Authors Note:

Drem Yol Lok, dii braan joor. Hello, everyone. Ashtheking here once again, with the next update.

This chapter ended up pretty short as well, but you can consider it the continuation of the last chapter. Plus, this one had plenty of exposition, and had me looking up things on both the UESP and Harry Potter wikis for most of my day today, haha. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of J.K. Rowling, along with her publishers and Warner Bros., as regards the movie material. The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, and all things related to the Elder Scrolls universe belong to Bethesda Game Studios, and Bethesda Softworks. I do not, and will never own them. The character of Bjorn Stormhold, along with any others introduced later, however, is my intellectual property, and should not be used without my permission. Certain scenes in this story are from Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone. I trust the intelligence of my readers to recognize them when found.

Dialogue in my Story (may change later on, with accompanying AN):

"Spoken English / Otherwise-specified language."

Thoughts, in the person's native language.

[Parseltongue].

{Orcish}.

As always, please read, review, and recommend!


Faal Sen Voth Dovah Sos

When Harry awoke, the first thing he felt was the overwhelming Call that was the Song. He felt it thrum in his body, felt the souls of numerous dragons surrounding him, flailing in agony and pain.

It was rather unsurprising, then, that he flinched awake, bolting upright.

Bjorn caught him as he did so, staring him in the eyes. "Look at me, Harry. Su'um ahrk morah. Remember your training. Calm yourself, child."

Harry did as commanded, breathing in and out until the Song faded to a dull roar in his mind. He then spoke up, looking around, spotting the chained dragon on the other side of the cavern.

"What…..what is this, In? Explain this to me, please. I can feel them."

Bjorn sighed, and brought him over to a nearby wall, where they sat down. Turning to Griphook, he spoke up first. {My student requires instruction, Griphook. Give us a while.}

Griphook waved it off, an eyebrow raised in silent, appraising, judgment. {I understand a call of blood, Master Greybeard. We goblins are Malauch followers, like our Orsimer brethren. And if that blood runs with what I felt it hold, then I have no qualms with waiting. Just don't take too long.}

Bjorn nodded, and turned back to Harry, who was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. "Harry….I cannot hear the Lovaas as you do, cannot feel the call of the Dovah Sos. But I had spoken to the Grandmaster about this possibility, and so I will do my best to help you. Tell me what you feel."

And so, Harry did. He spoke about the pulses he felt as they descended, and how the Song had erupted after they passed the waterfall. How it sang with the rage of all the dovah he felt nearby, and their torture.

Bjorn listened, and didn't respond until he had finished. He then spoke. "First off, you've got a key fact wrong. Do you think a Dovah, a Son of Akatosh Himself, may His Light Guide Us, could be enchained and imprisoned like this? Well, actually, there is precedent, but that was a matter of honor, and the Dovahkiin herself. These are Wyvern, Harry. Lesser beings, imitations of the Sons of Akatosh, made by lesser hands. These are mortal souls, which live, grow, breed, and die. Look at it."

Bjorn pointed at the wyvern, who was straining itself on the other side of the cavern. "It has four legs, for one thing. The head, no, indeed, the entire skeletal structure, is different. The scales are composed differently if you analyze them, though it's no less weak. The bone structure is lighter, as well. And most importantly: they don't speak. Vankar faal Thu'um."

Harry responded, calming as his mentor explained things to him. "But…how does the Lovaas react, then? It's only ever responded to the Thu'um, like near the other Greybeards, or Master Paarthurnax."

Bjorn responded, smiling slightly. "They are imitation dragons, yes, but Akatosh does not forsake his mortal children. They are Nisaad¸ yes, but of Dovah Sos. That being said, the Song still shouldn't be that loud, not even with the amount of Wyverns I know Gringotts is rumored to have."

He turned to Griphook, and frowned. {I have always suspected….. Our older Masters never wish to come down here, and I doubted it was the cart ride. But the reactions of my Student….. You hold a shrine to Malauch here, do you not?}

Griphook looked startled, but then grinned, nodding in a feral manner. {We hold far more than a simple shrine, Master Greybeard. We host an entrance to the Pits themselves.}

Bjorn paled, but muttered softly under his breath. "By the gods, no wonder."

Turning to Harry, who watched with no small confusion evident on his face, not understanding Orcish, he spoke. "It's… let's just say that the Goblins, as followers of Malacath, hold a bit of… Daedric influence. Down here, it's a lot more concentrated. The Lovaas reacts to the et'Ada, and their chosen, if you remember. Just… don't explore."

Harry nodded, realizing there probably was more not being told, but recognizing that his mentor probably had a reason for not telling him.

Bjorn sighed, and gestured to Griphook. "If you would, please open the door."

Harry stood up, turning to look, but saw no door. He watched in minute confusion as Griphook walked towards the wall Harry had been leaning against, before placing the talisman against a small opening.

Griphook then placed a hand on either side of the talisman, and pushed. He then stepped back.

In varying stages of wonder, the three of them watched as the wall itself lit up, glowing blue lines tracing themselves from the talisman and expanding outward, spreading in various directions. Quite quickly, the pattern resolved itself into a stylized depiction of a dragon.

Griphook gestured with his hand, and the wall starting moving, splitting down a previously unnoticed seam down the middle of the image.

Bjorn and Harry walked closer to the wall, no, the door, as it opened, and Harry couldn't stop himself from gasping as he saw what was held inside.

Gold. Gold beyond counting. It stretched from wall to wall. Mounds upon mounds, the gold of untold years of age. This was the treasure of the Greybeards, the coffers of this most ancient institution. All manner of money filled this room, from millennia-old Septims to modern magical Galleons and mundane bullion.

