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Y/N Malfoy and Harry Potter come from two completely different backgrounds. Y/N in a wealthy, harsh family; and Harry, his immediate family gone, stuck living with his distant Aunt and Uncle. The pair meet and form a close bond as f...
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(Harry's POV)
"Oh please, the exam review wasn't that hard," Hermione scoffs at Y/N and Ron as we walk through the courtyard to our next class. I try to stay involved in the conversation and smile feebly in response. My scar won't stop burning. Ever since I had come face to face with that cloaked figure, it would randomly burn and sting. Usually, it would happen in Professor Quirrel's classroom or at mealtimes in the Great Hall.
"Easy for you to say!" Y/N retorts. Ron nods his head vigorously in agreement with Y/N, "Yeah, Hermione. Not all of us continually read our textbooks front to back over the summer!"
"Well, maybe you should. It would do you some good..." Hermione says in response.
The burning pain flares up in my scar once more, stronger than before. I hiss in pain and slap my hand to my forehead in a weak attempt to subdue the ache. All I can focus on is the pain... the terrible sharp pain...
"Harry, are you alright?" A soft voice snaps me back to reality. I turn to see Y/N gripping onto my arm and looking at me in concern. Ron and Hermione are watching us, worry and curiosity evident in their features.
Should I lie to them? Maybe it would be best. They have enough to worry about for the time being with the Philosopher's Stone and all. But, then again, if they know, maybe they'll be able to help figure out what it means.
"My scar," I tell them, "It keeps hurting."
"It's happened before," Hermione nods.
"Not like this," I groan.
"Harry, we should take you to the Hospital Wing," Y/N says.
"Yeah, mate, you should see the nurse!" Ron agrees.
"No, I think it's a warning," I try to make sense of my scattered thoughts, "I think it means danger's coming."
Confused, my friends merely shrug it off, we continue our walk to class. As we come through an archway, Hagrid's hut comes into view. The giant is sitting on his front steps, blowing a soft tune through a large wooden flute. The sight of Hagrid reminds me... Merlin's beard.
"Of course!" I gasp, stopping suddenly in my tracks. My friends stare at me in confusion, "What is it?" Hermione questions.
"Don't you think it's a bit odd," I try explaining my jumbled thoughts, walking briskly through the grass, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything," I've started walking faster, my friends have to jog to keep up with me, "is a dragon. And a stranger turns up and just happens to have one? I mean, how many people wander around with dragon eggs in their pockets? Why didn't I see it before?" I am in a full-on sprint by now, driven by adrenaline.
