I Do Not Own Harry Potter or Gargoyles
Two things before I begin.
One: READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTES! They are there for a reason.
Two: Constructive criticism is fine in reviews. It would be nice if you could also be polite about it, but I get that typing a review doesn't have the same emotional tone as a conversation, but at least it's constructive. Even comment's like I hated the story, or I don't think it was good are acceptable, again as long as you're polite. INSULT'S TO THE AUTHOR ARE NOT ACCEPTABLE, GUEST REVIEWER OR NOT!
Had to get that off my chest.
I recently posted a One-Shot Crossover, Sand and Slaves. It's a Harry Potter/Star Wars crossover, and I freely admit that it is not my best work. If you take the time to read the Author's note, I make it clear I wrote it to both get my muse off it's backside, and to try to inspire other's to write a story I myself admit to having trouble writing. It hasn't even been up a day and I got two reviews, both from Guest, that I have deleted due to how insulting they are. One claimed I was an idiot for writing such a stupid story. The other claimed that I only wrote non-FemHarry stories as fetish porn and was going to attempt to get on the Bandwagon to sell such works to 12 year olds.
Such comments serve no purpose. They don't help the writer improve. They can discourage a writer. And they offer misleading information to potential readers that may be interested in reading the reviews before reading a story. That last comment takes one sentence, at the end of the story, and makes it seem like the entire story is one giant sex scene...which it is not.
The sad part is, at least in one respect, the story worked. My muse got off it's behind and I was able to write this story. It may only be a one-shot, but I hope you enjoy it.
TRIGGER WARNING: While not graphic, the end of this story does include suicide
Dr. Harry James Potter sighed in relief as he sat down in his recliner. Carefully, he set his cane against the end table he had next to the chair.
He lost his energy much fast than he used to, so it was a relief for the man actually sit back and relax.
Not for the first time, Harry wished he'd never encountered the Deathly Hallows.
Despite the fact he destroyed the wand, left the stone behind in the forest, and only kept the cloak...he still possessed all three. The wand had reappeared that very night in his pocket, while the stone had appeared on his bedside table after he awoke the next morning in the Gryffindor dormitory. That had been a little over twenty years ago now.
Now at the age of forty, a relatively young age for witches and wizards that routinely lived well into their hundred and fifties, if not longer...Harry felt like an old man.
It turned out that uniting the Hallows came with a cost, one he hadn't realized for several years. While Harry's magic was more powerful, and he could do things magically that other witches and wizards could only dream of doing...the power he wielded took a physical toll on his body.
Harry needed that cane to walk any distance now. And rarely, and only in the most dire of situations, used his magic.
Sadly, he hadn't realized the problem until he was partway through medical school at university.
Harry had enough of fighting during the war with Voldemort, and had quickly trashed his dreams of being an Auror in favor of becoming a healer and doctor. Training to be a fully certified magical healer had only taken two years of apprenticeship, then Harry had decided to further his knowledge by attending non-magical university. He'd hoped to preserve life, instead of take it.
He'd seen enough death and bloodshed in his teenage years to last several lifetimes.
Naturally, as soon as Harry figured out something was wrong, he'd done his best to figure out the cause. This had led him to not only studying medicine, but genetics as well in the hope of fixing himself. He'd graduated from university ten years ago now, with a duel doctorate in medicine and genetics. He was still no closer to fixing himself. And his condition had only worsened.
It hadn't helped that certain criminal elements of the magical world thought to make a name for themselves by killing the man that killed Voldemort, forcing Harry to use magic to defend himself and causing even more damage to his body.
Which had led Harry not only to avoid the magical world, including his former friends, entirely, but to move to America. Gun laws allowed for Harry to not only get a permit for a gun, but to carry one as well. And while not as flashy as magic, a gun could be just as good a defense.
Most importantly, using said gun to defend himself didn't take a toll on his body.
But Harry would admit that he was miserable.
Perhaps his circumstances would be more bearable if he had friends, or someone to share his life with, but he'd grown apart from his school friends. They hadn't had any big fight or anything...they'd just taken different paths in life and their friendship just...died. At university, he never did make any friends, confident in his school friendships and unable to share the magical world with them. Afterward, he'd bee too focused on his career, and his attempts to find a way to reverse, or at least stop, the damage being done to his body.
Harry didn't even have the energy for a one night stand anymore. If he was being honest with himself, Harry saw himself needing the use of a wheelchair in the not to distant future...for a man that had once gleefully flown at speeds that would make jet pilots jealous, it was an agonizing thought.
Jut before Harry could turn on his TV and try to relax however, his telephone rang. Luckily, it was set on the table beside him, so the wizard didn't have to get out of his seat to answer.
"Hello," he said, holding the phone up to his ear.
"Hello. Am I speaking to Doctor Harry Potter?" a cultured, even voice asked from the other end.
"Speaking."
"I am Owen Burnett, Personal Assistant to David Xanatos," the voice, Mr. Burnett, introduced himself. "Mr Xanatos was hoping you would be willing to meet with him to discuss a personal project."
David Xanatos was the CEO and majority shareholder of Xanatos Enterprises. He was frequently in the news, most recently to Harry's memory for his marriage to Fox, a former TV star and the heiress to Cyberbiotics. Most notably to Harry, both Xanatos and his wife had been convicted of crimes. Still, as a businessman, that didn't mean that Xanatos wanted to hire Harry for anything criminal, and he could use the money if he was honest with himself. Still...
"What kind of project?"
"Mr. Xanatos would prefer to discuss that in private. He is willing to pay you ten thousand dollars just for meeting with him."
Harry's interest was piqued. Ten thousand dollars just for a meeting was quite the sum. Even if Harry wasn't interested in the project, ten thousand dollars would help him out greatly.
"When and where would Mr. Xanatos like to met?" he asked.
