I don't own either Dungeons and Dragons or Harry Potter

AN: Made some edits to fix errors, if I missed any let me know.

So, you want to hear the tale of Harry Potter, The Bard of Hogwarts? Very well, but I warn you, it is not for the faint of heart. Actually, it's really not all that bad, so sorry about lying.

No I'm not. My very job depends on my ability to lie. Not in this instance though, I would never lie to you.

But this tale, it is...something, can't quite call it heroic, can't quite call it evil. Then again, I tend to be a moral nihilist therefore my view on things may not be shared by most people. Oh well, you may be judge of the actions taken in the story.

I remember the day Harry Potter came under my tutelage well, it also marked a day that changed the world forever.

xxxXXXxxx

It all began on November 1st 1981, a place called Privet Drive, located at Little Whinging in England.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. However astonishing things tend to not care one way or another on location.

An activity that was not so astonishing though was happening across the street from something that would be considered astonishing, down right important in fact.

This more mundane activities presence would lead down a path full of mystery, adventure, merriment, debauchery, and wonder. It was also lead to the suffering and deaths of quite a large quantity of people, but hey, they all had it coming. Except for Tangerine Terry, he will be missed.

Inside Number 3 Privet Drive, the home of rich snob who had pissed off the wrong people, a crime was being committed. A dastardly, yet still puckishly roguelike, individual made his way through the home. It was a simply burglary job, take about 8,000 pounds worth of items from the house and leave an Iris flower as the calling card.

The last part wasn't in the job description but my- the man's vanity had to be sustained.

Speaking of vanity was the burglar dressed like some new jack, wannabe spy, wearing a black sweater with fatigues and slick combat boots? Hell no. He was far better than that.

Wearing a snowy white tuxedo, bedazzled with rhinestones made from actual gems, and some quite fashionable dress shoes with neon red laces, the man made sure he stood out. Oh, the rhinestones also could light up and flash with the push of a button. Was this feature on at the moment?

You bet your ass it was.

You see, it's one thing to rob a place while being one with the shadows. In fact any two bit small timer can do it. But real talent is robbing a place, at night, with enough light on you to classify as a second sun.

But this man was just that good.

Grabbing a bottle of vodka from the fridge, and pocketing it for latter, the man made sure he had nabbed the essentials. T.V? Check. Car keys? Check. Jewelry? Check. Liquor? Check. Only thing left to do was leave. And because this roguish figure don't do nothing half-assed, he did a running corkscrew back flip, out the open first story window.

Naturally he landed on his feet with no effort and made a point to bow to the audience, which was in this case the home he robbed and a small infant left on the doorstep next door.

Now, he was obviously concerned about the well being of a baby left out in the, harsh, November night weather of England, so he went to check up on the bundle.

Now this infant had all the makings of a true hero. He had a wicked lightning bolt scar(chicks dig the scars), emerald green eyes(also sure to grab the honeys), and according to the letter left on the boy he was orphaned. Killed by a Dark Lord. This kid could be the next Batman! However, he would need a teacher.

One who was skilled.

One who was strong.

One who knew the world.

One who could play any instrument known to man.

And most importantly, one with a great fashion sense.

Sensing an opportunity when one presented itself, the man grabbed the bundle and was about to beat a hasty retreat. Not just with the stolen good, but with a new possible underling.

Damn he was good!

However, as if the fates themselves wanted this confrontation to happen, the door of 4 Privet Drive swung open, revealing a man who must have descended from a Blue Whale.

"What's going on out here!? Who's there!? Damn I can't see." The man demanded as he squinted from the bright lights of the suit blinding him. Clearly the puckish rogue had planned this from the beginning and acted upon this moment.

"I am a being sent from the heavens. This child's time on the world is no more. Taken by the folly of leaving an infant out a night. This boy was to be your nephew, no I am to take him into the great beyond." The man altered his voice to have a rather, angelic quality to it. You know, echoey, kind of a male/female voice at the same time, talks in a soothing tone. Well it's what his experience with celestial entities had been anyways.

