So, um, apparently, I'm back. I'm not gonna lie, I kind of got disappointed at the fandom and lost much of the initial drive with this, even if I hardly managed to get anywhere with it. For some reason I went back to the old stories and the awesome art and from there to all my notes and sketches. Then down came NaNoWriMoand despite wanting to dedicate myself to rework the Shaman King fic, I ended up going rebel and working on this too.

Long story short, this is a CrossOver of five universes, none of which belong to me. They are Brave (Disney+Pixar); How to Train Your Dragon (Dreamworks) and Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling) as of this first chapter and later two others will be included (as if you can't figure out which ones they are). The idea isn't mine either. It started with a post on Tumblr that got expanded and finally came to my attention thanks to secondlina's awesome art.

I edited just a little bit the already published chapters, which means I could very likely undone a lot of LilymeetGinny's work in order to adapt it a bit to my current style. English isn't my first language and I'm back to not having a Beta. If you either would like to help me by becoming a Beta or find any mistakes, please don't hesitate to contact me. It goes as well for pacing, interpretations of events and characters or plot holes.

If, after all that babbling, you are still willing to read, I'll present you to:

Turning the Tides

A small round face, framed by an unruly mop of bright red hair, flashed for an instant in one of the windows of the second floor. It disappeared nearly as fast as it appeared, replaced soon after by a satchel bag falling neatly to the floor far below. Before following it, a girl looked apprehensively to the door through which she was able to hear the heavy footsteps coming closer by the second. It was either her father or her mother if the girl had managed to make her angry enough. In any case, it wasn't in the girl's best interest to linger there longer. She threw her leg resolutely over the window still, shifting her weight precariously on the edge. Moments later, she leapt out the window.

With the ability of someone who has made the same movement thousands of times before, the girl balanced on a huge oak branch conveniently located under her window and from there leapt to the floor. A wicked grin transformed her face into a triumphant mask as she picked up her bag. She wasn't able to hear a thing from her new position, but she wasn't about to fool herself into believing she was safe. The girl drove her fingers to her mouth and whistled with all her might. Up in the second floor, the steps became frantic –however was behind had heard her- and finally the door burst open.

It meant nothing to the girl, since her whistle had called her loyal stallion and she was encouraging him to go as fast as he could.

"MERIDA!"

As fast as she was putting distance between them, the girl was still able to hear her mother's angry cry and see her face poke out of the window she went through moments before. She smirked once more as she urged Angus to run faster, even though they were already far away from her mother's reach.

At eleven, Merida Dunbroch was hardly the daughter that Elinor had hoped would elevate the Dunbroch family. Merida could even picture her right now, ranting about her lack of discipline and respect, and even threatening to cut the centenary oak that grew outside her room as punishment. Of course, it was an empty threat; since Merida's untamed magic had managed to grow it back twice already. The ancient bark still held scars from those attempts. There was no need to go for a third try.

Merida slowed her horse down once she approached her territory, a stretch of woods that separated the Dunbroch lands from the nearest muggle village. She had adopted the place for her own use, distributing targets of varying difficulties, which she would shoot either on foot or on Angus' back. She boasted she knew every nook of it. It was hers and hers alone. Of course, it wasn't like she had anyone with which to share it, since the triplets or any of the playdates arranged by her mother were out of the question.

Merida shivered, trying to picture the new boy. Elinor would say something on the lines "Look who came to visit you" like she didn't have a hand in setting it up. He would have been part of one important family or another, all pretentious and snobbish, preferring ladylike girls who knew the best ways how to train a kitchen elf to make proper tea and pastries. Like hell was she going to spend her last day at home like that. Particularly since she had to part with her bow and arrows for months. Weapons weren't allowed on Hogwarts grounds. Security issues and stuff, especially since at least a thousand of in-training wizards and witches with varying control over their magic were allowed to roam free around the castle.

Somehow, it also seemed to be the perfect excuse for Elinor to make Merida into more of a proper lady, encouraging her to leave her weapons behind completely. She hadn't parted with that bow since her father had given it to her! And now she was supposed to leave it at home. Fine. She could probably do that. From there to becoming a proper lady interested in hairdos and the closest cute guy wasn't going to happen anytime soon. In fact, as quickly as she was able, Merida was going to try out for her House's Quidditch team. Even if her mother had something to say about it, she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.

