Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything associated
with it in any way, shape, or form.
Note: Alright ya'll, this here is my second real attempt at a fanfic so any comments/criticism is welcome. This is just a sort of prologue by the way. The next chapter will be skipping ahead a bit in years (Harry is probably going to be around seven) and most of the confusing stuff should be explained in the next couple of chapters. Oh this is an AU by the way.
Note 2: I'm not from England and I've never been there so please inform me about any mistakes in traditions, places, slang, etc.
*******
On this All's Hallow Eve, the street of Privet Drive in Surrey, England displayed proudly to the world how completely normal it was, for there was not a single house on Privet Drive that had anything to do with 'this ridiculous holiday.' There was not a child in the streets, not a single decoration in the yards, not even a family staying up, discussing the night's haul with over-enthused children. In other words, it was a horribly boring place. And the little house with the address number four was no exception.
There was, however, one thing odd about Privet Drive this night. A man was walking up the street looking at house numbers, and an elderly man at that, considering his long silver hair and beard that could be tucked into his pants. Now such a thing might not normally be considered strange, but this man was walking about at one o'clock in the morning dressed in what looked to be a vibrant purple dress (they were in fact robes).
The man, whose name happened to be Albus Dumbledore, didn't seem to notice the opaque normalcy of the street he had just arrived upon. Indeed, instead of bothering with even trying to look inconspicuous in any way whatsoever, he paused in the middle of the street to rummage through his clothing.
His face brightened as he pulled an object from his robes. His mouth scrunched to one side as he apparently realized it wasn't what he was looking for. Shrugging his shoulders, Albus removed a small yellow ball from its box and popped it into his mouth, and went back to poking around through his robes once again. Pulling a small silver device from his robes, he flicked the contraption open and began to flick his thumb against its side, using it much like you would a cigarette lighter, but instead of a flame coming out of it, with each flick the device pulled light from the lampposts. Moments later he had put out enough light to leave the block in darkness.
Seemingly unaffected by the sudden lack of light, Albus continued his stroll down Privet Drive. Stopping at the house marked number four he reached into his robes once again, this time finding what he sought immediately. He pulled out what appeared to be a pocket watch, glanced at it for a moment before returning to his study of the surroundings.
***
Within the artificial darkness two pairs of golden light flared, following the movements of the elderly man with an eccentric mode of dress and his rather long hair. From their place on top of a house down the block from the old man the two figures follow the old man's glance to a small figure by his feet. Their eyes widened as the small figure changed in to a human like shape. The two humans seemed to start discussing something.
"Even now, as they grow more powerful, they fail themselves. I yet have my doubts that they have the strength to become an Elder Race." The gold glow of his eyes dimly outlined the speakers face, revealing a weathered face with a rather pointed nose and a strong, clean shaven jaw.
His associate remained in her crouched position, moving only to shake her head, a few dark curls escaping the small headband that held them in place. She spoke softly, with a hint of an Italian accent. and a trace of something else. "It is not our place, at this time, to judge." Her mouth curved slightly with a hint of a smile as she watched the aged man. "For all our accounts, he is almost as old as you are, and still he shows no such frailty." A soft, dry chuckle escaped her lips at some hidden joke. "They are not as un-resourceful as one might think. But, the race of Man is, yet, still a child. Perhaps, with time, they will find their place among us."
Drawn from their study of the old man and his companion a few minutes later by a thunderous noise, they turned their attention skyward, as an enormous figure on a flying motorbike landed on the street only a few meters from the old man. The man who had just stepped of the motorbike was far larger than any human either of them had ever seen.
That which had moments before been a slight smile on the woman's aristocratic face broke into a full fledged grin, transforming her face, from that of somewhat mature woman to that of an almost childlike countenance. "No matter how you look at that one, I dare say, you could never call him a frail." She said in reference to her companion's favorite term for the human race.
The pair strained their ears trying to hear the conversation that was occurring between the old man's growing party, neither being particularly successful. A few moments later, though, when the large man started blubbering loudly over a small basket containing a baby, they realized that the group was planning on leaving the small child, which the giant man on the motorbike had brought with him, on a family's porch step. The larger figure moved as if to intercept the trio, only to have a restraining hand placed on his shoulder. He glanced at his smaller companion, who shook her head, golden eyes briefly obscured by her dark hair.
