Black Dragon's Flight

by reikos

Before Neltharion's spirit could be fully consumed by the Usurper, the maddened spirit made possible through the Old Gods, he was able to save his imprisoned soul through the use of the Dragon Disk. A draconian, native to Azeroth, will return home but "slightly"... different; as the True Black Aspect, as an Essence of Death, and alternatively as Harry. Pre-cataclysm

1. Chapter 1

Standard Disclaimers (!): This author does not own Harry Potter/Warcraft and any of its characters. Anything else recognizable or new, there is no claim of ownership as this is a free site... in other words, I don't own anything in the internet except for my money and creds... for a thirteen year old that is

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A/N

I wasn't satisfied with the last story I posted, among others really. I'm still typing away and searching for that feeling wherein the motivation is there, so here's a crossover

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Take note: This chapter mostly involves the HP universe with slight changes which does not have a significant impact in this Fan Fiction much. It's kind of like a retelling of sort with some shifts - a habit that I should break out from 'cause I feel like I prolonged too much for a first chapter

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This story will be featured in Azeroth – coming up in the next or upcoming few chapter(s) – starting before the end of WOTLK

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Any changed lore and misconceptions are the writer's intentions or interpretations

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Letter: I don't actually mind reviews or if I don't get any at all, but I do appreciate it if a share/follow/fav is considered/given.

I might even fail to read the reviews anyway though it is still good to know some suggestions and others when I do decide to read. It's a problem of mine that could be compared to skipping a story's Author Notes like I always do

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Longer Author Notes might come in the future if I did actually decide to continue this piece of newb story making, so here it is

•Aspect•

Harry had been feeling somewhat... stuffed every single day in his lonely life, though he wasn't full in the sense of being fat. Cramped was the more accurate term, but the sensation had always been persistent.

He was young, alive for eight years, yet it felt like he should be older than what he appeared as. Maybe that was why he was called "freak" when he felt something that others never reacted to. Additionally, when he read or saw something that seemed familiar, this "feeling" of wanting to be unrestricted from his scrawny little body always intensified. He could not do anything about it other than to get used to it.

Freak… Once upon a time, when Harry had asked for his name so he could better identify himself, Freak was what his "family" would constantly say. But he knew that Freak was just a label for him. When he learned that he was called Harry Potter during his first time in school, it still felt… far-off from the actual truth of who he actually was. It was still the only name that could define him in his youth. Overtime, he had gotten attached to his first name and it became as important to him as that fleeting selfness that he was trying to grasp.

In the present time, his aunt and uncle would still scream what they grouped him as when he did something out of the norm. He was never called through his first name by his relatives, much less his odd last name. Though even Harry had to admit, his unnatural capabilities were also "freaky" to him sometimes.

Making things float, quick regrowth of his hair from an unsightly scalp, or abnormal assistance during his life that made living better, Harry would have said that it was an inborn talent of his; irregular it might be. He placed himself apart from the other people as different because of the things he could do compared to them. It was plain obvious that he could do things that wasn't meant for other... humans to achieve. It seemed magical to him like those from a fairy tale that the teachers in school would read in class when it involved childhood literature.

Other than the magical aspects that he was able to observe happening around him, his senses were far from humanly possible while other people moved on. If he was a blind man, then Harry truly was unique when it came to sensing since he was able to hear sound or tell movement through the vibrations in the earth; to an actual blind individual, it would be a gift. Earth wasn't the limited medium used; some solid elements could substitute if he focused. If he did focus while he was in the calm, Harry was able to imagine a mental world around him. It was a third eye perspective of the world around him, constantly shifting with each different motion in his surroundings. Naturally, he would abuse his gifts for his own benefits.

This "ability," or extra sense, had never led him astray before. It was thanks to his uncanny skill that he was able to evade trouble that his cousin always wanted to inflict upon him.

Harry hunting... it baffled him on how persistent Dudley Dursley was in his desire to cause pain – Harry's, in particular. Throughout every eventual encounter, he was always able to evade the fat ugly lard and his equally dumb friends of child sized thugs. Their time could have been used in more efficient ways, but instead, their own efforts were always wasted because of the useless effort of trying to corner him. Did they not get sick of it?

In any case, going back to the Dursley's house – for Harry refused to call the place as his home – was the time of day that he was definitely not looking forward to.

What lacked in an occasional beating that would most likely result from a successful Harry Hunt, there would be a night of ear breaking scolding, "chores," and possibly a thrashing instead. Not that he minded the thrashing though... it never got to the point wherein he would bleed. His uncle definitely learned the hard way; to never let Harry bleed any of his lifeblood. It was to Harry's own surprise as well that he could bleed blood that acted like acid to anything it came into contact with. The first victim of his volatile blood was one Vernon Dursley, and it was within Harry's own delight to watch his uncle got what he deserved. With just a drop of Harry's red fluid on his uncle's unhealthily-meaty hand, it was enough for his uncle to dance hysterically like a whale cosplaying an actual person that could only be seen in cartoons.

Acidic blood it seemed to be, though Harry liked to think of it more as lava blood. It was the perfect description for it because of its close similarity to the color of magma, though its depiction was mainly influenced by its strange comforting heat that could literally burn. It was his inner temperature, which defied human normality... and ordinary was the Dursley family's motto; he was perfectly fine with being the outcast in the house.

Besides lava blood, which was one of the many odd things of being Harry Potter, his tolerance to pain was exceptionally high. However, in order to gain a genuine hiss of pain from him, there was probably something much more severe needed to hurt him – an example could be by having an organ stabbed. With the nature of Harry's blood, he would have liked to know if his uncle would dare try and stab him, though it was unlikely to happen.

Harry still received his scheduled bruises, broken bones, and dislocated arms nonetheless. Quite easily gained too, all because he was an underfed scrawny kid, but they'd all heal really quickly in a few hours or so later. Harry always did heal impossibly fast anyway, further confirmed through his wound after that "blood incident" with his uncle... Other normal people would get long term scars through simple knife wounds, he had observed this once from his military retired history teacher, but it never befell to Harry because of his accelerated healing. His "hideously shaped scar" was a testament to that, if he was to believe his aunt's words.

The scar that used to be on Harry's forehead from the car accident, the event that supposedly killed his real parents while he gained the wound, also healed within time as stated by P. Dursley (1984). She had worded it all with disdain with special emphasis, which was predictable. Knowing the Dursleys, the whole "car accident" seemed to be fabricated as well to hide what really happened. He had recalled screaming and green light back then, but he wasn't sure if that was the exact memory of his parents' death.

Besides unmarked skin, the boy also had a pale appearance, though not really as unhealthy as he was supposed to have. He possessed eyes of emerald irises with a slight molten coloring ringed at its edges. His hair was short and messy, but also slightly spiky. He was average in height, if not slightly shorter than others in his age group. To reflect his poor lifestyle appearance, he was gifted with oversized castoff clothes and ragged trainers for everyday importance in terms of simple protection from the natural elements of the world.

The eight year old would have made a fine beggar in the streets if he had dirt on his face. But he was not; instead he was a slave in the household.

If he weren't so malnourished, Harry would have been taller at his current age... he felt that he should be taller. He may not have minded the beatings, but he was affected that he got little to no food at all. His hunger could only be comparable to that of a predatory animal, ravenous like a newborn dragon. But all he could do was wait...

Whatever his future would be, he wasn't wholly sure... But then the whispers – abstracts and impressions that constantly communicated through his mind, translated for his understanding – advised him to be patient. It counselled him to wait for "the castle" in his dreams, a place where he could possibly be satisfied to consider as a home.

•Aspect•

First Year

Hogwarts Zone – Hagrid's Hut

The feeling was positively humbling when the small whelp – Norberta, he reminded to himself on what Hagrid planned on naming her – gazed upon him with reverent affection. It was a face that only a child could give a parent... if he was at least seven years older than his eleven, that is. The general feel of the whelp's emotions alone would be baffling and there was also the fact that he wouldn't be sure on how he could tell. In actuality, Harry had ignored that he could sense the hatchling's own emotions; being too immersed in his own joy and all.

His own excitement besides Hagrid's was clearly displayed on his expression. Seriously, Hagrid with a dragon egg was not what the green-eyed first year next expected some weeks later after seeing the weird reflection from the Mirror of Erised. There were five massive dragons in that mirror, with another whole flock of smaller and normally big black dragons flying on the background, and it had struck whole stars of amazement in his eyes. In front of the black leviathan out of the five massive dragons was little ravenette him; in size comparison, Harry was hardly an appetizer.

The subsequent notable event after the unforgettable Erised subject was learning about Nicholas Flamel. And the discovery of who the owner of the Philosopher's Stone was flimsy... or better said when you asked Harry, not very excitable in relation to his friends' own reaction. But after that; learning of Hagrid's won dragon egg utterly took the breath out of him.

Right at the side; Ron, Hermione, and Neville oddly glanced at him when the smallish recently hatched Norwegian Ridgeback kept giving Harry some strange looks. They all watched, bemused, as the hatchling trudged over to Harry on the surface of the table. The two fanatics when it came to dragons, Harry and Hagrid, seemed to be the only ones not concerned with having a soon to be dangerous creature on Hogwarts' grounds.

"Well I'll be, 'arry! Norbert seems to like yeh," Hagrid cooed, though the cooing dialogue seemed to be misplaced on a half-giant. The gamekeeper never let his eyes wonder elsewhere other than on his prized dragon.

"Norberta, Hagrid. The whelp's a she," Harry corrected, internally shrugging when Hagrid addressed the whelp as a male. He could understand if his friend couldn't tell that the tiny thing's a female. The half-giant hadn't even looked on the underside of the whelp yet to get a confirmation. Harry was totally oblivious on how he knew that the hatchling's a she though. The other three Gryffindors, however, continued looking on at him with astonishment and oddness.

