A.N. Okay so i know this bit is long in coming so I wont wast too much time... despite the fact that most of you wont read this till after the chapter. But here it is, my very own take on Harry being the reincarnation of a badass. course i actually have a legitimate reason for why Natsu has come back as he has and will explain it... much later. so have fun, i have made no money of of this, and still i post!
Chapter Two
It had not been a particularly fun time for Hermione. Everything had fallen apart and she couldn't help but think that a small part of it was her fault, but in all honesty she couldn't help what she felt. She had known for years that Harry was off, that he acted wrong in various situations. After all eleven year old children don't often jump onto the backs of trolls, even to save another person. And even if they do, one would expect that they would be screaming in terror.
Harry didn't react like that. He'd laughed with glee, and peppered the head with blows from his elbow until he bled, his bones breaking from the attempt to hurt the beast, but even that hadn't stopped him from harassing the beast, a toothy grin showing off his too large canines. That moment had both scared and fascinated her, a boy who she thought couldn't stand her had rushed to her defense, and with no hesitation had thrown himself into a fight with a troll. But it was the last bit to the tale that caused the tiny seed of unease to be planted. After Harry had been thrown from the troll and Ron had cast the levitation spell, clubbing the beast with its own club, the troll had died. Somehow the damage from the club when combined with the damage Harry had caused to its skull ended with enough damage that the fragmented skull had shredded its brain. Meaning Harry, with just his elbow, had cracked and cratered the trolls rock-hard skull. An inhuman feat and not the last Harry would perform.
She knew Harry well enough to know that he'd left things out of his retellings of the Chamber. He was the type to fight when backed into a corner, and given a sword he'd use it. Ginny had confirmed that there were chunks of the Basilisk missing, rends in its hide, and there had been Harry, standing next to its corpse, great fang driven into his shoulder, standing with a blood soaked sword driven into the diary that had caused all the problems. Hermione imagined that it was the same grin that he'd worn when fighting the troll on his face.
The final straw had been the Dementors. Harry changed radically that year, and while part of her knew it was probably puberty, there was always something that watered that seed of fear about him. The lean muscles that he grew into, the ever-present heat radiating from his body, and then there were his eyes. Hermione had told herself that it had been tricks of the light, her mind playing tricks on her, but on that night when he conjured his Patronus she couldn't deny it. His eyes had changed from his expressive green to something else, a deadly reflective gold that evoked feelings of dread. And then there was the Patronus he'd conjured
She'd studied the charm when the Dementors had first appeared on the train. It was simply what she was good at, and she had learned of the charm that could ward them off. She also knew what it was supposed to look like. Silver mist or a solid animal of some sort that would push the Demntors away, that's what most wizards got, but not Harry. A towering golden beast of fire and rage was what had left his wand, roaring with a pure magical force as it descended upon the wraiths doing what every book and scholar had declared impossible. At thirteen years old, with a Draconic Patronus that almost put the other dragons she'd seen to shame, Harry Potter had killed a Dementor. And when she had looked upon him, surrounded by those golden flames, his eyes the same color as fire, and a towering dragon acting as a shadow.
Hermione Granger had been utterly terrified.
After that things had been awkward for her, as she tried to put some small distance between herself and her best friend. Finally summer had rolled around and she could go home, and use the time away from him to figure out what was wrong with Harry. In part the fact that there was distance had helped, without him next to her the unease had lessened and she had even looked forward to seeing him at the world cup.
Yet the fear raised its ugly head again when the Death Eaters attacked. They'd been told to run, to escape the black clad figures that delivered curse after curse. She had gladly taken the chance to get away from the death they reveled in. Harry however had to been all too eager to run towards the combat. Even when his wand turned up missing he'd been seconds away from rushing into battle with naught but his own two hands, Arthur Weasley had to stun the black haired youth to keep him from running onto the battlefield.
Twice.
