The Dragonmasters

by Naia

AU. Harry Potter disappeared! While the Wizarding world sink into war, Harry is thrown in a whole new world and left to fend for himself. He will have to prove himself worthy of bonding to the long thought dead Magical Dragons and becoming a Dragonmaster.

26. Out of Control

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you'll recognize!

A/N: Here it is, as promised

Thanks to all the reviewers, and to Liendal for betaing for me… (I'll post the beta version one I'll receive it)

Now enough rambling… On with the story

Naia

Chapter Twenty-five: Out of control

Sarwin's body was sent back to his family through a portal the next day and after this, the masters kept their distance with Harry who remained unseen for days. Nerthor and Lienhor were seen more and more often in the Library, helping with the researches, but no more could be said on their thoughts.

The raids intensified and soon a pattern appeared.

The Death Eaters were most of the time separated into groups of four with two younger and less proefficient than the usual servants of Voldemort. The younger ones were wearing black ribes, but theirs were lined with green and their mask were black. A serpent was drawn in their back.

They attacked small communities which were less protected than bigger towns, being less probable targets… What was more peculiar was that most of the time, they refrained from their usual killings. But everytimes, they kidnapped people: young adults between eighteen and twenty-eight, living alone, male or female.

Harry and Teneb had been allowed to join the fight after a stormy discussion with the Order's council. Quite a few of them had been adamant about not letting children fight with them. But in the end, Harry got what he wanted. The death of Sarwin weighted heavily on his conscious and he didn't want something like this happening again, the Order be damned.

Since then, he spent his days honing his skills, researching new hexes, charms, enchantments that could be useful, helped by Teneb. All in all, he kept himself busy: he trained, worked, researched and went to his session with Snape three times a week.

The first times were akward, but they quickly fell back into their old routine, none of them mentionning what had transpired during their first meeting. Harry too happy that Snape had no intention of talking about it, and the Potion professor, prefering to avoid this matter all together to preserve the picture he had of Harry and assuming the boy had found someone better than him to talk to.

They went to stop a raid at least once a week, but most of the time, there was little they could do upon arriving. The Death Eaters left as soon as they saw them, taking their victims with them. Their bodies were usually found days later. They had not managed to find the cause behind those raids. But some of them were conducted with the sole aim of inflicting as much damage as possible. Harry had come to hate those: they usually were targeting muggle towns and left no survivors behind them.

Three of those had already taken place and he had been involved in the last one. What had been noted was that no trainee were among the Death Eaters on those occasion.

Thorough the Muggle world, anti magic groups were rising. Their members would attack at the first sign of magic, be it offensive or not. In Muggle minds, Magic was rapidly becoming associated with massacre. Nonetheless, they managed to inflict some damages to the Death Eaters. Bullets, bombs, booby traps could kill a wizard as easily as a muggle, but this advantage was short lived since the Death Eaters managed to find a type of shield to repel the bullets and to adapt a charm to detect bombs. But had the Death Eaters not learnt to hide their presence and their hideouts, the Muggle might have managed to get the upper hand.

The various governments were forming alliances to try to present a united front to the Dark Lord. A special office had been created to coordinate Muggle and Wizard actions. Said office had been targeted four times and was now just a decoy. The real office had been set underground as most of the muggle resistance installations. Hidden lift would led to those buildings. But even if you managed to reach the lift, you still would have to pass several check points: finger prints, blood sampling, eye print, vocal check… Only people keyed in the system could access these places. Safeguards to prevent magical disruption had been set up. There, teams organised the hiding of muggle towns, the evacuation of designated areas if their spies brought news of a scheduled attack. Others were creating new devices for fighting, spying, protection. They combined muggle and wizarding knowledge to make them as efficient as possible. The Weasley Twins had been working with one of those teams, putting their minds to this task.

On the other hands, except from the information their few spies managed to bring back, they were nearly blind as to Voldemort's plans.

Harry had tried to use his link with the Dark Lord, but the wizard seemed to have managed to close it, something he had been trying to do since Harry had manipulated his magic.

No matter how detrimental it was to their cause, Harry couldn't say he missed those visions. He had however tried to see if he could recreate it, but doing so would mean dive in Voldemort's mind, something which would be quite nefarious to his health…

Today he had been sent, along with Patrick, a sixth year Gryffindor , Steffie, a fifth year Hufflepuff, Klaus, a Durmstrang seventh year, Henry, a seventh year Slytherin, Julia, a former Beaubâtons sixth year, and Greg, a Ravenclaw graduate to go help a group of Order member to bring back Potions ingredients and some other furniture needed from Hogsmead. Teneb had remained at the castle, having to look over several reports for Celen as well as examine several projects of future laws.

The Wizarding town was protected by layers and layers of wards, but despite these protections, quite a lot of shops had closed and several families left.

They quickly gathered what they needed, they started on their way back. The wards prevented the use of Apparition or magical carriages. Portkeys were to be used as a last resort, so they get got ready for a forty minutes walk, shrinking their pursages.

They had barely been walking for a few minutes, when Harry felt a cold feeling seep through his body, a sensation he knew too well.

Dementors.

Cursing, he whirled on his heel and was about to hurry back to Hogsmead when an order member stopped him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Dementors are here, they're going to attack Hogsmead! Can't you feel them?!"

The man, Danny Warren if Harry remembered well, frowned.

"What are you talking about? Dementors couldn't step that close to Hogsmead without trigerring the wards…"

At this moment a shrill sound was heard.

Harry snarled as he shook off the man's grasp.

"Happy now? What about going back to help?"

Danny's face was sombre.

"Listen, you kids take this portkey back to the castle and warn Dumbledore, we're going to try to hold them back as long as possible… The keyword is lemon drops"

The five other adults nodded and Danny gave Harry a plastic bag..

Harry took the portkey and looked at the others. They sported grim and sullen faces. He then realized that he wasn't the only one feeling useless. They were trained to fight, but never got the chance to prove their worth… He handed the portkey to Steffie.

"You know what to do Steffie. Dumbledore's password is Bounty, tell him or any professor you see to send help as soon as possible."

The young girl was solemn as she took the portkey, whispering the activating word and disappearing before the adults could voice their disagreement.

"What did you do Potter!" shouted Danny.

