TEAM DRAGON'S CHALLENGE: HERE BE DRAGONS!
Today we bring you a Closing Games special from Team Dragon, which may answer some questions our readers had during the Games. They also have a special message for Team Phoenix!
Team Dragon sends us the "Here Be Dragons" Challenge:
(caution to Dial-up users)
Team Dragon challenged itself to include a dragon somehow in each of their stories. Some authors just mention the word itself, but others have featured actual dragons, running the gamut from pets to companions, from side-kicks to major characters. There is even one story where Harry is a dragon.
There are awards to be made, not that any Team Dragon member was motivated by booty the allure of a prize. Inside, gathered for your viewing pleasure, are excerpts from each of the 29 stories by authors who answered the call, along with their award banners. Many of the stories had more than one dragon passage, so the author has chosen their favorite to represent their story. Homage is paid within to all members of the team, as well as to Team Phoenix who, for whatever reason, also heeded the call of the Here Be Dragons Challenge, and mentioned or featured dragons in their stories.
We hope you'll be enticed to enter our lair, and snuggle up to the side of the dragon and read for a while, where it's toasty warm, where there are riches and romance and danger. Team Dragon thanks you, our readers, for your loyalty and gracious comments during the Games. You made our Snarry hearts swell with pride and a ROAR!
Remember and revisit with us some of our finest Snarry moments!
HERE BE DRAGONS!
First Prize Awards
Stories in which a dragon eats, incinerates, or impregnates a phoenix, whether this is actual or related as a tale in the story.
The last Headmaster of Hogwarts has been appearing all over the place lately; he has been spotted in Diagon Alley and appearing at the Ministry grand ball. It seems that rumours of Snape's demise have been greatly exaggerated. Are Harry Potter's reports of his death the result of the strain under which the young hero has been operating recently? (See page 9 for further details.)
Tarbh Uisge on the Increase.
Go to page 11 for advice from our resident expert on how to prevent the Tarbh Uisge from invading your fishpond.
Phoenix Expecting Dragon's Love Child!
It appears that one of Harry Potter's fellow pupils has got himself into hot water! Fenella Phoenix, teenage singing star of stage and airwaves, today announced that she is having Draco Malfoy's baby. Malfoy, only son of well-known Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, refuses to comment. (continued on page 4)
“So what was that thing about dragons and phoenixes, fire and mating?” Harry asked, changing the subject away from his ignorance about Tom.
Hermione laughed and Draco smirked again as he told Harry, “You really must have led a sheltered life at your aunt’s house. I thought your aunt was magical?”
“No, she’s a Squib. She begged Professor Dumbledore to let her come to Hogwarts with my mum, but he wouldn’t allow it. I think that practice is cruel, actually, to have to separate a family like that. You’d think they would come up with special classes that Squibs could attend so they could stay close to their magical brothers and sisters.”
Draco looked thoughtful. “That’s not a bad idea; I should talk to Father about it. Maybe there’s something we can do after we graduate.”
“Anyway,” Hermione said, “The Dragon and the Phoenix is a fable about the creation of fire. A dragon and a phoenix fell in love, but when their parents found out, they were forbidden to see each other anymore because dragons and phoenixes had always been mortal enemies. Instead of listening to their parents, they decided to fly away together. They made their home in the mountains and after a year, the phoenix became pregnant and gave birth to Fire. That’s the legend anyway.”
“Thanks for explaining all of this, Hermione. And I thought I knew everything about potions! Even if the Water of Life isn’t real, it’s a truly fascinating myth. There certainly are a lot of legends in the wizarding world having to do with love,” Harry said.
“It’s a very powerful emotion, with a magic all its own, so I expect that’s the reason,” Draco said, blushing and taking a sidelong glance at Hermione.
Harry looked at the cows in question, paintings of rural landscapes. The green pastures were devoid of cows at the moment, though. All he could see were hundreds of odd little creatures, crawling on the grass and climbing the fences. Covered with black scales and spikes, they had orange beaks, red tail feathers and yellow feet. With their enormous beaks and slender, wingless bodies they couldn't fly and were barely able to walk.
"What are they?" Harry asked and pointed at the creatures.
"I call them Gonnixes," Arthur said.
"Gonnixes?"
"When those Phoenix Ale bottles came out, I started to collect them. I thought Molly would like the birds, but she banished them from the Burrow. I had over a hundred bottles here at my office at one point. It's a pity I had to give them away."