David Xanatos was a man that admitted when he made mistakes. Acknowledging those mistakes was just one way he was able to use those same mistakes, either as learning experiences or in their own way. Fixing things however, that was a different matter.
By far, Xanatos would admit that his two greatest mistakes were the creation of Thailog, and creating the Mutates. Both of those mistakes involved genetics, and Dr. Anton Sevarius.
There was little Xanatos could do about Thailog. Though that didn't mean he wanted to abandon the idea of cloning, especially since he did need to atone for his many wrongs against the clan, especially since they were now living at the Eyrie Building again. The clan was small, and Xanatos knew that as a species, gargoyles were teetering on the brink of extinction. And while Xanatos may not be able to help every clan, he did have hopes for helping the Manhattan Clan.
That said, Sevarius' clones had turned out to either be evil being such as Thailog, or else with the limited intelligence of the Labyrinth Clan.
As for the Mutates...Xanatos knew that, with the exception of Fang, wanted to regain their human forms and identities again.
To solve both issues, Xanatos need another geneticist, one with more scruples than Sevarius. Sadly the field of genetic engineering was small, and few in the field had Sevarius Brilliance. Even worse, of the six geneticist he'd thus far met with, he doubted their ability and willingness to help him.
Hopefully seven would prove to be a lucky number.
He stood from his seat as Owen led in Dr. Potter.
Walking over, he held out his hand to shake the doctor's. "Thank you for meeting with me Dr. Potter."
"I won't deny, the money was a great incentive, though mostly it made me curious as to what you are requesting me to do," the doctor told him.
Xanatos grinned. "Hopefully this will prove to be a productive meeting for us both." Xanatos gestured to one of the seats around the table, "Please, have a seat."
"Thank you."
As Dr. Potter took his seat, David took the time to assess the man. He didn't appear to be to old, but there was a...tiredness, about the man. And the way he leaned on the cane he'd brought with him proved to Xanatos that the man genuinely needed it. That said, it appeared that Dr. Potter took care of himself. His black hair was, though peppered with the beginnings of gray, was grown long and pulled back into a ponytail, similar to Xanatos' own. A closely trimmed beard adorned the other mans face. It was clear that he took the time to maintain his appearance. His suit, while clearly store-bought and not tailored, was worn, but well cared for. The man likely had the same suit for several years.
Overall, when combined with his aristocratic features, and vivid green eyes that set behind a pair of glasses, Dr. Potter was most certainly a handsome man.
He was also clearly a man that liked to get straight to the point as he asked, as soon as he was seated, "So what did you want with me?"
Already, Xanatos liked the man more than the other geneticist he met. Still, before he could get into to much detail, he needed to ask an important question. "I don't know how well informed you are, but before I get into too many details I have to ask, are you aware of the gargoyles that appeared on the news not to long ago?"
Dr. Potter raised an eyebrow. "You mean the ones that were accused of destroying that police station?"
Xanatos grinned. "Yes, them. How do you feel about gargoyles?"
Dr. Potter leaned back in his chair, and gave David an assessing look before he answered. "They are no more harm than a normal human. And I sincerely doubt that those gargoyles launched missiles into a police station. Not only would it go against their nature as gargoyles, but most gargoyles tend to live quite simply. They wouldn't have the means to create, let alone launch, such a device."
Now that answer was a surprise."You're familiar with gargoyles?"
"Somewhat," the man before him admitted. "I've never met any, but I have read about them. My ancestors used to aid a clan of them."
"Used to?"
Dr. Potter sighed. "According to my family records, the clan was wiped out while they slept when their nest was discovered by others. My Great Grandfather then proceeded to hunt down those involved in the slaughter." Something flashed in the man's eyes. "Potter's do not forgive such atrocities."
"That, is actually a relief to here," David assured the man, leaning back in his own chair. Reaching forward, he slid a folder over to the doctor. As the other man picked up the folder to look at it's contents, David asked, "I need your thoughts on this before anything else."
That folder contained some, though not all, of the information about the mutates. Of the two geneticist that expressed non-hatred of gargoyles before this, they both agreed such a thing was impossible. Considering the mutates existence, Xanatos knew better. Still, he knew better than to allow all the information he had, which was all of Sevarius work on the Mutates while the man was under David's employ, into the wrong hands.
The two men sat in silence for several moments as Dr. Potter went over the contents of the folder. Finally, after around ten minutes, Dr. Potter set down the folder with a sigh. "Either this is some sort of prank you are pulling, which I find unlikely considering the money you offered for just this meeting, or whomever did this," he gestured to the folder, "is a genius...and not in a good way. So what do you need me for?"
"You're right, this is no prank," David assured the man. "I...was not a good man before the birth of my son. I cared only for certain things, and damn anything that in the way of my goals." He paused a moment, feeling the weight of Dr. Potter's eyes on him. "Since my son's birth, I've changed. While I won't deny that I still like money and power, I want to be a man that Alexander, my son, can be proud to call his father. To do so, I need to do whatever I can to amend the mistakes of my past. When I encouraged, and paid, Dr. Anton Sevarius to do that," he gestured with his head at the folder, "I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life."
"This is Sevarius work," Dr. Potter sighed. "Lovely."
"You know him?"
"There is not a geneticist alive who does not know Dr. Anton Sevarius. Most of us, myself included, believe him to be a madman...brilliant, but twisted." He let out a shaky breath. "And you not only hired him, but encouraged him." He gave David a hard look. "You truly want me to try to undo what he has done?"
"That is one thing I would like, yes," David assured the man.
What else would you ask of me?"
"What do you know about cloning?"
Xanatos had been good to his word.
In exchange for working for the man, Harry was provided a state of the art laboratory, along with an apartment not far from the lab, this was on top of his salary.
What had surprised Harry at first was that both the laboratory and apartment were in the Eyrie Building, Xanatos Enterprises corporate headquarters as well as the primary residence of David Xanatos and his family. But as he looked through the notes, and other associated work, left behind by Dr. Sevarius...it made sense.