Harry faced the angry wizard calmly.

"She was the only kid present. I obeyed your order, nothing less."

The wizard reddened.

"I was speaking of all of you, you idiot!"

Harry glanced at his companions, they each wore stony faces, but he could see a glint of pride at being able to fight for once.

"Kids were never meant to learn to fight," he replied before taking out his wand and jogging towards Hogsmead, ignoring Danny's cries to come back.

He kept a slow pace and a few seconds later, Patrick was at his side, then Klaus, Greg, Henry and Julia. All of them were members of the Junior Order and had been trained for this. In Harry's mind, they deserved to fight.

They irrupted in the village to find dozen of hooded figure floating around, drawing screams from the inhabitants who tried to flee to the safety of their houses. From the bodies laying on the grounds, they had already lost too much time.

With a whispered "Expecto Patronum", the usual silver stag shot from his wand and charged the closest Dementor, Harry fuelled his Patronus with more power and soon the misty creature took a white glow. As it charged another dementor, instead of pushing it away, its antler pierced through the creature, drawing a chilling scream from it. The Dementor dissolved into thin air and only his robe was left behind as Harry's Patronus attacked a new one. A Cerberus, a winged serpent, and a bull joined the stag, followed by a wolf, a samourai and a Whomping Willow. New Patronus from the Hogsmead residents joined the fray and soon the Dementors were driven away.

But it seemed that the Dementors had only been the first wave.

As they fleed, slight tremors were felt from the grounds.

"TROLLS!"

This cry spread panic through those fighting as Gigantic trolls armed with massive spiked clubs made their way towards them.

Taking in the size of those monsters, Harry was reminded of the one he, Ron and Hermione had defeated, back in his first year… either it had been a baby, or those were a different species.

Hexes started to fly, but none of them seemed to affect them. They grew more and more offensive and destructive as the trolls came closer. After seeing a particular dangerous cutting hex and a blinding one fail again, Harry unsheathed his sword.

WHAT do you THINK you are doing?

Not now, Arxeren, replied Harry, eyeing the beast, wincing as he sent a man flying, hitting it with his club. The body hit a wall with a sickly crush and the man remained on the ground, not moving.

Sorry about this, but you don't go attacking five-meter high trolls with a meter long sword!

Do you have something better to propose?

There was a moment of silence.

Aim for the junction between the neck and the shoulder, their skin is less thick there and put a piercing charm on your blade as well as fuel your power stone.

Harry nodded.

Thank you Arxeren.

Just be careful with the two Chimera and the Quintaped.

Harry whirled on his heels and sure the three beast were rampaging through the town. He turned to Patrick.

"Cover my back."

Then he lunged at the closest troll, something which would have been deemed crazy by any sane person.
He saw the club coming his way. The trolls might be stupid, but nobody could say they didn't know how to aim.

The weapon was massive, carved into wood with metal spikes placed around it, making it even deadlier than before.

Thanking Arxeren for his drills, Harry cast a dulling charm on the spikes and gathered his strength. Timing himself, he jumped and grabbed one of the spike, hauling himself onto the club.

The troll seemed to sense his presence and started to shake his weapon. Using the spikes as a scale, Harry climbed up, then using the momentum from the shaking, jumped on the beast's shoulder.

Once there, he whispered an activating word in Parseltongue and two blades shot from his heels. Digging them in the troll's shoulder he raised his blade and rammed it up to the base of the neck.

Even if the skin was thinner and the blade magically enhanced, he had to stricke three times before feeling his sword dig in the troll's flesh, he pushed it as far as possible, ignoring the painful cries of the beast, the foul scent, the black sticky blood flowing from the wounds.

The Troll stumbled twice, then fell on the ground. Harry jumped off and looked at the massive body shook by a labored breathing broken by painful howls. Closing his eyes, he sent more power in his sword and brought it down as strong as possible. The sound of crushing bones seemed to echoed in his ears as the howls died down.

With a last thought for the deceased creature, he ran towards another one, fuelling even more power into the blade.

He slashed at the troll's leg, cutting it slightly at the tendon, then took one of the darts he always kept, hidden in his belt. This one was a black color stripped with green, the same green than the Avada Kedavra, something Harry found fitting, after all, those darts were coated with one of the deadlier poison he had ever learnt. Careful not to sting himself, he shoved the small thing into the wound and stepped backward, running to a group cornered by two trolls against a wall. He barely aknowledge the loud thud of the fallen troll as poison took over him, shutting his body functions down one by one.

He cast a strong flesh-eating curse, hitting the troll in the middle of the back. A hole the size of a pin head appeared on the greenish skin, getting bigger and bigger and a reducto in the second troll's eye, as he turned a bit to see what had happened to his companions.

He heard shouts behind him and stepped aside, knowing that reinforcements had come, they would take care of those two.

Harry! The Chimera!

Whirling on his heels, he barely ducked the pouncing creature.

The other one was trotting towards its companion, both of them covered in red blodd, pieces of flesh stuck in their jaws.

Not pondering on the origins of said flesh, Harry raised his sword and cleared his mind. He started to center himself, powering his sword at the same time.

The chimeras paced in front of him as he concentrated on the two creatures, occulting everything else, following their every movements.

They stopped pacing and crouched. He fell into a defensive stance, waiting for their move.

With a snarl the two beast attacked.

No matter how hard harry would try, he would never recall what happened next. Everything was a blur of steel, fur, claws, jaws, hooves, pain, howls and blood.

He came back to reality after a while and found himself standing, covered in a dark red blood, deep gashes running down his arms, a bite at his leg which sent up a throbbing pain.

His sword was lowered to the ground, he had somehow taken to handle it with one hand at some point in the fight since he held his dagger in the other hand. Both blades were stained with blood and other liquids. On his side rested the bodies of the chimeras.

He nearly retched at the sight of the mutilated creatures.

He looked around and met the gaze of the other fighters, Klaus, Greg, Julia and Patrick.

All of them were starring at him, something akin to fear shining in their eyes for most of them. He took a few steps towards his peers, but stopped as they couldn't refrained from backing away from him. His eyes widened, as he tried to shake this thought.