The first blast of red spell fire had staggered the boy, and once more Hermione saw Harry's eyes turn that same golden color of a predator. He had stumbled forward, determined to take to the field, and it was only thanks to the second stunner bolt that he had gone down at all. Arthur had laughed about it, tried to devalue it, told her that it happens every now and again, some weird innate ability people had, something to do with accidental magic. When Hermione had asked about the eyes, the eldest Weasley had tried to dismiss it as a trick of the light. Just as she had long ago, she knew better now. And so she had avoided her friend, his inhuman nature scaring her more than anything had ever scared her.
The tournament had both helped and hindered her goal. Harry had been crazy again, doing something so very insane to enter into the tournament. Yet in a way he'd been brilliant, can't pass the age line? Don't bother, just crumple that piece of paper with your name on it up, and toss it in like a game of basket-ball. Hermione had half expected him to be Hogwarts sole champion. Then the cup had spat out his name as a fourth contestant, and the entire school had turned on him.
And now he was dying.
She'd known as soon as he entered the arena, it was simply impossible. Harry, as strong and powerful a wizard as he was, had no hope of fighting the dragon. Not how he usually fought things, and worse, Harry had seemed to know it too. He hadn't charged as he so casually did with all the other threats he'd faced down before, he'd dodged behind cover and run from the fires and limbs the dragon had sent his way. Crazily enough his strategy even seemed like it might work. Some part of her believed that Harry could do this, best the first task with absolutely no magic, the same way he'd bested the troll, and the same way he had bested the protections of the goblet. But as he hid behind the third boulder their eyes met for a brief instant before he moved again.
Hermione's heart caught in her throat when he stepped out of cover. He'd thrown no rocks as distractions. He'd cast no spells to aid him. And so he had absolutely no hope to dodge the limb that struck him head on. Helplessly she watched from the stands, a single face amongst many who would watch a hero die, as her best friend sailed through the air. Harry tumbling about in the air like a feather, without any form of control, until he finally hit ground feet first by some miracle. She thought he would run from there, prayed that he would dodge back into cover, yet something had stopped him. Harry had hesitated for a split second, and that was all it took Hermione to lose him forever. The fires of a dragon consumed him, and she could hear him scream in pain, see his form drop to his knees as fire relentlessly raged around him. She had called his name them, the barest whimper of desperation. A silent plea for something, anything to save him.
That is when things stopped reacting according to any form of logic. She saw Harry silhouette, what she could make of it blackened by flame, open his mouth. Somehow inhaling, or at least doing something that looked like inhalation. It was an impossibly long inhalation, and should have killed him instantly, the heat causing his lungs to collapse, to say nothing of what the fires should have done to his internal organs. Yet somehow, Harry survived.
Impossibly the very action that should have killed him, saved him. As Harry consuming the fires that surrounding him, Hermione watched on with an eerie fascination. Incapable of looking away, the brightest witch of her age watched the impossible. As the fires of a dragon were consumed, fires capable of ripping through wards and enchantment, her brain provided. She watched them slowly be consumed by her friend, leaving Harry still kneeling there upon the rocks. His eyes closed and his body covered in soot and ash. To the great shock of the on looking crowd, he slowly stood. The tatter remnants of his robes flaking off, leaving him clad only in tattered and singed pants. Somehow the lower half of his robes had survived and now billowed around his waist like a mantle. As Hermione thanked whatever god drew amusement out of her friend's life, Harry opened his eyes. Just like at the end of last year, when Harry had faced the Dementors, there was no denying what she saw.
Harry's eyes were the fiery golden eyes of a predator, simultaneously inhuman and unfeeling yet deadly and full of passion. Those inhuman eyes gazed out from an all too human figure, locked upon another with eyes just like his. It was a cold detached part of Hermione that realized that those strange orbs of gold were indeed the eyes of a dragon and that despite the fact that they really had no place upon a human form, those eyes seemed to fit Harry perfectly. Yet that part was swiftly ignored due to her friend's next action. Just as his eyes had no place upon his body, neither did any human have the right to vocalize their intent in the manner he did. It was slow, building from a growl in the back of his throat, yet it quickly built into an intense and inhuman ROAR.