Xanatos had, while receiving updates on what the man was doing, not kept a close eye on Sevarius. It was clear he didn't intend to make the same mistake twice.
It took two weeks for Harry to look through Sevarius' work on the Mutates alone, and the notes he'd left on the creation of the clone Thailog were even more extensive.
The Mutates were, quite frankly, a miracle of science.
Setting out to create a creature similar to a gargoyle, Sevarius had used DNA from several different species of big cats, multiple species of bats, and electric eels. He'd then created a mutagenic serum that would transform a human into the creature he desired. It was hard enough just crafting a DNA sequence that would combine such different creatures into a viable species, let alone into an actual desired design.
If he was honest with himself, Harry didn't understand half of Sevarius note on how he created the mutates. Without current DNA samples to examine, Harry felt he couldn't even begin to attempt to find a way to revert the process. And Xanatos had, when Harry had inquired about the possibility of getting those DNA samples, explained why such a thing was unlikely to happen at the moment.
Which left Harry with figuring out not only what went wrong with Thailog, but also with the creation of the Labyrinth Clan of Gargoyles, which Xanatos lacked Sevarius notes on.
Luckily, this was a subject that was much easier for Harry to understand.
While there were many more notes on Thailog's creation than there were the mutates, taking Harry a full month to work through, the majority of the notes had to do with Thailog's accelerated aging as well as how to educate the clone. The cloning process that Sevarius used was, itself, actually fairly straightforward.
Though it was obvious to Harry that Sevarius wasn't that invested in his creations health. And the process Sevarius used was not one Harry would use.
Based on those notes, Harry was able to make a pretty good guess as to what went wrong with Thailog, as well as the Labyrinth Clan. With Thailog, the combination of how he was created, his time in a tank, the subliminal education, and the lack of social interaction had led to a being that was entirely without morals and cared only for itself. In fact Harry was confident in theorizing that Thailog had some king of anti-social personality disorder, and he hadn't even met the clone.
Creating actual viable clones to boost gargoyle numbers was, at the same time, easy...and a challenge.
The actual process itself would be easy. Making an actual clone wasn't actually that hard, provided one had the proper equipment and procedures, especially if one wasn't making any alterations as Sevarius had done.
There were two things however that made cloning these gargoyle a challenge.
The first was that, to properly clone a sane, socially adept clone, said clone had to be "born" and grow up as close to natural as possible. Creating the clones in tanks was a viable option if Harry was unable to find a good analog for developing embryos in eggs, but only because few beings ever truly remembered the time immediately after they were "born". Once developed as much as a newly hatched gargoyle would be, the clones would need to be taken from the tanks, then raised and treated as though they were any other gargoyle. Still, Harry would prefer the egg option. Clones grown in tanks had potential to develop...oddities, stemming from their creation later in life.
The second issue was the lack of genetic diversity.
There were six gargoyles in the Manhattan Clan. And discounting the fact that at least two of the gargoyles in the clan were father and daughter, without genetic information on the rest of the clan, there was no telling how closely related they already were. And inbreeding would kill a clan just as much as low numbers, the death would only be longer and slower.
And while Harry had the DNA sequence of Goliath and Thailog to examine and experiment with...he could only do so with computer models.
That wasn't to say the lab went unused. Aside from his personal research, which Xanatos had given him permission to use the lab for, Harry was attempting to synthesize an artificial egg that matched gargoyle eggs. This was done in anticipation, and in preparation, for actual cloning.
Considering both the size of gargoyle eggs (which Harry was positive made the healing of a gargoyle's stone sleep seem like a miracle for female gargoyles that just laid them), and the lack of information, even when he raided his personal library, synthesizing the eggs was proving to be a challenge. Not that Harry wasn't having some success, it was just slow going and inconclusive.
In all honesty, Harry needed to talk to the gargoyles themselves.
He was just contemplating how to convince Xanatos to allow him such a meeting, when the phone on his desk began to ring. Considering there was only one person who would be calling him on this number, and that person was for all intents and purposes his boss, Harry answered the phone. "Potter," he said, more to ensure this wasn't a wrong number situation than anything.
"I need you to get to the castle now," Xanatos frantic voice told him. "We have a medical emergency and you're the closest doctor I can trust."
"I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm assuming you have a basic first aid kit I can use, but have someone ready to run for any other supplies I need," Harry instructed.
He hung up the phone with a sigh. This wasn't going to be pleasant, but if there was a medical emergency, especially one that made Xanatos this desperate, Harry couldn't take the elevator.
If someone died because he was too slow, he'd never forgive himself. Especially when one considered how long it could take him to walk anywhere in the first place. Double checking that the Elder Wand was in the hidden wand holster strapped to his arm, Harry picked up his cane, took a breath, twisted his body...
….and disappeared from the lab with an audible crack.
Goliath was frantic with worry, even as he attempted to reassure his daughter.
"Hold on Angela," he told her, pressing a hand to the bloody cloth over her stomach. "It's just a few more hours until sunrise. Hold on!"
His daughter's breaths were short, she'd already lost a lot of blood. Goliath wished, not for the first time, that guns never existed. While tougher than humans, gargoyles were not invulnerable. Tonight, while attempting to stop a group of men from raping a woman, one of the criminals that the clan worked so hard to defend the innocents of this city from had finally gotten lucky.
In all the time they'd patrolled Manhattan...none of them had actually been shot by a normal firearm. But it had finally happened.
The scene was eerily similar to the night the Canmore Hunters had almost killed Angela. But unlike then, there wasn't anything the clan, Elisa, or anyone could do to buy them the necessary time.
He'd been afraid the entire glide back that his daughter was going to die in his arms as he carried her back to the castle, hoping that Xanatos had someway to help her. He was still afraid, kneeling over Angela in the castle courtyard, that she would die in front of him.
A loud crack echoed around the courtyard.
