Chapter Text
BOOK 1: The Dragon Rider
Berk was burning and Sirius Black was frozen.
He found it amusing, in a way, how the white hot flames licking up the side of a hut nearby did nothing to melt the all consuming fear that took over him whenever there was an attack. It had only started a few minutes ago while he was in the depths of a project at the forge. Sirius was hammering away at a sword when Moody swung into the room at full speed, shouting about an attack and grabbing the various weaponry lying about.
“And don’t you move, ya weak bastard,” Mad-Eye said as he careened away.
Naturally, Sirius had done the exact opposite, leaving the sword and scooping up his prized project into his arms before following in Moody’s wake. The air crackled with fire and screams that drowned out the sound of flapping wings from the dragon descending overhead. Dragons were solitary hunters, always moving alone outside of their nests, apart from the Zippleback breed which consisted of odd pairs of near identical dragons that worked together as one coughed out gas and the other flames to alight the gas in a destructive frenzy. Looking into the sky, Sirius was grateful to see the dragon attacking was not a pair of Zipplebacks. A Monstrous Nightmare was not much better, though. The dragon landed on top of one of their huts and lit fire all down its spine as more flames unceremoniously poured from its mouth.
Sirius knew he was a weak man. You didn’t spend eighteen years of ridicule from your father over your short build, your skinny body, how long you let your hair grow, your lack of bloodthirst and not understand that. Hell, while every other person his age in the village rushed towards the fire and dragon, Sirius was standing stock still, cradling a little contraption in his arms as he stared up at the ugly beast.
“Watch it!” came a girl’s cry.
Starting out of his stupor, Sirius turned to see Lily Evans striding towards him. She looked ridiculously impressive, more so than usual with flames bursting out in an explosion behind her. Her muscles rippled under the heat, thick red hair swinging behind her back in a plait. While most women in the village opted for pants in battle, Lily always wore a leather skirt held up with a silver belt that looked like a ring of skulls Sirius remembered making a few years ago. Lily didn’t know he was the one to craft it, or she probably would have wrenched the belt off and chucked it into the explosion behind her. But what Evans didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. She swung the axe she carried into the air and brought it down on one of the supporting beams to the hut the dragon was stationed on. The creature let out a horrid screech and took off, leaving the building to crumble behind it. Sirius stumbled back as the hut crashed down, dirt and ash exploding everywhere. Somehow, Lily managed to stay standing, although her eyebrows were a little singed.
“You’re bloody useless, you know that?” Lily panted. She ruthlessly shoved past him to continue towards battle.
“I love you too Evansss,” he called after her with a cheeky wink. He watched her meet up with the rest of the eighteen year olds in the village- this year's Vandøde, the dragon-fighter training group.
Every year the village oracle chose a group of people in their eighteenth year to train in the creatively named Dragon Arena. Only the best of the best fighters were included, so Sirius was obviously left out. He knew his father was extremely disappointed with him. Orion spent all his free time yelling at Sirius about proving himself for the Vandøde before training started. Seeing as their training would start in three days, time was of the essence. Sirius didn't...he didn't know if he wanted to be in the Vandøde. But he certainly knew that he didn't want to be left out and getting Orion off his back would be an added bonus. The possibility of getting into the Vandøde was probably wishful thinking. No one got approved so late, for fate was not a tardy fellow. There was still a chance, though, and chance was all Sirius had left.
This year’s Vandøde consisted of five people. Lily Evans obviously, who was now running alongside Mad Eye as they worked together to roll one of their catapults out into the open center of town.
