STEALING THUNDER

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: Sorry for the late update. I've been really busy this past week. Got no time to write during the weekends. There was my friend's birthday party, then my parents' wedding anniversary, it was a truly hectic week to be sure.

I really like to thank you guys who give this story a chance. This is my first story, my first ever attempt at actually doing or publishing something, and I am really expecting this story to fail on its first chapters, but then imagine my surprise! Also, I've been thinking about PoVs. I used a 1st-person during the earlier chapters (and switching PoVs too) but then I used 3rd-person up until the latest chapter, and this one too actually. But then I'm thinking of using multiple PoVs (from different characters), partially because I find it a bit boring to write from one character's PoV continuously. And so I decided to try it in this chapter.

Also, I'd like to address some questions about MC's plan in the future. Yes, he's preserving the timeline, for now. Why, you ask? Well, I, myself always find the first 3 years of the story to be quite tame (definitely still the child adventure) before it undergoes a darker tone starting in GoF. And he will interfere (actively) only from then. And I assure you, that we will have a major butterfly in the war to come.

Gerald Macmillan was somewhat amused.

"What do you mean it won't go?" he heard his son ask.

"It's a he, actually, my lord…"

"It's a he," his son affirmed with a nod, "Still, what do you mean he won't go?"

The other man in front of them looked a bit uncertain, and he was sweating, too, "I-i, Uh- my lord, he seems to have taken a liking to you?"

Gerald could easily notice when Darius swallowed down a lump that probably had been forming on his throat due to nervousness, not that he would blame his son. Darius let out an exhausted sigh at that. He could see his son releasing another deep breath as he shook his head faintly, "And what exactly does 'taking a liking to my son' entail?"

Meanwhile, the other people in the room beside his son, including himself, were doing their best to suppress their amusement, or at least, from showing it outrightly. Well that, except for his dearest brother, who kept snickering incessantly, "Told you you're his mother, now."

Feeling the need to interject for the sake of his son, Gerald took a step forward to ask the dragon caretaker that had accompanied them, "Yes. I, too, am curious to know exactly what is going on. Is this happening often, Mr. Emmettson?"

"Lord Gerald, I have studied the particular breed of the Hebridean Black for only a couple of months, before that, just the general of the dragons. But in some cases, yes, there are some dragons that seem to have taken a liking to humans, either a caretaker or another. Although, most of the cases are from a lesser breed of dragons, those particularly less… well, Uhm, less… aggressive, my lord."

Still flabbergasted from what he looked like, Darius continued to pitch, "But, what does it exactly mean to me? He's not going to follow around now, is he?"

The questioned person hastily shook his head, "No, no. Don't worry too much, Lord Darius. It is well known that motherless dragons are prone to be more…. excessive. I believe that this is but a misunderstanding and confusion of the dragon's natural instinct to search for their mother."

As the adults were busy mulling about the new revelation, the youngest among them was all for the opposite, "Oh! We should name them, then!"

The only person not of blond hair in their group seemed amiable to the idea, "That's a great idea, Lord Ernie. We would be honored to have my lords and lady to name them."

Gerald was about to say something when his brother beat him into it, "Well, nephew, I believe you should have this honor as the mother."

His lip twitched upward in a clear show of amusement. He saw Darius, who was still alternating back and forth between the dragon itself and the rest, as he seemed to be taken aback by the suggestion, "I….."

He was interrupted, however, by a squeak from the corner. It was revealed to be the second dragon, who had hatched not long after the one that was currently in Darius's hand.

"Oh look at these babies, poor them to be left without a mother." came a voice from an unexpected source, who was none other but the currently pregnant wife of his, and the matriarch of the Macmillan family.

Not letting an opportunity to be passed, his youngest son, Ernie, felt the need to point it out to his father, "See, Father! Even mother wants them, too!" which once more, invited a heavy laugh from his uncle.

"Or Lord Ernie, perhaps you wish to name the other one? It's a she-dragon, by the way."

Ernie looked a bit unsure at that, but with the encouragement of his mother, "Go on, dear..", he seemed to find a new confidence, "Her name will be Morgana! But she will protect and be good, instead!"

