Dragons speak Parseltongue too, you know

Harry befriends the dragon in the first task, and this makes all the difference. Watch as Harry rebels against the ministry, forms a bond with a dragon the likes of which hasn't been seen in centuries, and goes up against Voldemort! And he might just fall in love along the way... some Dumbles bashing, temporarily bad Ron, and Harry/Hermione/Luna for the pairing!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10365073/1/Dragons-speak-Parseltongue-too-you-know

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20. Things Are Changing

The Weasleys rushed into St. Mungo's, fear and worry for Ron written all over their faces. As soon as they entered the emergency care reception area, however, they were ushered away from the healers tending to Ron by a cranky receptionist.

"Yes, ma'am, I understand that you're worried for your son, but-"

"I need to see him, he's one of my babies!"

"I understand that, ma'am, but-"

"Ronald? Ronnie?"

"MA'AM!" The unfortunate receptionist yelled at the Weasley matriarch. Immediately, the entire clan went silent. Very few people had the gall to yell at their mother, and even fewer got away with it.

Molly Weasley bustled in righteous indignation. "Why, I-"

"I know that your son is injured, ma'am. But, you know what? A dozen untrained people crowding around the healers while they take care of him is not going to help! You could get in the way during something critical and make things worse!" With that, the angry, still un-named receptionist stormed off, leaving a much more sedate Weasley clan behind her.

Arthur stepped forward and gingerly placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Mollywobbles, I-"

Mrs. Weasley straightened out her shoulders and turned to her husband, shrugging his hand off of her shoulder in the process. "No, dear, that young lady was right. We're only getting in the way in here; it's like having all the children bumbling about in my kitchen while I'm trying to make Christmas dinner."

And so, the Weasley clan settled in to wait. Hours passed, with periodical "updates" from the healers's assistants, which weren't really updates at all, just repetitions of "There were some complications, ma'am." and "The healers ran into something rather unexpected. We don't know much more at this point." The assembly of Weasleys was growing increasingly impatient as the time passed.

Finally, a tall healer with hair just starting to gray at the temples walked through the waiting room door carrying a clipboard. "Molly and Arthur Weasley?"

Monty the python had been having a rough time of it. Sure, life in the rain forest hadn't been easy, but at least it wasn't this boring. Or cold, for that matter. He understood why Harry had been ignoring him, apparently he had some sort of competition. Of course, Monty had no idea why anyone would put so much time into something dumb like that, unless… maybe Harry was attempting to impress his potential mates? Monty understood that. Back in the rainforest, he had used to make a complete fool of himself in order to get the ladies to look his way.

That was beside the point. Monty was bored. What could a python do to alleviate boredom in a castle in Scotland during the winter? Wait… there were plenty of pet rats running about the castle, that was it! He'd go hunting!

With that decision made, the snake slithered off to find his next prey.

Harry could hardly believe his eyes. Was this really happening? He did what the actors used to do on Dudley's shows on the telly and pinched himself. "Ouch!" Nope, definitely not a dream.

He crept toward the egg and gingerly picked it up, carefully inspecting it for any other cracks or changes. So far, it was only the one crack down the middle, but he knew that that would change. He straightened himself out and began walking, carrying the egg with him to the armchair in the corner of the room. He sat down, the egg carefully positioned in his lap, and prepared for a long wait. After all, Hagrid's dragon egg had taken hours to hatch, so who knew how long this would take?

He grabbed his History of Magic textbook out of his book bag and started reading the assigned portion for the essay. If he was stuck waiting for hours on end, he may as well be productive while he was at it.

Luna and Hermione were walking down the hall, still light-heartedly joking and discussing the merits of magical and non-magical owls when, suddenly, Luna stopped dead in her tracks. Well, not dead.

"Luna? Are you alright?" Hermione reached an arm out to steady her slightly shaky friend. "What's wrong?"

"Yes, Hermione, I'm alright. It's just… it feels like something is… changing."

"Changing? What could possibly be changing at a time like this?"

"I don't know, but I think it has something to do with Harry. Don't you feel it?"

"No, Luna, I'm not quite as talented as you when it comes to-"

"Hermione, close your eyes and focus. Trust me, you'll feel it."

Hermione was, of course, mildly skeptic, but she trusted Luna. With a small sigh, she shut her eyes and focused on the magic around her. After a couple moments, she did notice… something. Something was different, and she couldn't quite place what. She tried to feel where the disturbance in the magic was coming from, and what it was, but… It was just out of her reach. "I-I feel it too, Luna. But, whatever it is, I don't think it's… bad. Actually, it feels…"

"Confused. Curious."

Hermione closed her eyes and tried once more to pinpoint the feeling. A few minutes passed, she was so close, "Harry!" Her eyes flashed open and she looked at Luna. "It's by Harry!"

The two girls raced up to Gryffindor tower, anxious to figure out just what was going on with their dearest friend.

Neville was in hell. Dress shopping hell. Who knew that there were so many different colors and fabrics and cuts that could be ordered four days before a ball? Fortunately, Hannah wasn't ridiculously picky, she just wanted to see all the options before she chose. Unfortunately, that meant Neville had to weed through dozens of pictures of dresses in order to find the acceptable ones for Hannah to choose from. He now understood and pitied all of the fathers who had been dragged out dress shopping with their wives and daughters—this was torture.

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