The whale man was joined by an assumed wife as both squinted at the bundle in the man's arms. They both looked overwhelmed at was happening and so with one last little push the man secured his escape.

"Heed my words mortals. Do not let the folly of tonight weigh upon you, as it was not your fault. Nay, take this experience and care forth my words. Do not leave small children out at night in November. Didn't really think I needed to state this, but apparently I do." As he spoke the man levitated off the ground more and more as he began to rise above the houses. The couple passed out from shock and with that the man disappeared in a flash of light.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen.

xxxXXXxxx

The man, now clearly a savior, appeared in a penthouse apartment overlooking the city of London.

The interior decour was clearly rivaled by no other as the walls were lined with posters of the best sold out movies and concerts of the past 40 years. The furniture was all real leather, with a mahogany dinner table, and a small zen garden complete with a tiny flowing stream took up the middle of the room.

It pays very well to be in the man's line of work. Very, very, very well. I highly recommend it.

Setting the boy down onto the table the man took one last look over the letter and nodded. He was doing a good thing. Those people were clearly just going to be a hindrance to what the child could learn.

Well not on Malcer Brightwood's watch.

Oh yeah, the man was named Malcer Brightwood, don't worry too much about it, he goes by something else about 95% of the time.

Not that I would know.

Brightwood, or as he was known in the criminal world, The Bard, gave the boy a smile.

"Well, well, Harry Potter. Fortuna herself must be smiling over you. You lose a family, but gained a teacher. It seems like you are going to be in for quite an interesting ride from here on out."

xxxXXXXxxx

Flashing forward 10 years. Yes I know that's quite a time jump, and question are bound to be present, but answers will come. You just need a sense of dramatic reveal.

Anyways, flashing forward 10 years, an 11 year old Harry Potter walked down the streets of Diagon Alley, his mentor, and subsequently the man who annoyed him most in life, not far behind.

Harry had received a letter inviting him to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Well he had actually revived letters from magical schools from around the world, but due to various reasons, none at all issues with Johnny Law, Hogwarts was the one he chose to attend.

It was an odd sensation for Harry. Not the finding out about magic, oh no he had been aware and practicing magic for the better part of 9 years by this point. No, the odd thing was that he was going to be settling down in one place for more that 6 months.

You see the vary nature of Bards demands exploration. We are storytellers, acrobats, artists, musicians, and adventures. And The Bard could only teach Harry so much of each while confined in London.

And so the decision was made to travel around the world, meet new and exciting people, learn from them, make connections, possibly seduce someone, and then move on.

Harry had spent the last 9 years in around 35 different countries, picking up things and stories from each.

At the time he received his letter, he was in Quebec practicing with Cirque Du Soleil, and doing fairly well at it. He had asked The Bard on if he could attend Hogwarts, as he desired to at least experience his homelands magic system, as he had learned from everywhere else. Fun Fact: Voodoo creeped Harry out to no end, but The Bard made sure he got through it and thus Harry made a deal with a Loa. But that's a story for another time.

He knew he didn't need The Bard's permission, the entire relationship between the two was more akin to two brothers than a father/son, but it worked for them both. But nevertheless The Bard was going to see his little protege off and make sure he made an impact.

As the two made their way around grabbing the supplies required for school, they were grabbing everyone's attention. Harry had taken to heart the most important thing his mentor could teach. Dress is everything. Both wore absurdly bright outfits, The Bard choosing to go in a red and gold, bedazzled phoenix designed, tux complete with a similarly red fedora.

Harry, sadly, did not share his mentor's love of the bedazzler and simply opted for sleek, but fashionable. He had dark blue satin dress pants, black and white dress shoes, a white dress shirt with an accompanying silk lavender vest. The stares the drew were obviously of jealousy as everyone around them was stuck wearing those god awful robes.

No fashion sense among the wizarding world it seemed.

The two entered Ollivander's, a wand shop, and were greeted by the man behind the counter. The old man had wide, pale, eyes that shined like moons in the gloom of the shop. The Bard offered some tips on interior decorating, but was sadly and mistakenly turned down.