Whelp? Hermione wondered... Well, she kind of agreed that the small dragon currently acted like that of how a cute puppy would, though it wasn't the behavior she was expecting. Recently, when it came to Harry, she tended to question everything about him and his strangeness on top of his feverish skin temperature. How Harry said "whelp" so tenderly when he addressed Norberta and how he seemed so sure that the baby dragon's a female... it had sent some pings ringing in her mind.

When it involved Harry, again, it was something to include in the maybe portion on the "list of Harry's oddities". She could also add dragons liking Harry more than any other intelligent beings on Earth as a possibility. Considering that the half-giant also held on to some food. Food should be obvious, and Hagrid was the first thing that the hatchling saw. If there was some imprinting involved, shouldn't the resident half-giant be the first person the lizard should run to instead of the last one it saw out of all of them?

The look Hermione usually had on reserve when she tried to figure something out was now narrowed at Harry, but it was ignored by everyone else in favor of something more of interest.

"Oh, ehrmm... o' course she is! My bad, my bad..." Hagrid murmured sheepishly, momentarily looking sad at the raw meat on his giant hand.

Humming, the green eyed boy brought his attention back to the Norwegian Ridgeback, scratching under her chin with a somewhat natural form using his fingers. The display looked as if he had done this so many times now.

It would still be a shame though that all of them agreed that it would be best to bring Norberta to the professors' attention... no matter how much the thought saddened Harry. But he was aware like everyone else that Hogwarts was a place of learning; it was definitely not a place on how to train a dragon. Maybe someday, if he planned on becoming a dragon handler, he mused internally to himself...

The thought of dragons always gave him a feeling of serene, warmth, and perhaps... nostalgic recognition? The last part always confused him greatly every single time after he stumbled upon the word dragon in some fantasy novels. He had read those novels – written by popular authors – from the library back in Surrey since the area was the only peaceful place around.

Broken out of their bemusement, Ron was the first to blurt something out. "Harry mate, I just realized! You're good at Quidditch, and dragons seem to like you!"

Harry just absently nodded to the obvious, his full attention still on the whelp, but then Neville responded for him. "I- I really think Harry is already aware of that, Ron... a-and there's only one dragon."

"But think about it!" undeterred, Ron continued. "That just makes him, like, the second coming of Charlie," commented Ron enthusiastically. Already, he was planning about owling Charlie to go back home to the Burrow since Harry would come over during the summer. Both his older brother and his friend would surely enjoy a talk about dragons. He should re-extend his invitation to his other two friends as well.

Puzzled, Harry stared at Ron while still petting the now very out of it Norberta. "... Who's he? Did he also take down a Dark Lord?"

With an almost audible slap to her forehead, Hermione groaned at Harry's genuine puzzlement and innocent reply. Apparently, he hadn't been paying attention to what Ron was explaining to them about the Weasley family some weeks ago. Next time, if their group was going to have a proper conversation, they should really wait for when Harry was done wolfing his dinner. At least he was cleaner in his manners than Ron. "Honestly – "

•Aspect•

Third Year

Hogwarts Zone – Whomping Willow

"Stupefy. Petrificus Totalus. Incarcerous," Harry swiftly exclaimed a series of spells. His wand – custom made of thirteen inches made out of Blackthorn wood, runed, with a very ancient dragon's heartstring as a wand core – was focused on a traitorous rat which was previously squirming under Ron's grasp.

"Sca- What the bloody hell, mate!?" Ron yelped in surprise, staring accusingly at one of his best friends.

He ignored the redhead however, as Harry turned around and saw Hermione's unsure stare, Remus' breath of relief, and Sirius Black's gleefully deranged yet approving look.

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked forward with two steps while the tension in his body language lessened.

"You don't need to explain the details, professor," Harry started, the corner of his sight keeping an eye on a disguised but secured Peter Pettigrew. "I only needed confirmation. I thought that the name in the map was just a dud. Scabbers always did strike me as strange, and it's been bugging me ever since I was starting to understand magic back in first year. Why the rat felt like... why it felt he was stuck in a small form that wasn't supposed to hold a heavier load than what we can see. How a rat can live for more than a decade. Plus, how he was smart enough to save his own hide from the multitude of cats back in the castle brought by students, and of course Mrs. Norris herself.

"It was... weird too when he snuck off towards the older years' girls dormitory when he thought that we weren't looking," he counted off, scratching the back of his head. "No normal rat would sneak off and peek – how 'Scabbers' did it, it was suspicious. But I didn't wanted to say anything, cause everyone would have thought that I sounded ridiculous," he concluded, looking around at the gathered people. He had one of his eyebrows raised when he met each of their eyes, taking in their mystified look.

To say the least, they were all stumped at Harry's observation skills and how his group of friends disregarded the fact that they should have placed special emphasis on Scabbers' – Peter Pettigrew's – age. Knowing Hermione, she would have kicked herself by now for not figuring something out early on. She was always like that. Ron would have retorted something... just something typical of him.

The silence was eventually broken when Sirius bellowed in laughter. "Brilliant, pup! You really are your mother's son. Smart, observant, and has an open mind," he praised, turning his sight back on the rat with his now slightly deranged look re-kicking in. "Now then, let's kill him!"

"Wait, wait!" Remus interrupted, glancing back towards Harry with Sirius looking almost betrayed. "I want to clear something up first before we act."

"Hold on, me too!" Ron interjected. "How can you prove that Scabbers is what you say he is? I want my answers first," he demanded, shaking his earlier thoughts aside as he was still incredulous of the idea that a man was sleeping with him in bed. Every day for at least three years since starting Hogwarts...

Gaining her usual gleam in sharing information no matter the situation, she responded. "There are two spells for that. I read about it when I was trying to look for proof that Professor Lupin is in fact a werewolf. The Animagus reverting counter-spell and the Animagi revealing charm... I learned how to cast these for a curiosity of mine, though it will eventually be taught in fifth year transfiguration and –" Hermione explained in full lecture mode. She was interrupted, as usual, before she could drag the hour into empty.

"Quite right Hermione, quite right... However, that isn't important right now because we already have Pettigrew apprehended," the werewolf interjected. He would have awarded points to both Harry and Hermione for their skills alone but they're currently not in the castle. Here, he redirected his calculating gaze from Hermione to Harry once again. "What I wanted to clear up was something about what you said. What did you mean when you mentioned that you 'felt' it?"

"Oh... that," Harry responded, rubbing the side of his neck sheepishly. He supposed that it would be alright to tell his professor. As long as he didn't spread this information around, he'd be fine sharing some personal information. "I... don't really know how to explain it. It's like a sixth sense... I think it involves my magic. I can sense the surroundings around me like having an extra ear or an eye behind my head but its strongest when there are earthen properties and solid surfaces around that I can use like a wand to extend my reach.

"Take the ground for example, as long as I'm physically in contact with it or I'm just standing on its mass, I can see. Hermione, Ron, and Neville don't understand it. Hell, Luna's hidden third eye is different from mine – hers is more radically out of this world that only she can see. And please professor, don't share this information without my consent. I prefer keeping it a secret."

While Harry was explaining his unique ability, Hermione was silently casting the Animagus revealing charm on the rat which gave off a slight blue aura of light from the suspended body – meaning, a positive. Ron paled in revolting disgust.

Nodding all throughout the explanation, Sirius whistled in appreciation while Remus just said, "very interesting... and yes Harry, I can agree with your terms."

Popping sounds from a few joints – the source of which one Sirius Black as Remus rolled his eyes – he addressed the rest of the party. "Well, I guess we should wrap this up. We better head back to the castle before – " Remus continued but was interrupted by an: "Expelliarmu – "

"Stupefy!" acting one second ahead, Harry shot off a stunning spell towards who he believed to be as...

"Professor Snape!?" Ron and Hermione exclaimed simultaneously. Surprise and alarm was written on their faces before they looked at each other. They flushed as their gazes parted.

Remus just looked on in surprise at Harry's quick reflexes and if he were to hazard a guess, he could surely say that Harry sensed the intruding professor while they were all in discussion before Snape even entered the room. If he considered the information shared by the son of his best friend, that is. His wolf sense – which was familiarly stronger during this night – didn't even register the Slytherin Head's hidden presence.

Sirius, as usual, just gave off a loud and hard laugh when he realized what happened some long gaping seconds later – dropping to his knees and holding his stomach that made it seem like he was literally hurting just by laughing. "Ha! ha... good one, Prongs Junior! You got Snivellus real good there – he sure had that coming to him finally! Ha..." weeping because of laughter. Hermione was the only one to disagree with Harry's whole act of impulse; she reacted to what she did best.

"Honestly Harry, how could you! You knew he was coming, didn't you? You attacked him!" Hermione, in Molly mode, glared reproachfully at her best friend.

Shrugging like he didn't really have a care, which actually summed it up; he explained anyway. "I'm not about to let him ruin this moment by letting him attract the dementors," Harry glanced down at Sirius apologetically, taking note of the deadened look and shiver.

"So really, can you blame me for gaining the opportunity of having a godfather? I can finally have a house to live in, walk in a real home, and have a bed to sleep on instead of camping outside of my 'family's normal roof'," Harry rolled his eyes at the sarcasm he intoned.

"What!?" everybody conscious except Harry yelled out, looking pointedly at the green eyed teen.

"I... forgot to inform you about that?" the third-year-boy-wonder pathetically reasoned. Before anyone could respond, he continued. "Look, let's just get back to the castle first before we have an argument," at that moment, Harry gave a pointed glance towards Hermione and Ron, silently saying that arguments were usually commenced by the two of them which ended up in both arguing with each other almost every time. Both were glowing red in slight embarrassment.