They were afraid of him? He looked in their eyes. Yes, they were scared of him, he could see it in them, they looked at him as he had seen Muggle looking at Death Eaters at the beginning of the war: They didn't know what they were, but they knew to fear them and stay away.

He muttered a cleaning charm, making the blood disappeared from the blades to prevent them from rusting. He turned away and ran out of their sight, the picture of their fearful faces printed in his mind.

As soon as possible, he used his Elemental abilities to appear on the edge of the Forbiden Forest. He sped through the hall and up the stairs. Later he would wonder how he managed not to break his neck, but then he was not thinking.

How could they be afraid of him?! He had vowed to defend them with his life, he had sacrified everything to protect them, he had killed for them. Sure it was trolls, but he had killed! Didn't that count for something?!

He went straight to Teneb's room.

On his way, he brushed past Hermione and Ron, not seeing them as he tried to reign his emotions. He did not notice them sharing a glance then following him.

Once he reached his blood brother's rooms he had worked himself up and was seething. He snarled the password, opening the door wide and stormed inside.

Teneb was sitting at his desk, examining maps and reports he had received the day before from Horevald. He was trying to find a solution to one of the countless problems Celen was encountering when he heard his door opening. Since only Harry knew his password, he didn't look up, muttering a greeting.

The sound of repressed sobs got his attention however.

"Harry?"

He got up and left his office, going into the living room. There, he was met with a bloody Harry kneeling on his floor.

His blood brother was distraught, that much he could feel through their link. He had closed it for his work to help him concentrate on his task.

Crouching next to him, he hauled him to his feet and helped him to the couch, not caring about the bloodied traces they left on the carpets and floor

Slowly, he managed to piece the story together and it left him boiling as Harry cried himself to sleep, slumped on his shoulder as he soothed him, running his hand in his hair, like his mother did every time he was upset….

Once he was sure Harry was sleeping, he cast a cleaning charm on him, getting rid of the blood and other things covering him, transfigured his clothes into pyjamas and carried him to bed, as he often did for his little sister, Delia.

He went back to the living room, to clean the mess he had left. It would also calm him down before he went to the Headmaster to say a few chosen words to him.

As he stepped in the room, he saw that Ron and Hermione were sitting in chairs they had probably conjured.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped. He was NOT in the mood to deal with them at the moment.

Ron glared at him while Hermione just raised her eyebrow.

"Are you deaf?"

"Are you together?" Ron blurted, cutting Teneb.

The question shocked him so much, he choked.

"What?!"

Ron crossed his arms.

"Are you together?" he repeated, articulating every words.

"Who? Harry and me?" the young elf asked, disbelievingly. "What made you come up with something that stupid!"

The red-head's cheeks colored hotly.

"I don't know! Maybe the fact you're always with him and that he hardly spend time with us. And when he does it's always Teneb this, Teneb that! He's always speaking of you and how great you are! And then we saw you a few minutes ago! You were groping him! And you carried him to your room!"

Ron took a deep breath.

"We want to know what's going on, Teneb. You have to admit the situation between Harry and you is a bit peculiar for two males, unless they are involved with each other…" said Hermione

Teneb couldn't refrained from laughing. The tought was so… unbelievable! This however didn't go well with Ron.

"I don't see what is funny!"

"It's just… the very idea is so… so…!" choked the elf.

Hermione's face remained closed.

"How did you come up with this, anyway," he asked, once he had managed to calm down a bit.

Ron frowned.

"You're always together, hugging, looking at each other! He always comes to you when he is upset, or he needs comfort. I know he even sleeps in your room sometimes!"

"And so?"

"What Ron means Teneb," cut Hermione, "is that people behaving like this are most of the time involved with each other. You seem too close for friendship, so it only leaves you being lovers."

Teneb rolled his eyes.

"Really… then listen carefully." His voice got more serious. "Harry is a brother to me, and will never be more than this."

"Don't be ridiculous! I have brothers and we never behaved like this!"

"Shut up! Elves are naturally prone to being extremely affective towards their family. It's in our nature. We have so few children than each of them are cherished and should a brother or sister be born, his or her elder will literally spoil him or her rotten!"

Hermione seemed pensieve.

"But Harry is not an elf."

"Good, how observant of you. Of course he isn't! But I'm starting to wonder how close you were to him, if you can't see why he would respond like this."

The young girl was thoughtful for a few seconds, then a dawning look of comprehension spread on her face.

"The Dursleys," she whispered, Teneb's nod confirming her suspicions. "Yes, it would explain this…" she looked up straight in his eyes. "My apologies for our assumptions, Teneb, we'll leave you now…"

She stood up, leaning on the cane Mrs. Pomfrey had forced her to use. She had nearly restored her magical levels, but was still very easily drained. The cane offered her a support and also a small power boost when it was needed.

Out of Harry's too friend, Teneb preferred her to Ron. The young man was too quick to jump to conclusions or to accuse for his taste and even if he regretted his actions afterwards, it was not enough. He managed to control himself most of the time, but in times of stress his apparent calmness would be washed away by his fiery temper.

He escorted them to the door.
"Just one thing," he said suddenly. "Help him tomorrow. He still needs you, more than he realizes it."

He said no more as he closed the door behind them, locking it.

With a sigh, he went back to his office and gathered his papers back in a large box filled with files, parchments and papers. His eyes lingered on a particular report from Celen. Something was going on in Meyan. Demands like those the High Duke had made were disproportionnate, compared to the community living there. Moreover, the sending of four power stones there would require more reasons than shadowy explantions of an unknown, unseen threat…

He sealed the box and placed it back in a large drawer, locking it strongly. Once this was done, he went to check on Harry again and found him resting. Turning, he closed the door soundlessly and left his quarters, marching quickly to the headmaster's office.

With a wave of his hand, the gargoyle sprung aside. He was not in the mood for mind games, not when his blood brother had been hurt. Finding the office empty, he tried to guess where to find Dumbledore… His eyes falling on a bird perch, he smiled slightly, before unleashing his Elemental power and disappearing, blowing all the papers on the desk at the same time without any remorse.

He reappeared outside the Order of the Phoenix meeting room, under the school. His arrival had gone unnoticed to all of those present and he was able to listen to the talks going on.

"… gruesome! He slaughtered them!"

"He didn't show anything, it was as he didn't feel anything, as if he was elsewhere as he sliced through their bodies."

