Déjà Vu: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - Revised. Prolouge

Nikki Black was a lucky child. Not only was she abnormally intelligent, gorgeous, and junior member of the Wizengamot, but she was also a dragon, and had the mark to prove it.

“Kill the child! Kill her NOW!” screeched the sullen, sunken faced woman. “Do it, you disgraceful beast!”

The Hungarian Horntail roared tremendously in response, leaning in to forever leave its mark of a murder at the hands (well, talons) of a dragon. The child wailed; she was upset to have been awakened from her wonderful dream. A little boy just her age was playing with his mother. She liked him. His laughs comforted her, especially when all these foreign loud noises were intruding into her thoughts.

The horntail was steadily growing closer, prepared to emboss the dragon’s mark of death. “This is exceedingly tedious, and I’m getting too old for this,” he thought, in his very complex brain. The dragon paused in his tracks to contemplate the matter further. “Day after day, I perform this monotonous chore of murdering ‘evildoers’ and obeying this woman, who belongs in Azkaban. I think I’ll carry out a different procedure.”

“What are you WAITING for? You WASTE, insolent, ungrateful wretch! I… I… I FEED you!”

“I can catch food for myself, thanks. It’s called ‘intelligence,’ which, apparently, you lack.” the dragon thought.

All of a sudden, a thought softly popped into his large brain, like very old and weathered glob of Drooble’s best blowing gum being punctured. “Why not give her the mark and THEN let her go? It will give her my protection for eternity. She seems like an infant with a great deal of potential.” He softly brushed her arm (well, at least it was soft to him.) there was a tiny crack and the baby wailed pitifully. “Oh, dear. Not again.” The dragon thought. “Oh, yes. Back to business.”

The Horntail softly breathed over her face, careful not to “gently brush” her arm again. Her wails turned to whimpers, and her whimpers gradually turned to soft sobs. The dragon’s tongue softly flicked out of his fangs, and it gradually met the skin on her soft forehead. There was a sizzling hiss as the dragon’s mark was branded on the baby. The forked tips glided, twisting and turning at the most unpredictable moments. A vague shape was forming on the girl’s skin - the form of a dragon. The mark grew darker and clearer against her pale flesh. As a finishing touch, the tips of his forked tongue recoiled and gently pushed forward to prick a spot reserved for the dragon’s eyes. There was a flash of startling ruby-red light. The black-haired woman was blinded and she screamed in fury and disappointment. “You… You… TRAITOR!”

There was a pull behind the little girl’s navel. She was traveling into nothingness with the dragon. Amid the rushing in her ears, she distinctly heard the dragon softly crooning a lullaby in a kind of snake language. It was the one that she felt like she heard before. It reminded her of meadows, green grass, and the shining sun.

Déjà Vu.