It was a primal noise that echoed throughout the stadium and shook everyone to the very core of their beings; it spoke of rage, of power, of dominance and triumph. But above all it spoke of fire, and for the duration of the noise, Hermione saw it. Somehow his Patronus once more was called into the world, standing in his shadow, and roaring with him, echoing and reverberating his intentions through her very soul in an impossible fashion that made her want to beg and scrape to avoid the simple truth that she was so much smaller than the predator that stood before her. She knew for a fact that it lasted not but three seconds, but it seemed to last so much longer than that. Once it ended Harry stood there, somehow pleased with himself despite the fact that several people had lost control of their basic bodily functions. There he stood simply looking upon the dragon, and that was when Harry delivered one last shock that her mind simply couldn't handle, with an ease that somehow spoke of long practice, Harry gathered fire to his hands that sprung to life impossible for any human wizard to achieve.
It was simply too much for the fourteen year old witch, so many shocks and impossibilities one right after another. Her mind, a fortress of logic and order could not process this new and impossible information. All Hermione could do was utter a shocked gasp of her friend's name. Yet as her mind blanked and her body succumbed to its desire to pass out, one last thing was heard before she truly lost all contact with the waking world.
It was utterance of intent and power. The first of many her friend would make. But it was so much more than that. If anyone was capable of noticing it, his words were a call, to all those sleeping legends long since thought dead. A call to those lost and forgotten. To those who would be again.
They were the words that called for the end of an age, and the first words of the age that would rise from the ashes. Words that had once been known the world over, yet in the passing of time they had faded from the annals of history. Becoming first a legend, then a myth, all before being forgotten, like so much else. They were the words of a warrior, a wizard… and an unrepentant blight on property values.
They were the words of a dragon.
"Karyuu no Tekken!"
123
Harry barely felt it when his fist made contact with the underside of the dragon's chin. His fires giving him a strength beyond what he ever thought possible, yet the results spoke for themselves. For not even a second after his flame engulfed fist made contact did the dragon's body rise into the air from the explosive force he'd delivered directly to its chin. Higher and higher it rose until the chain wrapped round its neck went taunt. Yet even that was not enough to stop the momentum and force that had been applied to it, with an ear rending *crack* the chain broke free if the rocks it had been bound to. His eyes noted that upon being uprooted; the chain still had bits of hardened earth clinging to its end. The length of magically wrought steel danced in the air at breakneck speeds, yet it was clear it trailed after the air born dragon. And it wasn't hard for him to see the space the rocks attached to the end of the chain would soon pass through.
To many present this all happened so fast that it was barely perceptible. It was only those rare few who'd been forced to grown accustom to the speed of spell fire that had and chance to reasonably track the movements of the boy, the chain, and the dragon. To Harry however, everything had slowed down and he could see everything! The chain that would have struck any normal person dead, it's force and speed making it far too deadly for any normal person to dodge. Luckily Harry had never been 'normal'. Before he could have dodged it, just barely, but it would have been capable for his above average seeker reflexes. Now however, it was just another opportunity.
Impossibly Harry caught the end of the wildly dancing chain by its end, and then he heaved! His muscles rippled with effort as he swung the chain, and in turn the dragon attached to the end of it like a flail. His face locked in a predatory grin as the beast crashed back into the ground, cratering it more than anything in the whole tournament had done so far. With savage glee he pulled on the chain, but not to bring the dragon to him, rather he used the chain and his arms to launch himself at it. The fires he could so easily command springing alive around his legs as he added more force to what was to come.
The dragon had barely recovered when his foot met with its face, and once more words echoing forth from his mouth, a declaration of what he was, and what his attacks meant on a level that no other person at the stadium could ever understand.
"Karyuu no Kagizume!" the explosion of force that he produced sent the dragon flying once more, but this time it had been braced. Savage as it was, it understood that he wasn't going to stop. He would kill it, and if it wanted to survive it needed to fight back. The tail it sent colliding into Harry was proof enough of that.
On his part as he was sent flying back by a tail lash, one that was just inches short of impaling him, Harry was oddly satisfied by the fact that his foe was at least trying to fend him off. It wouldn't stop him from killing the fake dragon for its insults, for invading his territory as thoroughly as it had. But he could respect it a bit more before he killed it. In fact Harry could feel some small amount of pity for it, but in the end its insults had been too numerous for his now very primal mind. Yet as he crashed bodily into the walls of the arena, a distant part of him was still wide eyed and confused over the course of events, first he was about to die, now he was going to kill the dragon as sure as he drew breath.
