Aiden pushed himself up from the floor, wincing slightly. "System, how many times have I gotten up from the ground in the past twenty-four hours? Do you even keep track?" he asked, attempting to inject some humor into the situation.
"Ding, heh," the System responded dryly, offering no useful information.
Sighing, Aiden turned to examine his reflection in the hallway mirror. Shredded remains of his clothing clung to his upper body, revealing smooth, jade-like white scales shimmering with a subtle, silvery luster in the soft light—like moonlight shimmering across a glacial landscape.
In this Dragon-Human form, Aiden was all lean muscle and coiled energy. His limbs were strong and powerful, his fingertips tipped with razor-sharp claws. Behind him, a pair of magnificent wings unfolded gently, the wing membranes as thin and delicate as a dragonfly's wings, yet radiating an aura of incredible strength. His tail swayed languidly behind him, the scaled tip tracing elegant arcs in the air.
"Whoa," Aiden said, a hint of awe in his voice. "That's actually pretty damn cool. I could use this as a sort of… second transformation. If people start throwing hexes at each other, I can just transform and rush in to give them a good, old-fashioned draconic slap-down."
Having thoroughly enjoyed his moment of self-admiration, Aiden willed the dragon scales to recede and returned to his normal appearance.
At twelve years old, Aiden was becoming increasingly captivating—a fact that did not escape his notice.
Hey, enough about me, get on with the plot, he thought wryly. This isn't about looks, it's about power.
The hallway was a mess, remnants of his sudden transformation scattered across the floor.
"Sibby," Aiden called out, raising his voice slightly.
With a soft pop, Sibby appeared in the hallway, his large, expressive eyes filled with concern.
"Yes, Young Master Aiden?" Sibby asked, his voice gentle but attentive.
"Sibby, could you clean up a bit? And bring me a new set of clothes? Sorry for causing you so much trouble as soon as I got back," Aiden said, offering a sincere apology.
"Oh, no, Young Master Aiden, it's no trouble at all. This is what Sibby should do," the house-elf replied, ears twitching with determination.
With a snap of her fingers, the surrounding furniture danced back into its original position. The torn fragments of clothing vanished as if they had never been there, and a brand new set of neatly folded clothes appeared beside Aiden.
That evening, Sibby prepared a lavish meal for Aiden, eager to make up for lost time. Having not cooked for him in what felt like an eternity, Sibby was determined to shower Aiden with affection through a mountain of culinary delights. The result was… a bit overwhelming.
Aiden stared at the table groaning under the weight of countless dishes, wondering how he could possibly manage to eat it all.
He smiled warmly at Sibby. "Come on, Sibby, sit down and eat with me."
"Oh, no, Young Master Aiden, I couldn't possibly..." Sibby shrank back, ears drooping.
Aiden gently took Sibby's hand, drew her forward, and looked her directly in the eyes.
"Sibby, you've been taking care of my family for two generations. That makes you family, understand?"
"Yes, Young Master Aiden," Sibby whispered, deeply touched.
The two of them proceeded to demolish the mountain of food, sharing stories and laughter. Later, Aiden practiced his magic for a while, then headed off to bed, exhausted but content.
The next day, Aiden returned to The Burrow.
"Oh, hi, Aiden," said the Weasley twins, crouched over a chaotic pile of materials in the back garden.
"Hi, George, Fred. What are you two up to?" Aiden asked as he approached.
"Researching prank gadgets," George said, looking up briefly.
Fred added, "We're planning to make some seriously epic prank gadgets to sell at school and earn some pocket money."
George winked at Aiden, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Want to invest in our little enterprise? Become a silent partner, as it were?"
Aiden grinned and pulled out his money pouch, giving it a shake. The shiny Galleons jingled enticingly—the savings from his recent potion ingredient purchases.
"Oh, of course," George said, grabbing the pouch and shaking it with a grin. He exchanged a knowing look with Fred.
"Great, thanks to our incredibly generous and exceptionally good-looking little brother. Let me introduce you to some of our latest innovations," Fred said, pulling Aiden closer to a collection of half-finished contraptions, including prototypes of the Tongue-Tying Toffee and Skiving Snackbox.
After saying goodbye and promising to check in later, Aiden headed inside, where Molly was studying a household charm, her brow furrowed.
"Good morning, Aunt," Aiden greeted warmly.
Molly looked up, eyes widening slightly as she assessed him. "Aiden, have you gotten even more handsome? And I seem to sense you're… a bit different somehow."
Molly, like all members of the Prewett family, possessed a keen sensitivity to magic and bloodlines.
"Aunt, you probably received some family teachings about bloodlines when you were young, right?" Aiden asked, hoping for an explanation to cover his growing anomalies.
"Yes, Aiden. Some knowledge I thought I'd never use," she sighed, then grew serious. "Has a… deviation occurred?"
"Yes," Aiden replied.
"Looking at you, you should still be mostly human. So there shouldn't be too much of a problem, right?" Molly continued, trying to reassure herself.
Ron, who had wandered in, scratched his head in confusion. "Mom, and Aiden, what are you two talking about? I don't understand."
"Shut up, Ron. Go back to your room and practice your spelling," Molly ordered sharply.
"Okay, Aiden, where were we?" Molly said, forcing a kind smile.
Ron muttered under his breath, So, is my social life going to disappear? before retreating.
"Aunt, the deviation has made me a human-Dragon hybrid," Aiden said, steeling himself.
"Oh, magic above," Molly whispered, eyes clouding with worry.
"Dragon blood… it's dragon blood again. And no one to guide. It shows our sad last name and history."
Tears welled in Molly's eyes as she muttered to herself. Then she wiped her eyes and forced a smile.
"It's alright, Aiden. What's meant to be, is meant to be. No one will force you. You can grow up healthy and strong. Find a nice lady and live a full, happy life. Look at this delicate face—anyone would be lucky."
Suppressing a wince, Aiden pressed on. "But Aunt, as I grow, the concentration of dragon blood in me will only increase. Do you know anything? Can you tell me about the Prewett family history?"
Molly slumped back in her chair, losing strength. After a long silence, she recovered.
"Aiden, I grew up in the Prewett family. Do you know what kind of upbringing we had? What values we were taught?"
Aiden prompted, "What kind?"
"It's fighting, Aiden. Endless, brutal fighting. From the moment we learned our first charm, we were forced to fight family members, hired duelists, dark wizards, and dangerous creatures. The only goal was survival."
Molly's eyes grew distant, lost in painful memories.
"Later, I despised the family's brutal training and chose to marry Arthur, escaping the endless cycle of violence and ambition."
"Your father, Gideon, and your uncle Fabian stayed. Gideon was talented, and Fabian was loyal. Together, they rose through the ranks, ruthlessly reformed the family traditions. Those who disagreed were driven out or disappeared. The old traditionalists died."
After speaking, Molly paused, her gaze far away, and took a shaky sip of tea.
***********
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