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.

4. Mister Potter

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 Four – Mister Potter

They arrived to find Gringotts in an uproar. The very efficiency of the goblins was compromised, as each were distracted by the spectacle in their midst.

Albus Dumbledore stood in the center of the room, looking very confrontational as he stared down the goblin Griphook – as well as a large, gold-adorned goblin fisting a black steel stave in its gnarled hand. At the Headmaster's side stood none other than Severus Snape, who somehow managed to appear both snide and neutral in the same moment.

"And I tell you," Era'harel heard Griphook retort as Grapple led their small band closer, "that vault has been sealed. You are no longer in authority to demand entrance."

"But this is absurd, a misunderstanding," Dumbledore was insisting, with a sliver of impatience in his carefully calm tone. His very demeanor suggested he had repeated himself a few times before 'Harel's arrival. "I am the boy's magical guardian; you have never denied me my rights before."

Griphook's mouth twisted in a thin scowl, belying the almost-gleeful glint in his beady eyes. "Those rights are currently in question."

"By whom?"

"I question them," 'Harel firmly announced as they came closer, Varric smirking smugly at his side. "You claim guardianship of a boy wildly famous for something he can't remember, whom all the members of our world loathe or admire, and yet never once made this claim known to the boy himself."

Dumbledore sputtered, "Where do you-"

"He told me."

"You know Mister Potter?"

"A redundant question, Headmaster," Snape quietly spoke up. "Everyone knows of Potter. I believe the more important riddle is why we should accept that Mister Potter would trust this man with such personal matters."

"I like you," 'Harel decided suddenly. "Your opinion does not seem colored by media gossip, monetary bribes, or how a revelation might benefit you. As to both your questions - yes I know Harry, and you should accept that he trusts me because, once again, the goblins do not lie." When both men glared at him in suspicious curiosity, he deigned to elaborate. "Upon his maturity, young Harry was summoned to this very bank, whereupon a great number of unsettling truths were revealed to him. It seems you, Mister Dumbledore, took it upon yourself to seal the boy's parents' wills before they could even be read and took it upon yourself to place him where he would receive the furthest thing from an example of familial love as one could find. Questionable, at the very least."

The old man's eyes twinkled quite cunningly. "I will admit to nothing more of that unfounded spiel than that the dear boy needed to be raised far from the fame our world would have thrust upon him, and where Voldemort's followers would be hard-pressed to ever find him due to the protections placed there by his mother."

"The blood wards, you mean," the mage lord confirmed, surprising them both. "Wards you proposed would keep Harry safe from harm, so long as he could consider that place his home, and those people his family. Wards that did nothing to protect him from within. Wards, I might add, which would have been impossible to keep erect, as Harry had admitted to never viewing that house nor its residents as home nor family." His warm amber eyes narrowed as he took a subtle breath to calm himself. "I certainly hope you begin to see why I am drawing your rights in question."

Era'harel turned his attention away from the man before he could form an intelligent reply, giving Griphook his attention as the goblin approached. "Mage Lord Anderfel," he greeted. "Your presence to our summons is both prompt and timely. I hope you'll forgive my abruptness, but there is a matter which much be addressed immediately."

"Of course," he agreed easily with a nod of his head. He made a small motion toward the blond at his side, "I come with an uninvited guest, but he will not interfere."

Griphook gave Draco Malfoy a deeply scrutinizing once-over, but nodded his acceptance.

"That is one of my students," Dumbledore argued, out of turn. "Kidnapped from Hogwarts' very halls by this man, whom another of my students declared a descendant of evil. I strongly request that young Mister Malfoy be relinquished and returned to his schooling."

Arching his brow at the old man, 'Harel turned to Malfoy. "Did I remove you from the castle against your will?"

"No, sir," was the boy's response.

"And would you be prepared to answer that same question under Veritaserum?" Grapple pressed.

Draco lifted his head a little higher, his voice stronger as he replied, "Yes, sir."

"Mister Malfoy is still a student under my supervision," Dumbledore insisted.

It was then that Severus Snape spoke up again, his voice quiet and velvet-smooth. "With all due respect, young Malfoy is seventeen, an adult in the eyes of wizarding law. We cannot force him to return, Headmaster, unless it is his express wish to do so."

