The Lyrium Ghost

by Aina Song

When Harry's magic unlocks a lifetime of hidden memories, he decides to take matters into his own hands to settle a number of wrongs – both recent, and long-ago.

3. Challenge

Title: The Lyrium Ghost

By: Aina Song

Fandom(s): Harry Potter/ Dragon Age II

Genre: Yaoi

Rating: PG-15

Warning(s): Crossover; AU; OOC; Language; Excess Blood; Mentions of Character Death; Flashback(s) to Death Scene; DA2 Direct Quotes and Spoilers.

Pairing(s): Anders/Harry x Fenris

Reviews: Yes, please!

Author's Note: Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money. Italics = thought, messages, the Fade.

Teaser: When Harry's magic unlocks a lifetime of hidden memories, he decides to take matters into his own hands to settle a number of wrongs – both recent, and long-ago.

Chapter Three - Challenge

Hogwarts Castle accepted his sudden appearance upon its grounds easily. Its wards wrapped around him warmly, as though welcoming a long-lost brother. He felt a small smile tug at his lips; he spread his arms wide, releasing a soft pulse of his magic and letting it play along the wards' ancient invisible currents. Hogwarts had always been a sort of sanctuary for him before; in his previous life he'd had his clinic, hidden deep in the underbelly of a city laden with mage-hunters. But it was not until now that he understood what it truly was to come home again.

And there was only one soul he wished to share it with.

Lowering his arms, he turned around just as he was joined by the goblin Grapple and Varric, guised once again as the stoic Abrasion. He greeted them both with a small bow, to which Grapple smirked and Varric offered an extravagant bow of his own.

"On with the show, messere?"

He chuckled softly, "Yes."

"You will be met with much resistance, Mage Lord," Grapple gruffly warned. "It would be ridiculously optimistic to hope to settle this in a single evening. We will offer what assistance we can, but you must be prepared to defend yourself against the like of Albus Dumbledore and those who would support him."

"I know," he agreed. "Thank you."

He straightened his spine and turned back toward the castle. As they crossed the grounds, the wards embraced him, tendrils clinging to him with each step as he moved. He was immersed in the castle's magic, as though walking along the bed of an ocean. He could feel it pass over his skin, naturally displacing its own flow to make room for him; he breathed it in with every breath and felt its energy prickle quietly within the walls of his lungs.

Hogwarts opened its doors to them as he approached, bringing yet another smile to tug at the corner of his lips. Torches and candelabras flared brighter as he led his companions through; portraits lost their tarnish, and House banners shone their colors with new pride. The doors to the Great Hall threw themselves open for them, loudly interrupting the start-of-term banquet. Conversations stalled and died down, and every pair of eyes turned in their direction and stared, some students standing to see over the heads of their Housemates. At the Head table, all the professors stared. As did the Headmaster.

The new lord could just catch Varric's quiet snicker at his side, himself nearly smirking in personal triumph as they calmly strode forth between the two center tables. Hogwarts' magic swirled around them, causing his open robes to billow with each step and his hair to play wildly about his face. Candelabras and floating candles sparked and sputtered, and the enchanted ceiling overhead displayed powerful storm clouds even though the night skies outside the castle were clear. The clouds clashed and thundered at each other, flashing with pent-up energy that seemed very eager indeed to escape.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, throwing his hand up toward the ceiling. When its enchantments did not claim at his bidding, he drew his wand from his robes and tried again. Thunder clapped, and a shard of light struck threateningly close to the old man, ripping quite a few screams from students and professors alike. Seeming to accept his efforts as futile, Dumbledore lowered his wand and turned to the three standing before the Head table.

The resurrected mage arched a single eyebrow, returning the Headmaster's gaze boldly. He did not fear Dumbledore's Legilimency; his mind had long recovered the strength of barriers forged of a lifetime of protecting himself from the demons of the Fade. He threw off the old wizard's attempt to breach his mind as casually as brushing dust from his shoulder.

Albus Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle. "Who are you?"

"My name is Era'harel(1) Anderfel," the young mage answered, his voice ringing clearly in the suddenly silent Great Hall. "I am descended from three of the four Founders of Hogwarts herself."

Several gasps were let out at his declaration. The twinkle had yet to return to Dumbledore's eyes. "Perhaps we had better speak in private. If you would accompany me to my office...?"

"No."

The students behind them murmured curiously.

The Headmaster, who had been about to lead the way away from so many eager ears and witnessing eyes, paused and turned back. "No?"

