So...I'm currently busy getting Mycoreincarnation into a fit state to publish before long. I'm 11 chapters into that Resident Evil crossover, and I'm hoping to write one last oneshot for Halloween, a crossover with Resident Evil 7. I've posted a couple of Halloween oneshots already, as you may or may not know: Nemesis, a crossover between Bloodborne and The Count of Monte Cristo, and Just an Inside Joke(r), a oneshot set during the events of the game Batman: Arkham Knight.
But here's something that I had promised some months ago, but never delivered. Even if this doesn't become a full fic in any form, it's a nice effort.
Some months ago, I became interested in Forgotten Realms, specifically the Legend of Drizzt saga. I pretty much binged the first four books in the series, and I had become intrigued not only by Drizzt and his fellow Companions of the Hall, but also Drow society. Writing a story where Harry was paired with Drizzt's youngest and most moral (by Drow standards) sister Vierna had become a minor obsession for me.
At the time, I wasn't able to make it work. Hell, I hadn't even finished the chapter I'm publishing below. But after some time, I went back to it, completed it, and even if I don't go back to the story, or else revise it...well, hopefully, it might be interesting just to have in here.
Just so you know, this is a WBWL fic...but with no real James or WBWL-bashing. This version is set during Year 2, but I am considering a TWT version.
Anyway, hope you enjoy...
XENIZATION OF A DROW
CHAPTER 1:
A MENZOBERRANZAN DROW IN MAGICAL BRITAIN
At the time, I had thought it nothing less than an absolute disaster. I had returned to Arach-Tinilith to begin my final steps towards becoming a fully-fledged Priestess in service to our goddess, Lolth the Spider Queen. My youngest brother, Drizzt, had not long departed for Melee-Magthere, for under his training with our Weapons Master Zaknafein, he had excelled. My feelings for my youngest brother were confused for a long time. What my mother, Matron Malice Do'urden, mistook for incestuous desire, I realise, in hindsight, was a warped form of sisterly affection.
These days, I am enlightened to many things, an irony, considering how much I thought the light of the surface blinded me, when in truth, it was the shadow of Lolth and our society that blinded me even more. We were puppets, dancing on the strings for the amusement of a cruel goddess who cared for little more than watching us slay each other to jockey for her favour. I look back on what I was, and I look at what I could have become, and I shudder. Whoever attempted my assassination did me a favour in the end.
Who was it who gave me that magic scroll with the sabotaged teleport spell, hoping to leave me marooned in the void between worlds? A rival from another House, one that witnessed our defeat of House DeVir, and worried that we had become too ambitious? Or perhaps one from a lowly bloodline, driven by envy? Or perhaps one of my own family. My eldest living brother, Dinin, already stabbed his own eldest brother, Nalfein, in the back. And my eldest sister, Briza, may have received a revelation from the Spider Queen…or felt that there were already too many Priestesses in our House. And then, there was my biological father, Weapons Master Zaknafein, whom my mother once confessed that he has a hatred towards Priestesses of Lolth. Had he sent it to me, believing it to be a mercy to kill me?
As I said previously, whoever did this did not kill me. Or rather, they killed the Drow I once was. Not all at once, for Lolth's shadow was still writ large upon my soul. When I came to in a dark chamber, surrounded by humans, I attempted to attack them. It did not end well, for me. But I was shown mercy, and I had thought them foolish for it. In truth, the folly was my own. I was far away from home, not just out of the Underdark, but away from Faerûn, many worlds away from my own. These people had never known of a Drow or our evil. And that ignorance, ironically, proved to be their greatest asset, even as it should have proved to be mine. And even one who wasn't ignorant saw fit to give me a chance, a chance I sought to exploit, only to find myself becoming something new, something other.
This is not only my story, the story of Vierna Do'urden. This is the story of so many others. But my destiny would intersect with that of a sundered family. On one side, there was the hailed messiah of the wizarding world, and his fool of a sire, who basked in the reflected glory of his child. And on the other, we have another child, kept in the shadow of his younger brother, and his mother, a delver of secrets who had secrets of her own.
