Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein
Harry Potter and The Dragonborn (Harry Potter/Skyrim)
On a Grunnings business trip to a Scandinavian mine, Harry is trapped in a cave with a dying dragon and learns the first word of the Unrelenting Force shout. The dragon teaches him about the Dragonborn and his status as The Boy-Who-Lived, then dies, allowing Harry to absorb its soul (simultaneously banishing the Horcrux). He uses Unrelenting Force to clear a path to freedom.
Chapter One: The Cherry
Vernon Dursley had the shock of his life when he saw a Grunnings senior partner in his office. Hoping against hope he wasn't about to lose his job to some filthy layabout, he introduced himself. "Hello Mr. Sykins, I am Vernon Dursley. How may I help you?" he asked gruffly, trying and failing to sound nonchalant and in control. Sykins, seeing right through his pitiful facade, smiled like a Cheshire Cat. "Mr. Dursley, Grunnings has been in business for close to 35 years. In that time, we have had many accounts come and go; from the small, local construction companies, all the way up to government tunnel projects." Mr. Sykins said, pausing for dramatic effect. "But every proper Sundae has a cherry on top; this Swedish mine account is Grunnings' cherry. I have decided that you are our best hope for securing that contract.".
Silence reigned in the office. Vernon's face started turning different colours, going from a healthy tan, to white, then to an undefinable, but ghastly pale colour. Just before Sykins was about to call for an ambulance, there was a great gasping sound as he remembered how to breath. For several moments, Vernon seemed to collect himself; finally, with several false starts, he managed to wheeze out a question. "W-w-when d-d-did you want me t-to get started on this?" Vernon stuttered.
'
"As soon as you can find a flight, Mr. Dursley. There's a rather sizable suite reserved for Grunnings employees at a hotel near the Svartliden Mine, so you can bring your entire family with you." Mr. Sykins replied. "In fact, why don't you go home for the day to make preparations?". Vernon said he would, Mr. Sykins put the folder on his desk, and they walked out together. Before Vernon could get in his car, Mr. Sykins gave him an ominous warning. "Mr. Dursley, I must warn you; if you screw this up, you'll never work another day a Grunnings. Safe travels!".
Vernon drove home in a daze, barely managing to avoid a collision with a lorry. Finally, he made it back to Number 4, Privet Drive, his perfectly normal middle class house. Eyes skipping over his freak nephew who was toiling over the roses, he walked into the house, not looking at the cupboard that his no good, freeloading nephew slept in. Heaving a small sigh of contentment at the perfectly normal kitchen, he called for his wife. "Petunia, dear, could you come in here?". When she arrived, a puzzled expression on her bony face, he started explaining things without preamble. By the time he was done, both were collapsed into chairs, one from exhaustion, the other from shock.
"Oh Vernon, this is so exciting! Don't worry about the tickets dearest, I'm good friends with a travel agent in Greater Whinging!". Vernon nodded, but was then struck with a rather nasty thought. "Pet, what about the freak? We can't possibly leave him with the Figg woman for a month…" he said. This brought a sneer to his wife's face, something that only that layabout could provoke. "True, but what else are we supposed to due? Goodness knows what kind of freakishness he could get up to on the plane!" she shrieked. Vernon groaned in resignation, seeing no alternative to taking him to Sweden.
It was early June, but it was already blistering hot outside. Most people would be inside in the air con, but not Harry Potter. The sun was slowly cooking the back of his neck, and sweat was running down his lightning scarred brow as he pruned and weeded the flower beds for the third time that week. Finally satisfied with the flowers, he was about to start working on the lawn when he heard the familiar shout of "BOY!" coming from the house; he kicked off his ragged trainers and ran into the house to see what mindless task he was required to do now. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, his only living relatives (or so he was told), stood in the kitchen with apoplectic expressions on their faces. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?" he inquired politely.
Taking a moment to sneer at him, he launched into an explanation about the new account and the trip to Sweden and finished with a familiar admonishment of "And I DON'T WANT ANY FREAKISHNESS of yours to jeopardize my career, do you understand?!" Vernon shouted, looking irritated at having to include him. "I understand Uncle Vernon. I'll stay in the hotel room at all times and only speak when spoken to, I will not be freakish." Harry replied succinctly. "Excellent! Now, cook me a decent lunch, do the dishes, and then get your things together in your rucksack. There's an old jacket of Dudley's you can use. We leave tomorrow." Vernon snapped. "Yes sir.". Harry made BLTs for Vernon and Petunia, and was allowed grudgingly allowed to eat a slice of toast. "Me and Petunia are going to Greater Whinging to buy tickets. Get in your cupboard and stay there!" Vernon ordered. Sighing, Harry got in the cupboard and began to gather his meager belongings.