"That's true, I've never seen a more disgusting killing. They were cut open alive!"

Someone said something else Teneb couldn't catch.

"Maybe, but he had no problem killing them. It didn't seem to matter to him. What can we expect next?!"

There were some undinstinct mumbling.

"I'm telling you, the boy is turning Dark!"

This seemed to send the room into an uproar.

Teneb chose to step in then, before the situation went out of hand.

He was met with a small chaos. People were standing, shouting, others were shaking their heads, arguing loudly. Others were shaking their fists in the air. Some were trying to appease everyone and break the fights that had started, with little if no success.

He remained standing in the door, waiting to be noticed when he caught the headmaster's eyes. The man was looking old and weary as he watched the Order fall in shambles.

"Teneb?" The young elf managed to hear his name through the noise. "What are you doing here? Did something happen?..."

People then started to see him and the room fell slowly silent.

"Headmaster." His tone was cold. "I wanted to ask what type of people were part of your fighting forces, but this answers my question…" he took a few steps in the room, keeping an eye on everyone.

The aged wizard frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Teneb felt his features shift in a condescending mask.

"Well, I was wondering what kind of soldiers your men were, if they could not stomach the sight of spilled blood and killing without thinking the one handling the sword Dark."

He raised his hand.

"I don't care about what you have to say. Harry did what he had to do, something none of you did, and no one can fault him for that, nor bad-mouth him in his back."

"He slaughtered them! He murdered those beasts!"

Teneb's cold blue eyes fell on Danny Warren.

"And what would have you done in his place? Cuddled with them?" he asked with scorn, his voice deceiptively calm.

The man reddened and looked down for a few seconds, then up again.

"Subdued them, trapped them..."

Teneb eyed him scornfully.

"When you'll find a way to subdue rampaging chimeras without being killed in the process, tell me. I'll be interested to learn how do it."

His gaze swept the room, lingering a bit more on a few faces.

"Hear me now. Should Harry come to me once more in the state I found him today because of your thoughtless actions, we'll leave you to your fate and he'll come with me."

"Harry would never desert us!" cried a red-head woman.

Teneb shrugged.

"Keep on going like this and he will do so eagerly."

"The elves won't accept him back," said Dumbledore, his arms crossed on his chest, the twinkle in his eyes dimmed to a small spark.

"My family will, make no mistake of that," replied Teneb.

The Headmaster nodded slowly.

"Very well, if we both agree, I'll leave you to your discussions. Have a good evening." And with that the young elf disappeared back to his rooms where Harry was still sleeping. Changing, Teneb then transfigured his couch in a comfortable bed and fell in a deep slumber

ooooooooooooooooo

Harry had been having a nice dream for once: he was flying through clouds of sweets and chocolate… Childish maybe, but good…. However when one of the clouds transformed into an Arxeren look-alike, he knew he wasn't he dreamland anymore….

Mature, Harry, Very mature.

No one forced you to watch.

Teneb should be here soon, meet in the plane.

The guardian vanished and Harry was back among clouds of sweets…

Grumbling about how much it would cost the guardian to say please for once, he focused, and found himself on the plane.

For once the plane looked a bit… sombre. A table covered with papers and two chairs waited for him. A soft whisper of wind alerted him of Teneb's arrival.

What's the matter? I was sleeping….

Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, Teneb, cut Arxeren, But Kalia and I received an urgent call from Demenor's guardian tonight.

The elf frowned.

I thought you kept the contact between guardians at a minimum…

The Emnag guardian nodded her reptilian head.

We do, so you can measure how much dire the situation should be to have this happenning.

Both the Athars nodded.

Teneb, you need to go back to Horevald tomorrow morning, as soon as possible. Things are not going well for Celen and Valera.

It's about the situation in Meyan?
Partly, but it's even more serious than this.

Harry turned to Teneb.

Meyan?

Teneb shook his head.

I can't believe you didn't even got a geography lessons of our world. He paused, gathering his thoughts and suddenly a picture of the Earth appeared in front of them. After the Parting, four main lands were created for us: Arthania, where Horevald was built: the biggest of the four lands, you called it Atlantis in your old legends, Meyan, or Xanadu for humans, Ynris or Avalon and finally a group of three smaller islands: Jya, Keis and Lyn, forming a triangle. Each lands, except Arthania is ruled by a High Duke who represent the Royals and answer only to them.

Harry looked at the map, a bit overwhelmed at seeing large red blipping points showing the location of the different lands.

I'll explain it to him later, interrupted Arxeren. You need to get ready Teneb. On the table are what you need to know and pack. Don't waste time.

With that said, the guardian disappeared.

Teneb rushed to the table and started to rummaged through the papers, skipping over them, occasionally cursing lowly.

Harry imitated him, though at a slower pace.

From what he could gather, Teneb's fears for the past weeks were becoming true. The High Duke of Meyan, someone called Gerian, had been gathering allies and set up a force to be reckoned with. He had been getting more and more hostile to Valera: often opposing her or offering more or less polite refusals to some of her demands, ignoring her messages or orders… Yesterday every contact had been severed between Meyan and Horevald. Celen thought the situation dire enough to ask for the return of one of the Athars. Teneb was the logical choice as Harry's return would only fuel the problems.

He put the papers back on the table and with a thought, make everything disappear. With a loud sigh of weariness, he turned to Harry who was starring blankly in the swirling greyness surrounding them.

Do you think we'll get out of this, Harry?

The young wizard shook his head.

I don't know, but no matter what happen, we'll face it.

Together?

Teneb handed him his forearm.

Together. repeated Harry, clasping his own forearm with Teneb's.

With that they parted, and Harry was once again sucked into dreamland, but no longer was he flying. He dreamt of clashing swords, roaring fires and shadowy figures roaming the earth, spreading destruction around them.

He woke up earlier than usual, drenched in sweat and panting from his dreams. As he tried to catch his breath, memory of last night's events came back to his mind and he shot out of bed, taking minutes to shower and get dressed. He found Teneb in the living room, putting the final touch to his packing, organizing his papers.

"You're leaving."

Teneb looked up, his eyes sad.

"I am needed there. And I'm starting to think that should things turn to the worse, you'll be called back too."