Sighing, Remus agreed. "I suppose you're right," he said. "But! We will be speaking about this after we've dealt with Pettigrew. I'm sure between you, me, and Sirius – plus the headmaster – can work something out."

Harry made a face at that when the werewolf mentioned the headmaster. It was a look of dislike but he hid it away quickly enough.

"Now then, we should head ba –"

"Sorry professor, but I think we should handle this by ourselves. Today's the full moon and I would really want to get this done properly, without any more problems," Harry interrupted, rubbing his head tiredly as the night's events almost caught up with him from: sneakily saving Buckbeak, to evading some dementors on the way, then Ron getting kidnapped from his oversized doggy godfather to get his paws on Pettigrew. It was never a dull day with him ever since he started attending Hogwarts.

A thought came to mind; what would happen during the next school year?

"He's right, Moony. We shouldn't get overeager now because we finally caught the rat," Sirius said, more tired because of the fact that he was still hiding and running from the dementors. Thankfully, he hoped that after this night, he could finally have a proper conversation with his godson at their new future home and plan a very long vacation trip from there with Remus and Harry. He still regretted the fact that he ran after Pettigrew during that horrible night about a decade ago instead of prioritizing his godson. But hopefully, things could turn out for the better this time around.

"Besides, while you guys are at it, maybe we can finally change Snivellus here into a werewolf while he is st –"

"Sirius..." Remus sighed in bewilderment of his best friend's antics, giving the wrongly accused convict a baleful look.

"Yes, seriously...! I really am seriously suggesting the option... I'm just saying that it's a lovely opinion," Sirius responded jokingly, looking saner by the minute because of the positive atmosphere.

"... a decade of imprisonment and you wouldn't think that I'd fall for that again," smiling fondly, Remus addressed the children. "Go now, stop wasting time or else there will be three new werewolves running around the world next month."

"Worry there not pup – I'll keep Remus here company while you go back to base and handle the problematic affairs," Sirius said. "Running around like a pack of wolves, it will be like old times, right Rem?"

He gave a nod to Sirius with a very fond smile and a slight chuckle at the joke. Remus glanced back towards the trio and made a shooing motion at them.

Grinning, Harry helped Ron (who was paling at the thought of being bitten) to stand up on his feet while the redhead held the... man rat with his hands in disgust. Hermione levitated their potions professor and left the premise.

Giving one last wave of goodbye to the two adults, Harry who supported Ron caught up with Hermione out of the very moody tree.

"So, mate... what's the plan?" Ron started, having difficulty walking on a broken leg.

"Simple. Go back to the castle for now, take you to Madam Pomfrey and leave you there while I get Scabbers' cage and reinforce it to make sure he doesn't escape. I'll be staying up all night to make sure that he stays in place – better safe than sorry. Neville is probably back at the castle by now with Buckbeak hidden in that abandoned classroom safe and sound. Tomorrow at breakfast, I'll be calling in Susan's favor to get her mother to come to Hogwarts and make her pull some strings to make sure that Madam Bones brought with her a truth potion or something... Veritaserum, was it?" Harry explained.

"We really should get this to Professor Dumbledore's attention. Let the adults handle it to make sure –"

"O'kay, 'Mione, stop that thought there. I'm not going to ask the headmaster with help in anything," Harry interrupted with a tone of distaste to emphasize the word headmaster, trusting the words on what the 'whispers' were telling him and he learned to trust his gut more than the words of someone the likes of Dumbledore. Titans, the whispering was telling him right now that Snape was more trustworthy than the old grandfather acting goat.

"But the –"

"Unless he stops interfering with my life, I might even consider 'asking for help'," he interjected... again, effectively halting Hermione's reasoning. "Besides, even though we acted on our own back in first year and sought out to protect the stone, I still didn't miss the fact that he was the one who placed it in a school full of children in the first place. It's a literal invitation for trouble. Plus, he's a high level wizard – surely he knows of some other method on how to hide a stone rather than leaving it in an obstacle course that even us first years can get through."

"Yes... but still –" Hermione started again, but as expected, Harry interposed.

"Second year –"

"Alright, fine! You made your point," Hermione gave in, knowing what would happen when they prolonged this conversation. "But I still like my way better..." she murmured to herself in defeat.

Ron snickered, always approving of the chance to see Hermione losing to an argument.

They eventually reached the castle with a last knowing howl in the background.

•Aspect•

Fourth Year

Hogwarts Zone – Hallway

"Animagus training...? Do you think that will explain why you're... always feeling caged, Har?" Neville asked in a whisper. Together with Harry, they were headed towards the Feasting Hall for the choosing of the three champions. The Tri-wizard Tournament champions, one for each school currently in Hogwarts, which would eventually be chosen before the end of the feast. If one knew Harry very well, it would be clear that he was hoping he wouldn't be chosen for this school year's event.

"Honestly? I'm not sure," Harry responded. "This feeling of constantly being so... enclosed all the time, though I'm surrounded by a wide world and a big castle, it's an itch buggering me that won't go away. Flying around on a broom helps a little bit, but it's still not enough. It's annoying really – if gaining my Animagus is a relief by giving me the 'freedom' I'm looking for, then it's worth a shot.

"Besides, if being an Animagi doesn't solve my issue, then I guess it would be fun to at least have an animal form," Harry said, ignoring the background gossiping of the other students and overlooking the usual stares when they finally reached the Great Hall. "So yeah, Animagus training... Whatever she threatens you with; do not tell Hermione about this. I don't fancy a lecturing from her about rules and authority. Her idea for a campaign on freedom of house elves is enough to make even Hedwig go loopy."

On either side of Harry, arms of someone(s) taller than him suddenly draped over his shoulders.

"Then Harry mate, I'm sure that your wonderful –"

"– conversation with our mutual friend here is nice, we take it."

"But we can't help but discuss with you on something that seems – "

" – prankingly interesting that could be abused, if you know what I mean."

"And I terribly agree with my identical partner."

Two identical mischievous toned voices intoned that could only belong to his partners when it came to mischief. His best buddies in crime if he had said so for himself.

Sighing, Harry addressed the two voices. "Fred," he glanced up to his left side and saw a grinning redhead. "George," he repeated the same act over to his right side, seeing an identical face from the first. "To what do I owe you two for today's next masterpiece? Or... what sort of discussion. There isn't anything planned for today, is there?"

"Not at all, Harrison Orion Black. We just caught a snip about you-know-what –"

"– about what-you-know training. We want some... advice, if you will."

"Knowing that your godfather is secretly a Pad of a marauder –"

"– and more than likely, there will be a Foot on imparting some wisdom to you –"

"– I'm sure you can help us with some... animalistic training as well."

"Can you?" they finished synchronically, glancing with hopeful eyes at Harry's own green ones.

He could only chuckle at their antics as Harry wrestled his way out of the arm locks. "... I'll think about it," he said. "But tell you what, I'll share what I know – if for the first time in my stay at Hogwarts – I could get some peace where my life isn't on the line. I'll be your teacher then. But considering my luck... I might as well become the fourth champion of this (dumb) tournament."

The twins, eyes locked with each other, regarded Harry once more. "Huh, you make a good point there –"

"– but damn, mate. If it was any earlier with that prediction of yours –"

"– then we would have set up a betting pool about you –"

"– becoming champion. And of course –"

"– we'll support you till the end on winning the cup," George finished, running ahead and entering the Feasting Hall.

"Well then, we wish you luck and a very good upcoming business, mate." Not long after, Fred caught up to his twin.

Shaking his head at the two of them, Harry glanced back at Neville who had a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"I still can't understand. How can you tell them apart? You've like, done the impossible, and Seamus was trying and failing for years," passing by said student, the two of them sat down at the Gryffindor table in front of a bickering Hermione and Ron.

"– and I'm telling you, if it weren't for that age line, then this tournament will at least be more exciting if us younger years were given the chance. Better yet, it'd be bloody cool if they approved of a team based tournament, then everyone will have something to look forward to. You know, share the glory," Ron argued back on what about the tournament, Harry didn't know but allowed Hermione's eye roll be the judge instead.

The plates placed on the long tables suddenly became spotless and clean – signaling the end of the day's feasting which Harry missed... Not that he cared though; the kitchen served food to its customer's preference and the elves seemed to be happy enough to cook a very large meal for him.

As expected, when the chattering clambered down inside of the feasting hall, Dumbledore stepped forward from the staff table.

"The Goblet of Fire!" Dumbledore announced theatrically, Harry faintly whispering in the back of his mind and praying that someone didn't put his name in the goblet... Already, he seemed to be resigned to his fate, as every year would always be a given that something would involve him.

"It is almost ready to choose this tournament's three champions in one minute. When the champions' name are called, I would like you to step up to the front of the staff table and go through the next chamber behind," Dumbledore continued, sweeping his gaze across every table while he silently charmed all of the candles to dim using his wand – "inside, they will be given their instructions for the tournament."

Harry tuned out the rest of the world as he waited for the first name to be called, anticipating his own to come out and uselessly hoping for some peace this year for about the thousandth time this week. Please have mercy... please have mercy... please have –

"The first champion, from Durmstrang Institute, is Viktor Krum!"

Ron fanboyed on that one because it was his idol while Harry only gave a glance. The other tables gathered gave a round of applause and cheers, bathing the hall in thunderous sounds.

When the students calmed down from their babbling, the fire from the goblet grabbed everyone's attention once more, its tune of dancing flames singing beautifully to Harry's lone ears.

"The second champion, from Beauxbatons Academy, I give you Fleur Delacour!" came the next announcement after the light show from the goblet.