Goliath looked up to find a man he didn't recognize leaning heavily on a cane as he walked, coming towards him. Before Goliath could question the man's appearance, or even who he was, he was beside Goliath, kneeling over Angela.
"How long since she's been shot?" he asked.
Goliath couldn't answer, his confusion at this man's presence, his well earned suspicion, and his worry for his daughter warring in his head. Luckily, Lexington had a cooler head. "Maybe twenty minutes, it took us fifteen just to get back to the castle."
The stranger gently, but firmly, lifted Goliath's hand, and the cloth he was holding to Angela's wounds.
"Shit," the man mumbled. "XANATOS!"
The man in question, who had been silently observing the scene from a few feet away, approached. "What do you need?"
"She's got three bullets still inside her. I need to remove the bullets so that I can close the wound and keep her from bleeding out." He closed his eyes, and flicked his wrist. Suddenly, there was a long, ornately carved stick in the strangers hands. "As much blood as she's probably already lost, we don't have time for you to run for supplies." He took a breath, even as he aimed the stick at Angela's wounds. "Once I'm done...I'm most likely going to pass out. I'll be fine, but you'll need to get Angela hooked up to a saline solution. If I knew our blood was compatible, I'd recommend a transfusion. That should see her until sunrise, and stone sleep should take care of the rest of her healing. Understand?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Goliath!" The large gargoyle made sure he was looking at the stranger in the eye as he was addressed. "This is going to hurt, I need you to hold her down, can you do that?"
Goliath nodded. "Yes," he answered, even as he moved to hold his daughter down. Whoever this man was, he was trying to save Angela's life...for now that earned him Goliath's trust.
"Tell me when your ready."
It took Goliath only a moment to be sure of his hold on Angela. "Ready."
"Accio bullets."
Angela roared in agony, eyes burning red, even as Goliath struggled to hold her down.
Goliath barely noticed as the stranger caught the three bullets that came out of Angela in his hand, only for the man to almost carelessly toss them aside.
Once more he pointed the stick at Angela. "Vulnera Sanentur."
Angela let out another roar, more drawn out and pained. But this time, Goliath was able to watch as Angela's wounds, slowly, began to close. Once closed, the stranger was breathing raggedly, as though he'd just run a marathon. "Get...Get the IV," he said, standing and stepping away from Angela and Goliath.
The man hadn't taken two steps however when he collapsed. Luckily Hudson was close enough to catch the man before he hit the stone of the courtyard.
Turning his attention back to his daughter, Goliath panicked momentarily when he noticed her eyes were closed, but then he noticed her chest was still moving as she breathed. She'd passed out, most likely from the pain.
Carefully, Goliath scooped his daughter in his arms. Turning to Xanatos, he said, "The man said she needed an I V. Where can we get this?"
"I already sent Owen to get one," Xanatos assured him. We can take her to a spare bedroom for the actual IV."
"And him?" Goliath asked, tilting his head towards the man held in Hudson's arms.
"We'll put him in the room next to her," Xanatos let out a long breath, rubbing a tired hand over his face. "God know I have questions, and this night was not the kind of excitement I enjoy."
"Perhaps we have finally found something we have in common," Goliath rumbled, even as he carrying Angela, Hudson carrying the stranger, and the rest of the clan followed the human into the castle.
Goliath and the rest of the clan were understandably more worried about Angela than the strange man that had healed her. But the guest rooms, while extravagant and large for humans, as befitting when they were in the home of a multi-billionaire, still felt cramped when the large forms of the gargoyles were crowded into them. Which was why Xanatos had suggested just one of the gargoyles stay with Angela, while the rest listened to what Xanatos could tell them of the strange man.
Hudson, being the eldest and most experienced gargoyle, as well as the most patient, volunteered to sit with Angela. Not only would he be able to see any signs that Angela was in distress and needed more medical attention, but he knew that Goliath would tell him about the strange man later.
Which was why Xanatos, his wife Fox, and Owen were gathered with the clan just a few rooms away.
"Who is that man?" Goliath asked, once everyone was present. In truth, he wished Elisa could be there, but she was working and had no excuse to be at the Eyrie building at that moment.
"His name is Dr. Harry Potter," Xanatos told everyone, his arms crossed. "I hired him to attempt to fix Sevarius' work. And until tonight...I thought him perfectly normal, if intelligent." He looked over at his assistant "Can you add anything Owen?"
Owen, was also the fae Puck in disguise and with his powers restricted by King Oberon, was silent a moment before speaking. "Please understand that I cannot be a hundred percent sure, but I believe Dr. Potter is a wizard." Before anyone could ask any other questions, he went on to explain. "There is a small percentage of humanity that is born naturally able to cast magic. They have been in hiding for several centuries now. The men are known as wizards, while the women are known as witches. They tend to be xenophobic and more then a little racist. Puck never really spent much time around them...he found them to be quite boring the few time he interacted with them. Thus I'm afraid that, aside from using a wand to channel their spells, as we apparently witnessed Dr. Potter do, I can't actually tell you much about them."
"Are they dangerous?" Fox asked.
The blonde man simply raised an eyebrow. "Potentially. Though anyone can be dangerous, their magic does give them an advantage over regular humans. But much like any other sentient, some are good, while others..."
"Are monsters," the weary voice answered from the doorway.
The group turned to find Dr. Potter, leaning heavily on his cane, standing in the doorway. He smiled, though it was clearly not a pleasant smile. "Sorry, but I couldn't help myself once I realized what you talking about," he said, before walking into the room. He made his way over to a chair, and collapsed into it. "I kind of figured you all would have questions, so ask away."
"If you can use magic, why work for me?" Xanatos asked, before anyone else could ask a question.