In any case, being able to use her wand was already something she was looking forward to. Fourteen glorious inches of ebony wood with a Phoenix feather core, but she hadn't been able to touch it again since they bought it at Ollivander's, like pretty much any other Hogwarts student-to-be. As soon as she had touched the wood, the most amazing sensation had crept over her, making Merida fell like she could do anything in the world. Then it was taken for her the next second. The wand had chosen her, but it was given to Elinor for safekeeping, in a neat box when the transaction was finished. She wouldn't get it back until they were back at platform 9 ¾ the next morning.

Merida let out a cry in disgust, aiming and shooting her next arrow. It hit the bulls-eye, even when she had to balance on top of Angus to fire the shot. Not being able to even touch your wand? Come on! What was she going to do, burn down the house? That had only happened once! She was little at the time and there was no magic involved. The wand would have been a much better tool for taming her magic than all the temper control lessons.

One last arrow on her quiver for one last target. It was a moving mark on a difficult angle. It had taken Merida some time to master it but at least a year had passed since the last time she missed it. However, the best part was that it took most of her concentration, taking her mind off of the playdates, her mother, her wand and even Hogwarts.

The arrow hit the center perfectly, again.

By that time, Merida and Angus were both exhausted from the exercise and Merida's mind was far more settled. She leaned forward to murmur in the horse's ear.

"C'me on boy, let's go back. There's an oatmeal bag waiting for ye at the stables."

Angus neighed happily and took the road back to the main house. After all, the next morning was a great day just waiting to happen.

"Trahendum motus."

The voice was nothing more than a murmur, lost between layers of blankets. In between the thunderous snoring, a heavy chair started to move on its own, a slow and steady movement towards the farthest bed. There, a gawky boy was waving his wand, imitating the motion that his father made sometimes with his fishing rod. The chair followed the movement perfectly and was already past the other bed, coming closer with every thug. However, just as a triumphant smile flashed across his face, the chair tripped and tilted at an impossible angle, which the boy had no way to counteract.

"Glacius!" He hissed, afraid the blow might wake up his father.

A thin layer of frost covered the chair, freezing it in the position it was. The boy held his breath, waiting. He didn't relax until he heard the next snore, a sure sign that his father was still fast asleep on the bed next to his.

The boy sighed and looked to the electrical clock sitting on top the television. The flashing green lines told him that it was still too early to even be awake yet, but he wasn't remotely close to falling back asleep. He eyed The Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk, which was still wide open between his arms, but ended up closing it with a soft thud after sighing. His most recent experiment told him that practicing magic wasn't a great idea in the wee hours of the morning.

At last the boy got up, taking the book along. His objective was a large wooden trunk, which took up a great deal of the motel room that he and his father were sharing for the night. Even so, the short barefoot walk didn't pose much of an inconvenience. On his way, the boy returned the chair he was practicing on to its original position, figuring out what had happened. As it turned out, one of its legs had caught on a dent in the carpet, which caused it to tip over.

There wasn't something wrong with his magic, which was actually a lot more relieving than he had believed it would be.

When the boy opened the trunk, instead of tossing the book in it and closing the lid as any normal teenager would do, he started pulling out everything and piling the contents around himself. After he finished, he put them back again, checking every book, every tag on his clothing, and every item. By that time, the boy had already memorized each piece on the supply list and knew very well that he had everything on it. However, there was something reassuring about confirming he was ready. It was as if that way he was making sure nothing could go wrong.

The last item on the list he packed was his wand, carefully wrapping it in the same box it had been bought in. Twelve inches of English Oak with dragon heartstring as core. Ollivander had called it Loyal, but the why escaped the boy. It meant something else entirely for him. After all, he and his family had spent years believing he was some sort of squib, since he never manifested any type of magic during his childhood.

Getting the letter had been a wonderful and unexpected surprise for his eleventh birthday. It was made even better because he was able to see his father for nearly the first time being as proud of him as he was of his wife. The boy's mother. She had been a great Auror that fought in the Second Wizarding War and lost her life during the Battle of Hogwarts. And now, by the end of the - according to the clock –day, he would go to the same school as she had, the same way she had done when she was his age.

A broomstick rolled over when the boy closed the trunk's lid. It was a memento of his mother, a proficient Quiddich player. His father had forced him to take it and any complaint had proven useless. It didn't matter that he couldn't ride it to save his life or that it wasn't allowed for first years to have broomsticks. His plan to leave it behind without his father noticing had also failed miserably, so the broom was going to Hogwarts with him. Like it or not. Worst case scenario, the boy would have to give it to a professor for safekeeping until he was allowed to use it.