"What happened? And what has all this to do with these mini-monsters?"
"Hmm." Arthur scratched his head, and Harry wondered what could possibly distract him enough to allow Harry to harvest some strands of his hair. "I don't know how it was even possible," Arthur said and blushed, "but Draco's dragon must've impregnated the phoenixes."
McGonagall opened the book to an animated drawing of a phoenix. They all watched as a line drawing of a large dragon swooped down on the phoenix and began to…
Hermione craned her neck. "Is that dragon really—"
"Yes, Miss Granger," McGonagall said. “I am afraid it is.”
They all watched for a bit longer as the very male dragon copulated with the phoenix. When the phoenix – in a splash of vermillion – began to give birth, McGonagall shut the book with a loud snap. "It's a wonder you didn't kill Severus," she said. "Why – in Merlin's name – didn't you tell anyone what you were doing?"
Second Prize Awards
Stories in which a character is a dragon Animagus or other magical personification thereof, or dragons are major characters in the story.
He was interrupted when Albus’s familiar flew into the room and landed on the desk. The long, leathery, green wings smoothly folded to tuck against the sleek scaled body. Golden eyes looked at him curiously while presenting him with a letter
“Hello, Prospero,” Severus said.
He rubbed behind the left ear and was once more fascinated by the iridescent blue and red flecks that edged each of Prospero’s mostly green scales. Prospero leaned into the touch for a few seconds before drawing Severus’s attention back to the letter he carried by waving his head around. Severus grasped the corner of the envelope, and Prospero released it, leaving only one puncture mark in the corner.
He heard Harry moving around the cottage and knew without a doubt what Harry sought, but wouldn't find, at least not out there. Eyes raised to the pillow next to him, the drakes slept on, oblivious to the worry they'd caused their masters.
He snorted in the dark. Masters? Hardly. Norbert and Chloë might continue to reside with them, and the mere thought of them leaving made his heart pound and his skin break out into a cold sweat, but he and Harry were no longer their masters. That painful epiphany had occurred earlier in the evening, after Harry had left for the party.
Shortly before he'd retired, when the words in his book made little contact with his brain, Norbert had stirred from the other pillow and, with much creaking and stretching and groaning, had set off into the night. Not much later, he'd returned, landing hard on the bed, which was hardly surprising considering the drake's burden. A small snake, thin and wiggly, depended from Norbert's mouth while his arms hugged an abundance of herbs and leaves, the most pungent of which smelled like oregano. Getting his bearings, Norbert waddled ungainly across the bed, his wings half-spread for balance.
As he closed the distance between them, Chloë's nose twitched and, with a huge, yawning sneeze, she opened her eyes. Norbert approached her slowly, almost reverently, placing the herbs on the pillow by her head. She eyed the snake first and neatly tore off the head and swallowed, leaving Norbert to quickly consume the remaining body and tail. Growling and crunching, the herbs were soon gone as well, although she shared the mealy worms caught in the leaves. With another jaw-cracking yawn and a smoking burp, she touched noses with her mate and flopped back to the pillow before going back to sleep. Norbert watched her silently, intently for a few minutes before carefully laying beside her, working his body very close. After nuzzling her neck for a moment, she curled it inward until her head tucked up under his chin. The moment his paw touched her chest, she let out a contented sigh and he cautiously extended one wing, gently covering her with it. Norbert eventually slept, but since one eye remained half-open, with only the inner lid gleaming, Severus knew he guarded as well.
No, Norbert and Chloë were definitely their own creatures now, dependent only on each other. Severus knew the sight of their independence and caring shouldn't have affected him so, but it had made him want, made him yearn for something equally good and sweet, though he probably didn't deserve it.
"Considering the state of your bed," said Gang Li, at his most charming, "I assume that you've been working for some time. You should be ready for tea. May I bring in light?"
There was a long pause and Harry was certain that the next words out of Snape's mouth would be an order for them to leave.
"I think," continued Gang Li as if there had been an invitation, "we can even provide some hot peppers, some chi-chiens, for that little monster of which you are so fond."
There was a sound that had Harry's attention going from right to left. There, just where Gang Li had indicated the location of a bed, there appeared two small bright lights hovering in the dark, which went out to the accompaniment of the indrawn breath of a yawn. The sound came to an end and the lights – eyes – appeared again.