Harry frowned at this but chose not to ask about it.

"When?"

"As soon as Gae arrive…" said the elf, closing his last bag before shrunking it.

They stayed silent after that, going through their morning training as usual, then going to breakfast, staying close to each other, enjoying each other's presence as long as they can.

Breakfast was barely finished when they both felt the surge of energy announcing the arrival of their bonded, as well as the tingling of their bond. They both stood up and walked to the Quidditch pitch, aware that they were followed.

They found Rexeran and Gae waiting there and quickly headed to their respective dragons, both basking in the acceptance and love from the two creatures. Harry buried his head against the scaly neck of Rexeran, realizing how much he had inconsciouly missed the mighty beast.

I'm sorry I could not be there for you, Astyan. We went to the dragons of your world. They are like children but they are starting to learn and our visit was not in vain.

"I just wish we could share what normal riders share."

Rexeran turned his rainbow eyes towards Harry, meeting his own green ones.

We do share the same bond they have, we're even linked to a deeper level, but we'll never be allowed to act like they do… This is our fate, Astyan, like it always was… I will remain with you for as long as I'll be able to, to teach you the ways of the Dragonmasters, but there'll come a time when I'll have to leave you once more.

"Couldn't I follow you?"

Rexeran's look seemed to pierce him.

No… for now, no powers could allow you to walk the lands where my race rules, but who knows?...

Harry nodded, accepting his words, trusting the dragon to tell him the truth. He turned as a hand fell on his shoulder.

Teneb stood in front of him, dressed in full Athar's garb, his mark shining. With a wave of his hand, he stood dressed alike.

None of those watching could miss the similiraties between then, both in appearance and mannierisms.

They clapsed their arms together.

"Ilan ory sianter," whispered Teneb.

"Ilan ory saroll," replied Harry, letting the words of his old pledge roll from his tongue.

"Desen hela athia"

"Lith tarx jomi"

They shared a smile.

"Good luck, brother," finally said Harry, withdrawing his arm. "Be safe"

"Good luck to you too, brother."

Gae and Rexeran watched this attentively.

History had a knack for repeating itself. They had been right, they knew it, now, but they just hoped that for once the story would find another end.

ooooooooooooooooo

Moments later, he stood, leaning on Rexeran, watching the sky. Teneb had left.

But you're not alone, Astyan

"I'm not."

Harry sensed people coming, but he didn't turn, keeping on caressing Rexeran's scales.

"He's gone," stated on of the newcomers.

It was Ron's voice and Harry was a bit bewildered to sense some relief in his old friend's voice.

"He is."

He turned and faced Ron and Hermione. He could feel two more person here, hidden under invisibility charms, plus one other listening from the forest.

"Will he come back?"

"He might."

"Alright."

Harry could not miss the slightly dejected note present in this word.

"Is there a problem, Ron?"

The red-head looked about to say something, but bit back whatever he had been about to say.

"Nothing really important, Harry."

He's jealous, Astyan, that could be a danger…

Rexeran's mental voice echoed in Harry's mind.

What would he be jealous about?

That I don't know…

"We should go back to the castle," said Hermione, growing uncomfortable in the silence.

"Alright, go ahead, I'd like to spend some time with Rexeran."

They nodded and left towards the school's doors. Harry hopped on Rexeran's back and both of them sprang in the air, reveling in the completeness of their bond.

I'll bring you somewhere where you'll be able to learn a part of our history and ways, something you would normally learn during your second year of training,

Harry sent his agreement througth their link and seconds later, they disappeared from the sight of those still watching.

Harry was not seen at all that day, spending all his time with Rexeran in a strange place he would not be able to remember anything except the power surrouding him like a cloak. There he listened as Rexeran spoke of past days, of the link that bonded them, of its powers.

He returned to the school late at night and went straight to his rooms, exhausted, though he didn't understand why, having not done anything exerting.

He went to sleep quickly and did not woke until the dawn. Going to the chamber for his morning training, he felt the absence of Teneb as he went through his usual routine alone.

A week passed like this and as he entered his rooms after a particular gruesome session with Snape, he stopped dead in his track upon seeing who was waiting for him.

"Sirius?"

ooooooooooooooooo

Draco Malfoy was sitting in the window sill, watching as the sun started to rise, annoucing the beginning of another day. He had come to hate this moment since it meant another day to go through. He didn't want the sun to rise, but no matter how much he wished it, the sun would pierce through the mist surrounding the Dark fortress and another day would start. He gave a look to his calendar. Only a bit more than one week and he would be back at Hogwarts. But he knew that it was too late for him; he should not have come, should have stayed within the castle walls, even if it meant risking the wrath of his Lord and his father… Had he done so, he would not be sitting every morning there, whishing the sun not to rise.
A sharp knock was heard and with a sigh, he got up and started to ready himself for the day's trials. As the summer was coming to an end, the final test was nearing… He showered and dressed as fitted for his status: black pants, a black shirt with silver runes embroidered on the collar and black war-robes with the silver and green winged serpent, showing to all those looking at it that he was one of those chosen by the Lord to be one of His Children, one of His serpents.

He fingered the collar which had been placed on him the night the Dark Lord had made his choice among his followers' children.

It seemed so long ago that he had been brought within the Dark Lord's presence…. So long…

ooooooooooooooooo

He had been ushered to his room where he had found an outfit laid on his bed. Black, black and more black. He didn't like wearing so much black…. With his complexion and fair hair, it made him look like an aristocratic vampire: he didn't mind it too much, but it got annoying.

Knowing better than to voice his thoughts on the matter, he quickly changed and waited for his father or a servant to come and tell him to go down.

Five minutes later, he was called downstairs and they left the manor on foot. His father was wearing his Death-Eaters robes, but no mask and his mother was wearing a black gown. The cut and the little serpent placed on her right breast showed her to be a Death Eater's wife, though not a servant of the Dark Lord.

Once they got outside of the wards surrounding Malfoy Manor, they got ready to apparate.

Draco sent a last look to his house, not knowing when he would see it again.