Ollivander went on how it was nice to see Harry alive, and that he remembered the wands he sold to his parents. This had been happening a lot today, as Harry was quite famous in the Wizarding World for defeating some Dark Lord who was too stupid to simply strangle a baby. That came out more morbid than I would have liked, the statement still stands.

Though as it turns out, the whole "Angelic Kidnapping" plan The Bard used may have cause some issues as everyone believed Harry to be dead. On the plus side though this meant he was even more popular because he pulled a Lazarus and didn't have to do it the hard way.

As I said, The Bard clearly planned it like that.

The downside though was that any money that would have been Harry's was distributed to other "Purebloods" thanks to the Ministry of Magic's lack of government oversight. While initially bummed Harry was not to upset by this as he had more than enough money from other places.

One of which was most definitely not the shady line of work The Bard was involved in. And it is especially not why the 6 Yakuza heads over in Japan suddenly died leaving only the Akimoto Clan in power. Yep, most definitely not that.

Harry quickly broke somethings thanks to not having the right wand, but then Ollivander brought out an 11 inch wand made from Holly, with a Phoenix feather. It was the twin wand of the one that the Dark Lord who attempted to kill Harry all those years ago. Harry loved the the poetic nature of it, and thus named his wand Ironie.

The fabulous duo left the store to continue shopping, grabbing all the basic supplies Harry needed. When in the pet shop, they may have gotten a wee bit out of control.

First Harry got a snow white owl whom he named Hedwig, it was a joyous occasion with music swelling in the distance. That is actually true, as The Bard found a music store across the street and began playing a violin to see if it was up to his standards. It was not.

But afterwards? The two may have purchased several very dangerous magical animals. The Bard turned them into clay figurines with his own magic with Harry placing them into his pockets. I-The Bard refuses to be responsible with how those animals were used.

Lastly, and the one the two dreaded the most, was Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. Harry stood as the woman fitted him for what even a nun would call to prudish of robes. There was some blond boy next to Harry going off on the houses of Hogwarts, and how he wanted to end up in Slytherin. Neither he nor The Bard payed much attention as they were clearly in a place of evil and had to get out. Finishing up with the fitting, the duo burst outside to escape from their Tarturus.

Harry rounded the corner so no one could see him and conjured a celestial being of light with a whistle of the Ava Maria. He asked, no, demanded the celestial to purge that horrid building of it's evil.

It called them both dumb asses and left.

Harry made a mental note to summon either demons or elementals for his biding from now on. With their trip to the Alley mostly successful the two left and went to The Bard's apartment, where Harry immediately began reading his books while practicing his trapeze in a pocket dimension.

The Bard asked why, not that it was a bad thing, but he wanted context. Turns out he had made a bet with a French girl named Fleur who had visited the Cirques, that if he had mastered an entire shows routine, one of which was the trapeze, by the point she saw him next, he would get in her pants.

The Bard shed many tears of joy on that day and left his protege to it. He had taught him well.

xxxXXXxxx

On the morning of September 1st 1991 Harry Potter had boarded the Hogwarts with very little issues. His mentor had said goodbye at Platform 9 ¾ and reminded Harry that a good Bard did not burn bridges when he could. But since it was his first year at a boarding school he had to make a point he was not one to mess with.

Thus the first person who became Harry's enemy would be found with several stab wounds and be to afraid to rat. It worked when he was in prison so it should work in school.

Wearing a black tuxedo with gold trim on the sleeves, Harry walked up the aisles of the train looking for suitable conversation company. Bard's were social creatures, and he hadn't been in the country in 9 years and needed to know what was up.

Problem was, all the people he saw looked like plebs. They had no fashion sense and probably couldn't follow a conversation with him anyways. That was until he found a compartment with a light skinned platinum blonde girl talking with another light skinned girl, but with raven colored hair. Something that Harry picked up from The Bard, which was totally awesome and not a bad thing, was the love of the ladies. Putting on his best charming smile he introduced himself.