Snape actually snorted, as though trying not to laugh. "Well, you certainly will have to provide them now that you've woken up the beast."
Beast?
Harry's hand itched to reach for his wand, which he'd unhappily – the Ernie in his head had foamed at the mouth – promised to keep in its sheath. Gang Li had, in turn, promised Harry that he would have no need for it.
There was a slight mewing, followed by feet landing on the floor.
Harry braced himself.
The footsteps had a clicking sound, as though the beast was walking on talons or claws.
He was expecting an animal the size of large dog and so was completely taken by surprise when a creature the size of a cat, and a small one at that, strolled out of the darkness and came to stare, eyes blinking sleepily in the faint light, at them.
Harry had to think to identify it as a Fireball, though he had never heard of one this tiny.
"Mei-Ping. How are you, my dear?"
The dragon slowly walked up to Gang Li, ignoring Harry, and...purred. Not a cat purr, but a sound that had more rumble, more...heat.
Gang Li stooped and scratched the dragon's head, which elicited more of the rumbling noises.
"I have something to finish first," said Snape. "The matter of a minute. You will have to find another chair for Mister Potter."
With a final scratch, Gang Li straightened and, with a finger, called up a tiny flame, then another and yet a third that danced over to the distance and settled on something. The flames doubled, then doubled again, each one finding its place. Though the light was not exactly bright, Harry could make out more of the room as they doubled yet again, enough to see that each flame was settling in a sconce. Another doubling and Harry could make out more of the room, including the screen that separated one function from the other.
He turned to see what he could make out of the laboratory which was completely in the dark. From the lit side, this dark was only just slightly less impenetrable. He could make out movement.
Meanwhile, Mei-Ping had finally decided he was worth investigating and had come closer to him, sniffing at his feet. Careful not to startle the little dragon, Harry crouched and offered the back of his fingers to sniff.
In the growing light he could easily make out the expression of doubt on the dragon's face as it thought about his offer.
He remained very still, waiting.
Finally, the little dragon decided to stretch its neck and take a cautious sniff. Its rough whiskers tickled and Harry smiled at the sensation. The dragon looked up at him. Harry waited for judgement.
Mei-Ping stepped a little closer, sat down and butted his hand with its head, its spiky horns no sharper than a puppy's milk teeth. Harry got the message and scratched the dragon between the horns as Gang Li had done. There was a reluctant purring, as though the little dragon was trying to hide its pleasure.
Harry grinned.
Third Prize Awards
Dragons occur in a less strategic role; they are mentioned in the story, or the word 'dragon' itself is used.
Angelina tapped the keyboard and leaned her head on her hand. "Burninating the countryside," she sang in her best gravelly voice, "burninating the peasants." On the screen, Trogdor the dragon ignited a few huts and the little digital people ran about, waving their arms. She was on level bajillion, and she was bored.
The Veil was cold and welcoming. Harry had not noticed it the first time, so caught up in his terror and sorrow. It was bitterly cold in the room, and Harry's breath fogged up in front of him like dragon smoke.
Harry put his wand to his temple and pulled the memory out and into a small bottle, before packing it into a trunk along with several letters and papers. He closed the trunk and locked it. Tapping the lid with his wand, he set the password, "here there be dragons," then put it aside.
Neville also raised his wand and between them he and Harry levitated the thief away from the wall. He hung in mid-air, frantically firing hexes at them. One hit Harry; he dropped his wand and fell to the ground, doubled up in agony. His last sight before losing consciousness was of the thief crashing head first into the smoking heap of dragon dung, still maturing against the garden wall.
For the sake of public safety, the bascules were to be installed by means of two barges, raised, and then left in their vertical position until the official opening, allowing the river traffic to proceed uninterrupted. The honour of raising the newly mounted decks fell to Harry and myself, supported by several millwrights, engineers and strong arms with tools in hand, on the chance that something went awry in the process. When the boilers sang, we knew it was time. The monstrous engines groaned and protested, but eventually began their rhythmic music as thick steam filled the air around us and two thousand tonnes rose into the air. Success was ours in less than two minutes.
Later, Harry revisited the moment, describing it as he'd always imagined an adolescent dragon would have taken to being roused from a deep sleep—steam and fury, but no fire.