They landed in a dark hall. Other people were already here, waiting and talking in hushed whispers. He recognized Marcus Flint's huge frame. Two girls and their parents were talking together in a corner. Vincent, Gregory, Milicent and Pansy were huddled together. As Draco surveyed those present, he noticed that most of them were still at Hogwarts. Only a fifth of them seemed to be over seventeen years old; the others' age ranking from thirteen to seventeen. All the houses where represented, even Gryffondor, a fact which surprised the young Slytherin.

He remained at his parents' side, careful not to show any feelings.

After what seems like hours, the room was crowded and Draco had troubles not showing his annoyance at being kept waiting like a nobody… Malfoy never waited for anything… Finally a small echoed in the room and a house elf appeared.

"The Master asks for your presence…"

The creature was trembling with fear, dressed in a black uniform with the dark mark printed on the front and back. It disappeared as soon as it had delivered its message.

The whispers intensified as doors Draco had not even noticed opened. Walking out in an orderly fashion, the Death Eaters guided their children in the main Hall, the place used for most meetings by the Dark Lord.

The hall was bathed by a dim light, making it look sinister. Voldemort was sitting on his throne, Nagini curled on the grounds, her head resting at his feet, tail moving from time to time. He was dressed in Dark green robes with the Slytherin crest embroidered on his right breast and small serpents coiled ornating the hems and collar of the outfit. Besides his red eyes, he had recovered a human appearance: tall and slender with long black hair, an aristocratic set of features. He exuded power, charisma, intelligence; but a crazy glint hadn't left his eyes for those who had known him for the longest time. Two men were hiding in the shadows behind him, waiting for his command.

He stood up and every Death Eaters fell on one knee, bowing their heads, leaving only the children standing, looking around, not sure about what to do: Should they remain standing or bow like their parents?

Draco, remembering a talk he had with his father a few days before leaving at Easter, locked eyes with the Dark lord, bowed his head, ankowledging the very man he had been raised to serve and then kneeled like the Death Eaters. Keeping his head down, he heard the sounds of clothes moving and knew others had followed his example.

After a few minutes, during which Draco had a hard time reining his urge to raise his head and not moving, as the pain in his knee got worse from staying in a position that uncomfortable, he heard the Dark Lord stand up.

"Rise my faithful."

As one, everyone got up.

"So you complied to my request and brought me your children… They will be rewarded for your fidelity, as will you, should they be chosen to be part of my Children, my Serpents."

He looked past his shoulder.

"Jan, Nathael, bring the crystal and cast the spells," he ordered.

The two men bowed and walked to a small altar, uncovering a large stone, filled with a blood red swirling liquid substance a little over the half.

"Death Eaters, bring your children forth as you are called."

Then started a long listing of names: The parents would drag their progeny before the two men who would whisper a few words. Most of the time the stone remained inert, but in a few occasion, the liquid glowed and a deep hum was heard.

Every time this happened, the child was sent to Voldemort's side.

When Draco was called, twelve had already been chosen, Marcus being one of them. His head held high, he walked in what he hoped looked like a confident stance to those Voldemort had called Jan and Nathael.

Despite being close to them he couldn't hear what enchantment they cast. He fel something probe harshly in his mind and in his body, discarding his barrier, piercing his magic. He forced himself to remain upright and not shudder as the invasion continued. Looking straight at the stone, he saw the liquid swirl in a hypnotising like manner. His heart nearly broke when he saw it glow and heard the hum. Looking at his father, he saw the satisfied look on his face and couldn't repress a pang of sadness. He was handed over to someone the Wizarding world reguarded as a maniac and all his father could do was smiling? He shifted his gaze to his mother.

Narcissa Malfoy had never been an affective and demonstrative person. She had always been cold and distant, even to her son. But looking at her, Draco could see her fear and resentment: fear for him, for what was to happen, resentment against Lucius for agreeing to this.

It helped to know he would be missed somewhat.

In the end they were twenty two be chosen.

With a few more words, Voldemort dismissed his servants and the only ones to remain in the room were the two unknown Death Eaters, the youths and Him.

He turned his gaze to the younger ones present in the room.

"Some of you will become part of my Elite: the best of my servants. You will be trained to better your peers and developp your potential to its fullest. Others will be my serpents: my very own. They will only answer to me and I will personnaly take care of their education. Nathael, Jan, if you could start the spell."

The two men, still holding the stone started to mutter. This time the words were spoken in a harsh and throaty language.

Draco didn't know what it was, but he was feeling more and more uncomfortable as they kept on chanting. He felt on fire and sweat drops started to glide along his face, chin and jaw. Slowly Voldemort glided in front of them, stopping from time to time to pull a teenager from the rank.

He halted in front of the Malfoy's heir.

"You," he simply said, pointing to him.

Wordlessly, Draco bowed and went to join those who had been chosen already.

Once the Dark Lord was done, they were ten.
Taking Jan's arm, he covered the dark mark and soon four men arrived, none of them Draco recognized.

"Take them to your quarters, they are your new recruits. Start their conditionning tomorrow."

The four Death Eaters nodding, without a question and motionned to the youths to follow. Soon the ten students were the last left.

"Very well, my serpents, come and kneel before me," said The Dark Lord.

Knowing that refusing such a blatant order would be suicide, Draco and the others obeyed.

"I will give you a gift, a mark proving to all who see that you are to be my own, should you survive your training and initiation…"

He walked to Draco who was the first in line.

"Young Malfoy…"

He felt a cool, slightly bony hand take his righ arm and pull up the sleeve. A burning sensation spread through him.

"This will be your sign, my little serpents, visible only to those knowing of its presence. And this collar will show my other servants who you are…"

Draco felt a cool, metallic something being place around his neck and he nearly snarled. He better not be collared like a dog. He was no pet! Restraining himself strongly, he merely felt his eye twitch.

Draco bowed deeply before the man, trying not to show the pain he was currently in. He also refrained from looking at the mark, choosing instead to glance at the one next to him: a tall blond girl, with pale skin and light blue eyes, Natasha Simon if he remembered well… she was a transfer from Beauxbâtons and had been sorted in Gryffondor… He looked down at her forearm and saw a black design printed there: a dagger ensnared by a large serpent. The flesh was bleeding red and black, as if the tatoo had been printed with an red-hot iron rod.

At least, it wasn't as ugly as the Dark mark… Draco had been slightly appalled to know he would have to bear this foul tatoo for the rest of his life.

