Harry Potter and the Dragon

XV

The Boy and the Beast

Snape had always noticed the passing of time, for he found pleasure in staring at himself in the few intact mirrors left in the Dragon's manor when nobody was looking; strutting in front of his reflection, watching his hands forming different angles round the clock. However, had he been as obsessive and attentive as everybody thought he was, while admiring his countenance he would have realized that his hands had swirled strangely fast, and a whole month had already come and gone since Harry had come to live in the manor.

In a far away place, alone in the mountains, Hagrid was still looking for the tribe of giants. He was doing his best for Hermione's plan to succeed and, for that reason, never dared to think of going back without a couple of strong and massive mates to go and rescue Harry with.

Hermione was working very hard: she had read all she could about dragons, weapons against them, and local history. Unluckily, she didn't find much useful information. Dragons were rarely researched; in fact, they were utterly ignored by most in the Wizarding Community. She found even less about weapons: only a couple of spells that, in theory, worked against the beasts when cast by a dozen of skilled sorcerers. She also read about Disapparating and Apparating, but those happened to be incantations reserved for the most powerful wizards of the time, who were obviously not willing to share their secrets with the common crowds. And about the mysterious manor where the beast lived, she found nothing.

Besides, she kept her hearing ready to catch anything related to evil Gilderoy and his cronies. They were beginning to forget Hagrid's and Harry's sudden disappearances, for they were completely convinced that such scoundrels had escaped to evade the punishment for their crimes: maybe both were now living in a Muggle village, terrorizing people (who cares about Muggles anyway?). Even Gilderoy, who was, supposedly, madly in love with Harry, had gone back to his old and carefree days.

Apart from all that, Hermione was now in charge of Hagrid's beasts; she went everyday to his old cabin to feed the creatures and find a peaceful moment to owl the half-giant the latest news. She didn't dare to owl Harry, though; What if the beast eats the post owls and beats Harry for getting mail?

Madame Rosmerta was also contributing with the cause. Sometimes, when a few selected customers (a.k.a. Gilderoy and gang) were very drunk, she charged more money on their bills to get the gold for a broomstick: that was an alternative, and probably more effective, means for Harry to leave the horrible place he was confined in. However, what she had gathered in a whole month suggested that many more had to pass to get the number of galleons needed for the purchase.

So, the end of summer hadn't done much to stir the magical air of monotony engulfing the village of Hogsmeade, and during a morning in which intrusive autumn began to bathe early strollers with golden leaves and nothing remarkable happened, miles away a boy and a dragon were sitting across a long mauled table, in the luxurious dining room of an old manor that stood, half hidden from the world but disclosed to action, in the middle of the creepy Centaur forest.

While avidly breaking their fast, the boy and the dragon were enjoying the company of Lupin the candlestick and Snape the clock, who, in that particular minute, decided to utter a statement that went basically like this: "I have received numerous complaints from the kitchen staff, stating that several of its members do not come back at the end of the day to clean and lock themselves in their shelves. I presume that they might spend the night in the society of certain person who likes to eat in his bedroom, and is far too lazy to restore the utensils to their proper place after -"

"Why do I have to take them back to the kitchen? They can move on their own accord, can't they?!" said Harry crossly. He didn't believe Snape was a just bitter bastard anymore. Harry had already realized that the clock was equipped with an infallible mechanism designed to grasp any chance to tell him off.

"Your bedroom is a complete mess! This residence has always prided itself for being a refined and impeccable mansion! I will not tolerate our high standards to be -!"

"High standards?! The only thing that's high here is the madness rate!" snapped Harry.

"SHUT UP! You'll do what Snape says! He's an authority here, and he's got the right to scold you, you dirty dimwit!" the dragon exclaimed through a mouthful of cereal.

"Me, dirty? AND YOU?! Have you been to his dungeon, Snape?!" said Harry to the clock, pointing the dragon with his thumb.

"You will call me Mister Snape, or Sir! I'm a respectable -!" the clock tapped loudly for some seconds before the dragon started shouting:

"YOU WILL CALL SNAPE 'MR SNAPE' 'CAUSE HE'S ABOVE YOU! And as I'm above him... I'M ABOVE YOU, TOO!!"

"Who's talking to you, moron?!! And swallow before speaking, you asshole, see what you've done!!" Harry replied, removing particles of chewed cereal from his glasses.

"Please boys, it's kind of early to start yelling, don't you think?" said Lupin, suppressing a yawn.