"A bit unorthodox, but very well, this one shall be called Morgana, for Lord Ernie's request, then."

However, the trio of adults, including him, were all shaking their heads at the choice of his name, although good-naturedly, of course.

The dragon expert now turned to Darius once again, "Lord Darius, how about you?"

Gerald could see Darius biting his lower lip, face clearly full of confusion and uncertainty, but his expression was soon overtaken with mischief plastering over his face, "His name shall be Balerion!"

A roar, or at least, it was intended as so, came from the dragon in question. He tried his best to snarl furiously as he opened his jaw, although nothing came out of it, except for perhaps a small amount of smoke.

"Balerion? Does it have a meaning or something?"

"No, it just sounded cool, I guess…"

The Patriarch of the family raised an amused eyebrow at that. And similarly exasperated, his brother, Henry seemed to be shaking his head in a somewhat form of amusement, "There goes your ever imaginative mind again, nephew."

"Does this mean that we have dragons now?" asked Ernie from the side, without much excitement as the boy tried his best to be polite and courteous.

However, Gerald remained unconvinced. After all, he didn't survive years of training and years of actual ruling as a lord of the Wizengamot to fall in that quickly. "No, Ernie. We are not keeping the dragons."

"B-but, why? Dragons are cool! And we can ride a dragon too if we do!"

The Lord of the house just shook his head tiredly while giving out the faintest hint of a smile.

...

Not long after that, the Macmillans returned to their residence. And Gerald must admit to himself, that he was somehow excited for the day to come.

When he turned back, he saw his wife already comfortable on the bed. Honestly, Gerald wasn't expecting another child, but he welcomed it nonetheless. And he was hoping for this one to be a daughter since he already had two sons by now.

Something must've shown on his face, for his wife put on a worried look as she asked him, "Is everything alright, dear?"

He waved a hand to reassure his wife, "No, dear. Just thinking about tomorrow, that is."

He slept beside his beautiful wife that was carrying his future child. She had given him such pride in the form of their sons, especially his heir, Darius, who was showing such great promises, and no doubt Ernie would too in the future.

For a time, all was right in the world.

And so the Lord Macmillan slept soundly that night. And so the day turned anew.

"Lord Gerald, let me introduce you, my granddaughter, Caula."

He stepped forward and took the hand of said girl. Slowly, he brought it upwards as he planted a soft kiss on its back. "Lady Caula, it's a pleasure to meet you. It seems that tales of your beauty are not far-fetched, I see."

The girl that was Caula MacFusty was a girl of 19 years of age. She didn't stand out much, actually. Except for perhaps the blond hair that was the natural trait of the Macmillan. She was quite meek from what it seemed, a typical dutiful daughter that adhered to his father or lord's commands, he thought.

"Aye, she inherited much from her great-grandmother so it seems." interjected the stout and proud-looking man of over 100 years.

Gerald smiled at that, "Indeed, cousin, you do remind me of some of my relatives."

To which the Lady Caula herself finally answered, "Thank you for the compliment, Lord Macmillan."

"Ah, no need to be so formal, dear. We are kin, after all, aren't we? You can call me cousin, too." replied Gerald back as he flashed his best charming, and not the cunning or sly, smile.

"Of course, that we are, Lord Gerald. And I presume that this is your son, Darius, I believe his name?"

His young boy of twelve would then step forward as he gave a curt nod while his father introduced him, "You presume correctly, Lord Adar. This is my son, and heir, Darius Macmillan. He has done me much pride even if he's still only 12-year-old."

The old lord seemed to react quite badly to the word Heir as the Lord Macmillan of 39-year-old introduced his own. No doubt his mind went back to the complication and inheritance problem that was currently plaguing his family.

"Ah yes. I could see it, you must be proud, indeed."

Well, it seemed that Old Adar had grown the slightest bit of politeness after all these years. Perhaps the iron could be bent, after all.

"Very proud, indeed. But unfortunately, my visit today isn't merely just to share news, Lord Adar. Although it never hurts to see kins, no matter how distant."

