Note: Those who like the premise of my story, but hate my writing style, please check out The Marriage Stone by Josephine Darcy.

Title: Harry Potter and the Song Weavers

Author: Nanashi Tsurunaji

Beta: Perian

Disclaimer: All familiar characters, and most familiar creatures and places belong ultimately to J.K. Rowling. Exceptions include: Muggle London, unicorns, certain dragons, and Veriduin, who may or may not make an appearance as she sees fit.

Warnings: Shonen-ai / slash, shojo-ai / fem-slash, age gap (Sevvy and Harry), Dark Magicks, blurry lines and bad jokes. AU as of OotP.

Chapter One: Dark Dreams

Harry woke screaming from a nightmare. Unlike the nightly terrors from the year before, these were not inspired by Lord Voldemort, or even true events. On his eyelids, he could still see his beloved godfather tumbling into that sickening ghostly veil beyond which were gut churning whispers. In his mind's eye, Sirius Black, godfather and friend, died without even leaving a body behind to aid in the grieving process. Shaking, Harry closed his eyes to better remember the events of that terrifying night.

In reality, Sirius had been saved from an untimely death by a young Ministry witch. Harry took a deep breath and remembered. It was she, Gilda Bardsley, who flung Sirius out of the way of the on-coming curse and was shoved through the veil.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway. "Shut up, Potter!" yelled Dudley as he threw open the door. Years of verbal abuse combined with the recent moodiness induced by the nightmares led Harry to completely snap. Much to his cousin's surprise, he pounced out of bed and slugged Dudley right in the eye. The heavier boy shouted and threw a punch of his own. Before either of them knew what was going on, they were fighting tooth and nail against each other. Neither boy could grasp the upper hand, though they both struggled hard. Harry, though small, was faster than his larger cousin. Yet, Dudley was better trained, working hard against Harry's self preservation, agility, and ability to think on his feet. Seven minutes passed like this, until both Dudley and Harry gave up, panting like mad.

"Where are your parents?" Harry asked, out of breath.

"With... Aunt Marge." Dudley answered, equally out of shape. The two sat back to back and enjoyed breathing for a while. Blood and sweat and spit ran down both boys into a soppy mess on the floor. Finally, Harry stood up and retrieved a few potions stored at the bottom of his trunk. He took a big swig from one, considered for a moment, and then held it out to his cousin.

"Here. It will help you heal." Harry said. Warily, Dudley took it and drank. When he didn't change into anything nasty, he nodded.

"You know, that is the best fight I've had in ages." Dudley said to his cousin with a smile.

"You know..." Harry parodied, "That's the first fight I've had where I didn't expect to die."

"Stop exaggerating. Who'd want to kill you?" Dudley replied with a laugh. The potion was doing its job, and he felt much better.

"Let's see..." Harry stopped for a moment, thinking. "Well, for starters, there's this wizard who calls himself Lord Voldemort: killed my parents, then tried to kill me. During my first year at Hogwarts, there was Professor Quirrell, who was actually working for Voldemort. Second year, there was this basilisk. Think about a snake bigger than Uncle Vernon's car with the power to kill you by looking into your eyes… and it was being controlled by Voldemort too."

The young wizard sat on his bed, and began ticking things off on his fingers. "Third year, there was a werewolf, a Dark wizard, and the bad guy of the hour, Lord Voldemort. Then, fourth year, there was a dragon, some merpeople, giant spiders, a sphinx, a pathetic waste of a dark wizard named Wormtail, one of Voldemort's men posing as a teacher, and, of course, Voldemort himself. Oh, and last year, aside from the ever-present threat of the so-called Dark Lord, the Minister of Magic did his best to kill me via proxy. Or at least ruin my life." He dropped his hand and scowled. When all was said and done, it seemed an awful lot for him to have to go through so young.

"Well...shit..." Dudley said, blinking stupidly.

"I'm getting kind of used to it." Harry muttered.

"Ever see any dead guys?" Dudley asked, sounding awed and excited.

"One of my friends. A few years older than me." Harry said, expression falling as Cedric's visage came, unbidden to mind.