The dark haired man sighed. "You had to start off with one of the harder questions. To put it simply...even among magicals, I'm a bit of an oddity. My own magic is killing me, and every time I use it, my body gets weaker. I became a doctor, and eventually a geneticist, in an attempt to discover what was wrong and cure myself. So far, I've had no luck. As a result, I have done my best to eliminate magic usage from my life, except in life or death situations like earlier. Unfortunately, without magic, life is quite different. I need a job, funding, and a lab to actually get anywhere with my research. And while you have hired me for specific reasons Mr. Xanatos, you'll recall our agreement that I could use the lab you provided for my own research as well. So while I have done, and will continue to do, my best to complete the projects you assigned me, I have also used the lab to try and figure out how to stop what's happening to me."
The group was silent for several moments before Lexington asked, "Your own magic is killing you?"
"Yeah."
"If your magic is killing you, why did you use it to help my daughter?" Goliath asked.
"I just said that, in life or death situations, I was willing to use it. Sadly, I have a bit of a hero complex that's the result of a …. misspent youth." Dr. Potter shrugged, as though to say, 'what can you do'. "I never was able to get rid of it completely. It's one reason, besides the pay and the lab, that I was willing to work for Mr. Xanatos.
"What do you mean?" Goliath rumbled.
Dr. Potter looked over at Xanatos. "You didn't tell them?"
Xanatos sighed. "I was hoping you'd have provided something I could actually offer them before bringing up the topic." The businessman turned his attention back towards Goliath and the clan. "The specific projects I hired Dr. Potter for were to find a way to cure the Mutates...and to figure out what went wrong with Thailog and the rest of the clones in the hopes that we could use the cloning process to help increase the clans numbers."
"And just how are clones supposed to help us?" Goliath asked, more than a little angrily.
Before Xanatos could answer, Potter did. "Aside from adding numbers to the clan, they wouldn't," he said, earning a look from the businessman. Before Xanatos could ask what he meant, he explained, "But that is not the end goal, or at least not my end goal. What can help you are clones like Delilah, who are, rather than direct clones, more like children."
"I'm lost," Broadway admitted.
"Don't feel too bad big guy," Fox assured him. "I am too."
"I'm not," Xanatos claimed smugly, clearly having figured out now what Potter was trying to explain. "You actually want to get the clan's numbers up, but reduce the risks of inbreeding by adding fresh genetic material to the clan, don't you?"
"Bingo."
"Can someone explain that in a way we can understand," Brooklyn asked.
Sighing, Potter explained, "In most living beings, inbreeding can pose several risks. What, exactly, these risks are depend on a variety of factors ranging from how closely related the subjects actually are, to how much inbreeding has occurred in the subjects family line before. These risks can range anywhere from an increase in potential health risk, all the way to physical malformations or mental instability. In short, it's why having a kid with your genetic sister is bad, your cousin can be okay, but a complete non-relative is preferred. The problem you have is that your clan is not only small, there are only six of you after-all, but there is only one female, who already shares DNA with one of you. Even if she has children with one of you, and the rest of you find female gargoyles to have children with, that would leave you with five genetic lines in your entire clan. The next generation would have even less to work with."
"How does Delilah come into this?" Goliath asked.
"Delilah was created from gargoyle and human DNA. While there was most certainly genetic manipulation done to ensure she was a gargoyle, she is genetically the child of Demona and Detective Maza. The child of a human and a gargoyle. And while it may not seem like much, the addition of Detective Maza's DNA only adds to the genetic diversity, rather than take away from it. In theory, if I could create enough clones, combined with human DNA, your clan would be large enough not to worry about inbreeding. Though to do so I would need to actually study your DNA, as well as ask you questions that I can't get answers to from books."
"You could truly do this?" Goliath asked, somewhat amazed.
"Maybe," Harry admitted. "Sevarius has proven the theory of it possible with the creation of Delilah, but I don't have his notes of the process to work from. So the exact percentage of human-gargoyle DNA Delilah has is a mystery to me, or if it's even a viable option. Though if I'm being honest, even a little bit of additional DNA can help, it just may not help enough to save your clan.
It was several nights later, and Harry was in the lab testing his own blood again as he read through Dr. Sevarius notes on cloning Thailog. He'd read through them already, but now he was looking for some hint as to how the man had made Delilah.
So far he wasn't having any luck, with his own problems or the ones presented to him by Xanatos.
He had hoped, once he'd met the clan, that at least one of them would be willing to let him take a blood sample to analyze. But once his talk with the clan had finished, Harry hadn't felt it an appropriate time to ask, due to the fact they were not only waiting for one of their own to recover from being shot, but because of their (admittedly justified) distrust of Xanatos and his employees, even if they lived with the man.
He hadn't interacted with any of them since.
For now, that was fine with Harry. The gargoyles barely knew him, and they'd had bad experiences with Xanatos and geneticist in the past. As much as he truly wished to help them, he wasn't going to push them.
He was drawn from his reading as a feminine voice said, "Hello, is anyone in here?"
Looking up from the notes, Harry pushed his wheeled chair so he could see the entrance to the lab, and the female gargoyle standing in said entrance.
"Evening Ms. Angela," he greeted, drawing her attention to him. He knew gargoyles didn't have last names, but since he was unsure of proper gargoyle etiquette, he tacked on the Ms. since Angela hadn't actually given him permission to use her name. "How can I help you?"
The lavender skinned gargoyle's tail lashed behind her, reminding Harry a bit of a cat. He idly wondered exactly how conscious the movement was, especially as Angela was visibly nervous.
"I was told that you saved my life," she said after a moment of silence. "I...I wanted to thank you."
He smiled gently at her. "No thanks are necessary Ms. Angela."
"Still, I wanted to thank you," she insisted. "I...I don't remember much, except for the pain."
"In that case, you're welcome," he acknowledged.
"Father said you were trying to help us by making clones?" she asked, clearly having no intention of leaving the lab yet. "He...couldn't explain it very well when I asked."
Harry grinned lightly. "If you'd like, I can explain it to you...perhaps over a game of chess. Assuming you know how to play of course."