There was James Potter, who Sirius was very close with ever since they were twelve and the Potter clan had joined the village. James had been very taken with the idea of dragon fighting, scaring off a tiny dragon that was chasing after Sirius a couple months after he moved to Berk. Sirius had been sitting in a tree, fiddling with one of his inventions: a small axe with a retractable head. The tiny dragon crept up on him, its yellow eyes gleaming in the fading evening light. Sirius hadn’t even realized he was in danger until a battle cry rang out. Startled, Sirius looked up to see a boy his age with dark skin and atrociously messy hair running at the dragon creeping up on him. Sirius was rooted to the spot, not wanting to harm the creature. That was his issue. All of the other vikings seemed to have an innate instinct to kill whenever they saw a dragon. Sirius’s instinct told him to freeze. But James was unarmed so, thinking quickly, Sirius had chucked his little axe to James, who used it to scare the dragon away. James had been quite delighted with the axe when Sirius showed him its retractable features and they were attached at the hip from then on. James was currently on fire, not that he noticed, too busy staring at Lily in awe while flames ate away at the cuffs of his trousers. Potter had been in love with her since he came to Berk, something Sirius never heard the end of.
Peter, another one of the Vandøde, stamped out the fire on James before it could spread. James gave him a bemused “thanks” before the two of them shot after Lily in tandem, Peter muttering under his breath all the way. What Peter lacked in bravery and cunning he made up for in brute strength and an encyclopedic knowledge about all of the different dragon breeds and classifications. He wasn’t tall, but very beefy with a tuft of golden brown hair on top of his ruddy face. As they ran by he overheard Peter whispering “Monstrous Nightmare, attack 15, speed 12, fire power…”.
The Rosier twins hung back, working to piece together a ginormous metal shield that was used in battlefront pushes. Well, Evan was working at least. The shorter of the two, despite being the boy, Evan was albino like his sister. They had the palest skin Sirius had ever seen, white hair, and odd watery red eyes. Pandora was floating around the metal pieces a little aimlessly, her curly white hair reaching down to her knees. Sirius privately thought that if the twins weren’t basically co-dependent and Evan wasn’t so vital to the Vandøde’s numbers, Pandora would probably not be included. Pandora much preferred spending time huddled away in the village oracle's hut to working on battle techniques with the others. The twins apart were useless, but together they were genius, their bond so strong they could anticipate the other's actions before they even happened. It made them a force to be reckoned with for strength and strategy in the heat of battle. This was showcased perfectly as Evan suddenly tossed one of the shield pieces up. Pandora, not even looking away from the constellations in the sky she gazed at, effortlessly grabbed the metal and flung it towards the dragon. The shield blocked the burst of fire the Monstrous Nightmare spat out, deflecting the flames from the twins in the nick of time.
Sirius began to run, trying to keep his invention tucked in his arms. He'd worked on the project for months. It was vital. It was a compromise. Whether it was spite for his father or the lack of a natural instinct, he knew one thing: Sirius Black would never kill a dragon. And so...compromise. Sirius would capture dragons and bring them to James or maybe Peter . They could do the dirty work. Sirius got the idea when he ran across an old scrap of paper searching around Chief Dumbledore’s hut a few months ago. Technically, he was allowed to be in there. Moody sent him to ask Dumbledore something or other about the logistics of one of their larger projects- creating an army’s worth of the retractable axes that Sirius had perfected. They were advantageous in battle as the wielder could adjust the curving blade to be nonexistent to fully extended, which created a ninety degree angle with the hilt. That had been a stroke of genius on his part in Sirius’s humble opinion. When at a ninety degree angle, the axe could be thrown and (if done properly) would come whirling back at the wielder to catch. Having recoverable airborne weaponry could be a complete game changer when it came to dragon battle. Sirius thought that his father might have been mildly proud of that, but no. Orion had looked down his nose in disappointment when Sirius showed him the axe before sliding into yet another rant about how he should spend less time cooped up in the blacksmith’s and more time training to join the Vandøde. The scrap of paper in Dumbledore’s office was dated years and years ago, before Sirius had been born.
Albus,
I have captured one of the beasts yet again and have sensitive news to share. It changes everything. Send the date of the next council meeting.
