The Boy with the Dragon Spirit: A Harry Potter Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.
Plot: When Voldemort died in Godric's Hollow, Harry vanished for ten years: however, when his Hogwarts letter reveals the fact he's still alive, the world's in for a shock: Harry's coming home, but he's packing heat.
Author's Note: So, I don't actually remember where or when, but I once read a challenge idea with a theme similar to this one and, at the same time, my inspirations were stirred by a recent string of ideas that seem to have attracted quite a bit of positive attention. So, while the iron was still hot, I thought to myself: might as well make a final strike…so here it is.
And…well, what can I say apart from the usual?
Don't like, don't read.
Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to my friends and fans: my recommended reads are Saviour of Magic by Colt01, Harry Potter and the Revival of Soul Magic and Harry Potter: Birth of Technomancy by AlphaPheonix, The Wolf Lord by Pentel123, The Codex by Balthazar23, Little Dragon by FCTSyndrome, There Be Dragons, Harry by Scioneeris, Dragon Singer by Na'hiel, The Dragon Child by GoddessHecate89, Order of the Dragon by mindofemmette, The Rise of the Drackens by StarLight Massacre, Harry Is A Dragon, And That's Okay by Saphroneth and DragonKin by Fyreheart
Key Pairing: Eventual Harry/Luna; Charlie/Tonks;
Other Pairings: To be determined
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
'Thought-Speech'
/Parseltongue-Draconian/
Chapter 1: A Lost Hero is Found
Ten years.
That was how long the world had wondered, waited and whispered several ideas, theories and beliefs, all centred around one surprising event that had taken place on the night they celebrated the end of the Dark Lord Voldemort.
The disappearance of Harry James Potter, Last Son and Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter.
No-one knew how or when it had happened; all they knew was that, thanks to some insider information being leaked to the wrong ears, on the same night that the Dark Lord had been vanquished, a great magical event had taken place. One that had not only eradicated all traces of the dark spectre in question, at least as far as anyone knew and hoped, but had also, somehow, stolen away the sole survivor of that joyous night.
Harry Potter, a little boy whom, at the time, had been no older than fifteen months, his crib destroyed by whatever magic had stolen him away or, in the minds of many, vanquished him along with the Dark Lord.
To many, such a fate was poetic justice for destroying their lord.
To some, it was a source of controversy that usually erupted into fights and arrests made by the Aurors.
But, for one person, it was something he flat-out refused to believe.
Dragon Spirit
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot of Great Britain and Ireland, recognised-Grand Sorcerer and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederacy of Wizards.
All these were impressive titles to say the least, but, for ten years – or the better part, thereof – not one of those titles had said or done a thing to try and put his mind at ease.
For ten years, he had watched, wondered and felt woe and worry in spades with how little he'd been able to do to reunite the lost hero with his true home and those who cared about him.
Dragon Spirit
He could still remember the pained howl of fear and sorrow that had erupted out of Rubeus Hagrid when he'd found the crib destroyed and the boy conspicuous by his absence. He also remembered the anger that had driven Sirius Black to do what he'd done not soon after, which had been born of what he'd found and what Hagrid had told him.
Most of all, however, the one thing Albus had never been able to forget was how helpless he had felt every day and every night since then as word continued to reach him of the lack of success in locating so much as a body of the lost hero of magical Britain.
He never forgot the feeling of failure, which had originally been there on the night in question, but had grown in force with each failed search, every negative response and even when Fawkes, his beloved phoenix friend, had tried flashing to Harry – using a lock of his hair Dumbledore had been given by Lily and James as a keepsake, though, at the time, it was used as a source for a spell he'd hoped would be capable of seeking him out – only to return and flat-out refuse to try again.
Almost as though whatever magic had actually terrified Fawkes so much that he would sooner die a permanent death than try again.
Dragon Spirit
As days turned into weeks, then months and, eventually, years without success, Albus' hope wilted with each passing day.
He knew he had failed, not just with that stupid prophecy and encouraging Lily and James to put their faith in the wrong man, but he had failed with Harry, a boy whom he'd sworn he would protect, guide and care for as much as though he was his own son or grandson. He had always tried to do right by Lily and James, one of whom he knew was the last true heir of a legacy that would grant the Chosen One with the greatest powers in the history of magic.
As for the other, whom he'd always looked at like the daughter he never had – though he told no-one about it – she was one of the brightest witches to come out of Hogwarts since Rowena herself, not to mention the kindest heart Albus had ever known.
And he had failed her too.
As for their child, he had become a shining light in the dark times that had plagued their world, especially for Lily and James.
