The Legend of Felix

There was once a Welsh mountain, standing tall against the bleary Welsh sky. On either side of the mountain were valleys, where, on one side, lived Muggles, and on the other, wizarding folk. The Muggles and wizard-kind lived in harmony, with the dragon, who lived atop the mountain, keeping the peace between the two communities for many, many years.

Until, one day, things were not the same as they once were.

On both sides of the valley, legends of the dragon had been passed down from generation to generation. The Muggles claimed it to be a fearsome beast, something to be conquered because it was hiding 'magic', while the wizards claimed it to be protection against the bloodthirsty Muggles.

Many Muggles perished as they attempted to climb the mountain in search of the magic, wanting to take a piece back to their village, for they had heard that the magic could grant them riches, wisdom and good health. The wizards made regular visits up to the mountain, to check that the dragon was still protecting them, for protection spells had not yet been invented, but kept their distance, for they thought of it to be dangerous. Some had tried to train it, but the dragon would not be domesticated.

And, then, Helga was born. She was an energetic little girl. Enthusiastic, charming and always smiling. Like the rest of the village's children, Helga was brought up listening to the legend of the dragon's protection and was taught to both fear and be superior to Muggles. But, she believed none of it. Deep down, she knew that the legend was inaccurate. And, so, just before her seventeenth birthday, Helga ran away from her village to scale the mountain to visit the dragon.

After many attempts to approach it, Helga finally made progress. She had named the dragon "Felix", for she was quite sure that the mountain and valleys below were lucky to have it. She had told it how she didn't believe it to be the menacing creature that everyone believed it to be. She had known, from the start, that the legend was born out of misconception and a mistrust between the two valleys. She came back every single day to reinforce her message, and, in time, Felix came to trust her. This round-face, red-haired girl was the first of her kind to show him kindness, and seemed genuine, loyal and worthy. Together, they looked down into the Muggle village, watching them live their lives, doing ordinary things without magic. Helga was awed.

Helga returned home to her village, wiser than she'd been when she'd left. Her reception with the villagers was mixed - some congratulated her on taming the dragon, others thought her foolish for even attempting to do so. But all Helga cared about was trying to educate her fellow witches and wizards of the normality of Muggles. They were all one and the same, she argued. Of course, this was met with much incredulity and arrogance, and there were even talks of banishing Helga to go live with the Muggles, since she was now such a 'Muggle-lover'. In her attempts to get the wizards to act kindly towards the Muggles, all Helga had done was incite their prejudice even more, and in the weeks of her return, meetings with the wizarding folk were aplenty, as they planned to destroy the Muggle village once and for all.

On the other side of the mountain, as if by some pure coincidence, the Muggles too were rallying for battle. They were sick and tired of always living in fear of the dragon, and of what they knew to be 'magic-possessed-peoples' who lived on the other side. They had picked out their best warriors to undertake a mission to exterminate the enemy.

Afraid of what she'd done, Helga returned to the mountain on the day that both sides planned to engage in battle. Felix was asleep, and no matter what she tried, she could not rouse him.

Below them, on either side of the mountain, where the two valleys blended into one another, the two sides finally met. The Muggles brandished crudely-made weaponry, while the wizards ran in armed with only their wands. Helga watched in horror as both Muggle and wizarding blood was spilled, and she wanted more than anything to jump in and somehow spread peace and harmony once again. But she stayed with Felix, shaking his scaly leg, tapping him on his black nose, thumping him on the tail. And, yet, though the sounds of battle rang out, Felix slept.

Desperate now, Helga was struck with sudden inspiration. She bent low, found Felix's underside and tickled him. Felix's eyes snapped open, and he roared in agitation, flapping his wings. Helga backed away, and pressed herself against a rock, as Felix breathed out fiery hot flames. He let out another roar at the edge of the mountainside, then swooped down to the valleys below.

Helga couldn't believe her eyes. She closed them, trying to block out the screams from below. When all was quiet again, she rose from her position and peered down below.

There was smoke everywhere. Helga squinted, trying to find the Muggle village in amongst the haze, but not a building could be seen. She walked to the other side of the mountain, trying to find her wizarding village. It too had been burnt to embers, and lying on top of the still-smoking piles of rubble was Felix the dragon, fast asleep.

Helga hurried down, eyes wide with shock at the devastation. The village had gone, the people had fled, and she, Helga, had caused the mess. Unable to handle the scene, she too left, vowing to never return to the little Welsh valley, and believing that her lesson had well and truly been learnt, a lesson she'd pass on to future generations of young witches and wizards: never tickle a sleeping dragon.