Disclaimer: I don't own the mighty Harry Potter, nor the awesome Elder Scrolls. (I want Skyrim though!) This is a one-shot – hopefully someone will adopt this, I'm terrible at updating!

Fourth Year, Hogwarts Express (London, England to Hogsmede, Scotland):

As the train passed through the Scottish countryside, one young boy was furiously reading a book on dragons and words of power. Was this some D&D enthusiast? Not quite…in fact, this young lad was none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived (In-A-Cupboard). At the end of his third year, having saved Sirius Black from undeath by soul-kiss-suckery, he had made a small realization – hard, not-often-used magic…was POWERFUL!

The Patronus charm which he had struggled to master had thwarted over one hundred dementors, and it is for this reason that he decided to find more magic. Of course, remembering how easily a wizard is made powerless without a wand, he focused on wandless magic as the subject of his endeavors. Having considered asking the house-elves for their magic, he was shocked to find that they could not teach him their secrets – not through any fault of their own (as they would love to share what they knew) but that they were prevented by the house-elf bond. Dobby was his next source of information, after the house elf woke up from fainting at being asked to teach Harry Potter. He told Harry of the source for their ability at wandless magic; channeling ambient magic from the world around them.

Harry had been practicing all summer, bringing magic into his body and sending it out in small bursts. It seemed easiest to do so with his breath, so he focused on that as his main objective – controlling his outflow of magic through his mouth. Even as the Goblet of Fire was spitting out names, Harry was thinking over what he could learn from the magic of the Goblet – until it spat out his. After that, all the time in between that moment and the first task was spent researching magics that were based on the mouth. Sadly, all he could find were vague references to dragons and doh-sa-tin (which was written in such a manner as to suggest that even this was questionable). However, once Hagrid surreptitiously introduced him to what would be his first challenge, Harry planned out an approach of the dragons' pen in the early hours of the morning. Just before dawn, as the dragons lazed about the pen, Harry whispered

"Bugger, this bloody cloak keeps getting stuck on bushes! At this rate, Hagrid or Charlie's going to come and figure that I'm cheating or something….". As he said this, he was looking at the dragon, unknowingly speaking its language.

"Young meat, you can talk? Come closer and I'll chew you for my children once they hatch…"

Harry, rather shocked by this, replied, "…Bloody Hell! I can talk to dragons – hey, do you know about the doh-sa-tin or whatever they are, and ….what do you mean, FEED ME TO YOUR BLOODY CHILDREN?"

" Hush, you fool! The keepers will come with their blasted sticks, and put us both down…bloody annoying that is. As to doh-sa-tin….you ask much, little one. First you seek knowledge of an old hate, then you wish to be spared my jaws? What have you to offer that I would spare your miserable hide….," The dragon responded.

Harry thought quickly, What do dragons like? Come on, come on! This is the first chance to get some real ability to stop Moldieshorts (…I just know he's coming back, he always comes back – he's like a bad penny pretending to be a snake-loving pedophile…). Wait! Voldemort hates everything…so maybe the dragons aren't so friendly with him, either. Oh, gold too…I remember for that book I snuck out of Dudley's second bedroom that dragons love gold.

Having come to a fair plan, Harry began to negotiate with the dragon.

"….Um, well I don't know your name, but…."

"For now, call me Bordmearc"

"Right…well, ..Bordmearc…I wonder if you know about a wizard named Voldemort?"

"What are you talking to me of other meat for, little one? It's your bones I'll cook, not theirs."

"Perhaps you'd know him better as the snake-faced bastard?" Harry questioned, thinking, 'Lord knows I would, stupid git.'

With a terrific roar, Bordmearc lunged at Harry, hissing," That one took my first hatch from me! I'll eat you in his PLACE!"

"No! I'm his enemy!," seeing Bordmearc calm somewhat, he continued, "I'm the one who defeated him the last time. But see…there's a problem. He's back."

With that, the dragon shook as though in rage and fear at the same time. It turned about, and sat on its haunches with all of its attention on Harry.

"What do you want, then, man-child? My services – dragons do not fight for humans, not even against Snake-Face. We'll deal with him when he comes."

Harry realized this was a matter of pride for Bordmearc, just like with Dudley and his boxing fetish.

"I have a good sum of gold, and I've stopped him before – teach me, and a wizard will solve wizard problems, great Bordmearc". The dragon considered this, and told him to return at night for her answer. The next night, Harry and Bordmearc negotiated the final terms of the agreement. Harry was to provide 500 pounds of gold, with a later promise for Voldemort's head, in exchange for the dragon-history of Dohvahkiin. After agreeing, the dragon began to shake its head and laugh.

"Fool! You trade so willingly, and make such a steep promise, when you have no ability and no way to fulfill it! Hah!" Bordmearc sneered, "The dragontongue needs a dragonborn, with the souls of dragons to power it – you have none!".

Harry only smiled, and listened as Bordmearc began to teach him about the words of power in the dragontongue.

As Harry entered the arena several days later (and after several late nights studying his new knowledge), his eyes were on Bordmearc the Hungarian Horntail. It had refused to deal with him for the task, saying that it preferred to eat him after having tricked him in negotiations – 'spare his pride, and take his hide', she had claimed.

Harry calmly walked over to the edge of the arena closest to the judges' table, raised his wand to his chest-height, and let it fall in full view of the crowd. As he walked back to the dragon, his friends cried out while the Slytherins jeered, thinking he was going off to his doom.

Bordmearc readied her strongest flame, and as her mouth opened, Harry lightly braced himself while focusing on his breath-magic and said three words:

" FUS-ROH-DAH! "

Cliffhanger-ish, but I think we know what's coming here. For those of you who are interested in my other stories, they're coming when they're coming - no sooner. Sorry about that, but sometimes I have the muse, other times she's off thinking naughty things in front of Terry Pratchett (you can imagine who gets the most benefit out of this particular arrangement...mr. I-write-more-books-than-most-people-read-ever-nowadays. God, he's good)