"Severus-!"

"However," he added, "perhaps we could all reach a definite understanding, were the boy's father present and enlightened of our current predicament."

Dumbledore did not look at all pleased by the professor's suggestion. On the other hand, Griphook's meaty brow crinkled with bemusement, and he turned toward the gold-adorned goblin silently observing the confrontation. This one, obviously his superior, nodded once in permission. Smirking, Griphook motioned to Grapple, who did not hesitate to make the fire-call.

A small handful of minutes later, one of the public hearths flared green, and Lucius Malfoy stepped smoothly into the main hall. The man brushed the fall of his platinum hair behind his shoulder and swept a bit of ash from his sleeve, gripping an elegant cane in his other hand as he approached. He nodded to the goblins, narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore. His gaze then settled upon Era'harel, and his steps froze.

The young mage lord turned and came a step closer, straightening to his full height. His warm amber eyes flashed, and his magic gave a tangible thrum over his skin, Without even needing an introduction, Malfoy Senior brought his empty fist to his chest and sank to his knee. 'Harel could hear Dumbledore's surprised sputter, and felt his mouth tug in a small smirk as he approached the blond aristocrat. "Do you know me?"

"You are Magic," Lucius murmured, head bowed.

Chuckling, he touched a hand to the man's shoulder. "You and your son are very sensitive. Come, stand and join us. We require your voice in this matter."

The older blond straightened to his feet. "Matter?" He politely asked as he moved to stand at Draco's side.

Dumbledore quickly spoke up, obviously hoping to turn the conversation in his favor. "Your son was stolen away from our halls by this man, and has been convinced he doesn't need to return."

Quirking a slim eyebrow, Malfoy Senior turned his gaze upon his only son and heir.

"Father," Draco spoke quietly and respectfully. "The Headmaster misspoke."

When Dumbledore twitched as though to interrupt again, 'Harel flicked his finger without so much as a glance in the Headmaster's direction. All present stared as the old man grew increasingly frustrated, and ill-tempered as it became evident his voice had been stolen from him. Grapple smirked, Varric chuckled, and Griphook shook his head in awe. "Thank you," he grunted with all sincerity. "It is extremely difficult to give a goblin a headache, but the old man was making a good start of it."

Mouth tugging in a small smirk of his own, 'Harel nodded his acknowledgment of the show of gratitude and motioned for Draco to continue.

The younger blond turned again to his father. "He is descended from Anderfel," he revealed quietly.

"But that's-" The older aristocrat's words trailed off, and his gaze widened.

Draco nodded at the look of awed comprehension in his father's eyes, quite clearly recalling his own moment of clarity. "When I spoke in his defense, the Headmaster implied that I was in support of the Dark Lord himself. Lord Anderfel protected me; I went with him willingly."

"The Dark..." Lucius Malfoy turned blazing eyes upon the Headmaster, his fist gripping his walking cane tightly. "My son will never be tainted by that monster's influence! How dare you suggest such a thing!"

Dumbledore looked almost patronizing as he tried again to speak, his voice lost and stolen by 'Harel's spell of silence. But it was clear what the old man was trying to insinuate when he pointed decisively toward Lucius' arm.

The aristocrat was obviously seething as he shoved his suit coat from his shoulder and freed his arm. He unbuttoned his cuff and unceremoniously wrenched his sleeve up. His flesh was red and swollen, the Mark upon his arm black and writhing as though alive. Draco gave a pained gasp, stepping closer to his father and gingerly setting his hands to Lucius' other arm. In what 'Harel suspected to be a rare public show of affection and comfort, the father kissed his son's brow before turning his gaze again to Dumbledore. "This, Headmaster, is what happens when you incur the Dark Lord's wrath by ignoring his summons. I am married now; I have a family. My ambitions have shifted. I have denied the Dark Lord. Quite bluntly, one of the only reasons he has not hunted me down and killed me is because he knows it to be inevitable, and seems to enjoy the thought of prolonging the torment."

"Father..."

Malfoy Senior turned his back to the Headmaster, fixing his shirt and coat before pulling his son into a fierce embrace that was returned just as strongly.

