already, he marched up to the box and stared inside. Surely, it couldn't be that bad after battling with a Basilisk, a Hungarian Horntail and Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"Oh," Harry gasped after glimpsing what was hidden inside. He tucked his wand back into his belt and lifted the tank carefully out of the box. Below it there were a number of other boxes containing all the stuff Dudley would have needed were he to keep the little critter. He slid the lid across and wrapped the snake around his neck.

Marching up to the bedroom door Harry flung it open and called out. "Uncle Vernon?" He heard Dudley's whimpering from the bathroom and marched straight in. After tapping his wand on the door handle and muttering "Mora Aloho," he looked directly into the snake's eyes and hissed.

All three of the Dursleys were staring at him as if he had gone completely round the twist, but the snake simply hissed straight back at Harry.

"He says his name is Draco," Harry informed Dudley, cringing at the sound of his rival's first name coming out of his very own mouth. "And he's harmless. Not poisonous at all. Is there anything you want him to ask him?"

"What...you...what are you. Is this...Petunia...could your sister do this?" Uncle Vernon stuttered.

"No," she gasped.

"Uncle Vernon. I'm a Parselmouth. I can speak Parseltongue. It means I can talk snake-language. You remember, I did it at Dudley's eleventh birthday party at the zoo," Harry babbled quickly, trying to stifle his laughter. "Of course, I didn't mean to do it then. So Dudley, you gonna keep him?"

"No way," Dudley stammered. "I hate snakes. You keep him."

Harry looked away from the Dursleys and back at the snake again.

"He says that he doesn't like you either and that he would be happy for me to take care of him," Harry interpreted. "Thanks Dudley." He turned around, pointed at the door handle, muttered "Alohomora," and stepped out of the room, ignoring the gaping Dursleys. He couldn't wait to tell Ron about this.