Harry glanced over at the male population while he tried his best on ignoring the loud noises. He observed that most of them were ogling the Veela champion with glazed eyes. Some of them had become a drooling mess, too lost in the sight but no one noticed much because of the cheering noise. Faintly on the background, he heard some sobbing from the Ravenclaw table where the other Beauxbatons' students were staying at.

"The last champion chosen by the goblet, from Hogwarts School, is our very own Cedric Diggory!"

Harry had to cover his sensitive ears as Ron's mutter of disagreement was drowned out by the uproar of Hogwarts students. Specially, everyone in Hufflepuff shouted their triumph when he saw Cedric vanish into the next chamber. The teen instantly whipped his head around to look at the goblet in anticipatory dread, daring it to spew out his name. He wished that his dreaded glare could extinguish the flames.

From the sidelines, it seemed that Neville and the twins were also waiting for the expected moment.

He watched, from the corner of his eyes, Dumbledore had started a speech about the champions for being chosen in the tournament... Very subtly, Harry noticed that the headmaster's eyes were roving over at the goblet. It was like the aged headmaster knew that it would give out another name when the wizard gave Harry a short glance...

Any minute now...

...

One minute...

...

Nothing...?

Was Harry dreaming or what...? Idly pinching himself, he gave a nod of relief.

... Huh, what do you know, it looks like wishful thinking does comes true for once no matter how small the chance Harry thought to himself. Few minutes had already passed by without any other reaction from the waving flames. He beamed widely with the others. Then he loudly cheered in the silence of his mind about not being a champion while he joined in on his friends' new argument. For once in his Hogwarts life, Harry didn't need to be in the spotlight and was free to do what he wished for the remainder of the year.

However, far away from the castle, a wraith had finally made contact with a loyal Death Eater after it had lost hope.

•Aspect•

Fifth Year

Ministry Zone – Death Chamber

An hour ago, he was in Hogsmeade, enjoying the sights that it had to offer as well as some Butterbeer. Then there was suddenly an empty bottle being thrown at him with a shout from behind... only for reflexes honed by playing Quidditch – retired this year so that Harry could focus on his studies – kicked in on a poor time.

After he had grasped the offensive bottle from the air, he found himself re-experiencing a form of travel that he didn't want to feel again after the first time. Then he found himself separated from his friends and he noticed that he was somewhere in London near a Ministry entry point. In a novel predictable moment, he was objectively surrounded by masked Death Eaters with their wands trained on him at point blank. Then those same masked shadows abducted him from the Alley where he appeared at.

This abduction...? Caused by a deranged face Barty Crouch Jr. a week after the Death Eater's father was reportedly murdered. Crouch Jr. himself was also labeled as "dead" according to the Ministry. Apparently, since Harry was not properly watching his back in a packed Three Broomsticks, he paid for it by becoming a victim in something that was probably villainous.

To think, just last school year, Mad-eye Moody had been hammering into them about "Constant Vigilance!" Harry could only blame himself for getting ambushed in the first place, hence leaving him in a disadvantageous situation. All because he wasn't careful enough...

An Unpredictable Arch, the Veil of Death, or a Multipurpose Curtain... All of these depictions were a courtesy of the whispering words of Unknown. And he was forced to watch from the side for some nefarious plot. Harry wondered if he was going to somehow be pushed through that wispy gate...

Presently... "This is an old lost ritual you're about to observe, created by a descendant of Herpo the Foul in the hopes of giving someone a new body to prolong one's life," Crouch Jr. started, walking up to the front of the veil to observe it more closely. "While the ritual itself was a success, the stakes to get the desired result is highly severe since the ministry will hardly allow anyone from tampering with the veil. This whole procedure requires it to be carefully planned."

Around the arch, Harry noticed seven naked bodies of differing genders with runes tattooed over them. They were all lying on their backside like suspended bodies inside a coffin. The top of their head was pointed towards the arch and he could tell that they were all still very much alive, but unconscious.

Harry raised an eyebrow at this as Crouch elaborated for him. Death Eaters were seen snickering at the background while their wands were held in their hand; two were trained on his neck and he was given no time in allowance to dodge.

"Seven, the most powerful number in Wizardry kind," Barty turned around as he picked up a bundle of cloth. Harry noticed earlier from his spot that there was a snake circling around the bundle. Underneath the cloth, there was some very unhealthy pale skin slightly sticking out. "With these sacrifices – you Potter, or should I say Black – will have the satisfaction to bear witness the resurrection of my Master!"

Harry just scoffed at him but the Death Eater didn't seem to notice as he was too focused on some odd high pitched whispering from the bundle itself. The green eyed teen's silence to this whole affair was commendable, if one were to notice. He finally realized that the master Barty was talking about could only be one person. Then, inside that bundle of cloth could only be... but he was a wraith the last time Harry saw him! Currently though... did the wraith remained a specter?

Turning around dramatically to face the wispy curtain once more, Crouch brought out a potion vial from his robes filled with a liquid that could only be described as toxic in its coloring because of its liquidated poisonous texture. In a similar motion akin to a priest of a church showering the good people with holy water, Crouch swung his arm with the un-lidded vial in hand to sprinkle the veil itself seven times with the contents of the potion.

What came next could only be the most horrendous sight that he had come across in his short years of life. Harry's disgust was clear in view for the occupants of the chamber to see.

Seven live bodies – all of them to be used as sacrifices – convulsed terribly as if they were being possessed by an angry spirit. The whole part about the frozen bodies was that he could feel that they were all magical... They were all young, physically at their prime. To make this whole ritual perfect, the sacrifices must either be virgins or not... At least, that was Harry's own theory.

One body, not even allowed to scream or open his mouth for a silent one, had his whole body literally shedding, shredding, and molting his skin like a candle to display what it hid under.

All Harry saw, while the whole chanting of Barty Crouch was drowned out by the horrific sight, was the whole muscle structure of the still squirming individual. It was a scarring spectacle that even a movie could ever hope to simulate. Oddly enough, all of the blood that was supposed to be spilled was floating above the poor mangled soul's body; a single drop was not allowed to fall.

The sea of blood eventually created a channel towards the veil, changing the arch's properties for the sake of the ritual as that one person's body had started to liquefy. It began with the muscle structure as it turned into mush... Soon enough, the now visible organs came after the nerves disentangled themselves, invisible hands crushing them. All the while, white blue light from the previously formed body was now circling around the arch in a dome like a spiritual parade.

Finally, the last of the organs to go – the heart and the brain – had been squished into a liquefied bloody paste, turning the curtain of the arch itself into a reddish hue when the channel had transferred over every life liquid.

The skeleton, dry and white as if it had been preserved too well in its resting place, had some of its bones turned to dust and was left hanging there from where the floating blood used to be.

Harry wasn't given a moment of opportunity to compose himself on the finality of that whole process because the next body – a female this time – followed through on the ritual's previous victim.

This time, what made it even more horrible was that he imagined the blue light escaping from its victim as the person's screaming soul joining the dome – increasing its luminescent intensity. The red hue in the arch had become thicker as well. He didn't enjoy his imaginative thought very well but he prayed that what happened to her physical body didn't cause too much pain.

Knowing what would happen to the rest of the live sacrifices, Harry closed his eyes in order to shut out the ritual.

Strangely enough now that he thought about it, he was not spilling his guts' contents by the scene... A normal person or wizard (and a barely experienced one for someone like him) would have retched their whole meal right here and there; he could not understand though, why not him? Was it related to his ideal way of thinking that he wasn't opposed to killing? That everyone followed a cycle of life, death, sparing, and killing only for everyone to eventually return deep within the earth where the basis of everything was? That everybody becomes ash in the end?

The process that was happening in this chamber right now, it was not part of the usual cycle that he believed. For what seemed like the souls of the sacrifices were consumed by one coward's benefit in the hope of denying DEATH, it was unacceptable to Harry. Just like how Dumbledore worded it – though loathe was he to quote the man, he still found himself agreeing – that "death is just another great adventure." Harry was inclined to believe that the victims of this day wouldn't get that adventurous concept.

Only for what seemed like hours did he reopened his eyes to watch in surprise as an abomination stepped out of the veil. Almost absently noting, the curtain's colorization had slowly returned to its normal state – the first appearance when he was introduced to it.

The... thing – as it was rightfully called – that stepped further away from the arch had a very pale complexion. It had scales for skin, walking on two strong legs, and it possessed a pair of thick disgusting arms. With a height towering above the occupants of the chamber, its fingers and toes ended up clawed, long and ugly. Now robed, courtesy of its faithful follower, Harry noted that the head was bald with an absence of a nose. In its place were two thin slits. Without any eyebrows on top of its eyes, the evil red irises with snake like pupils locked on to Harry's own death-spell hued eyes.

Sneering in disgust, Harry only said one word with a hiss to display his displeasure – breaking his silence at long last.

"Voldemort..."

•Aspect•

Post Seventh Year

Hogwarts Zone – Entrance Courtyard

The area seemed bigger than earlier... maybe it was because of the demolished walkways and rubble of the battlements. Nonetheless, there was a lot of cumbersome debris around.

Harry stood at the center of the cemented ground that was littered with bodies. He was surrounded in every direction by around ninety-four Death Eaters all accounted for through his earthen sonar. There were more at the edge of his senses, hidden... He was starting to question the whispers for hours now. Lately, however, he had come to associate the disembodied impressionable "voice" as the world around him. He had asked many times before coming outside if this was such a good idea; She only said that yes, it was.

Harry knew that being outside of the safety of the castle was a bad idea; to face them all alone like he announced earlier and agreeing to Voldemort's dare to step out. The only reassurance he received was a warm sensation akin to an embrace from Her, his longest companion.

This was a death sentence and every one of his school peers knew it. The fact that he was the only one to come out by convincing the others to stay didn't really sit well with them. Heading towards the fray knowing what was waiting for him? It was unthinkable to even consider with just only one of him.