The expression on the face of the old lord seemed to sour a bit with that.

"Yes, yes. I'm sure we have much to discuss. Come, I'm sure it's better for us to be inside when speaking."

With that, Lord Adar turned back as he led them to enter the old and historical residence of the MacFusty. As he glanced to the side, Gerald could see the worry on his son's face. Earlier, Darius had begged to accompany him to their current endeavor. And even if Gerald was initially against it, he had reconsidered the matter as he saw that this could be the perfect opportunity for his son to learn.

The residence of the MacFusty was a single solid stone keep. It was a stout building, not too tall, but also far from modest, certainly befitting the family's long-standing reputation that dwelled there. Yes, he could see how a family that took care of ferocious dragons to reign from the keep. A seat of power. Respectable, yet without a sense of lavishness. The walls were grey in colour, and the place was dull, terribly so as it lacked any finer touch or embellishment.

Soon enough, they reached the entrance to the keep, a tall and large stone door. It seemed that the MacFusty was not one for luxury or preening as the inside of the building was just as dull and plain as the outside. The halls and interiors were things that could be said straight out of hundreds of years ago. All in all, it was a truly bleak castle.

With the thought, Gerald couldn't help but to recall his own residence, the manor atop a hill where the Macmillans were seated for years and years already, and hopefully, continue to do so for another hundred. He recalled the sunny and warm feelings of the building, certainly not the doom and gloom that was the keep he was currently in.

"Caula, dear, perhaps you should take the Young Lord Darius for a walk around the keep, eh?"

"I shall do so, grandfather."

He nodded at that, "Very well," and he motioned to his son with a nod, "Darius."

"Thank you for the offer, Lord Adar, Lady Caula. I'm sure it will be nice to have a tour around this magnificent keep of yours."

Satisfied with that, Gerald now turned his attention to the old lord, "Lord Adar. If you're kind enough to lead the way, please."

And so after the two children had left their company, Gerald was finally led into the solar that belonged solely to the head of the keep.

It was surprisingly cold. And yet again, the dull colour didn't help to alleviate the sense of unwelcomeness.

"I'm sure you know that I am not one to mince words, Lord Gerald."

Gerald gave a smile at that, "Indeed, I know that all too well, my lord. And if straight is what you want, then I shall be so…" he trailed with a mock nod of his head.

Unfortunately, the elderly clan head didn't deem it necessary to reply.

Still bitter and stoic, so it seems.

Quickly, he schooled his features back into perfection, before continuing his part in a confident manner, "Very well. As I'm sure you yourself have noticed, the continuation of your family, whether it's just its mere existence or your….. legality, they all hang at a knife's edge at this very moment. Sooner or later, proud and powerful lords of the Wizengamot will come knocking at your door. Some of them will come with wine and honeyed words, but the rest of them?"

"Aye, I know that, already. And what about you then, Lord Gerald? Do you come to our house, to our keep with honey? Or is it venom you bring, instead?" he asked with a growl nearing the end.

Of course, Gerald didn't let that get under his skin. Such a thing was basically nothing for him, now. Not after dealing with the old lord multiple times in the past. Instead, he smiled further as he tilted his head to the side, focusing his gaze back to the person he was speaking with, "Now, now. No need to be so hostile, dear cousin. The Macmillan is a staunch supporter of the Light, why would we bother with poisons and venoms, now? We are kin, you and I, it's only expected for kins to back each other in times of dire needs, yes?"

Inwardly, the Lord of the Macmillan was smirking widely, part of him was remembering how stubborn and infuriating the man that was currently in front of him was in the past. The bitter negotiations they had undergone, whether it was with his father or himself. Oh, how it felt good to play on Adar's pride.

With a sharp narrowing of his eyes, the greybeard decided to bite, "Oh yes, family. A family that is always there when the other falls, ready to swoop in and feast on its prey, atop the fallen carcass of its own?"

His hand explored the grip of the chair he was seated, trailing the surprisingly refined wood carving.