"Fuck," the shopkeeper sighed out in a half-laugh. His hand was light on Severus' wrist.
Severus straightened up, his robes tumbling into place. He stepped back, taking care not to stumble on the trousers piled about his shoes, and clothed himself, disregarding the wetness of his cock and the heat lingering in his belly to run quick hands over his buttons and fasten each with practiced ease.
Severus gathered his items (a length of dragon intestine, three imported cuts of hellebore) while the shopkeeper retrieved his shirt and trousers and robe. When Severus was sure the other man was dressed, he looked over, nodding.
"These will be all." He gestured at the merchandise cradled in his arm and moved toward the open door, for payment.
Harry grumbled. It had been a week since his heart to heart with Andromeda. Since then things had...well, changed. Andromeda had not let him be anymore. Instead, she had spent time dropping broad hints to Harry about going out, telling him to live a little and not stay locked in with a granny and a baby. Damn it, she had no right. No right to judge his behaviour or to nag at him. For Merlin’s sake, shouldn’t she just be happy that he had been so helpful when it came to Teddy and taking care of the house? And now, she just insisted that he should get out. Hmph. He didn’t want to get out. He didn’t want to be recognised. Of course when he’d said that to Andromeda she had just scoffed and told him to visit some Muggle places instead. Going as far as recommending some places, she would not take no for an answer. Harry swore she had winked at him when she told him to first visit the “Dragon’s Lair” and gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Well, he thought, soon I’ll find out what exactly she has in mind for me.
The baby seems to fancy herself household despot and Severus a poor excuse for a vassal.
"You cannot be serious," he tells her, "you simply cannot."
In response, she continues to cry, as she has off and on, but mostly on, for the past two hours.
He jiggles the baby's bouncy chair, one of Potter's many purchases, with his foot and jots another sentence down on his roll of parchment. Bawling proceeds apace. Severus jiggles the chair more energetically and produces a rattle shaped like a Common Welsh Green but perplexingly pink in colour — verisimilitude appears to count for very little as far as the makers of children's toys are concerned. The baby accepts the toy, slobbers on it for a moment by way of examination, then drops it to the floor. She looks up at Severus, tears glistening on fair lashes, lower lip protruding fearsomely.
"I am not Potter," he says, "I refuse to act like a buffoon to keep you entertained."
Harry detailed his trip to France, his discovery of Severus and Gus (leaving out key parts), and the arrival of the Knights of Slytherin with Ron and Hermione adding bits of commentary wherever appropriate. Severus spent his time explaining to Xavier the various portraits, tapestries and weapons that decorated the Chamber of Secrets. Albus listened to everything, his eyes constantly straying to Severus and Gus.
"Have you ever seen a dragon, Daddy?" Xavier asked.
"Many times. I've even touched a few," Severus answered.
"Can I see one? I promise to be careful."
"We'll see," Severus said, giving the standard parental non-committal answer.
Xavier didn't seem to mind; something else had caught his eye and he was full of questions.
A tiny streak of envy shot through Harry; it was so easy for Hermione.
Or maybe not—she looked at Harry in disbelief, and then giggled into her hand. "I don't know if I can actually call him that to his face."
She hugged him again and he pulled her into the room and towards the sofa.
"I guess we're in Wales, then?"
"How d'you know that?"
She pointed up at the bookcase on the wall across from them. Harry had been in the room several times in the past couple of weeks and hadn't noticed the stained glass window centered high above the bookcase. The fierce red dragon glowed against the white and green background with the afternoon sun behind it, 'Y Ddraig Goch' carefully lettered beneath it. The Red Dragon.
Harry's whispered spell had an immediate effect. Even without the wand in his hand, he could feel its power surge through him like a rush of dragon fire, all-consuming, unstoppable, raw magic. Suddenly, it wasn't only Newlin's mind that was open to him, but every mind in the room. And in them all, he saw the same thing.
Hunger.
Hunger for power. For knowledge. For acceptance. For sex. For Galleons. For all the tiny, insignificant things that a human heart craved, the things that were common as dirt.