Suicidal maybe, but She kept reassuring with firm belief and he couldn't help but listen no matter what his reasonable mind stated.

"Harry James Potter... Harrison Orion Black... who are you, really?" the abomination at the top of some rubble said in a serpentine like manner. The sky was shrouded with night, and Nagini – the last surviving Horcrux – who always accompanied the Dark Lord slithered beside her master in a display of intimidation against their opponent. "It matters not who you call yourself, though it was a shame that our last duel in the Department of Mysteries was... ruined by the sudden arrival of that foolish old dead headmaster of yours with his Order," he said almost in reverence, marveling at the fifteen inched wand held in his hand. All of the masked Death Eaters around gave a delightedly deranged laugh at Harry's plight.

Harry gritted his teeth and clenched his fist in anger. Underneath him, in the deep earth, he could almost feel the rocks crumbling and twisting in response to his anger.

He could hardly care about Dumbledore... though the aged professor did try to make amends last year, he would still give the old man a benefit of the doubt. Even so, the late headmaster would still be one of the top in the list of people Harry disliked.

Those in the Order who had died... Sirius, his godfather, died earlier this week at the hands of a now equally deceased but tortured Bellatrix.

Remus, losing his life by taking a hit head on to save another victim.

The Weasley couple, murdered at their own Burrow during a night of peace.

Snape... perished in the end, only to inform him via Patronus that the potions master had assured the destruction of the last two inanimate Horcruxes Harry had missed behind Voldemort's back. Part of the dispatch was to... apologize, surprisingly, and Harry was starting to doubt back then if the dying message was from the Serverus Snape himself.

There were more notable deaths in this wizarding war like Moody's in so many battles now when they had faced dementors, half-transformed werewolves, acromantulas, giants, and other forms of magical creatures allied with the Dark Lord... But Harry suppressed the rest of the memories for now as he kept registering Her whispering over and over again that the time has almost come... the time for what, he didn't know and got no clear answer from his prodding.

One last time before he stepped out, he had conversed with the summoned spirits of his parents and adoptive family in Sirius and Remus. By the still unknown Keepers, Snape he included as well in the small reunion. In the end, they gave their belief in him... and after just one more struggle, Harry would finally be able to return home in their own words. Although he still wasn't sure if the home they implied was the newly erected Potter-Black manor... or perhaps at Hogwarts... or could it be with his friends? It could be any of those, or perhaps all of those. What mattered was their belief in him to succeed... he could feel the weight of it through the stone in his pocket with his invisibility cloak wrapped around it safely.

Now here he stood, with every surviving few students and staff members agreeing to his terms about staying inside the castle where it was safer. From here, he caught a glimpse of some number of heads peeking out of the edges and windows.

To be honest, he'd rather have some back-up, but Her whispering convinced him that fewer would die if Harry went alone and it took effort on his part to convince his allies to stay put.

"I agree..." Harry started after taking a deep breath. "But you ran – back then I could have ended our long struggle by fulfilling the prophecy."

"Oh, you believe that don't you!?" Voldemort sneered, his eyes leaking with the intent to kill as his monstrous visage loomed down at Harry. "Your words are misplaced if you think you'd be able to best me because you are the boy-who-lived? Arrogant boy! I gave you time to train yourself so you will last longer in your hopeless delusion to end me! I am immortal, after all. Your overconfidence will be your downfall, your uncanny luck will fail this day, and you will beg before my feet when you finally lay broken!"

Hypocrite! Your own ego is worst if I am as arrogant as you say I am, and you're not even hiding it. Calm faced and smirking, Harry responded. "And yours is underestimating me – I thought you've already learned from your mistake when I took you by surprise during the Philosopher's stone scuffle. Back in the Ministry, I did it again – only for you and your thugs to flee like Pettigrew does best. This will be the last time that you're going to make that same mistake for good."

Everyone in the courtyard except Harry glowered; some were giving cursory glances at their lord.

Voldemort, throughout Harry's verbal response, was enraged. Harry saw it clearly in the snake man's eyes as the hate intensified. Voldemort always did have a short lid on his emotions and it usually lead to stupid assumptions, thus his constant underestimation of Harry.

As much as the snake man was able to control himself, he responded with the amount of calmness that he could procure. "You amuse me very much, Harry. Whatever. This night will commemorate the new holiday in history, proving that you are indeed nothing.

"My fall had just been a minor setback on my part not because of your mother's love and protection but because of a miscalculation. Tell me, where's that power now? The 'power' that foolish Dumbledore always kept preaching about yet here we stand. Everyone you knew having left you here all alone to your resigned fate," the abomination monologue and scowled.

With a dramatic sweep of the immortal wannabe's robes, not deigning to await Harry's own response, he addressed those who were gathered. "My faithful followers! Hear me! Why don't you all play with Harry here for a while, to... test his resolve in thinking that he can handle you all at once," he announced. Death Eaters were seen snickering at the background gleefully in anticipation of having the chance to torture Harry.

Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself, Harry looked at everyone gathered. Eager for a piece of him, the Death Eaters had their wands trained on his direction from afar. Even with Her assurances that he'll do just fine in the impending big battle of the century, the green eyed teen still had his doubts that he wouldn't survive this night. What could one teen, some months out of his seventh year of schooling, do against dozens of older adults? If he were to be honest with himself, the majority of wizards outside of school were a joke.

Despite the quantitative odds, he still felt highly excited about the whole challenge. If he was going to fall here, Harry might as well do it in a spectacular manner during his last stand.

Instead of a sword, Harry brought his wand upward towards the front of his face with the tip pointed at the dark sky. He ignored the laughing taunts of his opponents because of his seemingly resigned movement.

This is it, Blackthorn. Well, it's a battle that is ahead of us partner, at least. Thank you for being there by my side until the possible end, ancient one Harry thought to himself with closed eyes as if he was conversing with his wand. The message that Harry wanted to send was there, because as the wand's wielder, they were intimately tied to do great things together. And great things they would do indeed, no matter if the wand responded or not.

"Mortigneus Anathemo!" Harry exclaimed the spell's incantation for the Fiendfyre curse when he opened his eyes.

Out of his wand in a circular motion around him, Harry manifested a controlled yet magically-sentient serpentine fire dragon to protect its master as the onslaught of spells started.

There were no signs of the killing curse being conjured but the dozens of curses and hexes heading straight towards him had either been blocked by the fast twisting movement of the fiery dragon, or deflected by his wand. It was as if the piece of the dragon inside his wand had answered his statement about fighting together. Any attempt to get a charm or curse past the serpentine body had been blocked while the flame's intensity never once wavered. Instead, it increased when time passed by. In truth, he found the heat comforting, imagining that he was a natural part of it. This was because of Harry's very high affinity to fire to the point that adding the element of the earth to the flames would create lava without the need for study on how to conjure lava itself.

He used his three senses: his sight, his hearing, and his earthen sonar in tandem to maximum efficiency as he deflected spells upon incoming spells with his wand. Spots from places he wouldn't be able to watch were blocked as well because of his effectiveness in the environment. With his other hand, he guided the literally roaring fire dragon to go on the offensive when given the chance.

The cloud covered night, lit up by the brilliance of the might of magicks as well as Harry's own continuous onslaught of flames, grew brighter and brighter after each incantation.

His spot in the center had been abandoned seconds after the fight had started as he preferred a close up confrontation and rend his enemies with his claws... correction, using his wand with a spell aimed at them with little to no chance to defend, run, or dodge.

Melee weapons work as well, but Harry hadn't had the thought to bring one with him. Of course, he could have transfigured something into one, but it wouldn't occupy the same essence in it. At first, he wanted a mace, but he found the sword more entertaining to wield during his confrontation with the basilisk.

Over time, wherever the thoughts of clawing, tail lashing, horn bashing, or scorching breath came from, he never knew. The seventeen year old had guessed that it might be co-related with his Animagus form, but no matter how hard he meditated, he was never able to gain his alternate form. He was never given the satisfaction of finally escaping the tightening-gripping that he constantly felt around him since the start of his conscious capacity. He just knew that the Animagus was the answer, but he couldn't shift no matter what he tried.

Harry got used to the constant contracting feeling, sure, but over the years the hold just increased. He would get used to it again, and repeat.

He fashioned himself as a dragon honestly because of his odd quirks. Maybe he was? The thought was really ridiculous to him, but it simply gave him happiness like a playful whelpling.

Today, however, was more than worst of the compressing numbness... Something inside of him had been digging its way out. It wanted to burst out! Was this what She meant when it was almost time?

While he counted at least four kills with spell-marksmanship alone, Harry rendered his third up close Death Eater victim with a wordless super-heated melting beam in a concentrated shot. He left a screaming and flailing body with a sizzling stomach who was trying in vain to stop the gaping hole from expanding... Stupidly enough, while the Death Eater was using his flammable gloves, it resulted with the victim's hands burning live as well while the flames spread throughout the body; quick as the plague because of the nature of Harry's flames.

Acrobatically back flipping above the serpentine dragon, the teen dashed for the next black cloaked idiot who was shaking in fear because of his flaming aura plus the Fiendfyre curse flowing around the green-eyed mad arsonist.

"N- no! Stay awa – "

Wizards are pathetic... disregarding physical skills as insignificant all because they have power. Harry scoffed internally as he kicked the fleeing Death Eater on the back of the skull using Harry's now flaming boot. The grinning teen never even noticed that some parts of his own clothes had started to set aflame but at this current level of heat, he still found it friendly. Only the flames of Fiendfyre flowing around him could possibly damage him when it involved pyro-kinetics. It was still his own magical fire though, his own living inferno, so he wasn't all that worried about friendly frying.

The resistance to heat could not be said the same to the fleeing murderer as the flames from his now half-burnt boot transferred over to a new host with just a thought.