Dudley's jaw dropped. His question had been asked out of adolescent excitement; he'd not expected the sobering reply. "That...bloody sucks," he whispered.

"Considering that four out of five DADA teachers recommend that Harry Potter die, I feel kind of lucky. Only three dead bodies in almost sixteen years," Harry added with a bitter smile.

"Harry..." Dudley said in awe. "Even your teachers...?"

"Sure. I'm getting used to that, too." Harry said, beginning to fume slightly.

"My coach might be tough, but he never tried to kill me." the wrestler muttered. "That's just not normal."

"And it's normal to have the world's worst terrorist out for your blood?" Harry asked sarcastically.

Dudley sighed, brow furrowing. "This will take some getting used to."

"Don't worry about it much. Voldemort hates all non-magic people equally." Harry said with a faux-happy tone. "He'll kill you along with every other muggle if he gets his way."

"What's stopping him?" asked the thicker boy, suddenly turning pale.

"Me, for one." Harry said.

"You?!" his cousin cried. "You can't even fight back against me!" Harry looked pointedly at Dudley's shirt. "OK, but that was a first."

"I'm just lucky, I guess." Harry mumbled unenthusiastically. "Now, if you are quite through with the interrogation, I'd like to get back to my nightmares. So sorry to have woken you."

"Look." Dudley said firmly, "I may have no clue about the wizarding world, but I can wake you up if you start screaming again."

Harry looked up at his cousin in something close to amazement. "I'd like that," he said. "Just no physical attacks," he added quickly. Dudley extended his hand.

"Pax?" He said. Harry took it.

"Pax."

The next day dawned bright and clear, and Harry was up with the sun cooking Dudley's breakfast. Dudley came clomping down as soon as the smell wafted up to him. Once in the doorway to the kitchen, he paused upon seeing his small, dark cousin cooking. Harry expertly flicked the wrist holding the pan, and the flapjack inside soared into the air. Dudley watched in amazement as it turned once then landed back in the pan without any trouble.

"Did you magic that or something? 'Cause I'm not eating magic." Dudley said warily.

"No." Harry said, looking over his shoulder. "That's what years of practice can do for you." Dudley raised one eyebrow. Harry laughed as he carefully scooped the flapjack out of the pan and placed it on a plate with two others. Easily, he poured in more batter and let it sizzle. "Would you like to see it again?" he asked, and Dudley nodded eagerly. After a moment, Harry gripped the pan handle again and gave a great heave. Again, the flapjack gave one graceful turn before landing in the pan.

"Wicked," Dudley said in awe.

"More awesome than dead men?" Harry asked solemnly. Dudley shook his head.

"I spent all night thinking," Dudley started and Harry snorted. Dudley raised his fist in anger. After a few minutes of changing colors, the bulky boy lowered his hand. "I mean it, Harry!" Harry nodded.

"I spent all night thinking about what you said. You must be pretty brave to face down all those bad guys trying to kill you."

"I wouldn't say that." Harry said, dumping breakfast onto a new plate. "It was a choice between me and them. I chose."

"That's pretty cool." Dudley said. "I can't wait to tell Piers and the others."

Harry shook his head. "Tell him what, exactly? I killed three of my teachers, sent another to the hospital, and got the last kicked out?" he asked. "Dudley, listen. You can't tell anyone, 'cause you can't tell them about my school. Not only that, but killing people is not bloody awesome. This is a war I'm stuck in, and it's going to get rather hard to keep you and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon out of it."

"But I want to help!" Dudley whined. "This is even cooler than my videogames!"

"You have to grow up, Dudley." Harry said sternly. "This isn't a game! We are fighting a very real war against an enemy who is more powerful than you could imagine, who wants nothing more than to see you and everyone you care about dead!" Harry sighed. "You are much too young to think about fighting Voldemort."

"I'm the same age as you, and you've defeated this Moldywort five times!" Dudley griped.

"Six, but who's counting," Harry muttered. "I don't mean in age," he added louder. "I never got to have a childhood, 'cause I spent all my time saving the world. Even before Hogwarts, I wasn't a child."

"What do you mean?" Dudley asked, wrinkling his forehead in concentration.