- G
Sirius didn’t have a clue who “G” was or why they felt comfortable calling Chief Dumbledore 'Albus' or what the sensitive information was. Clearly it was rather useless as nothing about Berk and its relation to the dragons had changed in centuries. What Sirius did see in the letter was a way out. Capturing the dragons. Why had he never thought of it before? Of course, it probably wouldn’t be good enough to get him into the Vandøde but perhaps it would be a gateway to earning more respect within Berk. Sirius was very popular once. He knew he was handsome and charming. The girls in the village, barring Lily, were all very keen on him for a while. He and James would run around, dashing looks and daring personalities, causing chaos wherever they went. But as the years had gone by and it became increasingly obvious that Sirius wasn’t going to wake up one day as a strong and brilliant dragon killer, the village turned on him. Sirius was still handsome, yes, but no respectable girl would want a man who couldn’t protect them from the fiery beasts. Sirius was washed up. This could be the key to gaining popularity once again. And at the end of the day, that’s really all he wanted. He missed the feeling of people’s eyes following him with intrigue, girls flicking their hair and batting their eyelashes, cooks smiling as they slipped him extra raspberries.
Sirius finally made it to the top of the hill, gasping for breath. There was a flat space for him to set the contraption up. Looking around nervously, he saw that the twins had gotten the shield up and were aiding the rest of the village in defending the town from the dragon, now perched on the top of their village center building where town council was held. Flames spewed out towards the water supply, which was rapidly evaporating. Sirius quickly thrust his entrapper down, shoving the specialized rope into the small wooden cannon-shaped shooter. The rope was thick and slick with flame retardant, with stones attached around the outside to add weight and wrap around the dragon, which would in theory trap it and prevent it from flying. It had worked on the poor sheep he tested it on (and Mad Eye that one time- Sirius was still scrubbing the floors every night for that one). He cranked the shooter, adding pressure as he prepared to launch the rope at the Monstrous Nightmare.
That was when Sirius heard it.
A loud, high pitched screech.
Only one kind of dragon made that sound.
Terrified, Sirius whipped around and saw, high over the village, a dragon with jet black wings shoot bright purple fire into the air. Despite it being dark and despite Sirius’s knowledge about dragon breeds being eons worse than Peter’s, even an idiot would know what kind of dragon this was. The village had never seen one, but lived in crippling fear that one day they would. This dragon was rumored to be immortal, unstoppable, ridiculously rare, ridiculously powerful.
A Night Fury had come to Berk.
Sirius didn’t even think about what he was doing. The villagers were too occupied with the Monstrous Nightmare to notice the Night Fury and its high pitched scream. They would all die if he didn’t act. Quickly he turned the shooter towards the Night Fury, aimed, and fired.
It happened in a moment. It was difficult to see the details between the pitch black dragon, the night sky, and the odd lighting from the burning village, but Sirius could just make out the net spiraling towards the Night Fury. The dragon let out an odd, horrendous screech as the stones hit it and wrapped around, trapping its wings and legs so that only its head and tail could move. Then, Sirius realized his fatal miscalculation. When compensating for the added complications of his target being in the air, he only considered the difficulty of aiming at a moving, flying target. He only calculated for how far the rope would fly to hit a real dragon.
What Sirius hadn’t thought of was what would happen when his airborne target suddenly lost its ability to stay airborne.
The Night Fury rapidly fell out of the sky. Sirius couldn’t do anything but watch with a sinking heart as the dragon crashed from the stars down to the earth, the creature making odd pained gurgling sounds the entire way. He couldn’t see exactly where it landed, but the dark mass must have ended up somewhere within the forest a mile or so out from Berk. Sirius didn’t know what to do. He had to find the dragon at some point, probably bring James to actually kill it. But for some reason, even though his invention worked, even though he, Sirius Black- the village weakling- had taken down the most rare powerful dragon in the world, he didn’t feel happy or even relieved. He felt bad for the beast. The dragon was flung from the sky. It was probably hurt. And Sirius was going to bring it to James for it's death because he couldn't even be brave enough to strip the beast of it's life. No, this didn’t feel good in the slightest.
Turning away, Sirius refocused on what was happening in the village. They were under attack. He would deal with the Night Fury later. At least he had something to brag about to his father now. When Sirius properly focused, he found the village suddenly peaceful. Dumbledore, Moody, and Potter’s parents were dragging the unconscious Monstrous Nightmare toward the dragon arena while the villagers cheered and made their way back to their huts in exhaustion. Sirius was not the only one to capture a dragon tonight. Usually there was a kill on sight policy, but the Dragon Arena needed dragons for the trainees to practice on, so exceptions had been made in the past few battles. He trudged over to where the Vandøde recruits were sitting, all five of them panting but happy.