The wizard would gladly admit that, though he rarely won, he missed his chess games with Ron.
"I don't," Angela admitted. "But perhaps you could teach me?"
"It would be my pleasure."
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Angela was a frequent visitor to Harry's lab. Not only had he explained to her what he was doing, but he had taught her how to play chess. They played every time time she visited.
Though she had yet to win a game, the gargoyle had happily given Harry permission to use her name after she asked why he always addressed her as Ms. Angela.
Finally, two weeks later, over a game of chess, Angela said, "You mentioned before that you needed questions answered before you could continue your work. What kind of questions?"
Harry was silent a moment, contemplating not only his move on the chessboard in front of them, but how to answer his friend's, and he liked to think that Angela had become a friend over the course of him teaching her to play chess and explaining his work to her, question. After moving his rook to take one of her pawns, he leaned back and answered, "There are several questions I have. To answer some, I actually need DNA samples to work with. But some are also about gargoyles, and gargoyle culture in general. While I have some idea of gargoyle biology and culture, I don't have enough information. And if I'm honest, I lack the knowledge to even know if my questions may be offensive, even if they are only meant to help me help you and the rest of the clan."
Angela moved her queen to take the rook Harry had just moved, falling into his trap even as she answered, "You could ask me. I can't promise I'll answer, but I'll tell you if the question is offensive without getting angry."
The wizard moved his knight, taking Angela's queen and told her, "Check." As he sat back to wait for the gargoyle to make her move he decided this was his best chance to get information. "How many gargoyles hatched alongside you?"
Moving her king away from Harry's knight, Angela sealed her fate as she answered, "There were thirty-six eggs hatched, but three of them were gargbeast, so thirty-three of us."
Harry moved his bishop, trapping Angela's king. "Checkmate," he said, giving the Gargoyle a light grin. As Angela looked at the board to confirm she was indeed in checkmate he asked, "I read that gargoyle's are only capable of laying eggs three times during their lives, is this true?"
Angela winced. "I wouldn't bring the topic up among others, but yes. Every twenty years, female gargoyles are capable of laying eggs. It takes ten years for the eggs to hatch...or so I've been told. We never were old enough to lay eggs thanks to how time passed on Avalon. This next breeder's moon will be the first I'm old enough to do so. So I have never actually seen a gargoyle egg." Leaning back from the board she said, "Good game. I thought I had you a few times," she added with a smile.
"Sadly, I learned to play chess from a genius at the game."
"Can you tell me about them?"
Harry smiled sadly. "Ronald Weasley was, along with Hermione Granger, one of my two best friends in school..."
Looking at the screen of the digital microscope, Harry waited with great anticipation.
It had been six months since he had saved Angela's life, and while Angela had become his friend quite easily, and was a frequent visitor to his lab, the rest of the clan had been much slower to trust him. But thanks to the female gargoyle, who had volunteered to give Harry a DNA sample the night he'd first talked with her about his friendship with Ron and Hermione, he'd eventually been allowed to get samples from all of them.
He'd also finally began to lose the occasional game of chess to Angela, much to the female's delight.
Angela had become Harry's main source of information about gargoyles, and if she didn't know the answer to his questions, she'd asked Hudson or her father for him. Both the elder gargoyles still seemed to distrust Harry, while Brooklyn and Broadway seemed confused as to what he was doing. Lexington had actually visited a few times with Angela, but it was clear to Harry that, while friendly, the smallest gargoyle of the clan still didn't quite know what to make of him.
Bronx loved him however.
The gargbeast was often left in the castle while the clan patrolled Manhattan, no doubt due to his lack of wings. He'd quickly learned, once Angela had brought him to the lab and Harry had given him the leftovers of his dinner, that Harry was a pushover when it came to giving out treats and the occasional belly rub.
How the gargbeast had figured out how to get to the lab on his own, Harry had no idea, but he visited pretty much every night. And every night, Harry had a treat of some kind waiting for him. Angela had actually teased Harry about spoiling the gargbeast.
And while not a true gargoyle, Bronx was close enough in biology that Harry was able to work with the same principles he'd established for gargoyle DNA...and without some of the ethical concerns that came with using the DNA of sentient beings.
Gargbeast were to dogs, what gargoyles were to humans. The main difference that Harry could tell personality wise was that gargbeast were actually a bit more intelligent than the average dog...though to be fair, Harry only had one gargbeast for comparison. To that end, Harry was making an attempt to create a gargbeast using Bronx's DNA combined with the DNA of an Irish Wolfhound.
He'd always had a soft-spot for that particular breed of dog ever since he realized that was the breed Sirius could change into as his animagus form.
Lacking a suitable egg substitute however, he was being forced to use a blacked-out tank for this experiment. If it worked, and he created a viable, living gargbeast, he planned to try again, though combining Bronx's DNA with a different breed of dog. Should both created gargbeast have suitably different DNA, Harry would finally have a base to work from with combining human and gargoyle DNA.
Once the microscope showed the newly made and fertilized ovum, Harry transferred his creation into the tank.
Hopefully, this experiment worked, though as it was Harry's third attempt so far, he doubted it.
Still, half of all science was failure, and it was from failure one learned.
To Harry's immense delight, the third time proved to be the charm.
While the development of the embryo had been accelerated, as planned the gargbeast had stopped it's accelerated development once it had reached the point it would hatch from the egg...or rather until it broke itself out of the tank it was in as though it were an egg.
The gargbeast pup was only about a foot long, but it was clearly a gargbeast. Unlike Bronx, this gargbeast had a pure black hide, and though it still had to grow and develop naturally, it appeared as though it wouldn't be as stocky as Bronx and would instead actually be similar to an Irish wolfhound in build.
In honor of his godfather, Harry called the gargbeast Padfoot. He felt Sirius would love it.
An hour later, Angela and Bronx were both surprised to find a gargbeast pup wandering around Harry's lab when they came to visit.