"Hello ladies. Do you mind if I sit with you? After all you seem much better conversation than most of the other people on this train." Harry gave a slight bow as he spoke, showing his courteous side. The raven haired girl smirked at her friend, who rolled her eyes but nodded in acceptance.

"Why thank you kindly. I hope I was not intruding on a secret conversation." He said as moved into the compartment, sitting as the raven haired girl, but still a respectable distance away.

"Not at all, we were just discussing what houses we will be sorted into. We both will definitely make Slytherin, but what about you? Oh, I'm Tracy by the way. Tracey Davis. And this is Daphne Greengrass." Tracey introduced her and her possible Slytherin friend.

"Well I must admit I am at a disadvantage on that question as I've traveling around a lot with my teacher. But still it is very nice to meet you both, my name is Harry Potter." Both girls got wide eyed at that and immediately started to freak out, as well they should. Not everyday you meet a dead hero.

"Harry Potter! But you're dead!" Tracey exclaimed as Daphne nodded in agreement.

"I can tell, stories of my death have been greatly exaggerated. However should the opportunity present itself I am curios as to how being dead feels. Having dealt with plenty of undead at this point the question is on my mind." Harry said with a smirk as he got the two to bite on the, "meeting undead" part.

And so Harry began regaling them with a story of how he and his mentor encountered a manic depressive Lich in Australia who, after many surf lessons and hits from a blunt, found his calling as a surfer. An hour had passed by the time he had finished his tale, and both Daphne and Tracey clung to every word that was said.

"Woooow. Who would have ever guessed that surfing can thwart zombies." Tracey said in wonderment.

"You would be quite surprised what surfing can solve. In fact, here's a story about how surfing, a roll of duct tape, and the Gay Men's of Los Angeles Choir helped me calm an army of angry weretigers." Before Harry could begin the door to the compartment swung open and revealed the blond boy from that ninth circle of Hell.

"I hear Harry Potter's on the train." The boy stated with two goon children standing behind him.

"Uhhh, yeah. Right here." Harry waved from his seat. The blond boy looked at him held out his hand.

"Draco Malfoy. You'll find some wizarding families are better than others. I can help you with that." Draco said with a smug smile. Harry shook his hand and addressed him.

"Right, any ways I was in the middle of a story, so are you staying or going?" Draco seemed to notice for the first time the other two in the compartment and saw their displeasure at Draco's interruption. Sitting next to Daphne, Draco ordered his goon children, Crabbe and Goyle, to stand outside to prevent undesirables from entering.

Harry began the story of the weretigers and time quickly passed as he caught the complete attention of those in the compartment and the two goons outside. By the end of the story they had arrived at Hogwarts.

It took all three friends he made on the way over to put on his robe. At one point he may have summoned up an knife made from ice and threatened Draco about not wanting to wear the nun outfit, but the two ladies talked him down.

There was a boat ride across probably the worst water to have a boat ride on when a question was asked.

"Soooooo, uuh how did you conjure a knife made of ice with no wand? You just whistled and it appeared." Daphne asked. Tracey and Draco both looked at him expectedly and awaited an answer for the question they had as well.

"...Don't worry about that." Harry dismissed as he debated trying to talk them into believing they hallucinated it. While entirely possible, it seemed rude to do to new friends. Plus it might help him get a positive reputation going around. Make Harry do something he doesn't want to, he stabs you with an ice knife. It's perfect.

Moving through the boring processes of school bureaucracy, eventually it came time for the sorting. An old singing hat, which is the best kind, would be put in your head and throw you into a house. The entire Great Hall was filled with staff and students, clearly judging you based off this one moment. Makes you wonder on the logistics of the school don't it?

When Harry's name was called the entire hall was silent. They watched The-Boy-Who-Lived, the one who destroyed the Dark Lord, the one who returned from the dead, sit down and have the hat placed on him. There was an answer almost immediately. With the hat sounding genuinely upset with what it saw. Not in a depressed manner though, more of a "I can't believe you did that" manner.

"Slytherin."