“Hiya,” James said, happily slicking his mussed and sweaty hair out of his face with a badly scarred hand. He'd been attacked as a child and nearly lost an arm when the Potter clan lived in a weaker village. It was one of the reasons for their move.
“That was crazy,” Sirius said, taking a seat next to James. Potter was the only one who seemed actually happy to see him. Peter waved amicably, but everyone knew he only associated with Sirius because he always did whatever James did. Sirius didn’t care because it wasn’t like he was associating with Peter other than the fact that James got along with him. The Rosier twins were decidedly neutral on the matter, although Sirius suspected that he was generally in Pandora’s good graces and generally not in Evan’s. Lily openly hated him and promptly got up as Sirius sat down.
“It wasn’t crazy,” she said, eyes narrowed at Sirius. “It was normal. That is what we deal with every day, Black. That is what we train our entire lives for. So that we can protect our village and families. You are pathetic, running off while the rest of us nearly burn to death. You need to learn that there won’t always be a safety net. You won’t always be able to hole up in that stupid forge and never fight for our village. It's disgraceful that you haven’t been chosen for the Vandøde and disgraceful that you think it's ok to sit with us. I’m going to bed.”
With that, Evans began to march away, head held high and red plait swinging. James looked at her retreating form like a longing puppy. Sirius felt shame and anger swell within him. Who was she to tell him off? He got enough of that shit from his father and he wouldn’t stand by and take it from her too. Before he knew what he was doing, Sirius was on his feet and shouting.
“I’ll have you know that I captured a Night Fury tonight. A Night Fury! I saved the entire village, all of your asses. You were all busy puttering around with a Monstrous Nightmare and I single handedly brought down the most powerful dragon in the world!” He called after her, seething. Lily didn’t even turn around. Instead she continued walking, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Black, hell will come upon this world before you even manage to pluck up the courage to face a dragon’s egg. Night Fury. That’s a joke.” She threw up a very rude hand gesture and disappeared into the night.
His attention now off of Evans, Sirius whipped around to find Peter and the Rosier twins laughing quietly. Even James looked like he was fighting a smile, the traitor.
“I did, I-I did,” Sirius said with conviction. James gave him an appraising look.
“I believe you Sirius. Come on, sit down.” James tugged on his sleeve and Sirius huffed dramatically, making to sit when a voice called out from the Black hut. Sirius flinched when it drew closer. He'd know that voice anywhere.
“Sirius. Orion. Black.” His father appeared, tall and imposing, voice dripping with disgust. Try as he might, Sirius couldn't help curling in on himself as the man towered over him. Orion and Sirius looked vaguely similar in some ways. They bore the dark hair, grey eyes, and high cheekbones all Blacks had. But the similarities ended there. Where Sirius was wirey, Orion was heavy and powerfully built. His father had thick eyebrows and his hair was cut close to his head. Orion always looked as though he was angry and disgusted, even when things were good. “You wretched excuse for a son. COME!”
Shooting a nervous look back at James, he stood straight and followed his father away back towards the hut. James gave him a sad little wave. Peter and Pandora had the decency to look sympathetic. Evan was still smirking. Sirius guessed he should be glad that at least Lily had left.
The Black’s hut was by far the biggest in Berk, even larger than the Chief's accommodation. Their family had never been in the position of Chief line, although many a Black daughter married into it. The Blacks were ridiculously influential and wealthy, but purposefully strayed from overt power such as the title of Chief. That would hinder their ability to engage in their less…tasteful pursuits. Namely, the trading of unsavory items with rogue groups and Berk’s rival villages.