"Boys? There's just one boy in here! That over there's just a troglodyte with the brain of a tadpole, who -"

"SHUT UP!!! BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!!! LUPIN! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE LIGHTS IN YOUR HEAD, AREN'T YOU? AND YOU, RASCAL, STOP CALLING ME NAMES, WILL YOU?" berated the dragon, throwing a sharp knife in Harry's direction. Harry simply moved his head to the left, shrugged, and continued eating.

"I'm sorry Master," muttered Lupin uncomfortably, adding immediately with a happier tone, "Are you planning to spend the morning playing Quidditch as always? Or do you want to do something else?"

"Look, Lupin, I think our 'guest' must dedicate his morning time to collect dirty dishes and cutlery from his room and take them back where they belong! -" the clock began.

"I'm not taking anything anywhere. If you're so important here in this madhouse, why don't you go tell them to come down?" answered Harry while devouring a spoonful of eggs and bacon.

"Because I'm not an idle brat who does nothing but play Quidditch and mess this place! I have no time for such unimportant activities!" hissed Snape angrily.

"You have no time for a bath either," replied Harry acidly. "Why are you all greasy? Have you been oiling your private parts? Or having a grope with the candlestick, maybe -?

"YOU INSOLENT TWIT! HOW DARE YOU!" roared the clock, hands shaking and face blushing.

"Harry! Please, keep those silly remarks to yourself!" said Lupin frowning.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!! ... HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!" exclaimed the dragon.

"This is outrageous! Simply outrageous!" scolded Snape while setting his hands in the present.

"I think I'll take care of those dirty dishes in Harry's room," said Lupin, jumping to the floor.

"But let Ron stay in my night table! He likes sleeping there now!"

The candlestick left the dining room followed by the clock, who decided to spend his worthy seconds elsewhere but in the company of those two belligerent brats.

Once the dragon had stopped laughing, he spoke to Harry. "Good one!"

"Thanks," said Harry after swallowing a piece of toast. "I didn't mean to upset Lupin, though. I like him..."

"He's just loony. Always cocking things up. I guess he's going senile..." the dragon pointed out dismissively.

"He's one of the few people in this manor that's nice," rectified Harry. "And he's not going senile, he's just kind. The problem's that you don't seem to understand the simple concept of kindness -"

"OF COURSE I DO!!! It's you who blame every row on me!!! I know you speak behind my back with that filthy cup...WHY DOES HE HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR BEDROOM? HE'S GOT A NICE CUPBOARD TO ROT IN!! YOU HEARD SNAPE! KITCHEN STUFF HAS TO BE IN THE KITCHEN!!"

"Shut up! He's my friend! You have yours in your dungeon, don't you?"

"That's none of your business," said the dragon glaring.

"Fortunately. I'm not interested at all in moronic furniture that's not even able to speak... No wonder why you get along so well with them..."

"They serve their purpose. They're loyal, that's all. And if I want to talk to someone there's you, right? THAT'S THE REASON YOU'RE HERE, ISN'T IT?!"

"So, that's why you have me locked in here!? That's the reason I have to endure your awful temper?!"

"You're not exactly grieving when I let you fly in my broomstick -!"

"Your broomstick? You mean the one you got after killing that blond git?"

"You're obsessed with him, aren't you? You mention him a little too often -"

"Shut up! He just reminds me of what's going to happen to me in the end, that's all..." Harry sipped his tea for a while.

"You don't know what you're talking about," said the dragon after a moment.

"Maybe," Harry stood up. "Quidditch?" he asked looking at the dragon.

"Seeking, you mean... Okay. Let's go and give the ball its wings one more time."

Both Harry and the dragon left the dinning room and went out to the Quidditch pitch in the back yard. They did the same thing every day but the routine never tired them, for Harry had always wanted to play Quidditch, and the dragon had always wanted to have someone to play Quidditch with. Sometimes they spent the entire day and even part of the night in the pitch, trying new movements and tactics. The air was the only element in which the boy and the dragon were equals: both were very fast flyers and had seeking skills that rivaled as well. Harry thought that it was because he was having the coolest time of his life, that he had lately stopped planning to go back to Hogsmeade.

In an early stage of his stay in the manor, Harry and Ron had planned many escape strategies, but for one reason or another, the plans didn't succeed. Harry felt a little bit guilty about his foster father, but acknowledging that Hagrid knew his current whereabouts, he guessed that the half-giant hadn't showed up probably because he had ceased to worry, just like he had. But, in spite of that, the boy couldn't restrain a pang in his chest every time he recalled his dear guardian.