It was the latter two whom I would end up with. And our destinies would change, for better and for worse…
Down a dimly-lit corridor, deep beneath the surface of London, a pair of robed and hooded figures strode. When they spoke, it was in hushed tones. A man and a woman, the former old, the latter young.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this? She was quite violent when she first arrived here, and if what Bode said is true, she summoned a demon, albeit briefly. Even now, she remains belligerent, even after she broke down after what that demon told her. Honestly, if we could send her back where she came from, I'd do it in a shot."
"I know, Croaker. But…she's in an unfamiliar situation. How do you think I'd react in a similar situation?"
"…Fair enough, though I would expect a lot more fire. Still…you must understand that you will be taking full responsibility of her?"
"Of course. Unlike some people in this building, I actually know what taking responsibility means. The amount of people I know of who can do that, outside the Department of Mysteries, I can count on my hands and have enough fingers left over to show them what I really think of them. Most of them are either drudges weighed down by the system, or cronies, sycophants, or nepotistic arses."
The man, the one the woman had dubbed 'Croaker', smiled beneath his hood. The woman was his personal protégé, and his closest friend after Augustus Rookwood turned out to be a Death Eater. True, she was insolent, iconoclastic, irascible, and other adjectives starting with 'I' that would be unflattering to most. But she was sharp and smart and fiery. "I do hope that Madam Bones is one of them. Fudge and Umbridge's measures are what have hobbled her and the DMLE, even in spite of your ex-husband's attempts to help fund it, to say nothing of Black."
The woman rolled her eyes, something Croaker could tell despite her hood hiding them. "Amelia is struggling to keep her head above the surface. And James' grandstanding doesn't help matters. But that's enough of that. We're here. I'll do the talking."
As they approached the heavy door, Croaker said, "I'm amazed you learned her language so quickly. Are you sure you can't teach me how to do that?"
"Look, I was lucky. Doing a spell like that can, at best, mess with my memory like an Obliviation, and at worst, leave me an aphasic vegetable. Worse than the Longbottoms until I figured out that treatment, and even then, they have their good and bad days." The hooded woman looked through the window, and her lips pursed. "…Whatever she did, it hasn't done her any favours. She looks like shit. I wouldn't be surprised if she's suicidal. Okay, I'm going in. Usual precautions. Scan me for any ensorcellment, even if there's no known spell signature."
"I know the procedure," Croaker harrumphed. "I am your boss, after all, and I instituted many of them. I want a full transcription of your discussion translated and on my desk afterward…"
In the dark room, not quite a cell, but not far from it, ruby eyes, once glimmering with contempt and anger, met emerald ones. "Oh, it's you, iblith. Have you come to gloat?"
"Hardly. You're far away from home, and in some distress."
"Some?" A sardonic chuckle came from the red-eyed woman, tinged with despair. "You would not know what it is like, human, to lose the favour of the deity you have worshipped all of your life. To lose that love."
"I have lost those I loved, or thought I loved, many times. But we're not here to debate that. I've argued your case with my superiors, and I'll be working on a means to try and send you home. We still have remnants of that magic scroll, and we can reverse-engineer it, I hope, or else find some other means."
"And so I have to remain here, your prisoner, during that time?"
"…No." At the soft retort, the ruby eyes widened in shock. "I have argued, and my superiors have agreed, albeit reluctantly, for you to be released into my care. Indeed, if you have lost the favour of your deity, that means your abilities have been reduced, haven't they? You were boasting about that before. I'm honestly surprised that you managed to summon a demon in here."
"…It wasn't easy, and it was a yochlol. I…" Her voice caught in her throat, and she seemed to stiffen, trying to hide her distress.
"…In any case, you'll be staying with me. I live with my son. He knows how to respect women, so don't give him any of your misandristic venom. Now, we'll have to see about helping with that photophobia of yours…"
On the screen, a yellow antique car drove off into the bleak Derbyshire countryside, before a distinctive, eerie electronic music began, names appearing over an abstract pattern of concentric diamonds that rippled and warped. The image then disappeared off the screen, and a whirring noise emanated from the box on top of it. The miracles of modern technology, allowing images from the past to be played in the now, and for images leeched of colour to be given them once more.