“Get in,” Orion spat, grabbing Sirius by the back of his collar and bodily throwing him over their threshold. Sirius only just managed not to fall, stumbling into the common room. Orion slammed the door and stalked towards him, a predator closing in on its prey. But Sirius refused to be prey. Around the age of twelve, Sirius had decided, for some reason, that the one aspect of his life that he would show bravery in was his father. Sirius saw the way the Potters treated James and, by extension, Sirius himself. Effie and Fleamont were kind, and encouraging. They could hold their own in battle and did, time and time again. But they were also supportive. James never flinched when they were near and they were more than happy to welcome Sirius into their hut whenever he wanted. He remembered how, when he had shown the axe invention to his father and got nothing but anger and ridicule, Sirius ran over to James’s place where Effie gushed over how clever he was while Fleamont turned the weapon over in his hand with interest, asking Sirius if he would take him into the blacksmith and explain the mechanics more in depth.
So Sirius could mouth off to Orion all he wanted, he didn’t care. There was a real family waiting for him just down the lane. Before tonight, he thought he may have the slightest chance at Vandøde, which would make up for his years of disappointment. Maybe he could have salvaged the relationship with his father. But with his performance tonight it was an impossibility. It would probably take him forever to find the Night Fury and even when he did, no way any of the villagers would believe that it was Sirius who caught it. Not getting into Vandøde would be the last straw, Sirius was sure of it. A few days and he would be chucked out of the Black clan. He would run off to the Potters and just cross his fingers that Orion didn’t stop by to murder him or something.
“Where were you tonight?” His father asked quietly, eyes gleaming. Orion was half a head taller than Sirius. Sirius held out hope his whole childhood that he would one day grow taller than Orion or at least get stronger, fuller than his father. Neither had been the case, much to his disappointment. Curse his mother and her short genes. Good thing she was dead or Sirius would have to kill her in retribution.
“Catching a Night Fury,” Sirius said with a flagrant grin, standing to his full height. The grin was slapped off his face.
“How dare you joke at a time like this?” Orion seethed. Sirius was stunned. His father had never, ever laid hands on him in such a way. Tears sprung to Sirius’s eyes as he brought shaking fingers to the tender spot on his face where his father’s hand had made contact.
“I-I swear I did father,” Sirius said, curling in disgust at how pathetic and small his voice sounded. He hadn’t begged or tried to reason with his father for years. But something about being hit, the dehumanizing feeling of his own parent slapping him. Fight had left Sirius's body. “I shot it with something I invented, the creature went down in the forest. I can go find it right now if-”
Orion grabbed him by the front of his shirt, nearly lifting Sirius off the ground.
“Enough with these inventions,” Orion shouted into his face, spittle flying. “Enough with your lies. You have brought shame upon this family. It should have been you murdered by that dragon, not your brother! Even as a baby your brother was more useful than you are now!” That hurt. And wasn’t a new thing for Sirius to hear. He bit back a retort, terrified that if he did, Orion would just come out and say it. Sirius couldn’t handle Orion saying it.
“You spend all of your time in the blacksmith,” Orion continued to rant. “You spend all of your time with the Potter boy, following him like a lost dog. Potter is clearly normal, clearly loves the Evans bitch. But you. You. The villagers have been whispering. They will think you are ergi.” Sirius’s heart dropped and tears began to stream down his face. No. He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. He couldn’t have rumors like that spreading around. “You pathetic excuse for a human. You won’t fight dragons, you aren’t part of the Vandøde. I asked Dumbledore. I asked him to include you, you know that? He insisted that the Oracle had final say, refused to hear me out. And why should he? You can’t even pretend not to run in fear the second a dragon is on the village. You have decimated the name of Black.”
Sirius knew this anger didn’t come from the fact that he didn’t help the village out. If his father was disappointed in his cowardice because of that, well. Sirius would understand. It was pathetic that he'd never lent a helping hand to the protective forces. But his father couldn’t give less of a shit about Berk. He was only proud. The Blacks were powerful. All except Sirius.
“Go! You will return when you are in the Vandøde, or you will not return at all!”
