The most votes I have gotten by far are an Incubus and various types of Fey. The verdict is in and I've decided positively on the Gancanagh, which is essentially both. Now I need to think about the story premise, because a creature fic doesn't necessarily have to be about the creature part exclusively.
Last week I designed a personal layout of Malfoy Manor based on Hardwick Hall (the model used in the movies). I think Harry should spend a lot of time there in the next story. I may post the layout on my Deviantart account later on.
"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty," ~Robert Green Ingersoll
When Harry was a little boy, his aunt used to tell him fairy tales with her own twist to them to illustrate how bad magic was in the Dursley house and to try to scare him away from it. He hadn't thought about it in a while, but after his first attempt at obtaining a human form he lay in the hospital wing annoyingly reminded of The Little Mermaid. He had seen that frustratingly saccharine animated film once when he hid behind the sofa while Dudley had a girl over and convinced himself his aunt had changed the story's end to torment him, but it had surprisingly been one of those scary Victorian tales she hadn't had to alter.
They seemed to enjoy blackmailing children into behaving with promises of fear, pain, and eternal damnation in that era. It made him glad he'd been born when he was. Not that his upbringing had been much different, mind. Harry still couldn't get over wanting to sleep in a small space. If he wasn't in a four-poster with the curtains drawn then he had the blanket completely over his head. The Dursley's had trained him well. Open spaces made him feel vulnerable and even in this form he was sleeping in what his housemates were calling a 'pillow fort'.
Thanks to Hermione he had read all of those fairy tales over again before third year and had deduced two things; first, they were primarily bogeyman stories to scare children into behaving themselves in absolutely horrible ways and second, they should not have been considered children's stories in the first place. Sleeping Beauty was rife with a horrible feeling Harry clearly recalled as his little mind realized the Prince had his wicked way with her and she had actually had children while she was asleep. The Little Matchstick Girl had been the most depressing story he'd ever read and yet somehow it was supposed to be a happy ending. No way would he ever think of it like that; dead was dead and that was not a happy bloody story, especially when the main character couldn't have been more than seven. Princes were all entitled berks, Princesses wanted to kill anyone that tried to marry them (not that he could blame them with the available suitors), and every stepmother, king, goblin, witch, wizard, or elf was somehow evil and often trying to steal babies or murder children. Sometimes even their own.
He'd long since decided to tell his own kids the stupidly saccharine new versions until they were at least in their double digits, even if he had to rewrite the Wizarding ones himself. Though Harry had to admit he was still very fond of The White Snake. That one was okay.
And on The Little Mermaid; Harry now knew what it felt like to have his tail split and suffer excruciating pain while attempting to walk. Thanks to Malfoy's preparations he hadn't bled to death while reversing it, which was thankfully quite easy. The worst he had to deal with now was feeling weak due to blood loss and a persistent ringing in his ears after Pomfrey had screeched at Harry and Malfoy for over an hour about not attempting the change in the Hospital wing in the first place. He had to admit she had a point, but did she have to give him a headache about it?
Predictably; the instant Harry was injured Ron and Hermione showed up and they were suddenly friends again. This bewildered Malfoy enough that he was silent for most of the make-up chatter and Ron's customary exchange of sweets to wish him well.
His shock eventually wore off, though, and he spoke up at last. "I'm surprised you two aren't hexing me for endangering your precious savior," he drawled.
Ron actually snickered at him. "Still here, isn't he? I'm surprised you bothered to stem the bleeding, Malfoy. I wasn't actually convinced you didn't have some elaborate plot to kill Harry until now. And Hermione already told me she looked over the transformation notes and thought Harry ought to try it."
The bushy-haired girl in question had her hand over her mouth, politely trying to finish swallowing her pastry before speaking. She managed while Weasley finished his speech and said, "It wasn't any worse than splinching himself, and there was obviously medical attention ready beforehand. Besides, he told us about what happened in Myrtle's bathroom. I think he owed you one."
Malfoy's mouth hung open a moment before he started laughing. "You honestly think this qualifies? No, Granger. I'm going to make him pay for that one later."
"Don't be an arse, Malfoy." Harry crossed his arms while he flexed his tail experimentally. "I'll be glad to do whatever nasty task you have in mind in reparations for it. I'll never cast a spell again if I'm not sure precisely what it does, alright?"
"No. Not 'alright', Potter. I'm tempted to have you exterminate every Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest in penance." Malfoy snapped at him.