That is why, during that particular autumn morning that silently vaunted reddening treetops in a horizon ablaze, Harry abandoned himself to the Wizarding sport, completely oblivious of everything but the broomstick, the Snitch, and his opponent.

Congregated in the sill of a window that faced the Quidditch pitch, Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Snape were attentively contemplating the players.

"My dear Lupin, I'm impressed with the course things are taking. Who would have thought that they would become friends in just a month?" Mrs. Weasley commented eagerly.

Lupin looked at her and a smile slid to his oily lips. "I must admit that I didn't expect that either. I had my hopes, but... Well, you saw everything started so badly, and now they can hardly spend a minute without one another -"

"Without insulting one another you mean, and everybody else, too!" the clock remarked bitterly. He hated being the target of the boys' taunts.

The teapot turned around to censure the clock for his vinegary tick-tock. "But, Snape! Just look at them! They're not fighting anyone! All they care about is playing around!" Suddenly, the teapot transformed her reproach into a gossip. "Didn't you hear the latest news? A couple of vases I met in the sink," she hissed, "told me that the boys spent a long time chatting by the fireplace last night. And that they didn't fight at all. Indeed, they were laughing happily at something, lowering their voices from time to time... It seems like a very intimate episode -"

"They were abusing Filch, Harry told me. And not only Filch -" Ron looked sideways before setting his eyes in the distant Quidditch pitch. "- I don't know, I might be a little dim perhaps, but I simply can't see what you think is going on. They fight as much as always, and if you ask me, Harry's not precisely infatuated with Master. He'd go away if he could, I'm sure of that."

The four objects felt silent for a moment and then Mrs. Weasley spoke again. "Anyway, we didn't even dare to expect they could share their time together without getting hurt. That's progress and there's nothing else to say about that. If things continue like this, we will be back to our legitimate selves in no time!"

"I hope you're right, my dear Mrs. Weasley. I certainly do," said Lupin, turning away from the window. "Come on, we must get back to work."

The objects obeyed him, and soon there was nobody there to witness the perfect parabolic dive Harry performed before closing his right hand around the now winged ball.

***

"I'm shagged!" said Harry after collapsing on his bed. It had been a long Quidditch day. In fact, he only had a couple of minutes before having to show up in the dinning room for supper. He wasn't entitled to eat in his room anymore but he didn't mind, because he just wanted to resume his argument with the dragon about the tactic he knew as a remarkable feint and the beast insisted in calling a categorical foul. "What does a dragon know about Quidditch? I've spent my whole life reading Quidditch books, and he dares to disagree with me! And weeps over a foul! Like I could hurt him!"

"He's like a spoiled brat," said Ron jumping to Harry's bed. "I don't know how you can stand being with him more than five minutes... I just can't."

"Dunno. Got used to him, I s'pose," muttered Harry, the left side of his face hidden by his squashy pillow.

"Harry? May I ask you something?" said Ron a second later.

"Mmh?" answered Harry, lazily dozing off.

"Do you plan to stay here forever?"

"What? Do you want me to leave?" said Harry opening his green eyes.

"Yeah! I want both of us to leave this place, like we planned!" said the teacup as emphatically as he could.

"Of course I don't want to stay here forever... I want to make my own life... It's just... it's just... that I don't want to leave now, see?" said Harry, settling on his back. "I'm having a great time here... dunno... can't it wait?"

"But, Harry! I hear you like thousand times a day say this place is a nut farm, that you miss Hagrid, that Master's a psychopath -!"

"I know! I know! But... you don't know what my life was like, you've always had a family, friends, I dunno, people around you! This is the first time I feel that... that I belong somewhere... listen, it's not that I think this place will keep me happy for life but... but it feels nice to be around here. It's kinda hard to explain..." he added, looking at the freckled porcelain face that wasn't straining to conceal a disbelieving expression.

"I just hope your foster father's not suffering that much," said Ron before jumping off the bed. "Come on, it's time to go downstairs."

Harry frowned at Ron's remark about Hagrid but said nothing, and stood up to follow the cup.

***

The dragon was painfully letting his aching body rest in a heap of straw. "Bugger! I shouldn't have eaten that pig, bones and all!"

"I agree, Master. Here..." Lupin handed the dragon a smoking silver jug. "Snape's just concocted it. He says it'll compose your insides."