"I'm afraid that you misunderstood me, Lord Adar. I come here, today, at this very moment, for nothing but to ensure a future where our families stand tall and proud, side-by-side. You see, I know that you have no intention of playing the game of words or politics, and you do have my respect for that. But unfortunate for the MacFusty, whether you care or not, they care not. The truth is plain and simple. your house is now ripe for picking. I'm sure that the more… notorious and ambitious lords would try some drastic measures. Yes, drastic measures. And with the young Caula as your only heir and successor should you pass, I can't imagine the many schemes and plots that will tie her, that will be used to deal with her. Which brings us to now, that is the question, which is, what do you intend to do, then?"

The old man didn't seem to be shaken by his question, or at least, he didn't show it so. "And what do you intend to do about what I intend to do?"

Hah! Indeed, there's a change that has occurred within Lord Adar.

The question that answered his question brought a playful smile to his face, "The Macmillan is a house with a proud history, firmly on the side of the light, with a clean record, and a reputation not many can match. And our house would love to see nothing but the protection and safety of our family."

At this, it seemed that the leash that was keeping the old lord finally broke, "You want me to swear to you? To grovel and beg at your feet, then?"

Gerald laughed a little at that, and it came out more of a snort, and even if it was the inappropriate thing to do, the situation was just all too predictable.

"There's no need for any swearing, my lord. I'm sure that we can arrange some… details, yes, details to ensure the bright future of both our families, no?"

Unexpectedly, Adar snorted at that, and his face was actually showing amusement. And so Gerald felt his blood boiled from the gesture.

"You sure have changed, young Gerald. Long gone it seems, the days when you would hide behind your father, eh?"

He gritted his teeth. His father had always been a sore spot for him. For he remembered his failures, his mistakes in his youth. Gerald could still recall the look of disappointment, the expectant gaze that was directed at him from his father. All his efforts as Lord Macmillan, all the things he did until today, it was all built on the foundation of his father's death, his last wish.

"I prefer to be frank, Lord Adar. We have never seen eye-to-eye, and maybe I couldn't change your opinion of me and my family. Yet the same blood runs in our veins. The MacFusty is kin to the Macmillan, our kin. I help you and you help me in return."

"So concessions, then? Your price, name them, then."

Now we arrive at the tough part. The haggling.

He tried his best to keep his tone neutral, but his annoyments still slipped through, "We do not ask much. Just what I had proposed a few years ago. As you no doubt know, other lords would jump at the chance of taking the Hebrides under their own control. We, the Macmillans, we are not greedy."

Best to remind him that we could've asked more, yet we didn't.

Honey-brown eyes widened noticeably as Darius heard what his cousin, although distant, said.

"You didn't go to Hogwarts?"

The lady shook her head at that, "No. I'm afraid that my late father deemed it unsuitable for me."

"That's a pity then. I'm sure you would have enjoyed it so if you did."

Darius was currently walking the long and drab corridors of the MacFusty keep. He was being guided by Lady Caula, the young heiress presumptive as they visited various parts of the grey building.

Curious, Darius asked, "So you were tutored, then?"

"Yes. My father arranged a couple of tutors for me, although I think they still won't compare to what Hogwarts probably offers."

"Probably. It's really great, you know? The library is so huge, after all…"

Caula gave a somewhat sad smile at that, "Tell me about it, then. Hogwarts."

"Ah, well. It's truly magical! A magic castle, indeed. When we first arrived at Hogwarts, we would board boats as we sailed across the vast black lake! You can see the tall towers, and there are so many of them! The reflection on the water was really beautiful. After all, you could see all the stars that..."

After an hour or so of cozying up to Lady Caula, Darius was finally relieved from his 'duty' as he saw his father and the Lord Adar walking side by side. His father was sporting a smile and a satisfied one at that. While the old lord was a bit on the other side. Instead, his expression was as sour as his face was dour.

"Father!" he called.

His father nodded at him, "Darius. And Lady Caula, thank you for keeping my son company. I hope he's not too much to handle for you."