Bjorn chuckled, and waved a hand around the room. "This is the money of the Greybeards, my student. Every Greybeard in our long history has used this money and added to it over the course of their lives, always increasing it. This is what allows us to seclude ourselves in High Hrothgar for lengths of time, how we come by the basic necessities required of life and living."

He then stepped forward, and swept a fair amount of galleons into a waiting bag. "Now, I'm showing you this for two reasons. First off, I needed to pick up some money for some Greybeard business. Second off, once you're of age, both magically and in the mundane world, you'll be expected to both use this for your own meditation studies in High Hrothgar, and to add to it via whatever job you obtain. I figured I might as well tell you now, though I will say that you shouldn't worry about it, haha. A galleon will last you a month or two, if it's just for food and drink."


The cart ride up met with no further affairs of note, and after saying their goodbyes to Griphook, the duo exited Gringotts.

"Where to now, In?" Harry asked, his hood once again up to avoid the inevitable crowds.

Bjorn pointed at a nearby shop. "Ollivanders, for your wand."

Entering, Harry found the place a quiet, calm place, compared to the boisterous energy that was Diagon Alley. He rather liked it, and found the interior reminiscent of Bjorn's study, which he spent a fair amount of time in.

An old man appeared from the back of the shop, with long reedy white hair, and pale eyes. He spoke upon seeing the two. "Ah. Bjorn Stormhold. It has been a while since I saw you last. Alder and Unicorn Hair, 7.4 inches, yes?"

Bjorn nodded, and held out his wand for the old man, quite obviously Ollivander, to examine. "Ah, good. You clean it regularly, I see."

Smiling, Bjorn tucked it away, responding with a gesture towards Harry. "Of course, Mr. Ollivander. Now, young Harry here requires a wand."

Harry walked forward, a bit puzzled. "In, I can do magic already, and don't enchanted items like staves and wands only cast one magic anyways?"

Bjorn chuckled, saying "Well, yes, and no. Staves, such as some of the ones I have in my practice room, do indeed only cast one spell. They're powered with soul gems, as you know. Actually, why don't you answer this yourself? I'll give you one more piece of info. Wands are different, they're channels and foci, not enchanted items."

Musing, the young wizard spoke tentatively. "Staves are powered by the magicka gathered by a soul before being ensnared within a gem, right? If you're saying that wands are foci…. Well, magic is simply the manipulation of magicka to affect the real world. Casting magic as the ancients did, and passed on in spell tomes, is usually raw and… large scale, I guess? So I'm assuming wands help for more… complex spells and stuff?"

Ollivander spoke up, looking rather impressed. "Indeed, young mister Potter. Though the usage of magic without wands hasn't been taught since my grandfather's time, and usually considered…unrefined, such as accidental magic. Tis usually the more… esoteric institutions, such as your own Greybeard Order, which still recognizes that it exists. Wizards today rely on wands for their magic, as is better."

Bjorn snorted, giving an amused look at the old shopkeeper. "You're a wand maker, Mr. Ollivander. Of course you'd think that. Sacrificing raw magicka manipulation for wands allows for focus, at a loss of power. And that's not even getting into the various schools of magic that have been lost to modern times."

The wand maker held his hands out in a "can you blame me?" manner, before clasping them together. "Now, Mister Potter, we have dallied enough. Let us find you a wand."


Exiting the shop, the duo looked rather put out for a little while.

"Is he usually this… detached?" Harry asked.

Bjorn nodded, before gesturing them to the next shop. "Indeed. I've found that Ollivander cares more for the abilities of a wand, not the morality of it. It's a bit disconcerting."

Harry nodded, and entered the shop, before realizing where they had gone. "A pet shop?"

"Yes. You need an owl, for correspondence if nothing else. Go, look for one. I… will find you at the exit." Bjorn nodded, waving him off.

So many owls, mused Harry, as he looked up and down the wall roosting them. Indeed, a veritable flock of variously colored and sized owls perched on roosts in the display, some taking short flights across the shop.

One caught his eye, a beautiful snowy white owl with intelligent yellow eyes. As soon as their eyes met, the owl in question flew down, landing on his extending arm, taking care not to pierce his skin with its talons.

"Hello there." Harry muttered softly, reaching out with his other hand to stroke it softly. "Would you like to come with me?" The owl barked a clear affirmative. Well, that was an easier endeavor than I thought.

He looked up at the nearby shopkeeper, who was attempting to maintain a semblance of order in the area. "I'll take this… actually," here Harry looked back down at the owl, "are you a boy or a girl?"

The owl looked vaguely offended.

"I'm sorry, I don't know how to differentiate avian gender at first glance!"

The owl hit him slightly with a wing, and barked twice.

"Erm, two… so second? A girl, then?"

The owl nodded once.

"Alright then. Sorry, girl. I should have guessed."

Harry looked back up at the shopkeeper, who looked fairly amused at the conversation.

"Yeah. How much for this beautiful owl here?"


Authors Note:

I think that anyone who tells an 11 year old about an entrance to a plane of Oblivion, much less the Ash Pits of Malacath, when he doesn't need to know beyond "stay clear", should be tossed through said entrance themselves.

And then some information about wands and how I meshed that together. Feel free to ask questions, I may or may not answer them in an author's note, or even in the story itself.


Vankar faal Thu'um – Lack the Thu'um / Dragon Speech.

Nisaad – Fake, the (rather derogatory) word for Wyverns / HP-universe dragons.


And like I said, some draconic. Not as much as I'd hoped, but chapters write themselves, you know. Bjorn and Harry tend not to go too deep into the Dovahren, it seems.

As always, please read, review, and recommend!