The dragon drank the potion and threw the jug away. It clattered noisily for a moment, and when the clamor had ceased, he spoke. "Nothing's strong enough to calm my insides. They're killing me. It's even becoming hard for me to breathe lately. I don't know what's wrong with me, Lupin."

"Well, you just ate a whole pig; you'll probably feel that way while digesting -"

"I'M NOT -! I'm not talking about the pig... I've been feeling like this for days... I guess I actually ate the whole damn fucking pig just to stuff a gap I feel here, in my belly... Do you think I might be sick?"

"You've been flying all day, you can hardly be sick -"

"DON'T -! Don't remind me of today's Quidditch game! It makes me feel like puking. I hate Harry. He's always vexing me... " The dragon held his speech for a moment, his gaze lost in the brick he was staring at.

"Master, don't say you hate the boy. We all in the manor have come to realize that you've at last developed a certain degree of affection for him -"

"WHAT?!! YOU'VE BEEN BLABBERING ABOUT -!!" The dragon inhaled. "- I think I'm going to fire you all, you lazy gits, if you don't restrict yourselves to go FIXING and CLEANING what I DESTROY and STAIN -!!"

"Master, you know perfectly well that your feelings for the boy concern everybody in the manor -!"

"FEELINGS?!!!! What feelings are you talking about?!"

Lupin felt silent. He knew this conversation was going nowhere, therefore, he chose to take it to an end. "Master, you're tired and so am I. I think I'll leave you alone, so you can -"

"NO! Don't leave me alone! I feel like shit. Please stay for a while..."

The candlestick turned around to look at the dragon, an earnest expression carved in his sallow face.

"Listen, it's just... just... It's Harry's fault, he made me mad at dinner. He thinks he knows more about Quidditch than me, and that... that makes me feel so wretched... 'cause in spite I hate this dragon body, I've never wanted more to be back into my real shape... When I see him flying, I feel... I want to fly like him, I want to show him what I can do on a broomstick... but I can't. I can't. Oh, fuck..."

Lupin took his time, drew a breath, and said, "Master, I could raise your spirits by telling you that everything is going to be alright in the end, that we'll all be able to go back like we were before that despicable sorcerer cursed us... but I won't do that. I won't, and you know why? Because things won't work out by themselves. It's you who have to make them happen. It all depends on you. And everything you need is at hand. You just have to go, and make it real!"

"I CAN'T!! I can't, Lupin," said the dragon miserably. "I just can't. I don't even know what I feel for him and - and he hates me!"

"No, he doesn't," rectified the candlestick.

"Yes, he does! He's always bugging me!"

"Well, you're always provoking him too, and I doubt you hate him..."

The dragon found no response for that. He found a question instead. "D'you think he - he doesn't hate me? That he could even... l-like me?"

"I'm sure the boy could have flown away in your broomstick a long time ago if he had wanted to, Master. There's nothing here preventing him to do so. If he hasn't escaped, it's probably because he enjoys being here. And if he enjoys being here, it's because of you Master, since you two practically spend the whole day together..."

The dragon felt numb. He had never thought about that. If he had problems about breathing before, it was very obvious now. He also felt as if the pig he was digesting had abruptly come back to life and started dancing a frenzied jig.

"D-d'you really mean it? D'you really think he..."

"You just have to give it a try."

Lupin thought that enough had been said. So he picked up the jug, said "Good night, Master" and departed from the dungeons.

Once alone, the dragon realized he had never felt less isolated, surrounded by a thousand thoughts. "It means... fuck, it means... it means I'm a poof!" his words reverberated all over his stony chamber. "It means... FUCK!!!!! ...FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!"

Out of control, the dragon ran like mad towards the main hall of his dungeons. There, screaming wildly, he whirled around in a furious search of a suitable object to butcher. He needed of a big one, and rather sooner than later his eyes caught sight of the vast wardrobe that, pointlessly intending to shrink, was shaking in a corner.

The dragon galloped forwards but didn't reach his target. On the wardrobe's face, hundreds of distorted images of a monstrous being appeared. The dragon halted, looking for a moment at his own reflection in the broken glass.

"I just can't be moaning about being a poof when I'm actually a beast," he said in calmed tones. "It doesn't matter anymore. Now I see... now I see everybody's dealt with me, who sometimes can even be odious, in spite of the fact that I'm a beast... They won't mind I'm a poof. I just hope Harry doesn't mind..."

The dragon went slowly, four legs moving, back to his den, his stomachache absolutely forgotten.