"We wait until they leave." Was all that she said in way of an explanation, as she removed her hand from his shoulder. To most it would probably seem odd that someone that was far bigger than she was would just nod and sit back down, but her companion knew her well, and she was named Aklari'Fsik, Temple of Flame (in their native tongue), for a reason and not just for her sometimes hot headedness and quick temper. And lately Aklari had been a literal bomb waiting to go off.
She moved over to the chimney on the edge of the house and hoisted herself up onto its top, using it as a stool. Resting her head in her palm, she watched as the group bade each other farewell. She began to twitch with impatience with the waiting, as the old man seemed to dawdle. Only after he had finally decided to let the light get out of his little device and fly back to the streetlights and vanish from sight, did Aklari move from her perch.
Standing up on the chimney top, she paused for a moment as her eyes faded from the shinning gold color to a more subdued hazel, before jumping off the edge, her tattered cloak billowing in the rush downward. Landing on the ground with a muted thud she called back to the rooftop, "Well? Are you coming or not?"
"Already two steps ahead of ya, Little Vsanhk." Turning around she glared at the larger man, mouth curled in disgust, but she refrained from making any comment. She sped up her pace, matching his stride.
The pair started walking toward the house the trio of nighttime visitors had left the boy at in silence. Upon reaching the house, of number four, Privet Drive, the pair approached the door as quietly as they could, fearing they would wake the inhabitants of the house. Looking down at the small slumbering child Aklari let her talon-like fingers glide gently over the boy's chubby cheek.
"Take a look at him Brevyt, he is so tiny." Her eyes widened when she realized that the boy's entire body fit into the palm of her hand. Just the palm.
Brevyt's voice was gravelly as he replied. "He looks so fragile. His blood can't be as strong as ours." He leaned over the infant and lightly inhaled his scent. "He is human. mostly," Twin tears streaked down his face. "Too human.. We can't take him Aklari, he is far too human."
Aklari turned sharply to face him, clutching the boy to her chest, her voice deepened into a guttural mockery of her previous accent. No longer speaking in the English tongue the words she spoke had a great deal too many consonants and far too few vowels, words that tore at the throat and ears, yet Brevyt seemed to understand it without problems. "Have you even heard of an Ysbaat half-breed before? Because I know I haven't. There is a reason for that, any breeding of Ysbaat has always ended up in a pure Ysbaat. Their blood was thought to be unable to be diluted. The exception being this boy and his mother. We failed to locate his mother in time, but stories tell she was a very powerful human. If this one is brought up with other half-breeds, who knows what will happen."
Brevyt sighed deeply. "I can see your point, Aklari, I truly can. But the fact remains; his blood is far to removed for him to be allowed to remain with the clan."
A single tear landed on the sleeping infant's face, causing him to turn in his sleep. Aklari brushed the others away before the managed to fall. She spoke softly, once again in the English tongue. "He is the last of his breed, Brevyt. For that alone the Leaders should grant this one exception." .She paused wiping another tear from her face. "We are as close to kin as he will ever have. And even among us, he will be alone. But within the clan, perhaps he could find somewhere to belong."
The larger being pausing to stretch to his full height, standing at a head taller than the doorway, merely nodded in acquiescence. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try. But I wouldn't get too attached, just incase." He walked out into the middle of the street with Aklari following, child in tow.
The woman stretched for a moment before shedding the cloak, freeing two huge, dark grey, leathery wings. She extended her wings, stretching them after their long confinement. Aklari saw her companion do the same. After a few brief experimental flaps the pair crouched down and leapt skyward, letting their wings catch the night winds.
Aklari glanced down at the bundle in her arms, deciding then to glide as much as possible. She instinctively searched out the thermal pockets, wanting to make the ride as smooth as possible for her precious cargo. 'No way,' she thought to herself, trying her best to protect the child she carried from the cold night winds. 'There is no way that I will let him be raised without the support of a clan.' She had yet to take her eyes off the child. 'You will be home soon little one. Welcome to the Ekrloc dragon clan, hatchling.'