Ron beamed. "Really? That might work! You're a Naga, Harry. We know they hate snakes. One look at you coming and they might just run off!"
Hermione glared. "To where, Ron? If they leave the forest they might infest a populated area. Possibly a Muggle area."
"And then the Ministry would be forced to exterminate them," the redhead pointed out.
"How many people would they eat before that, Weasley?" Malfoy asked gravely. "Think before you speak."
Hermione turned to look at the blonde curiously. "Did you just defend Muggles?"
"Barely," he snorted, turning away with a slight flush.
By this point in the conversation Harry was able to stop and watch his friends interact with each other. For families that had been feuding for as long as anyone could remember, Ron and Malfoy were being surprisingly civil with one another for Harry's sake. Hermione and Malfoy were watching their tongues and not bringing up anything that might remind them of blood politics.
Harry was well aware that the primary prejudices in the Wizarding World were species and blood purity. Everything else fell by the wayside. In the last week or so he had noticed a few of the purist students cavorting with one another, and in lieu of being alone when someone of the opposite gender was unavailable, they would pair off with one of the same rather than accepting anyone less than half-blood.
It had never occurred to him before (mainly because he hadn't encountered the issue yet) that though same-gender couples were less common they were generally accepted in the wizarding world, and the reason was this; one had to pass on their blood since magic was mainly a genetic trait. One could marry one of their own gender and be as happy as they pleased, so long as they somehow reproduced. A Mistress, Consort, or willing surrogate always followed those couples, or in rarer cases they adopted several orphans with the gift of magic to compensate for having none of their own. This same rule seemed to apply to male/female couples with reproductive issues. No matter whom the fertile one was, or even if neither was, you had to obtain a child. As long as a couple had children and reared a witch or wizard for the family line the makeup of a family unit was mostly a moot point.
If Harry thought about Malfoy's situation like that with his obligation to produce children greatly enhanced given his genetics, the danger seemed far worse than he had previously believed. He wondered if it was only a waiting game to see who would go the furthest to get Malfoy's blood in their family. He already knew how badly the Slytherin was wanted - Harry had overheard Narcissa and the Headmistress discussing a petition at the Ministry they had been able to suppress at the last minute to arrange his marriage to multiple wives.
Which explained the sudden increase in male challengers. They must be trying every avenue to get Malfoy in the family that could be taken, and given his consistent refusal of every girl it made sense to see if his preferences lie somewhere else. Not that it helped them: Malfoy was as stubborn as ever. He simply had a larger number of defeated challengers when they stopped him to flirt.
This was getting dangerous.
The more Harry watched his new friend interact with his old ones the more he wanted to do anything he could about this whole mess. Perhaps it was time to start stalking the blonde again, Harry mused, despite knowing he wasn't up to anything.
Once Hermione and Ron had left, Harry and Malfoy stayed alone for a while in a comfortable silence. The tight feeling that had been in the room died away, and Harry could tell the conversation had been difficult for them.
"So, you won't try to be friends with them?" Harry asked.
"Merlin, no. Not everyone is as forgiving as you are; and I mean almost nobody is," Malfoy snorted. "Granger and Weasley and I can tolerate each other and be civil if we must, but we won't ever be friends. Not even for you, Potter."
Harry thought about that. "I guess that'll work."
"For the love of Magic, if you're going to follow me could you at least do it quietly?"
Sheepishly, Harry slunk out of the adjacent corridor he'd been using to follow Malfoy. "How did you even hear me?"
"I didn't. I guessed," Malfoy smirked at him. "I haven't been attacked all day and I figured someone was chasing off my overzealous suitors."
Harry smiled and shrugged at him. "Are you complaining?"
Malfoy snorted in answer. "Just don't make a habit of it. I am capable of defending myself."
"Well, I can sense some more of your 'overzealous suitors' ahead in the hall. Do you want me to chase them off?" Harry asked.
"No," he grinned. "You may want to hang back. I'm about to give you a dueling lesson, Potter."
As they approached the area Malfoy already had his wand drawn. Harry stayed out of the way and out of sight as he had been asked. His jaw clenched as he saw the blonde calmly approach the line of three blocking off the hall to bar Malfoy's way. Harry couldn't tell who they were.
Because they were wearing identical black, hooded robes.
Harry supposed he shouldn't be surprised purists would do something that nasty. They weren't Death Eater robes precisely, but they were close. The only vital piece missing were the masks. Even that, Harry knew, was to keep out of Azkaban if they were caught.