Grapple and Varric stepped forward to either side of 'Harel, a steadfast guard in his defense. "Gringotts can, will, and does attest to this man's claim," Grapple spoke up. "He is Mage Lord Anderfel, descended from Magic itself, and will be granted what rightly belongs to him."

"Your invitation is an attempt to dispute my claim and gain control, when it is clear you have none." 'Harel looked up to the ceiling, which quieted and calmed instantly, the clouds breaking away to allow an uninterrupted view of the stars; some few candlesticks drifted closer and illuminated the dark-haired mage. Amidst awe-stricken stares and wonder-filled whispers, 'Harel avowed, "Hogwarts herself recognizes her heir."

Each professor turned as one to their Headmaster. Dumbledore slowly reclaimed his seat. He drummed his fingers upon the table, his other hand smoothing his beard below his chin. Both were tells, clear as crystal for Era'harel: Albus Dumbledore was suddenly on the board with no ready counter-move.

To his left, Minerva McGonagall rose to her feet, unwittingly offering herself up as her employer's first pawn. "Young man, what right do you have to make such a claim?"

"We are here," Grapple intoned, his gravelly voice sounding annoyed for having to repeat himself. "Gringotts has in our possession documents verifying the Mage Lord Anderfel as such, a few of which we are willing to provide for perusal by selected individuals. They are authentic and certified, and protected against falsification."

"Mage Lord?" Dumbledore wondered.

"It is a title rightfully claimed by very few. This young man's magic is purer than most, his blood is ancient. Gringotts honors his unadulterated status."

McGonagall bristled, "Isn't he a little young to be burdened by such?"

Varric coughed suddenly, a grunt of noise that drew attention upon itself. 'Harel's mouth twitched in a small smirk, knowing his old friend well enough to have detected the laugh before it was covered up.

Grapple shared in their humor, if the slight hiss beneath his next words were indication enough. "I assure you, Gringotts is quite comfortable with his age."

"I do wonder at his name," Dumbledore spoke again. "It is... unfamiliar, to me."

"And I do not recognize him as a former student," McGonagall huffed.

But then a much younger voice rang crisp and clear behind them; "I know your name."

Blinking, 'Harel turned around. He watched as every head turned toward the Slytherin table. Each of Salazar's students was staring at their peer in shock. But Draco Malfoy stood defiant near the head of the table, close enough that his slate-grey eyes were hard as flint as he dared speak up. "Every pureblood versed in the study of magical origins knows the name Anderfel."

The young mage glanced at Varric, catching his friend's eye. The Glamoured dwarf gave a short, nearly imperceptible nod.

"Of course your family would support him!" Ronald Weasley immediately alleged from across the Great Hall, jumping to his feet as well. "We all know you slimy snakes follow You-Know-Who! That man is a monster, and who do you think he got it from?"

Some few Slytherins leapt to their own feet, ready to defend themselves and their House. But the ceiling came alive with another booming thunderstorm, with crackling flashes of lightning which brought quite a few screams from the student populace. Even Weasley was cowed back into his seat. Malfoy, curiously enough, was not. He remained standing, observing the ceiling's activities with something akin to respect.

When Hogwarts finally calmed once more, Dumbledore tried again to appear as though he still held some semblance of control. "Now, now, let us not behave so in front of our guests. Mister Weasley. Would you kindly elaborate?"

'Harel watched as Malfoy stiffened at the indignity of being ignored, when it was he who had spoken up in the first place. Contrarily, Weasley sat straighter in his seat. "Murder, sir. In ancient history, there was a man named Anderfel who destroyed a religious building and killed nearly fifty people, provoking fear and hatred of wizard-kind everywhere."

"That's a lie!" Malfoy protested hotly. "Anderfel sacrificed his happiness and his life, so that those born of magic might escape persecution."

"He started a war!"

"Corypheus started that war," Neville Longbottom contradicted, slowly standing. "He ripped the skies open. It was only thanks to Anderfel that our kind were rallied to fight and survive while a sanctioned faction drove the Elder One back and healed the skies."

Weasley glared up at his fellow Gryffindor as though betrayed. "Then why are we hiding now? If we're so free, why don't we all just mingle with the Muggles and let the world see us for who we are?"

"Because families like yours," Malfoy replied with cool distaste, "concentrated on the trials and lot sight of the reward. You gave in to your fear. You saw the wrath of the few and forgot that we were many. And over the centuries, with each generation, more and more of our kind tossed themselves back into hiding and utterly abandoned the gift that Anderfel tried to bestow us."

