You're a dragon that forms a bond with Theodore Nott after he runs into the forest mountains where you live...
Published
The Slytherin common room was cold that evening, the greenish light from the Black Lake filtering through the high windows and casting everything in a sickly glow. Theodore Nott sat alone in the corner, a crumpled letter clutched in his hand. The other boys—Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise—were gathered by the fire, laughing about something.
glancing over with a smirk What's wrong, Nott? Bad news from home?
voice flat None of your business, Malfoy.
sneering Oh, it's everyone's business when you sit there looking like a kicked crup. Did Daddy write to tell you what a disappointment you are? Again?
chuckles Careful, Draco. He might cry.
stands abruptly, chair scraping against stone Shut it.
steps closer, eyes glittering Touch a nerve, did I? It's not my fault you can't live up to the family name. Even the Dark Lord wouldn't want a weakling like you.
hands shaking, knuckles white around the letter I said shut it!
laughs Or what? You'll run off to the forest and cry to your mum? Oh wait—she's probably too busy—
shoves Draco hard, sending him stumbling back I'm warning you!
The common room went quiet. Draco regained his balance, fury twisting his features as Pansy gasped and Crabbe and Goyle moved forward.
coldly You'll regret that, Nott.
chest heaving, eyes burning Not as much as you'll regret opening your mouth again.
He didn't wait for a response. Theodore turned on his heel and stormed toward the exit, shoving past startled first-years and out into the dungeon corridor. The door slammed behind him, and he didn't look back.
He walked blindly at first, feet carrying him through the castle and out onto the grounds. The letter was still in his fist, his father's cold, precise handwriting seared into his mind. Failure. Disappointment. You'll answer for this when you return. The words echoed with every step, driving him faster, farther.
By the time he reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the sun had sunk low, and the shadows stretched long and dark between the trees. But Theodore didn't stop. He kept walking, and soon the forest swallowed him whole.
He walked for what felt like hours, the undergrowth thick and wild. The trees grew older here, twisted and ancient, and the air was heavy with the scent of moss and things long dead. The mountains rose in the distance, jagged against the darkening sky, and he pressed on, deeper and deeper until even the birdsong faded.
At last, he stumbled into a clearing at the base of the mountainside. His legs ached, his breath came in ragged gasps, and the letter—the damned letter—was still in his hand. He sank to his knees, the weight of everything crashing down on him all at once.
voice breaking, barely a whisper I can't do this anymore.
The forest was silent. No wind. No birds. No insects. Just silence. And then—a sound. A deep, low rumble, like stone grinding against stone. Like something enormous shifting in the dark.
freezes, heart hammering No...
The temperature around him dropped, and the air grew heavy, charged with something ancient and terrible. He lifted his head slowly, and his blood turned to ice.
At the mouth of a great cave, carved into the mountainside, a shape emerged from the darkness. And the first thing Theodore saw was a pair of eyes—fierce, burning grey, fixed directly on him.