With that, Orion pushed Sirius from him. Sirius stumbled as his feet reacquainted with the ground and then he was running. Running out of the Black hut. Running, not to the Potter home, but the blacksmiths. He was ashamed and mortified. He had cried in front of his father. His father, who was actually going to kick him out if he didn’t make it into Vandøde. It was real now. He wasn’t mourning the hut. The Black residence was depressing and suffocating, even before the death of his five year old brother. Hell, even before the death of his mother, when his father was marginally more bearable. He mourned being part of a clan. Of being wanted, even in the twisted way his family knew how to want.
Sirius entered the blacksmiths, grateful that Moody hadn’t come back after the battle. Sirius had slept there several times after running off from his father. The Potters were kind and welcoming and understanding. He didn’t want any of that right now. Didn’t want them to see the tears. He wanted to lay on the uncomfortable stone ground and pull a leather apron over his body as a makeshift blanket, watching the fire until he drifted off. Sirius did just that, using his arms to cushion his head. But he couldn’t drift off. His mind was racing a million miles an hour.
Ergi. The word bounced around his head, bruising every spot it landed on. Fuck. Sirius needed a plan. Getting into Vandøde would be step one. Then he would start courting a girl. Evans was off limits obviously. Maybe Pandora. Or one of the other random girls in the village who used to bat their eyelashes at him. And then he would rise to the top of the Vandøde ranks. Be a man. Prove himself. Prove his father wrong. And then, he wouldn’t go back to the Blacks. He would marry whatever girl he decided to court and have his own residence. Cut his clan out on his own terms. It would be him who didn’t want them, and rejected them. Not the other way around. Never again. And he knew there was only one last option to get into the Vandøde. It was a longshot. It probably wouldn’t work, but he had to try. To go against his lifelong claim.
Sirius Black needed to kill a dragon.
Sirius Black needed to kill a Night Fury.
…
It was bright morning light streaming through the window of the blacksmith that awoke Sirius. His body ached terribly from laying on the floor all night and he had to get up very slowly, twisting to nudge his spine back into its proper placement. The fire never really went out in the workshop, but it had run low. On instinct, Sirius grabbed the puffer, using the air to bring the roaring flames up once more. He peered blearily around the room, continuing to stretch out his painful joints. It was just after dawn. Moody wouldn’t be in for a little while longer, but better safe than sorry. Sirius made quick work of gathering a bag full of a dagger, a waterskien, and some food before exiting the blacksmiths.
It was like his brain had been contemplating his situation all night because there was a fully formed plan for the day neatly tucked away in his head. He was going to track down the Night Fury, kill it, and take its heart as a trophy back to the village. Obviously, Sirius couldn’t carry a whole dragon by himself, that was ridiculous. And he wasn’t going to bring James to help. He needed to do this himself, prove that he could do things alone. Dispel any rumors. Then he would hopefully be high off of adrenaline and village pride, which would give him the confidence to kill his father and take his heart as a trophy. Ok, that last bit was definitely an actual dream and not part of the official plan. Sirius sighed.
He had begun to trudge off in the direction of the forest when he heard footsteps. Turning around, Sirius was met with the face of Severus Snape. Just his luck. Snape curled his lips, not a good look on that pale, sallow face. Greasy dark hair hung lanky around his head. Sirius’s hair was only a little bit longer than Snape's and he thanked the Gods every day that he had curly hair and Snape’s hair was dead straight. Sirius might actually have to off himself if he was ever mistaken for Severus or visa versa.
“Hello, Snivellous,” Sirius said, using the name James, Peter, and him had invented for their least favorite person. “Maybe you should shower? Creeping after Evans is more pathetic with greasy hair, you know. And it is hard for you to get more pathetic, so I would fix what I could.”