No one would be running away from him as long as they were in the anti-apparition wards that they had set up. Hogwarts' own was temporarily deactivated, but that just meant that these savages – these mortals – would have had the gull to think that they could survive because of who they were messing with. They were sorely mistaken, similarly like their master. Some of them might indeed survive if Harry had fallen later on. Only if they were lucky but who knows, he was just giving away his last set of deadly bites before someone was fortunate enough to take him out.

He tumbled out of the way as his previous spot was caked with streams of spells. The friends of the burning victim were fumbling frantically on trying to put out the heat but his magical fire wasn't easy to extinguish.

Harry watched while blocking – amused – that by the time they were able to put out the flames, the victim's head was already mushed. The corpse still twitched a little with its limbs as a last-second neuro response.

The mask they wore indicated that they were just grunts; (collectively, numerous of them were!). They retaliated instantly with roars of their own to avenge their fallen comrade.

This was what Harry praised to see, that they shouldn't gape around for long because this was a battle. Even for enemies, he admired that they clung to hope of being able to save a fellow Death Eater; it was an individual who was a part of their own Flight, after all. Harry never thought that this attitude was possible for even them, but he guessed that sometimes he could be wrong. He had to remember that he was as sentient as they were with the capacity to decide and makes mistakes, even though he was dragon.

He shook his head at his last ridiculous thought. Maybe he could fancy himself a title using the superior reptiles as a basis if he survived the night.

Making sure his serpentine automa-fyre was in defense mode from outside interference, the teen accepted the three cloaked figures' challenge by giving a draconic roar of his own.

The roar went unnoticed by the owner himself but the three stumbled with their aim in scared bewilderment as their eyes widened behind their masks.

Harry Potter – officially named as Harrison Black in the wizarding world – was too much in enjoyment in his own battle-lust to even notice the increase in sharpness and vividness that his vision had taken. Those who saw his ringed molten-fire plus emerald colored eyes cringed in even more fear as his pupils had become draconic slits. Both of his emerald orbs glowed faintly – the predatory grin that now adorned Harry's expression was also a cause for worry when his canines grew into small fangs – as he rushed forward on all fours, clear-headed enough from his adrenaline-infused battle-lust to holster his wand.

The charging arsonist saw their sudden hesitation. He was confused by this but then he shrugged it off as they fired curse after charm which were blocked by the earthen armor that suddenly encased him. The crumbled and reduced floor-trail from his rush was the evident source for his field erected armor. But the armor that he now wore had its properties changed, shielded to block magic, and enhanced by his natural habitat for increased physical capabilities. The armor was shaped into the likeness of a big grounded black dragon complete with a glowing-crystallized spear tipped tail waving around.

If their mouths were moving, the sounds fell on Harry's deaf ears without a care. The only sounds he approved in this fight were the destruction in the environment.

Harry raised his claw formed paw-gauntlets as he blurred to the nearest person. One swipe from his claws directly at his target's chest and that was all that was required. Multiple body parts from the victim, who sloppily dodged but utterly failing, coated his new earthen scales with blood. Entrails now littered the ground.

Saddened by the scream of pain as the life ended but knew that they would return to the earth, he continued with his beastly brawling session when he turned towards the other two.

He remembered, back in his time, that he would disguise himself as a fellow mortal and wrestle with the humanoids that lived inside caves. He had also sparred with Kaldorei in their tree houses using their own weapons during some other days. Those were fun times, forgetting his duties for a moment just to enjoy the simpler forms of life. They were friendly bouts that never got too violent for long as he traded equal blows against his opponents for the fun of it.

It was in this situation that he frowned internally that he was killing these primitive life forms not even a portion numbering to his age.

He would brawl with these black cloaks but the reason that he would rip them apart was because of a fleeting thought that was necessary but its meaning became blurry. He still knew that it was in their actions that brought about his wrath on them in the first place as he planted the ground with two more bodies.

How would the post-war result knowing that the red one would frown at him for the number of lives lost? Would this conflict even end, and would he be allowed a chance to clown around with the blue one like they used to for the number of smiles they could gain? What would be the consequences of the observers' dreams that the green one who domains it could glimpse? When the bronze one would tell him that it was meant to be and he could do nothing to prevent it? Where the black dragons woul –

Harry shook his head from his previous set of thoughts and unconcerned trance.

He eyed a group of them clustered together of about seven. His large form rushed towards them in a sprint with a speed of at least thirty-two mph. They stood their ground as the idiots they were proven as.

Harry took a detour to the left to pluck out a solo player by the throat – a surprised cry he was rewarded with – as he squeezed with supernatural strength. The flailing body didn't even last five seconds before moving back to his original course, throwing the corpse far away towards another signature as he went.

Their hopeless thought of trying to stop a ramming dragon was their biggest mistake and it caused them their lifeblood as he rushed by them. The rush caused a trampling of the group as the spikes that grew out of his armor spliced them all in bleeding messes. Simply being in his range of attack, it already spelled death in and of itself.

The rammed preys all bled out soon enough, dripping puddles of blood from exposed body parts... except for one.

One brown haired Death Eater was trying to claw away pathetically, leaving behind a road of red. It was clinging to life as if an individual a part of a murderer's group deserved it. Every one of them, they were murderers and their rite of passage involved the very act of slaughter... If they didn't have the stomach for murder, they were dead either way by their own observers.

Harry simply ended the brunette's suffering, running past his prey as he perforated the backside where the heart beats using his glowing crystalline sharp tail.

He hunted for more targets using his sonar... Harry noticed that a lot of them hid themselves behind raised or conjured walls. Harry growled loudly, manifesting the persona of the actual predator he truly appeared as, uncaring of the Bombardas and Reductos his armor had taken when only small chunks were destroyed.

The armored teen was a rush of movement, too fast to follow but big enough to notice where.

He jumped high. When he landed, one well-placed circular motion of his body was enough for his claws and tail to disorganize and wound a group of eleven in the middle of their ranks.

Coating his tail in flames just increased the rate of bodies falling to the ground. Some of them were unfortunately thrown over the edges of the courtyard... that just meant an escape from his claws but death either way through a different fate.

The black dragon form summoned his wand from inside his rock armor after he took down thirteen more Death Eaters with cold brutality for being too close in his path. After which, he directed the fed forty-five foot long Fiendfyre to chase the both who were trying to flee through the bridge and through the use of Unsupported Flight. As if, they were the ones who erected this caged arena in the first place. They weren't supposed to be the side that was running, it was cowardly.

Having great mastery over scorching magic, he engaged into a traditional duel against wizards with him as one armored Aspect versus dozens of enemies. Movement was easy than what the minds on the opposite side could understand as the armored behemoth renewed the light show by summoning lances of fire that he sent forward.

The expected onslaught from the rocky dragon was met with dodges, blocks, and the sounds of fatal hits. Slowly moving onward like a tank, he blocked spells with split second Protegos, reflecting them and some were unlucky enough to get hit by their own curses, he simultaneously continued the massacre.

He was deftly aware that their ranks were bolstered, probably from the stationary followers outside of the anti-apparition wards but that just gave him even more targets to hit.

The teen never took note when the green lights started as he recently blocked one with a summoned corpse but one too many for him to know. His own kill count already exceeded the number of how many Tom Riddle killed that involved fighting during the same age as Harry... and it was in less than one night. And as the night continued, the intensity of the magic inside of him increased that caused the flames that he conjured to burn brighter and brighter.

Flames shaped like rushing mammals, spears, spheres, and whips collided from one body to another with little chance to no hope of survival in a continuous dance with most of the destruction caused by this one individual. One "mortal" child who still appeared very young for his own good, but killed like a demon without remorse behind that innocent face.

Combining the fight with both ranged and melee, he caught a Death Eater in the air that was banished from the ground with his maw by the torso. Clamping down violently with a sickening crunch, the act had effectively received a collective of sick groans from the dark cloaked savages.

He spat out the dismembered body from his rock hard maw, catching another who was disillusioned near him while his tail struck out at two others hiding behind a pillar – effectively toppling it at some unfortunate stragglers.

A flamethrower from his wand to the side awarded him with cries of agony while shooting another exploding fireball to where he could sense a group of life signs created a three foot deep crater.

Watching the Fiendfyre curse on the side consuming fleeing members, he decided to expunge everything in the courtyard as the rest refused to back down when the fight had gotten lousier overtime.

He raised his wand up high with his feet grounded firmly from where he started the fight. His armor was glowing with visible heat that could be seen in the cracks. With a 360 degree wave of his wand, he summoned all the flames he could muster to turn into one big area annihilating cyclone created from an inferno to end it all.

The flames conjur –

BOOM!

Just like that, the whole area was silenced by the loud shock wave as his wand was shattered into hundreds of burning pieces. It was too overworked to function, the intensity of his increasing magical strength but draining stamina exceeded the limit of the stick.

Harry watched, in slow motion, when his wide eyed vision was filled with the wooden remains of his wand slowly pouring – sinking – into the ground as if they were made of magma. Wherever he looked, he could not locate the wand core of Blackthorn; lost with the flowing winds.

And just like that, Harry misplaced his whole battle concentration as he woke up from his blood lust. His armor was blown away from the loss of focus, from all the hits, and from the exploded wand. The Fiendfyre lost its medium to remain as it too faded into the sky as the area was bathed once again with the clouded night.

Some of the bodies here and there were lightly flickering from what remained of the flames but was forgotten. Believing that this was the climax, wearily watchers eyed the boy-who-fought-several-dozens-and-stood-alone.

