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Your hand, m'lady

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“Look,look!” He taps frantically at his knight's shoulder and points.

 Infront of them a maiden no older than fifteen calmly walks through the debris of the rotting castle. She looks about the ruins with calm, her platter of ripe fruits and spring water held as steady as a carpenter would making a violin.

 The knight, although his visor being down prevents a keen eye from looking at him, is clearly visibly rolling his eye. And the tinny sound of a heaved breath further exacerbates his intention of showing annoyance. “Keep waiting.”

 His ginger squire keeps patting him as his whole focus is zeroed in on the young maiden and her tray of delectables.

 She reaches the door and knocks twice and waits.

 “If this is to show me that to rap upon the door in a certain way is to get in, we shall proceed now and have it over with.” He makes to get up but his squire, although absolutely intent on watching the girl pulls him back down.

 Had this been a knight and his squire from less further afield than they were, be it still a high-born, the knight barely bats an eye at the rough handling from his servant and settles back down to continue watching.

 The ginger gasps audibly as what was once a thought upon rock moves and peels away from the doorway and a large, grey, scaled head bobs past one of the four grand pillars to the antebellum. Although the one closest to the knight and squire's hiding spot is crumbled and part of the overhang must have crumbled with it as only a large majority of said overhang is still jutting out.

 The knight does inhale, but not loudly, instincts urging quiet. “Are you looking sir?”

 He hums softly and watches as the beast, who's head in length is twice that of the girl's height, stops and rests upon the ground next to the girl.

 He can see, even from his far-away position, the dragon glance towards the doors, it's head just that large you see.

 The girl bows to the dragon and enters.

 The beast waits for a moment before slithering back and away from the doors and out of sight around the furthest side from the men.

 “Permission to speak Sir Potter?” Harry nods and looks to his squire, the young noble himself looking eagerly to his higher.

 “A woman, is what we need. I...we need to find a woman willing to put her life at risk to get in there and rescue the princess.” He grins keenly, searching the knight for approval and absolutely eating it up when he lifts his visor and nods.

 “Ron, this has to work. Or we may find ourselves the laughing stock of Hogwarts.” Ron nods enthusiastically and with both a glance from each at the doors to the castle they traipse back to Hogwarts and rest at a dusty little inn called the Leaky Cauldron.