The Dragons of Raveana

Fighting for Dragons

The moon hung low in the dark velvet sky, stars sparkling like scattered diamonds shimmering around it. Across the grounds of Hogwarts, a cool breeze stirred the leaves and blooms of trees and flowers. Taunting calls of nocturnal birds and the far away wails of wolves filled the night, making the shifting shadows seem just a little more threatening. Beyond the lake, Hogwarts glowed, its many windows brightened by candles and torches. Water whispered softly as it caressed its sandy banks, reflecting the sky hovering above it.

Frowning, Harry rested his hands upon his hips and glared at the dragon pointedly ignoring him from its position among the black waters of the lake. Paddling serenely around in ever growing circles, the metallic dragon flicked its tail and sent a wave of liquid to lap at the toes of the raven-haired wizard's boots. "Damn it," he grumbled, taking a squishing step backwards only to slip on a wet rock. As his feet flew out from beneath him, he could have sworn he heard the amused laughter of Dean and Seamus. Glaring up at the sky from where he lay on the wet sand, the Gryffindor sighed and pushed himself slowly into a sitting position. In front of him, Syren continued to slide effortlessly through the water.

"Stupid dragon," he muttered, slapping at the sucking sand. Climbing to his feet, he stood dripping on the beach for a moment before shaking his head. It was hopeless. He'd spent several hours trying to coax the silver dragon into accepting the saddle, gaining only snickers and growls for his pleadings and attempted bargaining.

Head down, he began to slog in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, aiming an angered kick at the saddle sitting forlornly in his path. He froze in mid-stride when the earth beneath his feet began to rumble. Whirling around, his mouth fell open and he bellowed in disbelief, watching with wide eyes as the silver dragon shot into the sky. Wings flashing lavender and emerald, Syren let loose a piercing shriek that seemed to thicken the very air he slid through. Droplets of water cast from the tips of the dragon's wings splattered on Harry's upturned face, dotting his glasses. From the direction of the school, a chorus of rumbling roars rose up. The harsh cries brought silence to the Forbidden Forest and sent smaller animals fleeing for the safety of dens and protective undergrowth.

"Draco!" Shouting the Slytherin's name in a combination of fear and relief, the raven-haired wizard took off toward the pitch. His wet clothes slapped at his skin, the heavy weight of the soaking cloth slowing him. Reaching up, he scrabbled at the clasp of the dark cloak, attempting to free himself of its heavy length. With a snick, the buckle released and he stumbled forward, loose gravel sliding under his boots.

By the time he reached the pitch, he was panting for breath and his heels stung from the constant rub of damp cloth. His breath caught in his lungs when he found the lawn deserted; green grasses and rippling cloth the only things moving. Walking forward unsteadily, he spun on his heels, red face turned toward the sky as he desperately searched for the Mage Dragons. He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the black expanse, impatiently waiting for a flash of shining scales or barked greeting. When none was forthcoming, he staggered forward and collapsed to his knees.

"Basta! Silverhawk!" His screams ricocheted through the night, desperation creeping into the words. Holding his breath, he pressed his hands flat against the earth, waiting for the tell tale quiver. Beneath his pale fingers, the grass remained cool and still. Fear rolled through his gut as he stared blankly down at his splayed digits; they'd left without him. He'd failed Draco.

Throwing back his head, he let loose a wordless scream at the star filled sky. Despair and frustration gave way to fear. The Mage Dragons would answer the call of the Dragon's Maw, but what would they do when they got there? He covered his face with his hands, curling his fingers into claws as the possibilities swam through his head. His lungs burned as he fought to breathe, tamping down the urge to cry and give up.