Note: Alright ya'll, this here is my second real attempt at a fanfic so any comments/criticism is welcome. This is just a sort of prologue by the way. The next chapter will be skipping ahead a bit in years (Harry is probably going to be around seven) and most of the confusing stuff should be explained in the next couple of chapters. Oh this is an AU by the way.
Note 2: I'm not from England and I've never been there so please inform me about any mistakes in traditions, places, slang, etc.
*******
On this All's Hallow Eve, the street of Privet Drive in Surrey, England displayed proudly to the world how completely normal it was, for there was not a single house on Privet Drive that had anything to do with 'this ridiculous holiday.' There was not a child in the streets, not a single decoration in the yards, not even a family staying up, discussing the night's haul with over-enthused children. In other words, it was a horribly boring place. And the little house with the address number four was no exception.
There was, however, one thing odd about Privet Drive this night. A man was walking up the street looking at house numbers, and an elderly man at that, considering his long silver hair and beard that could be tucked into his pants. Now such a thing might not normally be considered strange, but this man was walking about at one o'clock in the morning dressed in what looked to be a vibrant purple dress (they were in fact robes).
The man, whose name happened to be Albus Dumbledore, didn't seem to notice the opaque normalcy of the street he had just arrived upon. Indeed, instead of bothering with even trying to look inconspicuous in any way whatsoever, he paused in the middle of the street to rummage through his clothing.
His face brightened as he pulled an object from his robes. His mouth scrunched to one side as he apparently realized it wasn't what he was looking for. Shrugging his shoulders, Albus removed a small yellow ball from its box and popped it into his mouth, and went back to poking around through his robes once again. Pulling a small silver device from his robes, he flicked the contraption open and began to flick his thumb against its side, using it much like you would a cigarette lighter, but instead of a flame coming out of it, with each flick the device pulled light from the lampposts. Moments later he had put out enough light to leave the block in darkness.
Seemingly unaffected by the sudden lack of light, Albus continued his stroll down Privet Drive. Stopping at the house marked number four he reached into his robes once again, this time finding what he sought immediately. He pulled out what appeared to be a pocket watch, glanced at it for a moment before returning to his study of the surroundings.
***
Within the artificial darkness two pairs of golden light flared, following the movements of the elderly man with an eccentric mode of dress and his rather long hair. From their place on top of a house down the block from the old man the two figures follow the old man's glance to a small figure by his feet. Their eyes widened as the small figure changed in to a human like shape. The two humans seemed to start discussing something.
"Even now, as they grow more powerful, they fail themselves. I yet have my doubts that they have the strength to become an Elder Race." The gold glow of his eyes dimly outlined the speakers face, revealing a weathered face with a rather pointed nose and a strong, clean shaven jaw.
His associate remained in her crouched position, moving only to shake her head, a few dark curls escaping the small headband that held them in place. She spoke softly, with a hint of an Italian accent. and a trace of something else. "It is not our place, at this time, to judge." Her mouth curved slightly with a hint of a smile as she watched the aged man. "For all our accounts, he is almost as old as you are, and still he shows no such frailty." A soft, dry chuckle escaped her lips at some hidden joke. "They are not as un-resourceful as one might think. But, the race of Man is, yet, still a child. Perhaps, with time, they will find their place among us."
Drawn from their study of the old man and his companion a few minutes later by a thunderous noise, they turned their attention skyward, as an enormous figure on a flying motorbike landed on the street only a few meters from the old man. The man who had just stepped of the motorbike was far larger than any human either of them had ever seen.
That which had moments before been a slight smile on the woman's aristocratic face broke into a full fledged grin, transforming her face, from that of somewhat mature woman to that of an almost childlike countenance. "No matter how you look at that one, I dare say, you could never call him a frail." She said in reference to her companion's favorite term for the human race.
The pair strained their ears trying to hear the conversation that was occurring between the old man's growing party, neither being particularly successful. A few moments later, though, when the large man started blubbering loudly over a small basket containing a baby, they realized that the group was planning on leaving the small child, which the giant man on the motorbike had brought with him, on a family's porch step. The larger figure moved as if to intercept the trio, only to have a restraining hand placed on his shoulder. He glanced at his smaller companion, who shook her head, golden eyes briefly obscured by her dark hair.