Dragon Spirit
Even now, ten years and more after the big day, Albus could still remember the feel and even the smell of the little baby when he'd been passed to the Headmaster while Healers had wrestled with Lily's unnatural illness, brought about during her labour pangs. He still remembered how silent and yet adorable little Harry had been.
Most of all, Albus remembered the horror, fear and desperation he had seen when, even after she was made stable, Lily found Harry still didn't cry and didn't seem to respond to the stimulations from the Healers.
He remembered her begging him to try something…anything to save her baby boy.
He remembered how dangerous the act had been when he'd tried something he never wanted to believe he would have to try and how even his older and much wiser friend, Nicolas, had cautioned him of how the consequences of Albus' actions would be unpredictable, yet the rewards could be as bountiful as Magic itself.
That had been all the conviction he'd needed.
Dragon Spirit
And yet, apparently, it was all for naught.
Harry was gone…missing…possibly even dead, not that Albus chose to believe such a thing.
No…he knew Harry was alive.
Tom would not win this final stand against Albus and his friends, not at the cost of one who could become so great that he might even surpass and succeed Albus Dumbledore himself one day.
He would not let that happen, hence why he'd spent more time on the search than he had on his duties as Headmaster, let alone Chief Warlock, which was how Sirius had wound up in Azkaban – without a trial, which Albus had found stupid to the point of insane, but that was Barty Crouch and Bagnold for you – not to mention how many of the Death Eaters had gotten off by claiming they were under the Imperius.
Had he been there, he would have dared any of them – especially that dark slime Malfoy, who'd also, most-recently, somehow managed to become the COO of the Hogwarts Board of Governors – to claim they were under the Imperius.
When he'd managed to find an opportunity to visit Sirius, Albus had been even more-alarmed when the man had snarled at him, cursing him for doing what Albus knew he'd been a fool to do, before he'd told the Headmaster straight.
"Find my godson…then we'll talk about you testifying my innocence…until then, thank you kindly…now, fuck off, Albus: I'd sooner suffer with this lot than be out there without my boy!"
How anyone would prefer Azkaban over even the smallest sliver of hope that their last ties to an old friend and the family they never had was a mystery even Albus couldn't solve. But he'd done as Sirius had demanded and yet, since then…nothing.
Maybe, as much as he didn't want to even think it, Albus had to wonder…
Maybe Harry really was dead and gone…
Maybe it was time for everyone to move on.
Maybe…
Dragon Spirit
"ALBUS!"
Suddenly, as Albus contemplated his next moves and the possibilities that would rise because of it, he actually fell back – only managing to keep himself upright thanks to the magic that he'd mastered over the years – when the door to his office flew open, revealing a white-faced Minerva McGonagall, his deputy as well as the interim Headmistress whenever Albus had gone off-campus.
Her face was filled with disbelief and horror, but when he looked into her wizened eyes, Albus also saw something he'd only ever seen in the mirror;
Hope.
"Minerva?" asked Albus, rising from his seat while he faced his deputy, "What is it? You look like…well, pardon the expression given the fact we have them, but you look like you've seen a ghost!"
"He…it…I…he…here!" insisted Minerva, magically throwing one of what Albus recognised as the standard acceptance letters to Hogwarts onto his desk, its inked address gleaming under the light that shone in Dumbledore's office.
When he saw it, however, Albus' eyes widened as he looked up, his voice barely even a whisper of fear and disbelief as he asked, "Is…is this…can this be for real?"
"Rowena herself crafted the quill, as you well know," gasped Minerva, reaching Dumbledore's desk before she looked down at the envelope between them as she explained, "I…I cannot doubt it…its veracity even if I wanted to…which means…"
"He is alive!" gasped Dumbledore, a mixture of delight and relief filling every word he spoke as he looked down at the address on the envelope;
MR H POTTER
PENDRAGON'S PEAK
UNPLOTTABLE
"I knew it!" exclaimed Dumbledore, suddenly feeling much younger than his one-hundred-plus years made him look as he threw his wand into the air, firing off several golden sparks, which alarmed the portraits above him as well as Fawkes, who let out a cry of elation and relief.
As Minerva looked at the address, however, she frowned as she asked, "Where is this Pendragon's Peak, Albus? I don't think I've heard of it."
"You haven't," said Albus, swallowing hard before he looked up as he explained, "But I have…although it has been nearly forty years since I walked onto the peak. At the same time, this explains so much: my trackers couldn't pick up a signature, no Portkey could get there…and, of course, I should have realised Fawkes couldn't get there. The only way to get onto the peak is by special authorisation from Archmage Wulfgarden himself!"
"What?" asked Minerva, earning a nod from Dumbledore as she asked, "What could be that protected?"