The boy was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he failed to notice that the snoring came slowly to an end.

"Hiccup?"

Yup. A nickname that had stuck so well that even his father called him that. Not that Hiccup had made much of an effort on shaking it. Just imagine how horrible your name had to be to rather be called Hiccup. This boy had it worse.

"D-dad?!" Caught by surprise, Hiccup faltered, dropping the broomstick. "Still 'bit early. We're only an Underground ride from King's Cross."

The huge man weighed this piece of information, checking the clock. Hiccup returned to securing his mother's racing broomstick to the trunk's lid.

"'Have a long day ahead of ya." His father said after a while, recapturing Hiccup's attention. "Thought we could grab a good bite before ya left."

Hiccup was dumbstruck for a second. He expected something of a breakfast to go on some kiosk at the train station, nothing like this. Besides, as far as he knew, meals with his father were scarce and often uncomfortable. His father's gaze was intent on him, making Hiccup falter. Sure, breakfast with his dad wasn't something the old Hiccup thrived for, but this time was different. Now he was someone that could make his father proud.

"Right, but I'll take the first turn in the bathroom." It wouldn't do any good for Hiccup to get the second turn. His father's huge beard required a lot of maintenance.

It was a while before they were ready and were checked out of the motel. They both continued along the road to find a nice restaurant serving a good Full English Breakfast at that time in the morning. Along the way, some passers stared at them either in amazement or in curiosity, and, as far as Hiccup could tell, it had nothing to do with the fact that they had a racing broomstick secured to a huge and unpractical wooden trunk. It probably had more to do with the fact that said trunk, heavier than its owner – well, honestly, that wasn't much of a comparison– was carried almost single-handedly by his father.

Fine, it was completely carried single-handedly by him, since Hiccup wasn't providing much help. We're talking here about a man that earned the nickname Stoic the Vast for himself on the Wizarding community, despite being a muggle.

They found a café without losing their vantage point near the Underground stop on the same line as their destination. Stoic ordered immediately, making sure to add an extra helping of guts and glory on the side. The truck was left on the ground, in the least hindering way he could manage. Despite Hiccup's original enthusiasm, it was too much to expect a single meal to be different from the others. They ate in silence, wolfing down chunks of food.

From time to time, Stoic seemed to want to say something but kept returning his attention to the plate in front of him. Hiccup also kept to himself, searching furiously for something to say to his father or the courage to ask him what he wanted to say.

"Ya… uhm, ya know..." In the end, it was Stoic the one to break the silence. "Ya'r mother would have been happy today. She always said that ya'll be a great wizard."

Hiccup raised his head in surprise so quickly that he nearly choked on his mouthful of fried mushrooms.

"She did?" As far as he knew, she had feared as much as his father that he was a squib. How could his dad say something like that all of sudden?

"Yeah." His father trailed off, meaning to leave it at that, but something on Hiccup's face must have betrayed his need to know more. "She said she'll tell ya all of the castle's secrets she found out on her time. That ya'll do great things, like that lad, the one with the scar."

Hiccup's face lit up at this. Being compared to Harry Potter was far beyond anything he could hope for. He suddenly had an image of him as part of the Gryffindor House like his mother and Harry Potter before him. A true Hero House indeed. This lightened his mood, so he started to ask more and more about his mother. Stoic responded as best as he could; telling him all of what little he knew about the Wizarding World, which he had shared with his wife before for a while. The one he'd been banished from after her death.

By the time both their plates were empty, Hiccup was actually sorry to leave and tried to keep the conversation until they reached King's Cross. However, the subway train proved to be a poor place for secrets, since a couple of other passengers started to follow their words about magic, wands and enchanted castles. They kept silent the rest of the way.

Stoic stopped short in front of the wall separating platforms nine from ten. They'd already seen an entirely family disappear through it.

"You know that you can go through with me." Hiccup said, stopping too.

Stoic shook his head.

"That's yar world now. Become a great wizard."

He squeezed his son's shoulder with as much delicacy as he could muster. It was as much of a goodbye as Hiccup was going to get out of him, so he just gave a nod and –after checking no one was looking- pushed the trolley through the barrier.

And thus, Hiccup entered the Wizarding World, to find a place where he could belong.

End of Chapter

*This chapter has been edited*