Harry Potter thought the ending rather sad. True, he thought the Doctor's insistence on saving the Silurians, or at least the ones who had tried to kill him, was a bit much, but he could understand it. Not all the Silurians were evil. Bloody long story, though. Seven half-hour episodes, recently re-colourised, and one of his mother's favourites. Well, the novel had been: she had been at Hogwarts when the story was originally transmitted. He got the feeling she had gotten the new VHS tape of Doctor Who and the Silurians(1) as part of his 18th birthday present so she could watch it as well.
His mother was working. An Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries, and had been shortly before that fateful night in Godric's Hollow. Well, aside from that stint as a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts a couple of years back, and that had ended badly. And ever since, Snape had treated him worse than before, if such a thing was possible.
In truth, he liked this quiet life with his mother. While he couldn't help but be resentful towards his father and his younger brother, the so-called Boy Who Lived, he also reckoned he couldn't cope with the attention such a thing would bring. And for all that their relationship was fraught at times, he was on at least decent enough terms with his father. True, he felt more like the spare than the heir, and James Potter was too full of himself, but on the times when they met, they got along well enough, at least when his father wasn't preening and bathing in his son's reflected glory.
Still, he had his NEWTs to consider this year. He wasn't looking forward to them either. Add to that his mother encouraging him to study for his GCSEs, and he had his plate full this year. And, there was the joy of not knowing who the latest DADA teacher was. Quirrell was a dud last year and, if his brother was to be believed, was actually an agent of Voldemort.
The phone suddenly trilled, and Harry picked it up. "Hello, Harry Potter speaking."
"Harry, how are you?"
"Fine, Mum. What's wrong?"
"Nothing much, but I'm bringing someone home with me. Do you remember when I seemed rather flustered a few days back? Well, I can tell you now, as I have been given leave by old Croaker. Someone appeared in the Department of Mysteries, in one of the spellcrafting rooms, the one that specialised in Portkeys, Apparitions, etcetera. We have reason to believe that this person comes from another world entirely. After a series of…incidents, it has been decided that I'll be looking after her until we can find a way to send her home."
"Her?"
"Yes. She's a woman, but she's not human, so try not to stare. I'll explain things further when we get back. I'll see you shortly, okay?"
They exchanged farewells, before his mother hung up. It was surprising that the Department of Mysteries had telephones, few wizards and witches even bothered with Muggle technology. But the Unspeakables, being, amongst other things, an R&D section of the Ministry of Magic, investigated and used Muggle technology on a regular basis. It helped that the Department of Mysteries probably held the largest proportion of competent Muggleborns and Halfbloods in the entirety of the Ministry.
It was mere minutes later, after he extracted the VHS and put it away, that he heard the door open. "Hey, Harry, I'm home!"
Harry came to the front door, before blinking at the new arrival standing alongside his mother. She was…striking, to say the least. Very striking.
As his mother had warned him, she wasn't human. The pointed ears were something of a giveaway. Her crimson eyes were peering at him with disdain mixed with a surprising amount of curiosity. Her long, snow-white hair contrasted with her dark skin, pitch black in a way even most Africans or other dark-skinned people weren't. Her body was short and slender, clad in what could only be described as an armoured leotard with robes and a cloak attached(2).
And yet, she was utterly beautiful. There were traces of cruelty in that beauty, and yet, there was something softer and gentler there as well. Those contrasts seemed to only add to her allure. She seemed like an elf out of the pages of fantasy, not a House-Elf, but closer to the legends of the Fae.
"Hello," he said, deciding to try and be polite. "I'm Harry Potter. May I ask who you are?"
"You may," the woman said, her accent unfamiliar. "Your mother said she used some sort of translation spell on me, amongst other things. I am Vierna Do'urden, third daughter of the Matron of House Do'urden. And, it seems, I am stranded here…"
CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:
So, Vierna Do'urden has ended up in the Potterverse. But will she change for the better?
And yes, there is a reason why she isn't cowering from the bright light. We'll get to that.
1. The VHS of Doctor Who and the Silurians, then recently recolourised, was released in the UK in July 1993.
2. I'm drawing on Vierna's look from the comic adaptations of the Legend of Drizzt stories.
