I don't own HP

Xx

Bahamut groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. something struck him as rather odd. It appeared, to him at least, that someone had decided to smash his head in with a large gold brick wrapped in a bit of lemon. An altogether not unpleasant sensation and one he was quite sure he felt before a decade or two prior when a strange man had offered him a drink at a party in… well he didn't remember exactly where. The difference between now and then he noted was that back then the sensation had only happened once and it was quite thrilling. Now that he was seemingly being assaulted repeatedly by the sensation entirely located in his skull, back and stomach, he decided that he rather hated the sensation.

After a few minutes of feeling sorry for himself bahamut decided to see if he could move any part of his body. A few pathetic attempts at thrashing his arms later he had managed to crawl over the bed and, after what he considered a titanic effort, pulled himself up and onto it.

"You burnt a hole in the floor." a voice somewhere to his left stated in a rather bored tone. Bahamut looked to his left to see a rather annoyed looking elderly wizard lounging by the window of his room smoking a cigar and drinking what appeared to be, or at least smelled like, rum… smelled like. Smelled. Like. he muled the two words around his tongue for a minute. Something was off. But why was it off? That was the question. He sniffed. A myriad of smells assaulted his senses. Cigar smoke, alcohol, sweat, bile, human waste, charred wood and cloth, magic… it was in that moment that his brain caught up with the rest of his body. He could smell the magic in the air. A feat he had not been able to do for eleven long years, trapped in the body of prepubescent human child.

Pain erupted across his temple as the glass struck his head. It shattered on impact and sent shards of tiny crystal scattering across his bed. "What the hell?" he yelled at the man. The vision in his left eye blurred as the blood pooled.

"You burnt a damn hole in the floor! That's what!" the old wizard yelled back.

"Who the hell are you?" he growled

"Who do you think, you brat." the old wizard shot back.

Bahamut narrowed his one good eye at the man. He expanded his sight to look at the mans magic. "Samedi?" he asked in a tepid tone. The man grinned before pouring himself another glass of rum and downing it on one shot.

"Got it in one, you scaly prick." the apparent spirit turned old wizard said.

"What the hell happened to you?" Bahamut asked

"Oh this?" he gestured at himself. "Borrowed him from the next room."

"You borrowed… a mortal." Bahamut stated rather nonplussed.

"Yeah. honestly, if it weren't for the fact that this guy like his liquor and cigars i don't think it could have." Bahamut cocked an eyebrow on the uninjured side of his face. "Ah right, remember how i said i couldn't mount you, even on my best day?" Bahamut narrowed his eye at the word mount, Samedi laughed at this. "When a loa possess a human we call it 'mounting'" that made sense in some context he was sure he was ignorant of.

"Ok, so you borrowed this guy from the next room because?" Bahamut asked.

"You nearly burned down the whole damn inn with your little episode."

"Episode?"

"Episode" Samedi nodded. "There you were. Rolling around on the ground bleating like a stuck goat when you just started vomiting fire and bile all over place." Samedi waved a hand dramatically. "Screaming like someone set you on fire. What was i supposed to do? Let you scare the whole damn alley? So i popped into the next room, mounted this guy and threw up as many silencing and fireproofing charms as i could."

Bahamut groaned as he fell back onto the bed. This, he quickly realized, was a mistake. The moment he touched the mattress white hot pain flashed across his back and he jumped out of bed arching his back at the pain. He roughly discarded his already burnt, sweat soaked shirt and turned to look at his back in the reflection of the mirror in the corner. Bahamut's blood ran cold at the sight. Samedi promptly died laughing.

Xx

Bahamut barely registered what the half giant was saying to him as they made their way across kings cross station. too preoccupied with the annoying voodoo spirit laughing hysterically as it followed them around. Part of him, the part that held millennia of draconic pride, arrogance and instinct, wanted to torch the bastard then use his wings to spread his ashes as a warning. My wings… he thought distastefully. His wings used to be a source of pride for him. They used to be large, magnificent, dazzling, awe inspiring, powerful, set of perfect dragon wings but now they were, well, pathetic. Two perfectly pathetic pairs of chicken wings rested on his shoulder blades and lower back tucked securely against his skin.

Samedi was floating behind him, a grin splitting his painted face. Boisterous laughter echoed around them. Laughter that only he could hear. A low growl escaped Bahamut's lips before he could stop it. A low gutteral noise that made the half giant stop suddenly and look around confused and slightly nervous. One of the benefits of his little surprise puberty his body's vocal cords and throat could handle draconic speech, or to the layman's, his growls and roars. Bahamut stopped and looked back at the half giant as well as glancing around the their vicinity. Several people around them appeared to be imitating a confused pack of meerkats, heads twisting this way and that. "Hagrid?" he asked. "Something the matter?"

Hagrid looked back at him. Confusion evident in his beady eyes. "Di' you uh… hear tha'?"

"Hear what?" Bahamut arched his eyebrow.

"Nothin', nothin'." hagrid shook his head. "Coulda' swore i hear'... any whey." he reached into the oversized pockets of his equally oversized moleskin coat and producing a ticket. Bahamut briefly wondered where they even found enough moles to make such a coat before realizing that was probably just the name of the material. " 'ere you are. Yer' ticket to the express." and just like that the half giant turned on his heal and disappeared. A feat considering his size and, from what Bahamut saw, complete lack of magical control… and subtlety if the alarmed faces of a few of the surrounding mortals were any indication.

Bahamut wandered aimlessly around the platform between the numbers nine and ten railways, the ticket on his hand said nine and three quarters. A completely ridiculous number for a train platform but far be it for him to criticize mortals and their strange ways, magical or not. Finally after a full whole fifteen minutes of wandering. He came across an archway pretending to be a wall. He could tell this was the place he was supposed to be. Considering it was between platforms nine and ten and the only bit of magic in an entirely mundane space. He shook his head at the absurdity of the situation before casually walking through the archway pretending to be a wall.

To say that the hogwarts express and its platform was underwhelming was an overstatement. The big red steam engine was a sight to behold for sure, if he was anyone else that was. He understood why this was necessary and what actual purpose of it held. It was a ploy, a con on the soon to be students to try and portray magic as something greater than it was. Well at least the magic the mortals had access to. No all this bravado and distraction was great and all but the true greatness of this place wasn't in the magnificent marvel of mundane and magical engineering the was the hogwarts express but in the construction and engineering of the platform itself.

Bahamut shifted his eyes into the higher spectrum and gazed around the platform. He knew it would give him a splitting headache, as spatial distortions and anomalies always did, but it was worth it. To see the magic bulge, bubble and distort the space around them to accommodate an entire train station into the area the size of a pillar was astounding. The way the magic anchored itself to the surrounding stone work, ancient words of power, binding and reinforcement was the true sight to behold. Something was off though. This place… these wards, anchors and runes were old, older than this place by a few centuries at least. Sure he could see the newer wards. They were very distinct from the older ones. The newer ones gave off a brighter tone than the old ones. The old ones still shined but with almost a dusty, dulled hued. Like the difference between old and new brass. just look for the petina, wards and old magics were just the same.

Bahamut was brought out of his thoughts as he was almost run over by a whole clan of red headed mortals. He glared at the brood mother of the clan though she didn't pay him any mind. He sighed, deciding that since his day, not to mention migraine, wasn't going to get any better. He might as well go find a cozy spot on the train. Preferably one with a warding against mortals and annoying spirits.

Xx

Sachaelle: thank you for the review.

A/n hello! Been a while, entirely my fault for the lack of updates. No excuses here. Also, shout out to the like fifty random people in india who follow my fic. I know that seems random but i thought that was interesting.