Once the ten of them had been branded, Voldemort had left them, telling them that servants would take care of them and that their training would begin the next day.

This night, Draco slept very little, trying to understand the man he was now serving.

The months had seemed to stretch as the Dark Lord drilled them with spells, curse. They were to practice on each other, to give them more drive to learn the proper counter-curse or the good way to dodge. Failure to cast a spell earned them a Crucio, the more time it took you to get it right, the longer you were put under the curse each time.

Draco remembered his first time. He hadn't been able to cast a Deletrius hex on a rat. The charm was to make the victim rot from the inside… It killed after days of agony. He had barely had time to register his failure that he felt himsefl be pierced by hundreds of burning knives. His every nerve ends were sending message of excruciating pain to his brain. It lasted two seconds, but to him it was two minutes.

The morning they underwent a physical training, with the ones part of the Elite: they ran through trapped circuit, having to dodge spiked clubs, walk on moving bars above pits filled with serpents, crawled, walked, jumped… After an ten inutes break they moved to fencing. They were put in groups of four and each groups was assigned a master.

Draco didn't count the number of hit he had taken from the man during training. He was a thin man with the face of a ferret, ash blond hair, dull grey eyes, thin bloodless lips which seemed to be always frozen in an ugly sneer.

All the time, they had to recite the rules of the Dark. Should they forgot a line or miss one, they would be assigned a punishment during their only free hour. After fencing, it was lunch break, then they went to Voldemort for the whole afternoon. They would learn curse, cast them, duel… without getting a moment of rest. Dinner was followed by a period of study during which they researched frantically new curses for the next day, or a shield or counter to one they had been subjected to during the day. They also were assigned runic research for the rituals they would be expected to perform sooner or later. Ritual magic was a pain for Draco. He could feel it just beneath his fingers but didn't seem to grasp its concept fullly. There always seemed to lack something.

Their nights were also part of the training. After a few days, Draco had felt himself think in ways and act

quite differently than he would have before.

They were being conditionned, little by little and he soon found out the cause.

Every night, they had to drink a potion which reduced the strain of the day on them and somewhat replenished their reserve, but it also left their minds opened to suggestion.

It was always the same ones

"Serve Voldemort"

"Voldemort is my master."

"His orders are my commands"

"My life is his to deal with"

"I must serve and obey Voldemort"

"I must serve and obey the Dark Lord"

"The mudbloods are filth that must disappeared"

"I will destroy those opposing my lord"

"I serve…"

The Dark Lord couldn't know how well this conditionning was working. Most of the old families were teaching their heirs how to resist to mental coercion as early as possible. Draco had been taught at five and had proved to have a natural ability for protecting his mind. His father had been proud of him…

It was then easier for him not to fall under the complete control of the Dark Lord, but by no mean did he completely escaped it.

He realised they were slowly moulded into Voldemort's perfect little soldiers, but there was little he could do to fight it. The Dark magic he had been performing was tainting all of them. Everytime you dabbled with it, you yearned for more and more and more….. it was a thirst that never ended. It was a cancer that grew inside of them, getting bigger and bigger every day, invading their mind and heart. They had to be careful, balancing at the edge between sanity and craziness where they would only be driven by their basic instincts, no more than beasts…

Draco had to hand it to his master. Their training had been handled with great care as they were slowly stripped from everything that defined them, before the Lord reshaped them to his liking…

It didn't mean that they had all made it through.

By the end of the summer they were only six of them left.

Ruth Alessen had been a thirteen year old girl, a former Durmstrang student, then home-schooled. She had died after two weeks of training, her body not ready to handle everything: she had been struck with a spiked club during the morning training. The spikes had impaled her, smashing her repeatedly against the wall as the club didn't stop balancing. None of their trainers did anything to help the girl, ignoring her screams. Two of those part of the Elite threw up, not being able to contain themselves at the sight of the mangled body. Blood was being spread with each passage of the club. She had stopped screaming after several seconds, probably the time it had taken her to emptied herself from her blood… None of the serpents flinched. They had already seen worse during those two weeks: having been demonstrated the effects of the curses they were learning, either through videos or on muggles caught during precedent attacks.

The raids had started in August, they would be assigned a 'tutor' for the attack who was supposed to look after them. Their aim was to catch some muggles to practice with… They had criteria they had to follow. Each raid they would have some guidelines: they had to make the muggle follow them of their free will, cast the imperius….

Draco had had a hard time at first, earning himself a full minute under Cruciatus. He never showed it after that.

Martin Durand had been the second one to perish. Being only fourteen, it was only logical that he wouldn't survive what they were put through. He managed to stay alive for a month, out of sheer will and Draco also knew, out of desire to see his parents again. However, he couldn't control his magic as well as his older peers. He did one too many spells and fell inconscious in the middle of a duel.

With time, he could have managed to recover, but showing this kind of weakness was not permitted and Draco would never forgot the uncaring expression on the Dark Lord's face as he raised his wand and uttered two little words.

Avada Kedavra

A jet of green light, and all that was left was a corpse. He seemed to be sleeping, except that he was no longer breathing, his heart was no longer beating… and never would.

This curse had fascinated Draco. So much power it held and so simple to cast: two words, an intent and you had killed… He had nearly been disappointed when performing it for the first time. Sure, he had just caused the rat to fell in a coma, not able to power his spell enough, or to put enough intent behind his words, but he had expected some backlash, a rush of power. But he just felt empty, drained, dried… As weeks passed he mastered the curse like many others and was dried to the point he didn't feel it anymore. Casting Avada Kedavra was no different than casting Expelliarmus. He knew he shouldn't feel like this, that Avada was far more dangerous than a simple Expelliarmus, that he was killing. But he could no longer care… Voldemort had done his work right. He could no longer feel.

The Dark Lord had won.

Not all of them had reach this point and Katherine Heoc had been the proof that the conditionning didn't always worked.

She had refused to cast the Avada Kedavra curse, even on a rat, then later on a house elf. The Malfoy heir had been told the story of the Heoc twins: Katherine and Ptior Heoc were born McAlfays, children of a proeminent light side family. The Heocs had learnt they wouldn't be able to have children and tradition demanded they got an heir. By then, the twins had been one year old and people were talking of how gifted they were. Hearing this, the Heocs targeted the family, killing all of them and taking the twins, performing dark rituals to make them theirs.

