Harry has a wishful dream [Wishing Ability]

Magic, at its core, is energy with the potential to change the world. When a witch casts a spell, she uses that energy to reshape her local reality into a desired outcome, ranging anywhere from floating a pillow around a room to turning a brick into a kitten.

Harry's magic, at a basic level, was slightly different. Unlike a witch naturally born with it, there was a slight disconnect between himself and his magic that brought on a number of complications.

Witches had to use a focus to separate their magic from themselves in order for their conscious mind to affect it. This was what differentiated it from subconscious or accidental magic use. Harry had never been subconsciously able to use his magic because it wasn't connate to him, meaning that until he had actually been informed of it it had been operating on its own.

The three people who had died on the night he had gained his magic all had their own influence on it. Lily Potter's desire for her son's protection and well-being had influenced its nature. Dark Lady Voldemort's ambition for strength had caused it to grow in capacity and potency. Lastly, James Potter's understanding of how magic worked shaped how it interfaced with Harry.

Altogether, their influences and the faint touch of Dharma from the web of fate that bound it turned an enormous amount of initial magical power into a near-limitless wishing machine that was tied to Harry Potter's soul. All of this was unknown to the sleeping boy, who was dreaming of a conversation from long ago.

"I cast fireball and blow up your castle!"

"Oh yeah? I cast 'build castle' and make a bigger one!"

Harry and his best friend Jack had been playing wizards, with each of them pulling whatever 'spells' they could out of their vocabulary to fight the other. It was a game that only made sense to its players, much like many games that young children tended to play.

"I summon a dragon to take over your bigger castle!"

Jack's declaration was met with a pout from Harry. "That's not a spell! Dragons are alive! You can't just make one out of nothing."

His friend took a moment and thought about Harry's refusal of his spell's legitimacy. Their game went on pause for a moment as they tried to figure it out. "Maybe it's not a real dragon, but a bunch of fire that looks like a dragon?"

Harry's expression brightened up. "Yeah, that makes sense. I kind of wish that I had a fire dragon. Hmmm..."

At some unspoken signal, their game resumed. "I summon a water knight to fight your fire dragon!"

"Well, I'll cast a spell to turn him into ice! Now he can't-"

Harry woke up from his nap as the train started moving. His glasses were off, making his view out of the window a blur, but he could see quite a number of figures doing something that looked like waving goodbye. Unfortunately by the time he got his glasses on, his car had already pulled out of the train station and was on its way to Hogwarts.

He slumped back in his seat, a little disappointed that he had slept too long to get a look at some other witches or wizards. A part of his dream surfaced in his half-awake mind, and the thought left his mouth before he even thought about it.

"I do kind of wish I had a fire dragon."

In an instant, his desire took form and an instant later his magic poured forth to realize it. It was an unnoticeable fraction of his total reserves that came forth, filling out the burning form of a dragon that could fit into his palm if he so desired. Even as it burned, however, a layer of protection absent from his desire surrounded it. The table beneath neither blackened nor burned, and what heat escaped it was little more than a comfortable warmth. Finally, a sliver of animation entered the fire, giving it the ability to act like Harry imagined a dragon would.

And so it was that the words had barely left his mouth before a miniature red-orange dragon stood on the table in the middle of the train compartment, looking at the boy who had unwittingly created it.

"What the hell?"