"Oh, nothing much," drawled Albus, a glimmer of delight filling his eyes as he smiled broadly before he looked up at Minerva with a more-serious air;
"Just the birthplace of all dragons, not to mention the only remaining nest of some of the oldest breeds of dragons in the world!"
Dragon Spirit
One week!
That was how long it took Albus to finally manage to convince Ramesses Wulfgarden, Archmage and Chief Sorcerer of the ICW, to allow him one more visit to the Dragon Preserve known as Pendragon's Peak…and, even then, he only accepted on the condition that he go with the old man.
As much as he wanted to ensure Harry's safety and help him adapt enough to, possibly, return to Magical Britain, Albus knew he had no choice, but to accept if he was to have any hopes of redeeming his failures. He also wanted to see if he could find out exactly how Harry had wound up in a part of the world that even Fawkes couldn't penetrate, not to mention how he'd stayed hidden there for ten years!
So, on the eve of the date that would be Harry's eleventh birthday, Albus used an International Portkey that took him straight to the spot of the entrance into Pendragon's Peak.
To anyone else, the entrance looked like an abandoned temple close to the very top of one of the highest points in the world – hence its highest-of-high-level magical defences – but, to those in the know, like Albus, they saw it for what it was.
A hidden door to a magical realm hidden in the shadows of the peak of Mt Everest, which led to the most-unique place in the magical world.
Next to Albus, Ramesses Wulfgarden frowned, his electric-blue and mercurial-silver-blended eye colour adding to the icy winds and frost that blew about the top of the Himalayas. In front of them, what looked like a Buddhist monk walked towards them, his eyes dark as he observed who they were, though when he saw Ramesses, he bowed once.
"We are honoured by your visit, Grand Master," said the monk, his eyes lowered before Ramesses as he asked, "Do you have this week's code of authorisation? Just to verify your identity, you understand?"
"Of course, Matthias," agreed Ramesses, drawing himself to his full height before he explained, "Code of authorisation: Yggdrasil…serial number of inquiring visitor: Alpha-Zeta-Omega-Seven-Thirteen-Seven-Seventy-Seven: password: Ygraine's Bounty."
For a moment, the monk, Matthias, seemed to ponder the words before, nodding once, he added, "Code and password recognised: allow me to show you inside, gentlemen. May I ask which particular habitat you wish to visit today?"
"We are seeking someone who wound up here…somewhat-accidentally, ten years ago," said Ramesses, giving Dumbledore a wary look that told him to keep quiet during this procedure, an order, which the Headmaster seemed willing to comply with as he nodded once before Ramesses looked back to Matthias as he continued. "He would have been but a babe at that time, but now, as of tomorrow, in fact, he is to turn eleven years old…tell me, just to be certain…do you know of whom I speak, Matthias?"
"Not only do I," answered Matthias, stopping next to a large stone door, which he drove his hand into as though it was made of nothing more than slime and porridge; for several moments, the only sounds were low growls and snarls that any unwelcome visitors or even the non-magical might mistake for a distant storm.
After several minutes, the door shone with a bright, golden energy, which slowly melted away to reveal a single doorway.
Gesturing for his companions to pass through, Matthias repeated the gestures on the other side, sealing the door, and the entrance, once again.
As Albus knew, if anyone other than the Special Task Force Security Corps tried that, they'd be incinerated on the spot, leaving nothing but wind-blown ashes that would then be buried by a convenient avalanche from the mountains around them.
Once the entrance was sealed, Matthias turned once, looking to Dumbledore and Ramesses as he continued, "Now, as I was saying, not only do I know of whom you speak, I also know he has been expecting your visit for some time, Headmaster Dumbledore. However, before I take you to meet him, I should warn you…"
Here, Matthias snapped his fingers, conjuring a ball of light, which bathed his face in darkness, emphasising the chill factor of his next words.
Words that even Dumbledore didn't know whether or not to believe as the aged monk addressed him;
"His Mother is very protective of her young hatchling…so be very careful what you say and do, lest you wish to end up as lunch!"
So, talk about mysterious and…somewhat-different: however, given the warning, what will Albus discover when he comes face-to-face with his one chance at redemption?
Also, if security is that tight, how did Harry wind up on the Peak and what could Matthias mean by his Mother?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: After ten years, Albus Dumbledore reunites with Harry Potter, but the Harry he discovers is definitely not someone you might call a hero…well, not to feeble-minded sheep who change sides more times than he changes his underwear, anyway;
Please Read and Review
AN: Portrayals
Matthias: Ben Kingsley
Ramesses Wulfgarden: Anthony Hopkins
Albus Dumbledore: Jude Law (just in case anyone was wondering)