Almost 100 reviews between Chapters 38, and 39... Thank you, everyone!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any other fandom I manage to squeeze in this story.

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Lightning Dragon's Roar
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Zero Rewind
© 2015
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"Watch now, the sun is fading away
And still the skyline is glowing in bright white
Let's drown in such an assembly
Let's yell until it all turn to black."

- Sybreed — Doomsday Party

Chapter 40: Preparations

"You want to come with me?" I repeated, not quite grasping what the man just said.

"Yes." Clark nodded patiently.

"No way, man." I shook my head, taking a few steps back. "I can't drag you into this. It's not your fight. You're not obligated to help me in any way."

Clark stared at me for a few moments. "I appreciate you saying that, but I still want to help you with this."

"But why?" I tried.

"Well, it wouldn't feel right, knowing you're off to keep fighting an enemy who's already killed many people." Clark said with a smile. "Besides, we're guild mates, right? You helped free the meteor infected victims, so it's the least I could do for you, Harry."

He made a pretty valid point— a point which lightly touched at my heartstrings. I steeled myself in response; this wasn't the time to be overly sentimental.

"This isn't a short term thing. This could take months, for all I know." I kept going. Clark frowned at that little tidbit of information.

"Why should it?" Clark asked, brow furrowing in confusion. "Isn't it just the one guy you have to beat?"

"Normally, it would be that easy." I allowed, grimacing slightly. "The Dark Lord Vol—" I stopped for a split second. "We can't say his name or he'll know our exact position."

"…Seriously?"

"Not even kidding, much as I hate playing the pronoun game. At least, that's what the Patronus— that deer— said." I nodded and began to explain. "Anyway, He has devised a way to stay alive, even after His body was physically destroyed."

"Right. Of course he did." Clark said, not missing a beat. "If His body was physically destroyed, how is He back now?"

"He had to use me in a ritual that resurrected his body." I explained. "Before that, He was a wretched little creature that survived off of latching onto other people and draining their life force."

"Sounds like you've done your homework on this guy." Clark praised.

"No…" I shook my head. "He just likes to talk a lot. But you know what…"

"Hm?"

"Maybe a full frontal assault would still work."

"Why?" Clark countered. "You just said the guy was immortal."

"He is, but hear me out." I said quickly. "When His body was last destroyed, He ended up wandering the continent for at least thirteen years, as a spirit."

"Right, I can sort of see where you're going with this."

"He'll try to get another body through another method." I said. "The first try was when He tried to acquire a Philosopher's Stone, a stone capable of giving you eternal life. The second try was through His soul anchor attempting to possess a friend of mine. The third—"

"Wait, did you say possess?" Clark said sharply, eyes dark.

"Yes." I blinked at the man for a moment, before grinning. "Oh, that's right. Chloe did say something about being possessed by long dead witches from France, or whatever. Yeah, it was pretty much like that, only over the course of a year."

I continued as Clark nodded. "His third attempt actually succeeded. He used His own father's bones, my blood, and the flesh from one of His servants."

"The flesh?"

"Wormtail." I spit out hatefully, surprising the elder teen. "The man who betrayed my family; he cut off his hand to give to his master's resurrection party."

Clark's eyes widened at the flood of information.

"Anyway." I shook my head, getting back on the main topic. "If we can destroy His father's bones, He can no longer use that method for resurrections."

"So, what you're saying is." Clark started. "Step one, destroy the bones; step two, destroy His body."

"That's about right." I said, nodding. "You're not going to try and stop me from killing him?"

Clark shook his head. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about stopping you, but… I've recently learned from a friend that some outcomes can't be avoided, no matter how hard we try. Besides, as you said, this won't kill him for good. After that, you can have fun with His soul anchors or whatever."

"Besides," Clark added. "There's another reason I'm going with you."

"Really?" I said, and received a nod.

"It's about my dad." Clark admitted, looking around slightly.

"What about him?" I asked in confusion. "Is he okay?"

"Maybe I should start from the beginning." Clark ran his hands through his hair, an action I was quite familiar with. "I had a bad phase in my life, in which I was completely out of control; my dad made a deal with my biological father, Jor-El—"

"Wait, didn't you say your biological family is dead?"

"It's some kind of machine representation of him." Clark said, sounding a little agitated just talking about Jor-El. "Anyway, the whole event forced an incredible strain on my dad's body and heart."

"How bad is it?" I said apprehensively.

"…I can see him holding his chest in pain, sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking." Clark said in a low tone of voice, after a moment of nervous contemplation. "Is there anything you can do for him?"

"Yeah, man." I said instantly. "Definitely. We can hit up the magical mall and ask around right now."

"There's a magical mall here?" Clark said, looking around the empty street as if he were there for the first time in his life.

"Well, not right here." I smiled in amusement. "It's in Metropolis. I planned to go there to stock up on food and whatever else I may need on this trip. I've been walking into situations completely unprepared, and I've been getting my ass handed to me because of it."

And it was true.