The girl gave a small chuckle as a response, "No, my lord. I consider cousin Darius to be a friend now. He told me about Hogwarts and other things that I don't have the chance to do."

"Ah, good, good. It's nice for cousins to get along. Regrettably though, I, myself, don't have such an opportunity. Not with your father and uncles," as he then clapped his hands together, "Well, we have been received well here by you, it's only fitting if we pay it back. Lady Caula, would you like to visit the rest of our family, then? Perhaps a lunch together? I'm sure you would enjoy the company of my wife."

"I'd be delighted to do so," she answered, full of courtesy.

Ah, so it worked out, then.

Darius raised an eyebrow at his father.

"Great! Now, Darius, would you be a dear and escort your cousin to the manor, then? Perhaps you two could walk by the beach? I'm afraid Lord Adar and I still have a couple of things to sort out."

Easily, he figured out what his father was asking him to do. After all, they had discussed it before. And so he nodded, albeit almost reluctantly.

"The weather is really….. sunny, today."

"Yes, it is."

The two of them were walking on the bare field along the coastline on one of the many islands that were a part of the Hebrides. The wind was quite strong, and so the short grass swayed along with it, dancing to the unspoken melody that was the refreshing breeze. The wind itself carried quite a bit of heat, for the sun stood proud and mighty at the peak of its throne, with the sky clear blue, void for but only small wisps of clouds.

"The Hebrides. Is it always like this?"

The question was quickly answered with a negative from a shook of the head, "No, cousin. It's quite unusual, indeed, for the weather to be this hot during the time of winter…"

"Ah, I guess it's just my unfortunate luck, eh?" said Darius as he turned his gaze upwards, only to be dazzled by the sheer light of the sun, eyes hurryingly closing as he brought a hand to his face to quickly cover his sight.

Caula didn't reply, but she gave a smirk instead, a smirk that clearly showed her amusement.

They had been walking for quite some time, and thus the modest manor that served as the Macmillan's holiday residence soon came into sight.

"We are near-"

Whatever Darius was trying to say was suddenly caught off as a great beat of wind rushed toward them, accompanied by a roar that belonged solely to a creature that was a dragon. When he looked above, Darius could see the great flying lizard soaring above the rocks of Hebrides, its body pitch black, and its wings flapping in a majestic manner.

It was terrifying, sure. But Darius couldn't help but to admire, to be enthralled by the regal presence of the fiery beast. He could see the spike of a tail flailing about in the sky, its tip sharp and strong that even a boulder would be easy to penetrate.

His mind wandered back to the events of the night before. The hatched egg and the subsequent complications. He had named it Balerion, in honor and memory of a conqueror's ride, a memory of a past life, of a stranger world in but pages of books. Roland had convinced him that the dragon was harmless and that even if the happening was peculiar, it wasn't unheard of. But still, Darius knew something was not quite alright. He knew that there's still more, although what exactly, he still hadn't figured out. But he was sure of it, he was sure that there is something that is still hidden, still undiscovered.

For yesterday hadn't been his first encounter with dragons, with the Hebrideans. Not the first time he saw them. Not the first time he heard them. No, no. That honour belonged to his dreams, instead. Dreams of what's to come, and of what has gone.

The charred corpses. The smell of burnt. The black that is soot that covered the ground. Ashes and debris. From the high of the sky.

"They really are magnificent, aren't they?" he heard a voice asking from his side, instantly snapping him out of his musings.

Gaze still glued to the sky, Darius answered, "Yes. Yes, they really are," and as he turned to face the girl, "Although I imagine that this must be normal for you, right?"

The blonde girl laughed a small laugh at that. Darius couldn't help but to compare that her laugh was reminiscent of that sound of a soft, ringing bell. Melodious and beautiful.

"I might see them often. But the magic and wonder never seem to leave, every day feels like it's my first time. I was only 5 back then. and my brother sneaked me outside in secret, without my father, my mother, or my grandfather knowing. He brought me to the nearest dragon pen that was. I remembered. I was so excited, yet at the same time also afraid, for my father was a strict, a stern man. We ended up seeing a baby dragon that day. It was small, no larger than a sheep. And all I could think of back then was that I wanted to hug it, but thankfully, Magnur dissuaded me from doing that."

