Disclaimers: HP is not my sandbox. It belongs to JK Rowling. I just jumped over the garden fence to play in it.

AU! Battle of Hogwarts, HP 7


… … …

CASTLE SIEGE

… … …

Something was tickling him.

The feeling of his neck and shoulders prickling penetrated his dreams and made him shudder even in the depth of his eternal dreams.

His neck was itching. It irritated him, like a fly on his nose, like a sunburn on his shoulders.

"Hogwarts is threatened! Man the boundaries, protect us, do your duty to our school!" The woman's voice penetrated his dreams further. There was power in the voice; power over the wards, power over the school, power over his dreams.

For years, he had been dreaming. Centuries, maybe millennia had gone by since he went to sleep, and for the first time, the depth of his dreams was relinquishing its grasp on his consciousness, bringing him closer to wakefulness than he had been for a long time.

Now, trapped in a place between wakefulness and sleep, he could feel the itch spreading over his shoulders and neck down his spine and from there outwards to the rest of his back.

"Protect us!" The words echoed in his dreams, echoed in his mind and tickled down his spine like a band of steel, winding itself around his vertebrae like a chain, binding him to his duty, to his honour and his beliefs.

His skin tickled.

Then, from one moment to the other, the pressure on his back intensified to a burning sensation. Like a hot rod the burn hit his back. He arched upwards, even trapped in his sleep like he was.

Fire seemed to spread over his back where it had tickled before. The pressure on his back built and built until it felt like a crushing oppressiveness, pressing him into the stone of the tower's battlement beneath him.

"Do your duty to our school!" The chain of steel – wound around his vertebrae by the woman's words – yanked on him, ripped him out of his dreams with force and dragged him towards the living world.

He woke with a start.

A short feeling of pressure giving away ripped through the air, making room for more and the tickling and itching overwhelmed him for a second.

For a moment, he didn't move at all – more a statue among thousands in an ancient castle than anything else. The grey of his skin faded, less the statue of an eternally sleeping child that he had been just moments ago and more a living and breathing being, even though he still wasn't moving.

Then his silver gleaming eyes opened and found the midnight blue sky. He sat up, his feet dangling from the embrasure he had been curled up in. The wind immediately started to play with his formerly stone-like tunic – now old, white and ragged cloth – making it flutter in the breeze. He was high up, hidden in the battlement of the castle keep.

The midnight blue of the night sky was lit with colourful lights.

Like fireworks, lights burst into blue, yellow, red, and green shooting stars, splitting apart and sizzling out. The air crackled and creaked under the pressure of the energy spreading throughout the sky, bearing down on an invisible dome that could only be seen by the colourful splashes of light hitting it and breaking apart on it.

"They came here a few hours ago, Sire," the voice next to him took his attention away from the fire in the sky.

He turned his head and met the colourless eyes of a man he hadn't seen for longer than he could remember. The man was pale and lifeless, his name lost in a distant past and even he, who had been alive when the man had still been known by his name, couldn't remember it anymore.

But that didn't mean that he had forgotten his former student.

"What happened that you're still here?" he asked instead of focusing on the other man's words, his eyes following the ghostly chains wrapped around the man's body and the silver blood spread all over the other man's clothes.

"I killed your niece," it was a confession full of bitterness. Obviously, the man had never forgiven himself for that act of violence.

He hummed, his heart clenching at the thought that maybe, if he would have been awake, he might have been able to stop it. For a moment, the guilt overwhelmed him, then he forcefully dismissed that thought. There was no changing it anymore.

"Things like that happen," he said instead. "You were obsessed with her, just like she was willing to exploit you, yet also unwilling to give you alone her heart. There was always a chance that something would give between you and her one day." It hurt to think that when everything came to a head between his niece and the Baron, he hadn't been there anymore to negate the impact somehow.

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have–" the Baron stopped speaking mid-sentence the moment the former sleeping child flinched violently.

The former statue's eyes snapped to the dark sky above.

The feeling of a hot whip hitting his back had brought his attention back to the shooting stars lighting up the night sky above them. It had burned, making him wince in pain.

Nevertheless, it took him a moment to understand what the Bloody Baron had implied at the beginning, and it took a moment longer to comprehend what was happening – what those colourful lights and the itching of his back meant.

"No," he whispered, staring down towards the grounds manned with people – fingers clenching and burying into the cold stone of the embrasure, feet dangling into the abyss and eyes burning just as brightly as the stars, while they were swallowed by the darkness of bitter memories. "I refuse!"