Everything began in a flurry of movement. The three took their places with a quick bow in Malfoy's direction to indicate their intent. The first approached and took their place across from Malfoy, and the duels began one by one. Harry had seen better dueling to be sure, but that had been quick battles by wizards far older and more experienced than either Malfoy or himself. It was showy and loud and above all else frantic and violent.
This, though, was marathon dueling on an artistic level. Malfoy had accepted the challenge knowing Harry was nearby to second him should he fall, though the challengers were thus far unaware of it, and was fighting as if he were putting on a show. No amount of fury hurled his way seemed to faze him in the slightest and he continued to flick his wand almost carelessly, subtly bringing his attackers to their defeat like one leads a beast to water to let them drink. The rest was left up to them, and fall they did once his little traps were sprung; letting them cast hexes that would either rebound or fail against his defenses, leaving them exhausted and unable to continue.
His first challenger lost after twelve well-planned exchanges that had been timed well enough to prove he knew who it was and had fought them before. Malfoy employed simple tactics and was mostly on defense until a careless opening allowed a swift disarming to get through. That challenger bowed tightly and went to retrieve his wand, which had been flung across the corridor and out of sight.
The second proved the same concept of fighting a known foe. Her voice was oddly familiar to Harry though he couldn't place her identity. She cast with wide and terrible swings of her wand so severe it looked to Harry like she was wielding a whip and was using the visualization of that very act to lash out at him with as much force as she could. It took a long time for Malfoy to defeat her. She was skilled and powerful and obviously angry, a dangerous combination, as well as clever enough to evade most of Malfoy's traps and manipulations. She did nothing as expected, using silly first-year jinxes one moment then switching to heavy and damaging spells that had not been taught in school at all. By the time Malfoy finally managed to rebound her last curse, which had hit her quite hard and left a small pool of blood where she had been, the blonde was visibly tired and sore.
Malfoy's eyes were bleak yet determined as the third strode forth. Theodore Nott threw back his hood and cast Malfoy a confident and sinister grin. He didn't bother to hold his wand high. His was the skill of subtlety and manipulation in the game of magic and duels, and Malfoy mimicked him. It was clear to Harry this duel would be both magnificent and frightening to behold, and he waited with a held breath for them to begin.
There was no signal, or cue, or even a visible sign that they had begun. Both wands pointed down and only slightly forward. No words were spoken. Not for a moment did their cerebral lock break.
Suddenly, with no indication of a casting Harry could discern, Malfoy began to sink into the stone of the corridor floor as if it were quicksand. The Slytherin did not panic. A few quick swipes of his wand and he cast levitation on himself until he rose out of it. Far enough to have time before hitting the floor, he dissipated the levitation and cast on the way down to restore the floor. Nott cast again, something Harry didn't recognize and which Malfoy dodged anyway. Once standing firmly on solid stone his eyes returned to Nott's. The entire exchange happened in the blink of an eye and Harry smiled as they regained their temporary stalemate like poker players waiting for a tell.
They were impressive.
It continued for nearly half an hour. That if nothing else proved they were of equal skill. Most duels ended in, at most, five minutes or so. If one was stronger or more clever it ended at the first opening. Malfoy and Nott were evenly matched, equally powerful and just as clever as their counterpart.
But Malfoy proved to be a bit more ruthless.
At some time in the exchanges, he had flung a candelabra off the wall and at Nott's forehead. The resulting head wound was superficial, but bled out into his eyes for the last minute or so. Being unable to see clearly proved Nott's undoing and he finally fell to a body-bind.
Clearly exhausted but pleased, Malfoy turned to smile at Harry.
At that moment the blonde's eyes went dark and closed as he was hit by a stunner. Behind him as he fell, Harry saw four hooded figures come out to gather him, and suddenly understood what was going on.
This latest attack hadn't ended with Malfoy winning and leaving like the last few had. They hadn't been punishing him for being uncooperative or trying to scare him into compliance. Once the three sacrificial duelists had been subdued and Malfoy was tired another group of purists had come out to take him away somewhere.
This was no longer about being persistent and childish about maintaining pure-blood ideals. It was about potential kidnapping and essential slavery. Malfoy was unlikely to cooperate and the only way Harry could think they would get what they wanted was to use Imperius, or potions and keep him like an animal rented out to stud.
To Harry, that was unacceptable on a level he wouldn't tolerate.
Quick as lightning he surged forward out of his hiding spot. His eyes flared and he gnashed his fanged mouth, curling his claws forward to attack.
"Leave him alone!"