There was always a shortage of potions, healing salves, and the like. My wand was thankfully safe, due to the enhancement charms put on my pants pockets.

Still, I needed a scabbard for Erebus; I couldn't just keep stuffing him in a duffel bag and hope no one saw the black blade. Voldemort was no easy foe to beat; this I knew.

I doubted he was screwing around in the time I was gone. He was already aware of my skills using Lightning Dragonslayer Magic. Logic dictated that he would focus his efforts on countering my power effectively.

So, Erebus, and Balthazar had to remain a secret, for now. If anything, I could simply claim that Erebus is a regular falchion, instead of the Devil Arm that he is. But then again, Voldemort could probably sense him out.

"I can suppress my powers, to an extent. He would need to be extremely close to sense my presence." Erebus supplied helpfully from within my duffel bag, and I gave the bag a nod, before turning to Clark.

"All right, Kent." I said. "Let's go."

The trip to Morgana Street was incredibly short, Clark's super-speed cutting ninety percent of the time off. It felt a little weird to be carried by the man like that, but time was of the essence in the current circumstances.

"All right." I said. "We're here."

We stood in front a large, abandoned complex.

"You sure this is the place?" Clark looked at the place dubiously. "It looks abandoned."

"It's just an illusion." I said with a laugh, before getting a thoughtful look on my face. "Try and see through it."

Clark squinted his eyes, before he let out a wordless gasp.

"You're right." Clark said, slightly awed. "How can all of that fit in there? And what are those short creatures?"

"There's magic that can increase the space of any room." I explained patiently. "And those are probably Goblins. They run the wizard bank, Gringotts."

"Right. Goblins and banks, and way too much space. Gotcha." Clark nodded absentmindedly, still scanning the edifice with his x-ray vision.

I poked the side of his face, snapping him out of it.

"Come on."

I led Clark inside, and to the information kiosk, ignoring Clark's absolute wonderment with the place. This time, the place was brimming with life. Men and women of all ages went from store to store, going about their day-to-day business.

"Clark." I said quietly so as not to attract attention. "Try to contain your excitement."

"Why?" He asked in confusion.

"There's a law that states that I am not allowed to tell anyone about the magical world if they aren't already in the know." I said slowly, seeing his eyes widen. "Try to blend in as much as you can, or I'll be in trouble. Think you can do that?"

"Yeah— of course, Harry." Clark said quickly, looking at the kiosk with me. "I can do that. Sorry."

"Thanks." I said, before focusing back on the kiosk. "I need to find a place that sells things like enchanted bags. I need something to store all my stuff in, as well as find a sheath for Erebus."

"Hm." Clark grunted, and studied the information kiosk with me, before pointing at the left side of the map. "Not sure, but this place might have what you're looking for."

I followed the direction he pointed at. On there, I saw the following:

"Sam's Storage: Bags, Packs, Tents."

"Yeah." I nodded. "You might be right, Clark."

"The sign says that it's one floor down." Clark said, before we began our trek to Sam's Storage. We passed by a few shoppers, who gave us a sidelong glance, before continuing on their way. In about a minute, we got to the store in question.

In it, I could see all manners of storage equipment, ranging from metal safes, to old, wooden trunks. Rucksacks and backpacks lined the walls of the store, while a blonde haired, blue eyed woman was spelling a few boxes to the back room.

I greeted her with a simple "hello". She turned to me, giving a friendly smile, before doing the same for Clark.

"Welcome to Sam's!" She smiled brightly, giving my bandaged arm a sidelong gaze. "I am Sam, the owner. How can I help you, today?"

"Yes, hello." I took a few steps forward. "I was hoping I could get something to store my stuff in."

"Sure." She said easily. "What sort of things do you want to put in storage?"

"Well…" I trailed off. "It's mostly potions, and food. I need something that'll hold enough for a few weeks, at least."

"Going on a camping trip?" She asked, with glittering eyes.

I stared at her for a moment, grasping the easy excuse she provided. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Well, we have an assortment of backpacks—"

"No." I cut Sam off, getting a raised eyebrow. "I'd prefer something like a really small pouch that I can fit in one of my pockets."

"Ah." She said slowly, looking a little disappointed.

"It doesn't exist?" I asked, noting her facial expression.

"Oh, it does." She said to clarify.

"Then I'll take it." I said immediately.

"Well, it costs a little more than your run of the mill enchanted packs…" Sam trailed off.

"How much is a little more?" I asked her, making a slightly intrigued face.

"Well, it would cost you two hundred Galleons." She said, looking at me unsurely.

No wonder she was so hesitant. At the rate of conversion, two hundred Galleons amounted to a thousand and four hundred US Dollars.

I pulled out my pouch full of Galleons, and spelled out the necessary amount with a flick of my wand. The pouch didn't even look like it took a hit as the money stacked on the woman's desk.

"Two hundred it is." I gave an amused smirk at her absolutely shocked look.

She stared at the money for a moment, before shaking her head. "Right. Of course. I'll go get the pouch you requested! Just give me a second."