"Your… brother?" asked Darius, confused.

"Yes, Magnur. Today would've been his 23rd birthday if he was still alive. He was a great brother, everything a girl could ask for a brother. He was kind to me, but to the others? He protected me, and when no other children would play with me, he was always there as he ran away from his learning duties and others…" her voice had turned nostalgic at that, and it was plain to the world that her eyes had become far-away, no doubt lost in memories.

"Forgive me. I didn't know that you had a brother, Caula."

She gave a wistful smile, "It's fine. He died…. around 10 years ago. I was only 9. He caught a fever, and it burned through him in less than a fortnight. My brother, ever so gallant and strong, he laid there on his bed, helpless and so…. so weak, I couldn't believe it. It just couldn't be. So, I ran away, I didn't visit him, I couldn't, and before I was able to…. my father told me that he had…."

Panic hit Darius as a lone tear escaped his cousin's eye. Not knowing what to do, he awkwardly put his hand around her back as he offered his condolences, "I-I'm so sorry for your loss, cousin. I imagine that you must have gone through some tough times. What with losing your father and uncles very recently, too."

The lone heir of the MacFusty seemed to swallow back her emotions at that. "Thank you, Darius. And yes, I do grief for my father and uncles, too. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, so he told me that to pet the dragon would be a bad idea. As a child, I, of course, threw a tantrum at him, instead. It was loud that it alerted the others, and so our secret trip was instantly ruined. Father…. he was so angry. And Magnur, he took all the blame. He never told me his punishment, but I could see the bruises on him for a couple of days. And even with that, he still took me to sneak around again just a few days later." She finished her story.

"He sounded like a great person. I'm sure I would've loved to meet him If I could."

"Yes, I imagine the two of you would've gone along great."

By now, Darius had sensed something to be remiss from his cousin's tellings. She spoke fondly of her late brother, even somewhat warm of the old, and stone-like grandfather of hers. But every time Darius had tried to express his condolences, to broach the subject, his lady cousin would shirk it off, waving it away with short words and a simple single sentence. He knew that her mother had died in childbirth, giving birth to her, and so she had never known a mother figure in her life, part of the 'reason' to bring her and introduce her to his mother.

"Tell me more of your family. Your late father, how was he like?"

She didn't meet his gaze, she didn't turn to look. She simply answered, "My father is a most formidable man."

He could easily sense her discomfort, a deaf man would even be able to. Figuring it best to leave the topic, Darius didn't choose to reply. Instead, he observed his cousin in silence. She was… sincere, for a lack of a better word. Not quite the clueless innocent, nor was she rowdy, or… rocky. What he found was a girl that had lost much, and if he suspected right, then not entirely from griefs.

After that, they both remained silent until they finally reached the manor where the Macmillans were staying. Darius led the way and he brought her to an open garden on the side of the manor. It had a direct view of the sea, waves crashing against the rocks of the coast.

Well, it's now or never.

Guilt gnawed his heart. Doubts crossed his mind. And he was nearly taken by anxiety if not for the mental exercise that he had been practicing as a part of his Occlumency study. It turned out that one of the keys to Occlumency itself was focus. To master their mind, one must be able to be completely 'aware', and thus, great focus was needed. The ability to control thoughts and withholding emotions in the face of dire situations or something along the line.

Darius sucked in a sharp intake of air. And with that, he steeled his heart.

"Uh- cousin, eh, Caula? Would you mind some drink, then?"

"Oh, yes. I'm quite thirsty, actually."

They sat on the chairs around a single large rounded table. The other chairs were still empty, for they were still waiting for the others. Lady Elizabeth was currently with Ernie and would be soon joining them, and Darius's uncle, Henry, was still gallivanting around, God knows where.

"Gilly," called Darius as not a second later, the house-elf in mention appeared, "Would you mind to prepare some drinks? The usual for me, and also for my lady cousin here?"

The elf gave a quick nod and bow, "Gilly is be delighted, sir."