Snape was a year older than him, a mediocre-at-best member of the past year's Vandøde. Severus and Lily had been friends forever, but everyone was aware of Snape’s creepy obsession with the girl who was clearly not interested in the man’s near constant romantic advances. Sirius had never gotten along with Snape, but hadn’t begun to actively dislike him until Snivellous and James got into a giant row over Lily a few years back. Snape said some horrible things and Sirius would always take James’s side on everything anyway. James loved Lily, was probably too persistent at some points, but Potter was also respectful. Was happy to be friends with Lily and see her as an actual person, not just an object of his affections. Sirius was sure that, for some reason, Lily and Severus had been real and good friends for a long time. But Severus was not willing to let go of Lily or respect her wishes to simply be friends. And even though Lily was far from Sirius’s favorite person (in fact he probably only disliked her slightly less than Snape), Severus’s obsessive and rude courting of the girl soured Sirius’s opinion on him irreversibly.
“Hello, Black,” Snape said, his voice dripping with disgust. “Creeping around without Potter? You somehow seem more pathetic without your little boyfriend. Shocking as it is hard for you to get more pathetic.”
“Wowww, you are just so creative,” Sirius snarked, trying to ignore the boyfriend comment. The Vandøde felt more important than ever. “What the fuck do you want, Snivey? I don’t like wasting my time. And this conversation has already been a dreadful waste seeing as you are involved.”
“Hmm,” Snape mused. His eyes flashed with anger. “What were you doing in the blacksmith? Didn’t sleep there I hope.”
Sirius knew they both knew he had.
“I know you are jealous that I’m actually good at something. Weren’t you last place in your Vandøde?”
“At least I was in it,” Snape snapped. Hah, he had taken the bait.
“And I will be too, once I bring back the heart of the Night Fury I’ve caught. Now I best be off!” Sirius flounced away, adding an extra skip in step to emphasize how carefree and confident and NOT angry and scared he was. Snape snorted in disgust and disbelief, but Sirius looked over his shoulder and saw that the man had not pursued him and was instead wandering towards the Evans residence. Good riddance.
The forest was still relatively cold, the morning light not yet seeping its warmth into the thicket of trees. Sirius was grateful that it was the beginning of summer. He wasn’t sure he would be able to survive if it was winter time and there was snow. The trees rustled and there was occasionally a chirping bird, but no sign of a dragon. And the beasts weren’t particularly difficult to miss. Sirius continued down the uneven path that until he was well within the forest, wandering vaguely east, the direction the dragon had fallen.
Sirius was just beginning to think that he was well and truly lost or the dragon had escaped and flown away when he heard an odd, gurgling groan. It was loud, shaking the surrounding trees. It wasn’t human. He began to run, sliding between trees and ducking under branches until….there!
The Night Fury lay on the ground in a small clearing. Above it, quite a bit to the right, was a large hole in the tree canopy where the creature must have crashed through. There was also a badly cracked and splintered tree the dragon must have hit before finally landing in the clearing. A trail of dark red blood ran from the smashed tree to a bad gash in its tail. Sirius’s contraption had worked perfectly, the dragon adequately trapped and unable to move or burn the rope away. The Night Fury let out that odd groan again and Sirius startled into action. He moved slowly towards the beast, still not fully trusting his invention to hold.
The dragon faced away from him and Sirius made a wide circle around the creature until he was in front of the dragon’s face, withdrawing the strong little dagger he brought with him. He realized he was shaking with nerves. The dragon didn’t look evil or like it wanted to burn his house down. It looked sleepy and peaceful. He admired the delicate interlocking of the dragon’s deeply black scales. He noticed that the Night Fury wasn’t entirely black, though. There were little silver scales scattered about its body, including a pattern under its right eye that looked a bit like a crescent moon. The creature was magnificent and he hesitated. His stupid, stupid lack of killer instinct. Sirius suddenly had the urge to make an announcement. If he put what he was about to do into words, then it would be more real.
“I have conquered you…oh…great beast!” He said, rather weakly, brandishing the dagger halfheartedly. The Night Fury didn’t acknowledge his existence and Sirius was beginning to think that perhaps it was still passed out when the dragon opened its eyes. Sirius had one moment to stare, frozen, at the yellow eyes slashed down the middle with a razor thin pupil before the dragon was growling at him. The creature seemed startled and anxious. It wrestled with the bindings and Sirius took a quick step back. Please hold, please hold he mentally shouted at the ropes. The invention was perfect or the dragon was too weak to break through. Either way, after a minute, the dragon resettled with another pained groan, refocusing its attention on glaring at Sirius.