Tired and gasping for breath, he laid on his backside on the disfigured floor, panting, gazing at a small gap in the sky and saw only blackness beyond before it was covered up once again. Once again, he felt emptier and more bound than he had in years. The dirt clung to him from some of his removed armor as he continued his gaze with his arms and legs spread out. His clothes – not even made for battle but for everyday modern wear – were tattered, dirty, and burnt. His hair was more unruly compared to before the fight had started whence the sight of him was still pleasant. The Invisibility Cloak wrapped around the Resurrection Stone was still safely within his torn pocket, unseeing unless people knew where to look for it.

Some melted flesh stuck on the ground could be seen near him as he wondered how long he was fighting. Not just the length of this one night stand but the whole of the whole of it. It felt like such a long time now that he had fought. Longer than Harry thought possible, perhaps even beyond before he was born.

With the uncountable amount of ash in the breathable air, Harry could just stay there forever if it was a choice. The sight of the ash that filled the air gave him a certain tinge of homesickness; welled up inside of him that made him want to disregard getting up.

These new thoughts – both familiar and unfamiliar to his mortal life – that kept filtering in his head sent pangs of regret in him for something... It could only be translated that he failed at a responsibility, but what? Was it a previous life of his? Just one last gift of a glimpse of a forgotten past from Death before It claimed him?

Harry was tired, but he didn't understand why he was tired so easily. The fight didn't even last too long that could be considered as wasted hours.

Because you are still human, not some super soldier-wizard, a thought registered to him.

The draconic loving teen didn't even care about the numerous wounds that he received and the dripping hiss on floor from his blood in the course of the clash. Maybe the cause of his non-movement was just a shocking-surprised effect on Harry from the absence of his wand plus the absence of his battle-concentration. He could probably continue on with the fight but he had already lost his fighting sense. He didn't even remember half of what he did, relying only on some instinct throughout.

At the back of his mind, working with the sensation of his sixth sense, he counted numerous of them still alive. Replenished they might be, but they could not recover what they lost or recall those who fled.

Harry surprised even himself with his fighting ability, but it came out more of a surprise that he wanted something worthier-challenging as the wizards weren't even creative enough in finding out a way to stop his rampage. Still, he fought better compared to fifth year where he was easily ambushed back then. He worked harder than the five years he stayed in Hogwarts, and the two years on both his physical and magical conditioning had been good to him. But right now, he found himself disappointed at them.

All wizards do is aim and say an incantation; they don't even know how to properly dodge Harry thought.

The black haired teen heard footsteps coming closer. Each step was dramatically slow to his senses. The sounds and slight vibrations of scales he could sense slithering on cement by the side of the footsteps and flowing robes also there; he already knew who. Obviously who...

The still form of the teen never really took notice of Voldemort throughout the whole battle rumble. True to his title as a Dark Lord, he had sent his Death Eaters to confront Harry instead of doing the heavy lifting. It's sad that this joke of a Dark Lord didn't have any friends; it was no wonder he had servants.

"Harry Potter-Black... you see now your own arrogance?" snake-face drawled. "Many may have been... unfortunate, but you still failed," he taunted lightly, Harry could feel the smirk there. "How can you face me if you can't even get past my Death Eaters? Pity, so delicately... Mortal."

I don't want to face you; you're too ugly to look at! Harry thought with an internal scoff. I'd rather bury you deep with N'zoth as a roomie for your hubris if you think that you can do the same feats that I did without your wand. Mad idiot, thinking that splitting your soul would give you immortality, only for you to gain a fake unending. You have nothing in comparison to me and my brethren's Eternity! You only have one lifeline left you ignorant, nose-less Nathrezim!

His own mind paused abruptly as Harry ignored the evil bad guy's useless monologue – an ill placed speech about "Britain's savior is finally defeated at the hands of Lord Voldemort!" – with the course of where his thoughts had drifted to. These foreign yet familiar thoughts confused him greatly.

Why did he think that he had... eternity? What were those odd terms that he named in his mind?

Thinking back to his past years, there were also some quirks of his that garnered some strange looks from both himself and others. Like the dragons back in the tri-wizard tournament when they ignored the champions at the start of the challenge; tracking him from the corner of their eyes before they tried to eat the champions for sneaking up on their eggs. How the basilisk hesitated before the enraged hissing and angry encouragement of young Tom forced the big snake to lunge. Fawkes' own reaction on wanting to be close to him like how a freezing puppy would want to be wrapped around their warm parent. The Marauders' Map's confusing font when his name appeared as "Harry - ?"

The tightening and caging feeling occurred each time... At this moment, the constriction was happening yet again.

Right now, it's definitely worse than earlier, and it's getting worse by the second Harry thought.

He whipped his head to the side in surprise as he heard the big doors of Hogwarts opened with an abrupt slam. Students who joined their little resistance, former Order members, current staff members, and "others" rushed out with their own battle cries, leading them was the former shy Neville Longbottom with Gryffindor's sword in hand.

The scene reminded him of something that came out of a movie that it was too predictable. It's so much like how the protagonist somehow fell to his own weakness in the fight. Then the friends that he wanted to be kept safe rushed out of the safe house because of the valor of a single soul that spurned their hearts.

It lit up a fire inside of them Harry thought fondly as he watched their determination.

However, he could not help but ponder on something. Weren't they disgusted of Harry for the... "murders" that he committed this one night? Didn't they follow Dumbledore's belief that the other side could be redeemed and the elder's obvious policy of passivity to the point that they wouldn't look at a killer of Harry's capability with a glance, leaving him to rot in Azkaban to "learn his lesson"?

I still have friends Harry thought... or was it Her whisper that assured him?

He watched as the previously stationary dark creatures outside, both that lived in the Forbidden Forest and from far away, joined the fray and pushed back the side where his friends were affiliated at.

Isn't this the part wherein the protagonist will stand up, take up arms, and rejoin the fight? Harry found himself un-moving because of Nagini constricting him, not knowing of his enemy's plans. Why was there no Avada Kedavra curse striking down Harry for good?

Thinking back on the prophecy that Harry and Voldemort heard in the Department of Mysteries before their duel, he had started to doubt if Harry was indeed the one marked by the Dark Lord as his equal. He wasn't the divination superstition sort; that's why he took up runes, arithmancy, and care for magical creatures. But if the immortal wannabe truly believed in prophecies, Harry never saw a recent mark caused by Tom.

Yes, Harry had the lightning bolt before; however, shouldn't the scar remain if the prophecy was to remain legitimate? But Harry's the only logical choice for the prophecy, he was the only one who the mad man went after and was the only one marked, albeit formerly now, plus he was born when the seventh month died. He knew no one else that fitted Harry's own resume.

Voldemort would still die though, Harry was positive of that fact. In some way, the abominable dark lord was already partly killed by multiple individuals already. First by him when he was a baby, then by his hand again with the diary, next would probably be by the late headmaster with his possession of a ring before he died from its curse, then by Ron and Hermione destroying the amulet, and lastly by Snape when he destroyed both the cup and the diadem.

Keeping Harry alive though when snake-face was presented with the perfect chance in an end, it boggled Harry's mind.

He recalled again on what the prophecy the both of them knew, "... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..." This was what he hated about prophecies, they could be misleading like how "finally brought to peace" could either mean they die to move on into peaceful silence or do something subjective to achieve it. So if Voldemort believed that if either of them had to die by the other's hand... then no one else other than each other could kill them... and neither could truly live while the other was there.

It was said before during his past school years, Harry wasn't the prophetic superstitious sort. There was, however, a clouded memory on the back of his mind which stated that sometimes, things were meant to happen and the timeline must be preserved... Harry could not explain why he disliked that... statement?

"Observe, Potter!" Voldemort exclaimed in amusement and deranged glee. "Witness as your little side of Light is reduced to a mere candle! All of this, because of you!"

Harry glared at Voldemort from his spot in the constricting grip of Nagini. However, Harry soon found a little bit of satisfaction as a frown now marred his opponent's face when Thestral riders swooped down and joined the fight... From his spot, he saw Buckbeak among the Thestral ranks. It made him wonder where the flying horses were hiding, and he pondered in his mind about Gawp too when he saw him join in.

The snake trapped ravenette saw Tonks there fighting with renewed ferocity, not being clumsy for once and he could see that she was doing it for Remus, and more importantly for Teddy. She was only in need of encouragement to find a reason to join the fight after she had lost Remus.

He watched the twins fighting in an alternating synchronized way, guarding each other's back perfectly with mischievous grins on their faces. Those two together were formidable, and he couldn't imagine them losing as long as they had each other's backs.

This night's most mind-stopping thought though was Malfoy Sr. when he dumped his mask and moved to his own son's defense. Both father and son had finally worked up some hidden courage to go against the Dark Lord. The green eyed teen was wrong again in thinking that all of the Death Eaters didn't deserve a second chance... but he had to remember that some of them were forced. Still, Harry just couldn't find it in himself to be guilty for the lives he ended.

Shaking the thought, Harry took special notice of his other friends fighting, the course of their life reaching farther than he thought possible.

There were many more to note but he did know one thing: the official final battle had begun. There'd be no more bunkering here that had caused a lot of destroyed property at Hogwarts in guarding the fort for weeks. Harry saw the people on Hogwarts' side using a lot of stunners, but they were more willing to kill if there wasn't much of a choice which surprised him.

Fifteen minutes later when the clock struck midnight, Harry had watched the whole time when Voldemort was taking part of the fight for once and was casting furiously with reckless abandon.

Harry heard the bell tower dinging when a thought struck him on this night filled with a rainbow of colors from magic. Today was his eighteenth birthday... and all he's doing was lying around at his uncomfortable spot with an uncomfortable blanket in the form of Nagini keeping him under.

The side of Hogwarts were all cutting down Death Eaters, sending dementors away with Patroni, and unbalancing giants. He's supposed to be there, fighting, and not be a damsel here. Harry was supposed to be celebrating with them... merrily bonding away with his comrades, with his Flight, in finally ending this war then go home where there would be no Dark Lords looming behind his shoulder.