Something hot and burning spread through his veins like lava. He trembled with the beginnings of his igniting rage. His eyes focused on the castle's defenders.

"Sire!" A cold hand reached for him, but he still couldn't focus on the ghost next to him. His attention was fully captured by the scene that was brewing in front of his attentive gaze. "Please! You've been barely awake for a few minutes, you…" He stopped listening.

The crowd below was spread out in the courtyard of the castle. It looked like dozens of people, but even from his place on the battlement of the castle keep, he could see that far too many people looked too young to fight.

Children and a few adults, united in a last-ditch attempt of survival.

"Sire!" He continued to ignore the ghost next to him.

"I'm not letting that happen." He watched how some of the adults and near-adults shot spells in light-blue and white towards the sky in an attempt to strengthen the shield that kept the colourful spells at bay. "This is a school. These are students. I refuse to let anything happen to them!"

"They're safe," the Bloody Baron tried to remember him. "The wards are–"

"The reason I woke," he interrupted the ghost, the fury burning in his veins. Behind his eyes, he could see fire, ash, death, and destruction. He could hear the screaming of people, could taste their fear on his tongue.

He knew what would happen the moment the shield in the sky felt. He had seen it happen – and he had been merciless in his wrath.

"They're still safe," the Baron tried to remind him. "The wards aren't breached, yet."

It was the ghost's way to remind him that his wrath wasn't needed right now, but he wasn't willing to chance anything. Not when it came to the school. Not when it came to the students.

"The wards are the reason for my existence," he said, his eyes focused on the danger spread out in front of him. "And I will do anything to ensure that the safety of the school will remain, no matter what."

In the far distance, beyond the breached grounds of the castle, he could see a village burning.

It wasn't the first time a village had burned.

Back then, another village had been burned by his vengeance.

The castle was under siege.

"Sire, please," the ghost's hand clamped down on his shoulder, sending goosebumps all over his back and neck and soothing the burn. "I know you'd do anything for this school, but I beg you, please, the students are still safe. The man outside, he's your heir and you don't know what this fight is about."

"It doesn't matter," he replied, not looking at the ghost, too focused on the people outside the castle. Outside, he could see the dark figures of giants, vampires, werewolves and humans. He could feel the Dementors, could see their shadowy shapes in the light of the stars, circling and just waiting until the last wards were breached.

The grounds of the castle had already fallen. The gates breached and torn open; the wards left in tatters.

"It doesn't matter if he's my heir, my flesh and blood. It doesn't matter what this fight is about," he looked at the Baron next to him. "He's attacking the school. He's attacking the students. His beliefs don't matter to me."

Just the fact that he was attacking the school was reason enough to see him as the enemy – same flesh and blood or not.

"Standing against him will end your line," the Baron whispered and he could hear the grief about that in the other man's voice. "Do you want to see your line end like this?"

"No," he said and leaned forward, his stiff silhouette barely visible against the darkness of the night. His hands tightened his hold on the stones below his palms. "I don't. But I want my line to end this school even less."

He wouldn't let that happen.

The castle was a school, a sanctuary.

Hogwarts was there to keep the magical children of the Isles safe from persecution and danger. Its wards were the strongest of the Isles – and if they were ever breached, it didn't mean that the castle would fall.

Not if he had a say in it.

"I'm not letting that happen," he whispered coolly. "And if my heir wants to stand against Hogwarts, then he has never been my heir at all."

For a moment, the Baron just looked at him full of sadness.

"So you'll choose the school instead of your line," the ghost said, more like he was talking to himself instead of talking to the former sleeping child.

"No," he said, his eyes returning to the enemy outside. "He was the one who chose my wrath instead of my helping hand when he decided to stand against Hogwarts."

Because Hogwarts wouldn't fall – not as long as he was still breathing.

"He's still your family, Sire," the Baron tried to remind him weakly, but in that moment, his former heir decided to address the defenders of Hogwarts.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me," his former heir's voice suddenly echoed through the night. The voice was cold and full of a dark promise of violence and death.

"He's not," he whispered, his fury reigniting with his rage. "Not when he threatens the school."

Not, when his heir threatened his school.

His hands turned white with the strength of his grip.