Sirius stepped forward again. Speaking would probably be good, he thought.
“Yeah, like I said, erm. I have vanquished you, oh great dragon beast,” he said. The dragon cocked its head. It didn’t look terrified. If Sirius could guess it almost looked amused or annoyed, and not like it was fearing for its life like it should be. Sirius set his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest and brandishing the knife again. The dragon looked at the dagger pointed at its face skeptically.
“I am a…VIKING! Yes, a viking! Son of Black! And, um, I’m going to kill you and cut out your heart to present to my chief and er stuff,” he ended weakly. At the last sentence the dragon looked mildly concerned, its eyes flicking between Sirius’s face and the dagger with apprehension. Does it know what I’m saying? Sirius thought. “Yeah so I’m going to go do that, now, yes.”
He took a deep breath and approached the dragon. The Night Fury began to growl again, but Sirius didn’t hear the high pitched screech that seemed to come before a fire attack. The beast turned its head, watching as Sirius walked to its side. He placed the dagger against the scales at its neck, the dragon now whimpering. Sirius felt a little bad for it.
The plan, you Gods forsaken idiot, Sirius yelled at himself. His life and reputation meant more than a single stupid dragon.
But why?
Oh no you don’t, Sirius thought. Nope. Nope.
He replaced the dagger, adjusting the angle so that it would slice right through its throat
and
and
and
Sirius begins to cut at the ropes near the dragon's neck. He worked his way down the dragon’s body, slicing the grimy ropes until the trap fell away, freeing the Night Fury. The beast was still. Very still. Sirius thought they were both holding their breath. When the last bit of rope was cut, Sirius stepped back.
The Night Fury slowly started to move. Its legs stretched and it shook its head, rolling its neck too and fro. Sirius replaced the dagger in its holder, trying not to notice how similar he was to the dragon waking up earlier, slowly getting up and popping joints back into place. Sirius was so mesmerized that he didn't realize the dragon turned to face him until he was looking into those glaring yellow eyes. The dragon let out a screech, and advanced slightly while it shook out its wings. Sirius stumbled back a bit.
“Er, look. I didn’t kill you, see? So please don’t eat me. Or come to think of it, maybe that would be better” Sirius said, thinking of the Vandøde and his imminent homelessness. “I’m in a bit of a shitty spot now since I didn’t uh kill you. So maybe eat me? I’m sure you’re hungry.”
The dragon had stopped advancing and was looking at him curiously. Sirius stopped walking backwards as they stared at each other. The dragon didn’t seem threatening, it seemed…interested. There was an energy between them and Sirius had the ridiculous urge to pet it. He held out his hand slowly, palm out. The dragon stared at his fingers and shuffled forward a bit. The Night Fury looked like it was about to place its forehead against his palm when it looked into his eyes. Suddenly the dragon bared its teeth, growling. Its wings spread out and the beast whipped around half running-half flying away. Sirius ran forward, watching as it flung itself off a ledge and into a small valley. The creature let out a screech and landed somewhat ungracefully on the grass below. Sirius watched it get its barrings. The dragon then looked up and saw him. The Night Fury looked terribly angry and Sirius heard the tell-tale high pitched screech that came before the dragon’s fire.
Sirius stepped away from the cliff edge to leave. The dragon clearly didn’t want to interact anymore and he didn’t blame it. Sirius had, in all fairness, shot it out of the air and then threatened it with a knife. Undoing the wrong he had created in the first place by cutting the ropes off didn’t mean the creature needed to be nice to him. Honestly, he was shocked he made it out alive. Not that he would be alive for long. Sirius dejectedly walked back to Berk through the forest, thinking about how his father would probably have him skinned alive since there was really no chance in hell he would make it to the Vandøde now.
Sirius didn’t see the Night Fury lie down in the valley as it slowly turned back into a tall, dirty blond eighteen year old boy with slightly pointed ears, narrow pupils, and scars on his face, though not enough to hide the crescent moon birthmark that resided under his right eye.