"We wait until they leave." Was all that she said in way of an explanation, as she removed her hand from his shoulder. To most it would probably seem odd that someone that was far bigger than she was would just nod and sit back down, but her companion knew her well, and she was named Aklari'Fsik, Temple of Flame (in their native tongue), for a reason and not just for her sometimes hot headedness and quick temper. And lately Aklari had been a literal bomb waiting to go off.
She moved over to the chimney on the edge of the house and hoisted herself up onto its top, using it as a stool. Resting her head in her palm, she watched as the group bade each other farewell. She began to twitch with impatience with the waiting, as the old man seemed to dawdle. Only after he had finally decided to let the light get out of his little device and fly back to the streetlights and vanish from sight, did Aklari move from her perch.
Standing up on the chimney top, she paused for a moment as her eyes faded from the shinning gold color to a more subdued hazel, before jumping off the edge, her tattered cloak billowing in the rush downward. Landing on the ground with a muted thud she called back to the rooftop, "Well? Are you coming or not?"
"Already two steps ahead of ya, Little Vsanhk." Turning around she glared at the larger man, mouth curled in disgust, but she refrained from making any comment. She sped up her pace, matching his stride.
The pair started walking toward the house the trio of nighttime visitors had left the boy at in silence. Upon reaching the house, of number four, Privet Drive, the pair approached the door as quietly as they could, fearing they would wake the inhabitants of the house. Looking down at the small slumbering child Aklari let her talon-like fingers glide gently over the boy's chubby cheek.
"Take a look at him Brevyt, he is so tiny." Her eyes widened when she realized that the boy's entire body fit into the palm of her hand. Just the palm.
Brevyt's voice was gravelly as he replied. "He looks so fragile. His blood can't be as strong as ours." He leaned over the infant and lightly inhaled his scent. "He is human. mostly," Twin tears streaked down his face. "Too human.. We can't take him Aklari, he is far too human."
Aklari turned sharply to face him, clutching the boy to her chest, her voice deepened into a guttural mockery of her previous accent. No longer speaking in the English tongue the words she spoke had a great deal too many consonants and far too few vowels, words that tore at the throat and ears, yet Brevyt seemed to understand it without problems. "Have you even heard of an Ysbaat half-breed before? Because I know I haven't. There is a reason for that, any breeding of Ysbaat has always ended up in a pure Ysbaat. Their blood was thought to be unable to be diluted. The exception being this boy and his mother. We failed to locate his mother in time, but stories tell she was a very powerful human. If this one is brought up with other half-breeds, who knows what will happen."
Brevyt sighed deeply. "I can see your point, Aklari, I truly can. But the fact remains; his blood is far to removed for him to be allowed to remain with the clan."
A single tear landed on the sleeping infant's face, causing him to turn in his sleep. Aklari brushed the others away before the managed to fall. She spoke softly, once again in the English tongue. "He is the last of his breed, Brevyt. For that alone the Leaders should grant this one exception." .She paused wiping another tear from her face. "We are as close to kin as he will ever have. And even among us, he will be alone. But within the clan, perhaps he could find somewhere to belong."
The larger being pausing to stretch to his full height, standing at a head taller than the doorway, merely nodded in acquiescence. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try. But I wouldn't get too attached, just incase." He walked out into the middle of the street with Aklari following, child in tow.
The woman stretched for a moment before shedding the cloak, freeing two huge, dark grey, leathery wings. She extended her wings, stretching them after their long confinement. Aklari saw her companion do the same. After a few brief experimental flaps the pair crouched down and leapt skyward, letting their wings catch the night winds.
Aklari glanced down at the bundle in her arms, deciding then to glide as much as possible. She instinctively searched out the thermal pockets, wanting to make the ride as smooth as possible for her precious cargo. 'No way,' she thought to herself, trying her best to protect the child she carried from the cold night winds. 'There is no way that I will let him be raised without the support of a clan.' She had yet to take her eyes off the child. 'You will be home soon little one. Welcome to the Ekrloc dragon clan, hatchling.'