Packing a rucksack that Hermione had charmed for him, Harry prepared for the next step in his campaign to force Severus Snape to listen to him. A trip to Diagon Alley and Gringotts finalized his back-up plan and Harry took advantage of the opportunity to do some shopping. Unable to resist going into Gambol and Japes to look at the selection of toys they had added to bolster their sales, Harry was drawn to a soft toy of a Hungarian Horntail, its black scales and bronze horns perfect copies of the one Harry had faced during the Triwizard Tournament. A stop at Eeylops Emporium to look for a post owl was painful; Hedwig’s death was an ache he’d not gotten over. A small Scops owl, dove gray with black and white markings, twittered softly at him from a perch atop a small cage.
(The soft toy reappears throughout the story.)
Tucking the toy dragon under his arm, Harry trudged quietly up the stairs. Harry liked to have the plushie to remind him why what he was doing was important. Especially during the times when Snape had goaded his temper to the breaking point or depression in the face of indifference weighed him down, then the toy reminded him that his child was worth the abuse. Not that it was easy to try and pamper the pregnant wizard, as Madam Pomfrey had suggested, when Harry couldn’t even get the man to speak to him half the time. Even if silence was better than being sniped at, it was disconcerting and Harry would almost rather have Snape insulting him.
"What's the deal with the Dragon Heartstring?" Harry asked after James had been locked in the shed with a rake, Al was perched on the paddock fence watching Lily ride the mare 'round in circles, and the adults were back in the lounge with fresh bottles of beer beside them. "Aptly named, from what I saw. Really disgusting stuff. But why would you want to grow something like that. It can't be any earthly use."
"Even after all these years your ignorance never ceases to astound me, Potter. I would have thought you, of all people, would have been intimately familiar with the cores used for wands."
"That stuff? I thought Ollivander used real heartstrings."
"Don't be ridiculous. He'd never have enough supply. Think about it, you twit. Phoenixes and unicorns are rare, true, but Phoenixes drop feathers as a dog sheds hair, and on the days immediately preceding their burning time, they can be plucked like a chicken without harm. In much the same way, unicorn hair can be gathered en masse. But you'd have to kill one dragon for every heartstring. It would be a terrible waste."
"What's going on? You haven't been this early since right after you became an Auror." Severus rushed worriedly to Harry's side.
"Dragon pox. The kids have dragon pox, and decided to share."
"Damn. Getting it as an adult is dangerous. Why weren't they quarantined?"
"The Healers didn't tell me until I got the fever. It's rare that adults haven't had it. They forgot I was Muggle-raised. Hermione took a vacation to the States as soon as she found out about the outbreak. It's harmless for the kids...." Harry let out a sob.
Severus wrapped Harry in his arms. Harry rarely cried, and Severus hadn't had to comfort him for any reason other than spats with his wife.
"I can't leave them. I know they're loved, but they need me. They need Daddy."
"You'll beat this. You've defeated things much harder than this."
"It's not that I don't love you. I just... it's not my time, yet. Severus, I need to be there for them. I have to!"
"Shush. It'll be fine."
Harry gasped. "Oh no, they're forcing me awake again. Severus."
Severus lifted Harry into his arms, trying to ignore the whimpers.
"Shh, Harry. Whatever happens. I love you."
Harry let out a half-sob, half-laugh. "This is what it takes to get you to call me Harry?" he gasped out.
Severus let out a small laugh. "This is what it takes for me to realize how important you are to me." He petted Harry's head and grasped his hand. "You're going to be okay."
Harry drifted in and out of both realms for days. Severus holding him on one side, Ginny on the other. When his fever finally broke, so did the final barrier between Severus and him. That night, Severus made love to him. Harry said he would never go back to just having sex again.
Harry didn't look convinced, but conceded, "I was wondering…if you had your pick, which would you want to be: dragon or phoenix?"
Severus' smirk suddenly disappeared. "It's a perfectly legitimate consideration. One that will take some thought."
Harry smiled. "All right. I've already made up my mind, but I can wait." He picked up his book and resumed reading, but had only managed a paragraph when Severus cleared his throat.
"I've decided. Shall I go first?"
Nodding, Harry put down his book. "I'm all ears."
"Well, then, I'd choose to be a phoenix; it rather fits, don't you think? Living the same life over and over, never seeming to make any progress. But," he paused as his eyes grew wistful, "I'm drawn by its greatest potential—to start anew each time with all your mistakes wiped away," he finished softly, then cut his eyes to Harry.
"Good thinking," Harry said softly. "And you'd be a healer."
"With a better than average singing voice," Severus smiled, then nodded at Harry. "All right, and you?"