Dumbledore invited himself into their debate. "Mister Malfoy, the actions and ideals you describe sound remarkably similar to those of Lord Voldemort."

The blond visibly flinched, staring at their Headmaster. Ron Weasley looked ready to crow in triumph.

'Harel had had enough. He flared his magic; students and professors alike screamed and bemoaned their punishment as the force of his power crushed down upon them like a gravitational tug toward the core of the earth. Malfoy and Longbottom turned wide eyes upon him, untouched and unencumbered by the mage lord's magic. 'Harel gave Longbottom a subtle nod of acknowledgment, but beckoned the Slytherin prince closer.

Draco Malfoy drew away from his Housemates without a thought, approaching the Head table and rendering all speechless with shock as he forewent his pureblood superiority and sank to his knee before the mage lord. Era'harel set his hand to the blond's shoulder, and the weight of his magic lifted from the Great Hall. As the students and professors picked themselves up from the floor or sat straighter in their seats, they wondered at the streams of moonlight pouring over the mage lord as though the castle itself was caressing him in its ethereal glow.

'Harel gave the young Malfoy heir a small smile; he lifted his gaze in a narrowed glare toward the Headmaster, his voice carrying easily throughout the Great Hall. "I am disgusted by the lack of historical education in this castle. In the days of its Founders, those born of magic were strong and powerful, and were taught to defend themselves and those around them. They were taught the lessons of the past, and were cautioned of their paths into the future. What, now, do these children learn under your misbegotten leadership? Turning hedgehogs into pincushions, perhaps?"

"How dare you!" McGonagall declared, leaping to her feet again. "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of the world-!"

"Prejudice," he interrupted her tirade. "Merlin was one of the most powerful mages in the world. As were Blake, le Fey, Brahms..."

"Quite the lineage, Blondie," Varric whispered in an aside. Grapple's mouth very nearly twitched upward.

"Your most recent history keepers are biased and blinded by money or fear." The lordling turned patient eyes upon the Malfoy heir before him and urged him to his feet, gently clasping the blond's shoulder. "It is Magic that recognizes her most promising children, and Magic alone that decrees their potential."

"M-Malfoy?!" Weasley sputtered. "You think that arrogant, spineless ferret has po-" His words were cut off with a series of rather annoying squeaks and squeals, and all stared at the russet-furred weasel racing out of the Great Hall.

"Transfiguration on a student!" McGonagall screeched. (The Mage Lord silently bemoaned his sensitive ears.) "Highly improper, and against Hogwarts regulations! You will return Mister Weasley to his original form at -" She broke off with a strangled gasp, her hands flying to her throat.

"I do not answer to you," 'Harel coolly stated, the amber of his eyes having lost their warmth. "Nor will I bow under your whim." He shifted his gaze once more to the Albus Dumbledore. "Hogwarts shall see many changes upon my return."

A large resounding crack thundered within the Great Hall, and with that the mage lord and goblins had vanished, stealing the Malfoy heir with them.

~o~

Era'harel steadied young Malfoy as the blond stumbled upon arrival, his mouth tugging in a small smirk as he heard Varric chuckling nearby.

"I shall take my leave and begin preparations," Grapple announced. "Good evening, Lord Anderfel."

"Good evening, Grapple, and thank you," he replied, drawing away from his new guest to grip the goblin's shoulder. "May your vaults never empty."

"And may your treasures flourish," the goblin returned, gripping as far up 'Harel's arm as he could reach in kind. In the next instant, he had Apparated away.

A soft intake of breath recaptured 'Harel's attention, and he turned to find Draco Malfoy staring at their surroundings. They were standing in the entrance hall of Golden Hall, one of his ancestors' long-lost manors, which had taken some time to restore. He was particularly fond of this one, which was now wide and spacious, the exposed beams in the walls and ceiling strengthened and gleaming in the subtle candlelight with new dark tarnish. The walls were washed and painted over in a golden brown glaze; the floor was planked with polished redwood. A single tapestry hung on the farthest wall, set softly aglow by the surrounding candles.

'Harel allowed himself a moment to appreciate the changes he had overseen, before returning his attention to his impromptu guest - who was now gazing at him with something akin to awe. The mage lord quirked his brow in amusement at the irony. "Yes?"

Malfoy blinked apparently realizing he had been staring, and adopted a somewhat abashed expression. "You're not truly descended from Anderfel, are you."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Because Anderfel had no descendants. He couldn't have."

Sharing a glance with Varric, who was leaning against the wall with one ankle crossed over the other, looking very comfortably like his true self despite the Glamour, 'Harel carefully reasoned, "The Anderfel you speak of wasn't exactly known to have been celibate."