"That's great!"

A minute or two later, Gilly would return, tray and drinks in hand. She brought out two cups, identical to each other, if not for one of them, the one on the left, being tinted with the slightest hint of roseate, so very faint that no bare eyes would ever notice.

Darius offered a smile to his cousin as he took the drinks from Gilly's hand. Hot and Cold. Not that there was much difference, but just enough. Darius had always preferred his drink to be cold, much colder than normal, and especially during times and weather like the current. Small beads of condensed water ran down the edge of the glass, racing down against each other as they dropped into Darius's hand, touching his skin ever so faintly.

"Butterbeer?"

The girl stretched out a hand to accept the offered drink as she sent a thankful smile Darius's way.

After a beat, the both of them raised their glass to each other in a silent toast before proceeding to gulp down its content, savouring the cold as opposed to the striking heat of the sun.

"Thank you for the drink, cousin. Turns out I really need it."

Darius licked his lip in a slightly nervous manner. He brought his lower lip to the inside of his mouth, but caught himself before he could chew it, "Oh, it's nothing. And after all, who would deny a glass of cold butterbeer during a weather like this?"

"Too true, that…"

"Yeah. Anyway, do you mind waiting here for a bit? I think I need to check on mother, and perhaps Ernie, too."

The older one gave a reassuring smile, "No, no. It's fine."

Replying with the same gesture, Darius turned on his heel, his steps carrying him as it ushered him inside, almost as if in a rush. He pushed through the set of doors that blocked his way, until finally, he reached an empty room.

His legs gave up, and soon Darius found himself needing to grab the nearest table as a support. His breathes were ragged. Sweat ran down the left side of his cheek. His hands were trembling although only faintly, but it was still there.

He had done it.

His duty.

For his family.

More or less a minute after that, Darius recollected himself. And with a new determination, he strode out of the room.

It stank.

Darius immediately gasped for breath as his whole body jolted out. Instantly, he took a sitting position upon his bed. His eyes were closing in and out repeatedly, his perception still dizzy from his previous experience. The boy took a hold of his bedsheet, finding comfort from the rough sensation of the fabric against his skin, no matter how little they might be. He remembered. For it was engraved deep in his mind.

The red that soaked the white. The stench of death. The blood-curdling scream. The rotting daffodils.

Then, the piercing turmoil of the fiery beasts was the catalyst. Distantly, he could make out sounds of screeching coming from the dragons. And for it was then, that something triggered inside him.

He was standing in the darkness.

There was nothing else save for a door, standing innocently in front of him. And it was only then, that he realized something.

He was not him. His hair was black. His eyes were black. He was taller, much taller than he last remembered. He wasn't dressed in finery.

This was Darius McCarthy, an 18-year-old orphan, and most definitely, not magical. His 'entire' life flashed before his eyes. His first day of school. His first friend. His first heartbreak. The laughs he shared with his companions. And above all, that fateful night when he went to the bed he had slept in for years, only to wake up losing himself.

He stood there, confused.

But then a whisper came, from where he did not know. Darius took a step forward. His fingers brushed the stone-cold doorknob. He gripped it, and slowly, he turned it to open the door.

And out came, The screams. The griefs. The sorrows.

The surroundings changed again. This time, Darius found himself standing in an empty courtyard. In front of him was a faceless snake of pale skin. Slowly, Darius began to realize that he was standing in the place where his family manor stood, or at least, should have. For there was nothing but bare field, bare ground.

After that, it became unclear. Darius couldn't recognize anything anymore. Only flashes of images, flashes of noises. Streaks of misery and despair, but not certainty, never clarity.

And so it was that God descended from his heaven, and all was not right in the world.

He brought his hands up as he desperately tried to cover his ears, "Stop it!", he cried with despair as the wailing sound grew louder and louder, "Stop it!", he said again, but this time in a rough whisper.