Angela was happy to see Padfoot, and thought he absolutely adorable. She congratulated Harry for his success, and asked quite a few questions about the pup.
Bronx didn't seem as excited however. Padfoot it seemed had taken an immediate liking to Bronx, and kept trying to get the elder gargbeast to play with him. Bronx it seemed, did his best to ignore the younger gargbeast.
Though Harry was pleasantly surprised and Happy to see that Bronx actually nudged a puppy sized portion of the steak Harry had saved for him towards the younger gargbeast.
A month later, Padfoot was joined by Lassie, a female gargbeast created using collie DNA.
The clan was pleased at the fact they now had two new gargbeast pups.
Bronx was exasperated, or so it seemed. Though the older gargbeast often huffed at and seemed to ignore the two pups, everyone had noticed that he took special care to keep them from the edges of the castle wall, and made sure both had food to eat.
He was even caught licking them several times.
In the meantime, Harry was pleased to see the pups DNA results showed that, though they shared DNA from Bronx, they were no closer related than sixth cousins, so his manipulations of their gene code would allow them to interbreed, relatively, safely. It gave him hope that, with enough human DNA, he could do something similar for the gargoyles themselves.
The creation of the two gargbeast had also seemed to convince Goliath and Detective Maza to speak to the Mutates on his behalf.
Which meant, finally, Harry had their DNA samples to examine exactly what Sevarius had done to them.
The results of the mutates DNA examination...were not good.
Three months after getting their DNA, Harry had come to the conclusion that, safely, he couldn't use science to help the mutates become human again. In all honesty, it was a miracle they were even alive. Their DNA was such a mess at a genetic level. Oh, they weren't in any danger as they were, but Sevarius had basically ensured that no ethical geneticist could undo what he had done to them.
Even if Harry was willing to attempt to make a cure for them, it was such a risky endeavor that he wouldn't dare administer such a complex genetic formula as would be necessary to do so. Seriously, any more genetic tampering could literally turn the mutates genetic code to, literal, mush.
That only left magic as the answer to curing them...which Harry was not enthused about.
But not only was he a geneticist, he was a doctor, a healer, and he felt a moral obligation to at least do the research. There was no guarantee he'd find a cure with magic, but his moral's told him he had to look.
Besides, such magic was likely rare to begin with, even if it existed. If he found nothing, well...
….he had no moral obligation to administer a cure if it either harmed his patients, or didn't even exist.
He may be able to wield magic, but even he wasn't a miracle worker.
"What are you reading?"
Harry looked up to find Angela standing in the doorway. He smiled at her. "I'm researching a way to help turn the Mutates back into humans. This," he held up the book," is a book on magical runes."
"How does that help Talon and the others?" the gargoyle asked.
"It doesn't," Harry said with a sigh. "At least not yet." marking his page, the wizard closed the book and set it aside to face his friend...perhaps the only being, besides the three gargbeast, he could actually consider as such anymore. "I can't cure them with science. What Sevarius did, made that too risky. Even if I could come up with a cure, and I'm not saying I could, I wouldn't dare administer it for fear of hurting them further, or even killing them. So that leaves magic."
"I thought using magic hurt you," Angela admonished him.
"I became a doctor to heal people Angela. I fought a war as a teenager. While I wouldn't like it, my morals oblige me to help heal others if I am able...even at cost to myself," Harry explained. With a small smirk, he added, "I'll admit that it's a character flaw. Hermione once called it my 'Saving people thing."
Grabbing his cane, and using it to help himself stand. Harry continued, "But I doubt you came to visit me just to listen to my woes." Looking down at his watch, and noticing it was still relatively early for his friend, he asked, "Have you eaten breakfast yet? It seems I skipped dinner myself, and breakfast for dinner is always a treat."
Three Months Later
Despite being a medical doctor himself, and attempting to cure his own problems, Harry was not naive, or stupid, enough to trust himself to reliable and with one hundred percent accuracy, keep an eye on his own health. Which was why Harry regularly went to his own physician, as well a magical healer.
His physician had given Harry some bad news, and Harry had gone to his healer to confirm it was indeed bad.
"I don't understand how this happened Mr. Potter," Healer Smythe said, looking at the results of her own exam. "Magicals, as rule, do not get cancer. That you have...I've never heard of such a thing before."
The only sign Harry showed at his own internal distress at the healer's words was the white-knuckled grip he had on his cane. "Is there nothing you can do?"
The blonde woman looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry Mr. Potter. Even if we had a treatment for cancer, your case seems to have accelerated...rapidly. There were no signs you had this during your last exam six months ago, but now...It's spread to almost all of your internal organs. I can only confirm what your mundane doctor informed you. I suggest, whatever treatment plan he suggested, you take it."
That...was grim news. His mundane doctor had been just as baffled as his healer at his sudden development of cancer, as well as it's rapid spread. Dr. Lokeman had suggested immediate and intensive chemotherapy, but cautioned Harry that, as advanced as his case was already, it was unlikely to help.
Based on this visit, as well as how his own health had begun to deteriorate since he had united the Deathly Hallows...Harry doubted chemotherapy would help.
More, he feared just how weak the treatment would make him. He needed a cane to walk now and he wasn't even a senior citizen by non-magical standards yet, let alone magical standards.
"Thank you Healer. I will take your advice and give it my utmost thought."
"You better hurry those thoughts along Mr. Potter. Based off of these results, without some kind of treatment...I can't say how long you have."
The thought didn't frighten Harry as much as it should have. It wasn't the first time he'd faced death after-all.
Xanatos was waiting for them when the Clan woke.
Angela knew this was usually not a good thing, unless prearranged, which hadn't been to her knowledge. Still, she waited for her father to speak, as was his right as Clan Leader.
"Xanatos," Goliath greeted, before asking, "What has happened?"
The businessman sighed. "Dr. Potter has passed away."