"I'd like to fly, and both can do that, but all things considered, I'd have to say a dragon—a conqueror—so invincible that my mistakes wouldn't matter." He laughed as Severus rolled his eyes, then sobered to add, "And something like a castle would never, ever stand in my way. I'd make it toe the line with my mighty roar and fiery breath." He nodded as he thought. "Have you out of here in no time."
"My champion," Severus said solemnly, studying him with an intensity that made Harry look away and laugh again.
"Yeah, well, if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride," he joked.
"Champion, nonetheless," Severus said as he took up his book again.
"Welcome to the Dragon's Tower," Severus said. "This building has been here for years, perhaps centuries, and its name is the reason why my stud is called the Dragon Stud."
Harry looked around. The room was round. Harry decided he liked the circular walls, they felt warm and friendly. They were made of stone like the convent walls, but there the resemblance ended. Their shape made them feel protective and cosy, like encircling arms, rather than cold or unforgiving. And the decorative hangings, some of which showed magical beasts on dark backgrounds, made it feel like you were sitting in a magical landscape rather than a kitchen. Fittingly the most striking of the tapestries showed a magnificent dragon in flight, his inky black scales and glittering eyes reflected a bronze iridescence and he stood out against the blue background of the sky. Harry watched him fly around the hanging, in and out of the field of vision. A sudden flare of fire made Harry gasp but the dragon was not flaming at anything, merely venting his exuberance at life. Harry thought a kitchen was a funny place to find a dragon, even given the name of the tower, and he said so.
"Really?" Snape asked, looking quizzically at Harry. "I've always found he fits right in. He breathes fire more frequently when we're cooking meat on a griddle."
Harry could only laugh and shake his head. The dragon turned his scaly head and looked at him then, huffing smoke from his nostrils before turning away and flapping off towards a distant peak. He perched there, looking like an eccentric rock formation on the horizon. If Harry hadn't known it was a dragon he would never have noticed it.
"The legend of the phoenix comes from the east. It tells the story of a crane who did not be wish to burdened by her egg. She found a dragon -- a barren spinster in want of a child -- and convinced her to care for it while she went gallivanting around. The dragon did, and when the crane returned, having seen the world and ready to settle down, the egg hatched before them to reveal the phoenix. The crane had changed, mutated, to resemble the dragon that had been more of a mother to it than its birth mother."
{There's also the obvious use of 'dragon' in the snapdragon flowers, and the name 'Temeraire,' used for an owl in the story, is the name of the (main) dragon in Naomi Novik's 'Temeraire series' (if you haven't read it, you really should).}
"Check Dragon’s Hoard’s contract with Long-Good’s. I have a perfect right to test and reject any modifications in supplies to us. I, we, also have a tighter than standard confidentiality clause regarding your company’s proprietary info and processes.”
Draco charmed and chatted while Harry tried to keep an eye on each course and nervously gulped at his wine. The menu was Draco’s idea, and superb, even if he did say so himself. Even Draco’s mother complimented the Vichyssoise. When the main course was served, Draco popped up to help carve it. “Roasted phoenix stuffed with fresh foie gras and franconia potatoes,” he announced grandly. “That’s phoenix served by Draco nobilis, in case you didn’t notice, so that ought to settle any disputes of which is the more formidable creature, I might add.”
"I didn't tell… him," she snapped, catching herself just before she said his name. "Is there something wrong with Harry?" She braced herself against the arms of the chair and made to stand, her eyes burning with an internal glow. She reminded Severus of the Horntail Harry had gone up against, a mother ready to maim and kill while protecting her young. "So help me, Severus Snape, if you've done something to my son."
Keeper of the Flame Awards
In recognition of our team members who've not been mentioned above, we acknowledge them as "Keepers of the Flame" of the dragon, who kept the home fires burning and supported their team mates along the way. WE ARE DRAGON!
And now, before we bid you farewell until next time, we offer one final award: to those daring and imaginative members of Team Phoenix, who honored us with the dragons in their stories.
Outstanding Service Award
For Phoenixes who had the balls to tangle with a dragon. You know who you are, and we thank you.
R-O-A-R! ! !
Thank you, Team Dragon!
Stay tuned this week for more mysteries being solved, some reviewers being singled out for their awesomeness, and some wonderful stories provided by Alternates. Very Important Mod Posts will follow. Enjoy!