"Perhaps the Headmaster has worn out his welcome," Era'harel suggested to Griphook, who nodded sharply.

"It would appear so." He snapped his fingers, and quite suddenly Albus Dumbledore was standing outside the goblin bank altogether.

Severus Snape hummed, quietly drawing attention upon himself. "I believe I shall see myself out."

"No," 'Harel argued just as the man began to turn away. "I would speak with you, after I have concluded my business here."

The dark potions professor quirked a single eyebrow in response, before nodding and standing back again to await his turn. 'Harel first turned his attention to the goblins. He bowed lightly to Griphook once more. "I believe you summoned me."

"Not I," the goblin shook his head. He stepped back, motioning to his gold-adorned kinsman. "King Ragnarok, my lord."

Understanding dawned, and Era'harel offered a much deeper bow than before. "Your Majesty."

"Mage Lord Anderfel," the aged goblin greeted, his gravelly voice uncommonly regal for one of his kind. "We have long awaited your awakening, and are both gratified and relieved that your spirit found its way to us at last. We grant you status as Goblin-friend, and shall work to absolve you of any past sins in the eyes of the Ministry. As well, I hereby make to you my personal offer to assist you in your endeavors."

Stricken with humility, 'Harel cleared his throat. "Thank you, your Majesty. But currently, I've only two critical goals on my agenda, and I feel a strong responsibility to see them through personally."

Ragnarok quirked a meaty brow at that, to which Griphook leaned in and murmured near his ear. "Ah," he declared. "Yes, of course, such goals must be prioritized, but I do believe you are forgetting certain others."

"Sir?"

"Dumbledore," Varric hissed so that Snape nor the Malfoys would hear him.

The reawakened mage blinked, turning again to the goblin king. "Your Majesty, while your assistance would be greatly appreciated, I could not possibly impose upon your goodwill with such trivialities."

"It would be no trifle," the goblin king dismissed. "We guide and protect our own."

Knowing it would be an offense to refuse the king a second time, 'Harel bowed his acceptance. Ragnarok nodded in apparent approval, snarling something to Griphook in that garbled tongue of theirs, and then turned away. His steel stave clacked upon the floor with each step as he let himself out through some unknown exit in another part of the building only known to the race that ran it.

Era'harel caught Snape's eyes darting briefly between himself and the goblins, but left the professor to stew in his curiosity a moment longer. Instead, he turned to the Malfoys. As a one, they both dipped their heads in acknowledgment and approached. "Young Draco has earned my protection. He spoke in my defense against Albus Dumbledore, and against implications that I would follow or replace Voldemort. To show my appreciation, I invite you and your family to accept my offer to house you somewhere safe while you are threatened by this dark lord."

Lucius Malfoy made a visible attempt not to stare, only needing a moment's thought to nod his agreement. With a small smirk, 'Harel lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. With a muted crack, Kreacher appeared and looked adoringly up at his young lord, awaiting orders. Ignoring the surprised utterances around him, 'Harel sank to his knee and sat on his heel to bring his eyes level with those of the loyal house elf. "Kreacher, I need you to take these two to their home, quickly. Help them protect their valuables and their home, and to pack their clothes, and then bring them and Narcissa Malfoy to Grimmauld. Strengthen our wards and allow no one else to enter until I return."

"And the Mistress?"

He allowed a dark chuckle to escape; "If she resists, give her hell."

The house elf gave a gleeful cackle and disappeared with another crack, taking the Malfoys with him.

"Blondie, you were made for this," Varric chuckled low enough to not be overheard.

Era'harel smirked, turning at last to Severus Snape. The man had ceased his staring, his dark eyes guarded and observant as the resurrected mage approached. They looked each other over in silence, until the potions master drew a slow breath. "Good evening, Mister Potter."

A/N: I am so so so sorry about the long-delayed update! I have not given up on this story, but sometimes inspiration runs screaming in the other direction. I gave my word not to leave this unfinished, and I really liked my original idea for this story. I was so gripped with emotion by the first image that came to my mind when I twiddled with the idea of an HP/DA crossover. So, just like all of my faithful readers (whom I truly hope haven't given up on me), I really want to see this through. Review, please! Let me know there's still hope out there!