"What?" Angela asked, drawing everyone's attention to her. "He was fine last night!" she protested, even as she began to feel tears fall from her eyes.
Xanatos was silent a moment before he said, "I'm sorry Angela, but you remember his explanation about how using magic harmed him?" At the female gargoyles nod, the businessman continued, "He...performed a large amount of magic, it's what drew Owen and I to his lab. We found him...and 70 gargoyle eggs. He left a video...I thought you all should see it."
The businessman led the group to his office, Owen was waiting for them next to the large television screen. Once everyone was gathered, he inserted the video into the player.
Harry, sitting in his lab appeared on screen.
"If you are watching this video, then I'm dead. Hopefully, my last bit of magic was a success. If it was, there should be sixty gargoyle eggs and ten gargbeast eggs in my laboratory," Harry explained. They watched as he ran a hand through his hair. "My death, if it occurred, was intentional...My health has taken a rapid decline. Specifically, I have cancer. It's spread to most of my body and my chances of survival are...well, small is putting it kindly."
Harry let out a sigh. "I don't want to die, hooked up to machines, unable to even get out of my own bed. If I am to die...I want my death to mean something. That's what this is. I used the DNA samples I have access to, to create the embryos in the eggs, and my magic to ensure not only that each embryo revived a proper egg, but was viable. DNA from David Xanatos, Fox, Owen Burnett, Elisa Maza, Matt Bluestone, Talon, Maggie, Claw, Fang, and myself were combined with the DNA from each gargoyle, Goliath, Hudson, Brooklyn, Broadway, Lexington,...and Angela. Ten humans, or former humans, and six gargoyles...Sixty eggs. If I did everything right, randomly, thirty of them should be female, and thirty male. I also used the DNA from ten different canines, combined with Bronx's DNA, to create ten gargbeast."
"I hope...I pray, it's enough to help the clan survive. Even if it isn't...I can think of worse ways to die than bringing seventy new lives into the world."
"I also know that providing for those new lives will not be easy, and that it should not fall entirely upon the Xanatos family to do so. I imagine soon, you will be contacted by a representative of Gringotts, it's a wizarding bank run by goblins. I've instructed that all of my assets and property in the UK be liquidated and turned into cash. That cash, along with the few properties I have her in America, I have left, entirely, to The Manhattan Clan of Gargoyles. It's not as much as Xanatos has, but as the last of the Potter's, who inherited what was left of the Black family, it's still a significant amount. More importantly, if you wish to move from the castle, or are forced to, it gives you places you can go."
Harry was silent for several moments, before speaking once more.
"I apologize for the abruptness of both my death, and the appearance of the eggs. I didn't dare say anything, for fear you'd try to stop me...especially Angela." He smiled sadly. "Angela...I cannot put into words what your friendship these past months has meant to me. I hope you forgive for my actions, but I understand if you can't. Perhaps, if we'd met in another life, our friendship could have lasted longer."
"Goodbye."
The video cut out...leaving the room silent.
Nineteen Years Later
Angela smiled as she watched the young gargoyles play down in the courtyard of the New York Potter estate.
It was in the country, a few hours away from New York City, but not out of range to glide. After Harry Potter had given them the numerous eggs, and the estate itself, and with the threat of the Quarrymen, it had been decided to move the new rookery to the estate. Xanatos had not only helped move the eggs, but he'd arranged for a state of the art security system to be installed.
And while the clan still patrolled Manhattan, Angela herself stayed at the estate. Not only did someone need to stay to watch over the eggs, just in case someone (the Quarrymen in particular) stumbled across the estate, but Angela was determined that her friends sacrifice on behalf of the clan not be in vain.
Of course, when the eggs actually hatched, more hands had been needed. Broadway, as her mate and an excellent cook, along with Lexington who had a falling out with Goliath when it was came out he was gay (though also because he just had a way with the young), had joined her permanently at the estate. The rest of the clan, along with the Xanatos family, and Elisa and Matt, were all frequent visitors.
"Mama?"
Angela was drawn from her thoughts as one of the younglings drew her attention (they all called her Mama as she was the only female always present, though they called Broadway and Lexington Daddy Broadway and Daddy Lexington respectively, the rest of the clan simply got called father, or Mother in the case of Katana, Brooklyn's mate that he'd met while time-traveling with the Phoenix Gate. The humans, Xanatos, Fox, Elisa, Owen, and Matt got called Dad and Mom respectively). Turning, her brown eyes met the green of Harriet.
With her coloring, there was no doubt Harriet was Angela's daughter. Harriet was Demona in miniature, and Angela was the only one of the clan to carry Demona's DNA. She was the only one of the younglings to appear as such. The one, and only difference Angela could see where her eyes. While Both Demona and Harry had green eyes, Harry's had been darker, yet more vivid then Demona's, and when Harriet had first looked at Angela with those same eyes, she'd had no hesitation naming Harriet after her genetic father.
Kneeling down to be at the same level as the youngling, she softly asked, "What can I do for you Harriet?"
"Can you tell us a story tonight?" the young gargoyle asked.
Angela smiled. "Of course I can. What story would you like to hear?"
"Can you tell us a new one?"
"A new one..." Angela thought for a moment, then smiled. "How about I tell you the story about the man that gave us this home?"
"We didn't always live here?" Harriet asked, stunned. "No, that's why it's called the Potter Estate. We were given it as a gift from a very kind man...named Harry Potter."
That's it. I hope you all enjoyed.
This story came about from several thoughts in my head converging. Most notably was the idea that, instead of making Harry all powerful, the Deathly Hallows actually harmed him. I also wanted to do a story that was Harry/Angela, but they couldn't be together. And while the Harry/Angela in this story isn't romantic, perhaps as Harry said...In another life.
Please Review, Check out the Stories I have Up for Adoption under the Title, "Please Adopt Me!" and Check out the Challenges in my Forums (Link on Profile)