But it was to no avail. For no amount of cover would stop his terrors, only but himself. Soon, Darius would realize that the source of the sounds was nothing but him and his only. A spawn of his own mind, remnant and the bloom of his rotten flower of dreams. He began to calm himself, taking deep breaths in and then out repeatedly. He swallowed the heavy lump down his throat, and only then he noticed that his entire throat was full of thirst, his mouth hung dry.

Instictly, he reached out to his bedside table. He took a glass of water that he had always prepared before going to sleep, taking it and gulping it down in one go. He savoured the relief of the cold water as his tongue licked the dry borders of his lip. He kept the glass close to his nose, smelling the neutral odor of it in order to rid himself of the plaguing, reeking smell that he could still vaguely recall from earlier.

He took a deep breath. And again. And again.

Just as he was about to gather his mind to think back on what just happened, the strike of thunder interrupted his moment. A storm was raging. He walked out of the bed, his steps still limp and unsure. He reached the soaked and water-stained window. And curious, Darius undid the lock of the glass panel. His hands grabbed the panel's twin handles, and ever so slowly, he pushed them outward to open the window itself.

His thoughts were immediately assaulted by the strong wind that had rushed through the new opening. It carried raindrops with it, lots and lots of raindrops. His face was littered with the rain, and his clothes had turned damp and wet. Instantly regretting his action, he tried to close the window back. But his attempt was thwarted as his attention turned into a new thing.

The streak of lightning.

He could trace the movement of the thunder that had so- suddenly and swiftly, struck the unassuming ocean from the sky above. Mere seconds later, the booming and deafening sound of the thunder itself followed. And Darius forced himself to finally close the window as the worst storm in his memory raged outside of his room.

He found himself muttering tiredly to himself, "Fucking seers," his face in his hands as he tried to salvage what little mood he could still gather. With a sigh, he asked the empty room, "Why can't I get rid of these dreams…."

But of course, Darius would find no answer. Instead, he was caught off guard for one more time as another strike of thunderstruck, this time, it struck much closer. He walked closer to find a better perspective from the window. He observed the lone, tall, tree that decorated the property to find that the tree was missing a large part of it, for its largest branch had gone missing. A flicker of gaze later, he found the said branch to be lying lost in the ground below, struck down by the roaring thunder.

Hastily, Darius took his wand from his bedside. And finding the sound of the storm to be increasingly annoying, he waved it as he silenced the raging sky.

It was the dead of night. Midnight had passed. And the hour of the wolf is coming close.

Darius returned to his bed. He enjoyed the newfound peace, the silence. He was alone. Alone in a room with no other company inside but the ticking sound of the antique clock in the corner. He spared a glance for the clock. 23 minutes to 2.

Well, if he's not going to be able to sleep, then he better does something while at it, he thought.

Sighing softly, Darius took out his journal from the drawer, and with it, also the quill and ink. He opened the book, and then he began to write, into the night.

AN: So, that's chapter 8. Yes, it certainly isn't my best one. To be honest, I was facing a really tough writer's block with this chapter, probably the consequence of me not planning my story details ahead, only the big pictures.

Anyway, if it's not clear enough, the drink was mixed with a variation of the love potion (as the possibility was discussed in the last chapter). So basically, the Macmillan struck a deal with the MacFusty with several arrangements benefitting the both of them, and as a precaution, Caula must not be available to be married or betrothed to other lordlings, hence the plan with the potion through the drink, for her to find 'love' before any deals could be made.

The next chapter is supposed to be a time skip to Darius's 3rd year or the start of the canon (Harry's 1st year), so let's hope that I stick to the plan this time. I played with the idea of jumping ahead into 4th/5th/6th year but I think I should try to build impressions with the larger cast first. One of the ideas I toyed with is jumping into Darius participating in an underage dueling tournament of the sorts, and I think I have some idea about dueling already, more so than the actual idea I'm planning to use for the next chapter (I already have several fighting scene drafts ranging from 1-6k words actually). So, thoughts and recommendations? The reviews are keeping me writing tbh, so please reviews! And expect another chapter in around 2 weeks. Well, probably, since my time is kinda stretched thin.

Question - I've seen some fics that utilize dragons in battle/war. So, what do you think? Dragon for Darius, or no?