And he was loving every second of it.
As the minor wyrm drew breath to unleash fire upon him he realized that such things could wait until much later, he had a pretender to the title of dragon to kill first, and while he wouldn't mind the snack, now was a perfect time to demonstrate the difference between a mere beast that only gained its name due to a resemblance, and one who was truly worthy a worthy heir to the title of Dragon.
As the Horntail breathed forth the fires that it was born with, Harry too breathed out the fires gifted to him.
"Karyuu no Hōkō!" It had been hasty and poorly prepared, his fire barely directed and unfocused to a very scary degree by standards he barely understood. And the Horntails fire didn't stand a ghost of a chance compared to his own meager attempt. The primordial forces met briefly in the center of the arena, the immaterial element pushing against one another as the magic fueling the streams fought for dominance. For only an instance the streams halted, all before Harry's consumed the other and forced the combined might of both streams directly into the mouth of the still breathing Horntail.
The Hungarian Horntail was supposed to be the most dangerous dragon known to man, it's fires the hottest, the farthest reaching, it's scales tough enough to shrug off even an entire barrage of killing curses, and for all that, as the fires raced into it's still gaping maw, it had no chance to survive. It couldn't do as Harry had done when it came to fire, could not consume what it was born to for more strength. All the Horntail could do was die in agony as the fires it had called started to burn it from the inside out. Harry once more almost felt pity for it as his and its own fires ripped its innards apart, but once more he couldn't bring himself to truly care for it, after all the insults it had dared heap up against him, the only thing he could bring himself to do was end its suffering.
To the audience it was barely a second that passed before he was in front of the dying dragon once again. His hand ablaze once more and his eyes locked upon the dragon's breast. Once more he called out the name of his attack, one last call of, "Karyuu no Tekken!" and just like that the beast was dead, his hand driven into its chest, and its lifeblood spilling out over him, bathing his half naked form in blood that was boiling from the heat that tore it apart. With a deadly surety he pulled his hand from the chest cavity that those experienced with dragons could have told you held the beast's heart. Within a few more seconds the once terrifying dragon was dead at the feet of Harry James Potter.
The boy in question was sporting a grin on his blood and soot soaked face, pleased with himself like never before. He wasn't quite sure what had happened to him, wasn't sure how he knew how to do what he now could, but some part of him knew that it was the most natural thing in the world. More so it had been the missing part of his nature that he hadn't even known was missing. And as he stood there in the center of the arena, he was overcome by yet another desire. Similar to the names he had called and actions he took as he cried out the names of his spells somehow knowing that he spoke with an authority greater than any of those spells taught in Charms or Defense. Harry felt that this was the only acceptable thing to do after he had accomplished what he had.
So knowing that it was the right thing to do, he raised his right arm towards the sky, his index finger and thumb extended while the rest of his hand clenched into a light fist. His palm was facing forward with the rest of his body, and as he did so, Harry whispered a Name, something that meant more to him than anything he could ever remember, something that was profound and wonderful. Two words that the world needed to hear. Two words that had been buried by history and two words that would bring forth so much more than the young man could ever comprehend.
"Fairy Tail."
A.N.2:
Now I know some of you will complain about bother Hermione's actions and Harry's but I want you all to trust me on Hermione as i need to make things complicated and push the story forward. My belief is that canon!Hermione is actually not very violent or aggressive/confrontational, and it was Harry and Ron that pushed her into it. However in this Harry was an aggressive little hell raiser from the start and it scared her. the end.
As for the fight with the dragon. I wanted it to be long epic and totally wreck the arena. Then I thought about it and realized that one of J.K. Rowling's dragon's didn't stand a chance against the weakest of Fairy Tail mages, let alone a dragon slayer. As for Harry's actions, i want you all to understand he was acting on pure instinct and absolutely no rational thought.
Still I thought it all appropriate and entertaining, but what do I know i just write things, so tell me what you think and REVEIW!
