[Henry's POV]
You guessed it. I'm next. Henry the rockstar. A surge of adrenaline coursed through my right hand, which was gripping my wand.
The dragon was much more… measly than I expected. Its body was as dark as squid ink, the only identifiable feature being its dewy lemon eyes. Not gonna lie, but the cake was already pieced up for me.
"Alright. Go!" Dumbledore declared, and my diabolical game plan was set in motion. The dragon charged itself in my direction as I swiftly dodged to the left, Quidditch skills coming into play, just as expected. I backed myself up a bit, so I could easily manoeuvre myself when necessary. The dragon snorted, preparing to act.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" I yelled, sending a barrage of large rocks into the air. The confused Horntail lashed a stream of boiling fire at them, setting them aflame in the process.
"The more, the merrier." I thought, cruising the meteors in its direction. It bolted away from them like a coward. Who knew that dragons were afraid of fire, the very thing that they breathe? With this observation, I let my fingers dance, rocks flying elegantly towards the dragon. I was united with my wand. Quite literally, hand in hand. Surprisingly, I had backed it into a corner, forming a barricade with those rocks and stringing along more to strengthen. The pile became insurmountable, the dragon disappearing from sight, except for those in the highest position in the grandstand. Why waste my shot? No reason, of course. I bolted towards the egg in a frenzied panic, tripping over a lone stone.
"Careless mistake!" I scolded myself. It was too late for self-criticism, as the dragon had reemerged. Practically risen from the ashes. And it was flying! I was nearly gobsmacked by the fact, considering that the Fireball Amelia previously fought hadn't taken flight, and that mine had been scurrying around like it was nobody's business. It took me back to the time… That time…
"Come back, Henry! You'll catch a chill if you stay out there!"
I was surrounded by an empty white wasteland, with grand oak trees that were powdered slightly, growing outwards. They had a very mighty persona, their presence similar to that of a trusted guardian. At least, in my eyes. So too were the icicles, growing from the thinning branches and glancing down from above at my eight-year-old self, as if to spark a flair of laughter inside of me, like a sibling I never had. Everything greeted me with an ironically warming presence.
"Hello, Henry!" The snowflakes tumbled, each a unique figure of grace. They dabbled themselves all over the ground, occasionally resting on my tongue.
"What does a snowflake taste like?" My inquisitive mind was set alight. And so I set my experiment in motion, running around like a headless chicken, catching as many of the infinite amount of ice drops as humanly possible.
"Hello, Henry!" The trees waved, the branches bending now and again to make a signal or a face, because of nature's course. They even sneakily took my vibrant orange beanie away. One that I named Lydia snatched it consistently, my short arms extended to retrieve it. She gave in eventually, a perpetual kindness displayed from the so-called inanimate object.
"Hello! Hello!" Everything else visibly and invisibly present here with me chorused. I smiled and waved politely back to my surroundings, tongue frozen to reply in words.
"Would they even appreciate it? Would they even appreciate it..."
"No! It's fun!" I screamed back to my mother, who was tediously rekindling the campfire, shivering constantly. She rubbed her mittens together for a glimpse of relief. "No!" The wind yelled, and the ease that was there in an instant was gone in a flash.
"Please, Henry…" she pleaded, opening her arms for a hug. I smiled cordially before rejecting, wandering away from our quarters and further into the woods. "Come back!" The realisation dawned on her at once, scrambling to halt my explorations. She managed to swerve in front, holding out a timid hand. "You can't, it's dangerous!" she cried.
"Come with me, then," I responded, puppy eyes wide. She happened to agree. Anything to make her son happy and content. So, we ventured into the forest, a small black mound resembling a pile of blackberries lay in the distance. I dashed up to it, of course. What could excite a child more than the unknown? A shrouded mystery?
As I approached the coal lump of a thing, it shook vehemently from side to side. "It's cold…" I muttered, deciding to rub my hands together, placing them on like a defibrillator. With this action, it stirred up, revealing its lengthy wings, sturdy head and aggressive orange eyes.
"Get back!" My mum cried, too paralysed in shock to remove me herself. "It'll kill you, Henry!" She warned. Being the childish individual I am, I disregarded her.
I drew closer to the creature which was staring down at me with unblinking eyes. I let out my hand. It tilted its head in curiosity, snorting. Still as a praying mantis, I leaned forward to touch the black-skinned surface. The texture was fairly smooth, but there were a few coarse ridges scattered about.
"Good dragon!" I smiled. It was that very remark that set it off. The dragon swung around in a cascade of rage, splitting the skin of my hand. I wailed in agony, tumbling backwards into the comforting but shaking grasp of my mum.
"You should've listened." She scolded with the strictest tone I have ever heard her speak in, "This is what you get." One hand squeezed my left shoulder, the other fiddled with her wand.
"No! No, do—"
"Avada Kedavra!" She shrieked, a pulsing green light blinding my sight. The dragon fell dead, and I returned to reality.
My eyes widened with a newfound sense of fear. Except that it wasn't entirely new. It was the fear I held inside me as a child, being released from within. Scrambling for safety I cuddled the golden egg, a single tear dripping down my scrunched face. The audience was left in a state of jaw-dropped silence, and the gruelling task was over. But so too were the memories.