And then the protagonist realized what just occurred. Touched and weeping at his allies' own fighting spirit, he would renew his efforts and give it his all. Like a page from an awesome movie, huh Harry inwardly mused.

The dragon fanatic started his own effort in his bindings, attempting to find that feeling from his earlier half-battle focus/half-berserker state. Harry thought back on how he encased himself in armor, and if he could do it again in a different application wandlessly as he felt the constant in his life that was the earth underneath him. He imagined an earthen spike un-burrowing to stab Nagini with. Turning the act into his will, he pulled on his magic and he –

Harry's head started to become a factory of activity. Clear images of dragons, familiarly-unfamiliar horizons filling his vision with landscapes, and memories of millenniums of years rushing at the forefront of his mind as the battle stilted to a slowness in time around him.

Everything he saw was heart racing... it was filled with watching over one single super continent, a dragon, rising mountains, dragons, creation of rich lands, more dragons, meditating on the deep places, black whelps, an invading army, consorts, hearing of evil whispering, four other massive dragons of different colors, one cursed disk created by his own claws, a large shadow of his blanketing the land, an Usurper –

The former seventh year tried to suppress the memories but he couldn't stop the overflow of information dumping into his head...

Why was he seeing this now? Reminding him of his greatest failure, his greatest guilt of all that surpasses other guilt candidates there was, effectively causing his own sub-conscious to disregard the other recent ones as the greater forgotten singularity weighs heavier down upon him. Unbearable regret that could burst the world into two...

These memories... these visions of the past were his. His occasionally odd quirks, his un-wizard like behavior, his fighting instincts, his desire to fly, and his Aspect were all him, partially remembering? There was too much information for him to handle in this... puny tiny mind that he hosts. But... he was supposed to remember this, he wanted to – he needed it. His spirit wanted to until the moment was right that he woke up from his memory sealed coma. He knew that it was time.

Then he wept, he silently cried within his planetary core that he created inside his consciousness to house and shield his slumbering self. To allow his hidden form to be reborn and grow with the aid of magic with Her own touch-assistance. An aid that was not so different from how the concept of being an Animagus worked, but with this being the case, his human side had become the alternate form itself because of his more dominant side.

The memories continued on being herded into his bucket of already overflowing past experiences. Both unimportant events flashed through his mind and important ones he specially highlighted. But the pinnacle of the highlighted memories – which dictated his life – was:

He sat there, gazing in awe at the powerful being in front of him. A giant amongst them, but never as ginormous as Galakrond... Never as unnaturally grown as that titanic beast of a bully...

That bully whom five of them had taken down, and he had sat on its head to proclaim his own roar of triumph as if he was a proto-whelping again, similar to how he casted his superiority over his playful parent.

Five of them... what were the other four to him...? Friends... no, that was a mistake. That was before. The five of them were not friends. They were already over that. All five of them were... siblings now. This task being given – entrusted – to them would cement that bond. He was the last out of five of them that said yes to the giants' offer, to become a Guardian of the world. An Aspect...

He was... afraid – if it weren't for the blue one, he probably would have been too out of it to respond. The titans would have had to look for another that wasn't him because of his slow response. He still said yes in the end.

Watched he did, waiting for his own turn. He had stared and listened when one titan gave "the words" to the first of them who was given the charge of becoming an Aspect. Then he heard the rest of the responsibilities, one by one until the fourth dragon.

Four of his self-dubbed siblings grew and changed their shape. The color of their scales had a shift in hue to better identify them. He was a little afraid when the four former proto-drakes settled their eyes – their now glowing eyes – upon him and he felt very inconsequential back then. So small and tiny compared to them.

He squirmed back from their piercing gaze; their new intimidating size boring down at little charcoal scaled him. He whimpered internally both at the beings bigger than him and at the thought of what kind of responsibility was going to be expected of him to perform.

Still, he gave them what he had always made himself to be. He gave them all his outside appearance of a brash and rambunctious dragon, chest out to cement his own little pride. An act to hide what he really felt...

It was in their corner – far from gargantuan Galakrond, far from his other siblings' waiting eyes, far from the other giants, and near a mountain – that Khaz'goroth gave him his blessing. There was a massive shadow of a hand that hovered above him when one titan out of three more spoke. The titan's words were now his doctrine and responsibility. It was up to him to uphold his assigned duty.

"My blessing upon you will seem humble compared to those which have been bestowed upon the others: the managing of time, of life, of dreams, and magic," Khaz'goroth had said back then, gazing into his own awe filled pupil slitted eyes. "I offer you the earth. The soil, the ground, the deep places. But know that the earth is the basis of all things. It is where we are rooted. Where you must come from, if you are to go to. Here is whence true strength comes. From deep places... within the world, and within oneself," and after that moment, when the titan finished his own "words" – blessing –, he considered the wise giant as his own parent. Though their time in bonding was short, it was enough to consider the immense being as a second father.

The father who made him into an Aspect while his size swelled and power that he was a little nervous to wield filled him.

Then he had fallen... he failed when the Usurper took him over. His own weakness, his lack of inner strength, allowed him to be dethroned and imprisoned behind mental corrosive walls. Slowly, he was being eaten for good by the maddened evil spirit that took over his body.

He had waited and acted patiently, eventually disregarded as not a threat by the Usurper. He was forgotten for years now, kept barely intact to watch but never be given the choice to act. Overtime, his spirit kept getting weaker and weaker; eventually he would dissipate to fully complete the Usurper unless he did something.

However, where the soul would have lain, he watched from within as the barrier had a slight crack that even the Usurper never knew. It was an exploit, one chance given, and he wouldn't want to waste it.

When he did risk his only chance, he never knew what occurred during his time in his migration from inside the disk. He knew, however, from small snippets that the void he left had caused his original body to be corrupted through the disk's own power. His former leviathan form stripped and replaced of its care for the world in exchange for destruction.

He had hidden himself, taking Khaz'Goroth's advice seriously, to wait deep within the Demon Soul so that his own surviving spirit wouldn't be corrupted.

Only at the height of the release of power from the disk was what allowed him to escape. He took advantage of the four essences that was housed beside him when the Well of Eternity sundered.

The disk was never supposed to be used in such a method, but he was preserved as dictated by the power of Life; he was sent to exist outside of Time; he was banished to the far beyond in the name of Magic; and he drifted patiently in a more infinity like Dream outside single continent Kalimdor...

And his luck reached that far in the past. What he did, it had a high chance of receiving only disappointment. There was a high chance for his soul to be sent to eternal rest instead. Failure would only result in an eternity of regret on not being able to get back at the Usurper, even if the chance for a confrontation was slim.

What he brought with him and took away from the Usurper was only about half of his remaining power as an Aspect; continually drained of its energy the longer he remained drifting but never losing more of its essence.

In that dream like world where he was banished to, he met a recurring reincarnating soul... A spirit stuck in an endless loop of losing its memories, gaining suffering, and never moving on. It never left its original home of existence because of its responsibility of being an anchor and could not move on to its eternal rest... Until a Dragon Aspect's soul drifted too close to Her un-bothered planet and ended the cycle.

A deal was struck, to be absorbed by the drifting Aspect and take its place to hold three objects that was never mentioned – forgotten – all under Her watchful gaze. That was how he started his slumber, only his will being in control of the tiny fleshling that he would host.

Thinking about it now, he really was a sucker when it came to whispers.

Strange markings of a triangle, surrounding a small circle, and split by a vertical line in the middle now tattooed both the top of his wrists...

•Aspect•

"Wha- Harry!?" Hermione exclaimed, petrified. She felt like she had travelled back in the past, rewinding towards her second year before she became a petrified heap. It was that event when she had sensed the giant snake breathing down behind her... before she glanced at the mirror she held back then. She shuddered at that memory, but the top in their year's generation wasn't the only one that had stopped. Everyone in the courtyard froze and the ominous wind had stopped, but the sudden heat never left.

They saw Nagini on the ground, dissolving in a puddle of lava as black smoke escaped her maw. The last Horcrux was destroyed in a blink of an eye that no one ever noticed. Voldemort screamed in extreme outrage at that, but no one batted him an eye.

No one ever noticed the sudden light that left the mad man's wand, lifting its special curse and turning it into a regular fifteen inch wand. There were no witnesses as the other two in the Deathly Hallows collection disintegrating in its own puddle of magma scattered across a five foot radius from ground zero. Not a single person took notice when there was a slight tremor from the earth below them.

"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus..." someone in the populace eventually murmured as they eyed the place where Harrison Orion Black was incapacitated...

The onlookers did not dare to look away on what appeared in the middle of a battle despite their surroundings.

What happened to the now missing Harry Potter was a mix of different scenarios within all of their thoughts. Had the only green-eyed individual gotten crushed? Was the now eighteen year-old that thing now standing in his place? Where did the former seventh year escaped to if he was still alive? For Ron and Neville, both wondered if what stood before everyone was what Hermione had been trying to find out about Harry with that essayed list of hers.

Standing on two digitigrade hind appendages, where the Boy-Who-Lived used to lay helplessly about earlier, was now a dragon with black metal armored scales. Its natural armor blended well in the darkness of the night. A pair of massive wings was fully unfurled for all to see its membranes of dark red.

•Aspect•

End of chapter Author notes:

- I'll be blunt: Curse name was just actually random chosen.

Edits or chapter story changes made:

- Fixed some inconsistencies (Last week of June, 2017)

- Added an underline to the line breaks ;) (Last week of June, 2017)

- Some fixes (First week of July, 2017)

- Rewritten some parts of the chapter and made some more fixes (Last week of July, 2017)