This was not well known and the twins had been declared dead along with all their family. But Lucius Malfoy had known and told his son, citing this as an example of foolishness. Those children, he had said would never been truly Heocs, no matter how dark the rituals had been, deep inside they would be McAlfays. The magic of this family was too old to be simply overcome by rituals…

Draco had never thought this true until this day.

Katherine had once more refused to perform the Avada as had her twin. She was put under the Cruciatus for three minutes. As she panted for breath, her red hair falling in dissaray down her back and in her face, Voldemort raised his wand to punish her brother.

"Anima Deletria"

She had barely whispered the words, holding a small pentacle made of bones. A large jet of blinding white light shot towards Voldemort who was too surprised to do more than stare at it. The Dark Lord only earned his survival to luck.

Drained by the Cruciatus, Katherine was not able to fuel her curse with enough power for it to be successful.

He was hit by the beam straight in the chest and fell to one knee, one hand clutching his heart, his handsome face contorted in a grimace.

For a minute, nobody moved. Katherine was growing paler and paler and trembling. Voldemort sank to both knee, a pained moan coming from his troat as he tried to fight the girl.

For a moment, she seemed to win but then she collapsed, her breathing erractic.

Ptior rushed to her side, as Voldemort slowly raised to his feet. His face was dreadfully pale and his body shaken with tremors.

"How dare you? You will die for this"

Katherine raised her head, her dark grey eyes holding no fear.

"I'm already dead…"

With a flick of her wand the pentagram tranformed in a styled dagger. Without a flinch, she brought the blade to her throat and slit it deeply.

Within seconds she was dead, her last words being for her brother.

"I'm sorry, Ptior."

The boy broke down craddling his sister's body in his arms. Muttering her name over and over, he went catatonic.

The breaking of their twin bond had snapped his mind beyond any hope of recovery. He did not relinquish his old on the corpse he has holding, covered in blood and dirt. He was finally stunned and lead out.

He was seen the next day, sitting at a table, eyes empty, speaking to himself as he talked to his sister. Sometimes he would laugh for minutes without reason, an hysterical note in his voice.

Why they kept him alive was a mystery to Draco. Sure the blood of the McAlfays was powerful, but was it reason enough for keeping this living dead around, that he wondered.

After this episode, the survivng members of the Serpents underwent a heavy week of reconditionning: they were made to drink potions after potions and submitted to long suggestion session from two Dark mind masters. Draco managed to preserve his identity, hiding himself as his father had taught him. This technic required a natural resistance to mind tricks, something he had showed and quite a lot of power. He managed to learn how to do it by his twelth birthday.

Were left six of them: Pansy Parkinson, Damien Gaillard, a Slytherin seventh year, formerly a Beauxbâtons student, Marcus Flint, Natasha Simon, Morgain Tyras and himself.

But out of all of them, it was Morgain that Draco feared. The girl was a former Durmstrang member, sorted in Ravenclaw. She was ruthless and showed a proefficiency for the Dark Arts. She had a flair about them and easily cast the hardest spell. Her only setback was her limited reserves of power and her arrogance.

Voldemort was favoring her among his serpents and she was always sucking up to him, in a way that made Draco's skin crawl.

She looked like Bellatrix Lestrange in her younger years with a more aristocratic face and posture. She was also sane, at least as sane as one could be after months of this treatment.

Morgain was unpredictable and seemed to find pleasure in harming others. She liked to hurt her peers. She had made Natasha her personnal test subject, after trying on others, Draco included. She had a sadistic streak but Draco was no push-over. What he got, he returned two-fold. She had not liked the taste of her own medicine and had not bothered him again. Natasha was a different case. The girl was a wild seer and was vulnerable when in trance, something Morgain took advantage of. Sure, Natasha would retaliate when back to the real world, but Morgain didn't stop…

Voldemort ignored the exactions of his protegee, making Draco wonder about his relationship to Morgain… But in truth he could care less if the Lord made her his mistress.

The summer was coming to an end though, but their training would not. Voldemort had foressen this problem and a week earlier had called them to his private chambers…

ooooooooooooooooo

They stepped in the dark room: an altar was built in the middle and runic stones had been placed on the grounds, creating patterns all of them were careful not to damage.

A Cup and a sacrficial knife were put on the marble plate.

"Welcome my serpents."

Voldemort seemed to appeared from the shadows and Pansy and Damien didn't managed to hide their surprise.

The dark Lord was wearing black as always and faded in the wall. He walked to the altar and took the knife. "Morgain"

The girl strode arrogantly to him.

"Hand me your arm."

She complied.

Without a flinch she watched as he slashed her flesh, letting her blood flow. He dipped one finger in it, drawing runes on both their skins, before cutting lightly his own palm and pressing it to the wound.

"Bind," he ordered.

A flash of green and black tendrils shot from his wand, curling around his palm and her arms. She showed nothing but a small twitch of her eye.

For a minute, nobody moved, then Voldemort withdraw his hand.

Nothing remained of the cut, only a smal black spots, like a beauty spot.

One by one, they submitted to the ritual.

Draco was the last one to go and was quite wary as he felt the dark tendrils touched his skin, chilling him to his bones. A probe invaded his mind and he felt it connect to his own core.

He frowned, it was not a simple mind link. It was bound to his magic…

Then he felt a surge of pleasure, contentment so strong he nearly laughed. But following quick was a searing pain.

He fell to his knee. This was different from the pain of the Cruciatus, he had grown used to this one, but this was directly apply to his mind.

He was left panting as the pain left. All the others were in the same state than him.

"Good, the link is working, I will continue your training when you return to Hogwarts, it will give me an hold in the school… The wards shouldn't notice this since it's woven in your magic."

Draco didn't say anything, thinking of the school…

It seemed he had been here for so long… could it be true that he was leaving soon?

He looked at Voldemort who was smiling at them.

No

He wasn't truly leaving… He might escape for a while but it was too late for him.

They belonged to him, they were his Serpents, but first and foremost, they were His….

ooooooooooooooooo

Done!

Next chapter should be up in two or three weeks… more probably three, but who knows?

Thanks again to all those who reviewed.

Naia