"Do children live under the stairs? Do they cook breakfast for the family so they don't get slapped? Do they spend all their time worrying about how not to get hit instead of playing ball with their friends?" Harry asked, placing breakfast on the table and pulling out all the settings.

"But..." Dudley said, sitting obediently down to breakfast. "Mum and dad wouldn't actually hurt you...Would they?"

"Actually, they would." Harry replied. "You did some of that yourself." Dudley blinked. "I didn't get good at making flapjacks by watching the telly." Harry added with a teasing tone. The way Dudley was acting, Harry was put in mind of the way Ron acted around his brothers. Stranger still was the brotherly way Harry found himself treating Dudley. The larger boy hadn't needed to grow up quite as quickly as Harry had, and he was, Harry was discovering, was quite naive about the world in general. Dudley would need a helping hand to get over his mother's smothering, and Harry wasn't one to turn down a challenge.

"I knew it was magic!" Dudley said in horror, the last one half in his mouth. He looked rather ill.

"No, Dudley," Harry sighed. "No magic. Unless you consider any master chef a magician." Sighing, he thought, this might take a while.

"You haven't studied long enough," Dudley whined.

"And it's still illegal for me to perform magic outside of school," Harry commented.

Dudley wrinkled up his brow, thinking. "So..." He said a minute later. "You're a master chef?"

"No." Harry said. "But any master chef can do that."

"Wow," Dudley breathed, somewhat reverently.

"I concur." Harry agreed.

That afternoon, Harry and Dudley watched the telly in companionable silence while the washing machine soaked the blood out of their nightclothes. When Vernon and Petunia Dursley returned home, they were shocked (and more than a little frightened) to see that their nephew and son were almost getting along. The next day, Harry scrambled eggs and cooked sausage and even made toast, while Vernon and Petunia became rather suspicious of this strange normalcy. Dudley, however, was oblivious to such thoughts, and ate his breakfast with childlike abandon. After they were fed, Dudley asked if Harry would like to be taught more about wrestling. Harry quickly agreed, eager to learn.

For some time the days continued in this pattern. Sometimes Dudley would help Harry with his headlock, others Harry would help Dudley with English Literature. Dudley started to give his leftovers to Harry during meals. When Harry became curious enough to ask, the young wrestler explained that in order to go to competition next year, he had to fit into his weight category, and Harry was no fun to wrestle with when he had so little power behind his moves. Harry was surprised at the thought his usually dim cousin put into their situation, so much so that he began to think about other things he could do for Dudley to thank him.

Slowly, Vernon and Petunia Dursley stopped watching the boys like a pair of odd looking hawks. Harry wrote to his godfather every day, telling him about his triumphs at wrestling and failures as a teacher of literature. Over the course of these days, Dudley grew to accept and even admire Harry somewhat, even going to far as to carefully breathe the 'm word', though far out of his mother's earshot. At night, Harry would tell Dudley his adventures at Hogwarts like a bedtime story, and Dudley kept an ear open for Harry's screams.

Thus, it was around the middle of the summer when Severus Snape decided to visit. Then the fun began.

Notes: My appologies for the severe shortness of this chapter. Hopefully, my new and wonderful beta helped me flesh it out.
This story is based upon two rather distinct ideas. The first being that the story of Harry Potter does bear several striking resemblances to Arthurian legends. This chapter touches on the beginnings of Arthur's first rise to victory, i.e. pulling the sword from the stone, by bringing him closer to his cousin.
The second portion of the story comes from a direct quote from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. '"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here!..."', Albus Dumbledor. This one quote, so obvious in hindsight, refers to Fluffy, I couldn't help but wonder what if...We will confront this later in the story, however.

I would also like to give a big thank you to my beta, who goes by Rebell here. Without her wonderful guidance, this story would have ended as a wild notion I had. I really appreciate you!

About the Names:
Bardsley: 'Beornred's clearing' where Beornred means 'warrior counsel'. Old English.
Gilda: 'Sacrifice'. Italian.

Pronunciation Guide:
Bardsley - BARD-slee
Gilda - GILL-da