"But he was known to have suffered," Malfoy countered, quietly. "I say again... He may have had kin, but there were no direct descendants."

A dark shadow flitted within the back of his memory; the reincarnated mage drew a slow breath and let it out again. He had read Varric's book. He had known his history had been recorded, and eventually shared among those left of their companions who had still cared; had even prepared for the possibility of it being remembered.

He had not realized that would have included his... origins, which the dwarf had given the barest of mentions in respect of his privacy.

"What do you know of magical inheritances?" 'Harel finally spoke again.

Malfoy responded automatically, a possible result of genes and long tutelage. "Upon the age of maturity, the magic in one's blood is activated and unleashed upon the recipient. Such an occurrence includes a rise or stabilization in one's strength in power, and/or the awakening of formerly dormant blood from magical creatures in one's ancestry."

He quirked an amused brow. Elf ears. "Have you creature blood?"

The blond aristocratic heir glanced aside, clearing his throat. "My family is descended from the Veela. I have the blood, but not the fever." Upon receiving a curious tilt of 'Harel's head, he elaborated, "My blood didn't boil when I came into my maturity. It means I shall not find a mate. The best I can hope for is to marry for ambition."

"My condolences," the mage lord offered sincerely. "Though ambition can be a strong quality in a mage, when given guidance and opportunity."

"Thank you," Malfoy quietly accepted. He paused, "But you didn't answer my question."

A corner of Era'harel's mouth quirked up just a little. "Haven't I?"

"No, you-" He broke off, blinking rapidly, a look of sudden comprehension filling his slate-grey eyes. His next breath caught quite audibly in his throat, and the blond stumbled back a step in his shock.

"A quick mind," Varric observed, chuckling. "Though you may have broken the boy, Blondie."

"Think I should give him a moment to breathe before the next one?" The young mage lord responded easily.

Malfoy looked from one to the other, his breathing seeming just a tad uneven. "W-what did he call you?"

This cracked the last of Varric's control, and the Glamoured dwarf let out a great thundering laugh.

"He gives everyone a nickname," Era'harel explained. "Stick around long enough and get him to like you, and you might earn one as well." He turned a sardonic grin toward his old friend. "Even his crossbow was blessed with a name."

"Bianca," Varric practically crooned. "A woman after my own heart."

Malfoy watched, his stunned expression slowly giving to bemused interest, as the mysterious mage lord leaned his back to the wall beside the stout goblin. "I seem to recall you had a particular fondness for Hawke's sister as well," 'Harel countered.

"Sunshine?" Varric smirked. "Hawke would have flayed me alive."

"Is that why you tried so hard to convince everyone you had a thing with Isabella? And why is it Hawke escaped earning a nickname?"

He scoffed, "I dared many things back then, but I wasn't suicidal."

A loud crack interrupted them, announcing the sudden return of the goblin Grapple, who immediately braced a hand to the wall as he gathered his breath. "Lord Anderfel," he grunted. "Albus Dumbledore has arrived in Gringotts, and is demanding answers."

"About...?" He led away meaningfully.

"Yes." Grapple gave him a pointed look, adding, "And, yes."

'Harel nodded his acceptance, then turned to Malfoy with a cunning tilt of his lips. "Fancy a trip to the bank?"

The blond stared. "You're asking me to come along?"

He smirk widened; "You were abducted by a scion of the Black City. I can't possibly let you out of my sight, now. You might run off to spill my darkest secrets."

"I would never-"

"And besides," the mage lord smoothly cut across Malfoy's protest, "after witnessing his reaction to my presence at the feast, I doubt you'll want to miss what the illustrious Headmaster would do when presented with a real challenge."

(1) Era'harel = Elvhen, translating into demon-mage/arcane horror. Source: (they wouldn't let me keep it if I tried).com. Author's Note: Will often exchange for nickname 'Harel, as it is easier and faster to type, and sounds similar to Harry.

Author's Note: Hey there, hi, sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I work full-time, often with overtime, and so sometimes inspiration is exhaustingly impossible. I would like to remind and/or inform my readers that this is the first of my stories that I am updating as I write. Always before, I would wait until my work is complete before posting. This is a new challenge for me, hoping to keep the creative juices flowing. So please, have patience with me. I have never, and never plan to, abandon my stories. I will eventually complete this as a whole, even if the ending turns out to feel contrived and bland. (ew, I hope not.) Remember to read and review, and wish me luck!