A dim, golden, glittering mist spread over the embrasure he was sitting on, filling out the gaps and seams of the stone beneath him. From his fingers and hands, the golden glitter spread, it skipped from stone to stone, from merlon to embrasure, from battlement to battlement, from tower to tower to halls and walls and the ground.

"Sire! I know you love this school, but you've only been awake for a few minutes! You still have to gather strength! Don't go and hurt yourself by stepping in before you're ready!"

The gates of the castle below shuddered under a new onslaught of spells hitting them. The wards surrounding the castle moaned in desperation.

Pain cursed over his back, burning his skin.

His rage turned into a torrent of hatred and ire.

"They won't spare anybody," he whispered and felt the ghost next to him flinch at his cold assessment. "They don't care that their opponents are children and teachers. The only thing they care about is violence."

And his heir as their leader was the worst of them.

The moment the inner wards of the castle would give way, the night would be coloured red by the enemy outside the castle gates.

"They might not – but I do! I care about you, Sire!" the ghost next to him objected, but his attention was on the enemy outside, not the old friend at his side.

"I do not want to kill you," his former heir outside the castle continued, keeping the sleeping child's attention on him. His cold voice penetrated the night like a sword did the body in a killing strike. "I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

The former sleeping child's silver eyes fixated on his former heir just for a second longer before he glared at the rest of the people outside who were battering the wards. He gnashed his teeth and his grip tightened further. Fury spread further through him and for a moment, he fought against it and against his own mind in the hope to diminish the wrath choking him.

"YOU!" He trembled with ire, his eyes set on the enemy's leader outside. The silver of his eyes was burning with fury. His back was itching with every spell that hit the wards that were keeping the castle and children safe. The outer wards, breached and in tatters, felt like a sore spot in his mind that he couldn't stop worrying about.

"I'm not letting you in," he whispered, his eyes searching the army outside for the most dangerous ones. Giants lifted rocks and trees to crash them against the walls and wards of the castle. Werewolves and vampires circled the parameters in search of weaknesses to get in. The Dementors came down on the castle wards like birds of prey, searching entrance to reach the vulnerable. And in between all those, wizards and witches kept attacking the castle's wards in a hope to destroy them.

"Sire! The wards are still holding! The children are safe!" The cold hand of the ghost desperately tried to grasp at him. "You have time! They're not yet getting in!"

"I'm never letting that happen," he hissed, his voice tinged with the sibilance of the serpent's tone, and the golden mist rose and spread over the castle's wards. His attention was more on the attackers outside than the ghost next to him. "Hogwarts is mine!"

It was a fact, no matter how possessive it sounded.

And he was possessive. He had always been like that.

His jaw itched. His teeth prickled. Then a cold tickle ran down his back, followed by the hot burn of the whip-like back-lash of the wards.

Next to him, the ghost flinched when the golden mist rose and reached for him to cover him, too.

"Sire!" a cold hand touched his cheek. "Sire, please! You're still recovering from your sleep! I know he's your heir and you're furious that Hogwarts is attacked! But, please! Think of yourself! You're not at your full strength, yet!"

For a moment, the sleeping child looked at the Baron next to him and saw the ghost's fear displayed in his eyes and face. The Baron was afraid for him. Not for Hogwarts, not for his line, but for him and what it would do to him if he stepped in and ended his own family for Hogwarts.

A bitter smile graced the former sleeping child's face in the face of the old ghost's concern and his beginning ire dimmed for just a moment.

"Don't fret for me, old friend," he murmured. "I will prevail. I always did, I always will when it comes to this school."

Even if he had to burn a village to do so.

"And you will suffer for it," the Baron argued. "You always did! I beg you, please, Sire! Just this once! Think of yourself and not of this school! Don't end your line to keep this school safe – don't do that to yourself! Just this once, let the inhabitants of this castle fight for themselves!"

The wards surrounding Hogwarts groaned and convulsed and the former sleeping child's eyes locked again onto the leader of the enemies.

"I can't," he whispered while fury gathered like a hot ball in his stomach. His teeth ached and itched. "He's one of mine – by blood and choice. I can't. Draco dormiens, my friend. No matter how much you wish for it. I won't stand by and watch." The tickle on his back felt unbearable – but no matter how bad it was, his wrath was worse and fully focused on the enemy's leader.

A man with Founder's blood, able to forcefully take down what should have never been touched.

An heir of Slytherin – disinherited and unwilling to accept it.

Instead, said heir decided to raise his hand against the one place he should have never thought of touching.

Hogwarts.

"Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed," the cold voice of the former heir cried from the castle grounds. It came from somewhere in the middle of the attackers outside. "Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched."

The Bloody Baron winced. "If this was anything, then it was a way to ensure to get burned," he mumbled to himself when the former sleeping child stiffened next to him, full of indignation and fury. "Well done, Riddle. You managed to wake him – you managed to wake him for good."

The former statue of an eternally sleeping child on the embrasure next to him jumped up, his eyes still locked on the Founder's heir– on the enemy.

"You," he hissed, the serpent's voice in his throat, "I'm not letting you in. I refuse you! I refuse any right you might have ever had when it comes to Hogwarts!"

The icy fury in his stomach twisted and turned. His magic spread from his hands and feet to the battlement surrounding him; it twisted and quivered with his fury. The golden glitter of his magic started to look like starlight.

The Bloody Baron stepped away from the battlement, his see-through hands lifted, showing that he wasn't armed. He was coloured golden by the mist and looked more solid than he had ever done before. "You're right," he said calmly while at the same time his eyes were hard as diamonds and his body was shaking with his own kind of wrath. "You were right, Sire. No matter who he is, threatening this school can't go unanswered."

For a moment, the ghost looked at the sleeping child of Hogwarts, then his eyes fell on the shaking wards surrounding the castle. "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," he whispered and closed his hands around nothing. A golden glowing sword and a wand materialized where there had been only air before. "Never Tickle A Sleeping Dragon…"

Around them, the demands of the heir of Slytherin echoed.

'Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched.'

The threat in those words was clear as day.

'And I shall leave the school untouched.'

"No," the Lord of Slytherin whispered full of ire, and then his words strengthened until he roared. "Hogwarts is mine! Slytherin is mine! Those students are mine! YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM!"

Not as long as Slytherin still had a Lord and not just an heir.

"Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded," the enemy threatened, making him narrow his eyes at the threat. He didn't actually care for the boy or man mentioned – had actually never heard that name before – but the school… nothing would ever harm the school without his say-so. "You have until midnight."

He wouldn't need until midnight – not with the rage burning in his veins and gathering in his chest.

"Hogwarts is threatened!" The echoes of the Deputy Headmistress' words swept through the wards and surrounded them, called them to watch, to see and to act. "Man the boundaries!"

The golden mist spread all over the castle hardened into battlewards. The echoes of the attacked wards muted when the heavy-duty battlewards rose and took over. The next stone thrown by a giant was stopped mid-air before it was launched back at the enemy. There were screams of fury and pain when it hit the enemies' ranks undamped. Spells that had formerly coloured the night sky now turned on their casters.

"Protect us!" The statues of the castle animated and launched their attacks at the enemy. Arrows pierced vampires, werewolves, trolls and magicals alike. Stone statues jumped from roofs and over the battlement into the enemy ranks to kill them with fast swords and deadly spears.

Ghosts solidified, in their hands swords and wands – casting spells at the enemy and killing them with their golden weapons. The Bloody Baron inclined his head at the Lord of Slytherin and then turned and jumped from the battlement, more than willing to do his part in keeping Hogwarts safe.

"Do your duty to our school!"

The golden mist spread over the failing wards of Hogwarts ignited with the fury of the Lord of Slytherin. With the wards, everyone touching them or hitting at them, ignited as well. Roars of pain filled the air when more than one giant was lit up by the fiery fury of the lord and master of Hogwarts.

The last time he had been furious, a village had burned.

This time around, the village was already burning and his rage was concentrated on those who wanted to harm his school and students.

"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus – Never Tickle A Sleeping Dragon… unless you want him to wake."

He smiled a bloodthirsty smile. "Because what else is a dragon other than a giant serpent?"

He jumped; his body changed.

Where once had been a human body, the body of a giant serpent with silver wings took its place.

The roar of the awakening dragon shook the castle.

And then he spread his wings to rain down fire and ashes on the ones who had dared to touch his hoard.


... ... ...

The End

... ... ...


Well, I ended up writing about dragons... again. Well, metaphorical dragons... real? dragons. No matter, it's all dragons - and Slytherins. Don't forget those. Even if I'm still not sure how I went from the motto of Hogwarts to sticking Salazar Slytherin into the castle as a statue who can return to life and also turn into the dragon of Hogwarts.

Maybe that's Covid speaking... lol

I hope you liked it.

Over and Out

Ebenbild