"Take all the time you need." I smiled easily, and watched the woman go in the back.

"I think you broke her." Clark joked at the woman's behavior.

"Yeah." I smirked. "Probably thought I was piss poor due to the clothes I'm wearing."

A few seconds later, Sam came out, holding a small, silvery-green leather pouch which could have probably fit inside the palm of my hand.

"This is called a mokeskin pouch, made from the moke, a lizard with size altering powers." She explained. "The material is highly useful, insofar as it is compatible with many enlargement spells, and the like. I've placed an Undetectable Extension Charm in this one, so it should hold the space equivalent to about half of the room we're standing in."

She handed the article to me, and I scrutinized it for a moment. Then, I opened the bag and stuffed my bandaged arm right into it, hearing Clark's soft gasp of surprise.

"Sweet." I grinned, pulling my arm out of the pouch, before placing it in one of my many cargo pockets. "I would also like a tent, and— uh— do you make scabbards for swords?"

"Yes." She said, before shaking her head. "I can sell you a tent, but not a scabbard for a sword. Sorry."

"It's fine." I said. "Do you know anyone who can?"

"Um." She bit her lip thoughtfully. "Try with the Goblins. They might be able to help you, though they don't really like humans all that much."

I gave Clark a glance.

"It's worth a shot." He said. We shared a nod, before I turned to the clerk.

"Then I'll take a tent from you. Nothing overly huge, just enough for me and a couple of people to live in for a while." I said, specifying what my needs are.

"All right." She smiled and walked to the back, beckoning me and Clark forward. We followed the woman into the backroom, where a whole manner of tents stood on display.

All were the exact same size, but I figured those that were priced more would likely possess stronger enlarging charms.

"As you can see, the tents look the same on the outside." Sam explained with a smile. "Something a non-magical would not be alarmed by. On the inside, however… Come on, let me show you what our medium sized tents look like."

She led us into a row right around the middle of the room, before gesturing for us to enter the first tent.

Clark and I did as asked, and almost gasped in surprise. On the inside, the tent was about as big as a bachelor's apartment. There was a closed up section, likely for a bathroom. On the tent's left wall, I could see a series of cables, hooked up to a small generator.

"Woah, these things have electricity?" I said, in wonderment.

Clark looked as awed as I did.

"Yes." The clerk confirmed, pointing at various wall sockets placed throughout the tent. "It also comes with a fully functional bathroom."

"Eh?" Clark said in confusion. "How does that work? You know, without any plumbing…"

She gave him a short look, probably realizing he was a non-magical that I brought along with me, but didn't question his lack of knowledge. "The toilet vanishes any waste into non-being. That is to say, everything."

Silence.

"I… Don't understand." Clark said, after a few moments of thought.

"Yeah, it was a bit of an annoyance to wrap my head around that principle, as well." I said encouragingly. "So it's not just you, man."

I turned back to the clerk. "What else can this thing do?"

"Well…" The clerk bit her lip. "I can make it so that the tent builds itself and disassembles itself on command, instead of having to do it yourself."

"Yeah?" I had a feeling I knew where this was going. "How much would that cost?"

"Well, the tent alone would be around seventy nine Galleons." She said dutifully. "But, when I add that particular feature, the price jumps up to a hundred and twenty."

"That's not bad at all." I said easily. The less survival spells I had to work on, the more time I had to practice my combat spells. This investment was nothing, if it meant the salvation of the wizarding world.

"I'll take this tent, with the enhanced feature you talked about." I nodded to her, before spelling out the required money. The golden Galleons fell into her hands, and she dumped them into her personal pouch.

"Fantastic." The clerk exclaimed, before leading us out of the tent. Clark and I watched her wave her wand at the tent. It glowed purple for a few moments, before fading.

"What password would you like to pitch and disassemble the tent?" Sam looked at us, her wand still pointing at the tent in question.

Clark and I shared a quick look.

"I think I'll go with 'guild hall'." I said.

"Guild hall." The clerk repeated, and I nodded in confirmation. "Password: Guild Hall."

The tent glowed yellow, and she pointed her wand at me. The energy shifted out of the tent and onto Clark and I. I jolted as a cold sensation wafted over my body.

"You felt that?" The clerk looked at me, impressed. "You must be quite good at sensing magic!"

"Thanks, I guess."

"Anyway," She continued. "I linked the tent's password to both you and your friend, here. Try it out!"

I smiled, and turned to the tent. "Guild Hall."

Immediately, the tent began to disassemble. It took about fifteen seconds, but the tent became a pile of folded up fabric and stakes.

"Guild Hall."

The tent took just as much time to assemble, than it did to disassemble. I smiled, and repeated the password again, before placing the tent in my new pouch, which seemed to suck the tent in without the need to carefully push it in.

We followed the clerk right back to the main section of the store.

"Anything else I can help you with?" Sam asked.

"I don't think so." I replied. "We're going to go to Gringotts to see if they can fashion a scabbard for my sword. Thank you for your help."

"It was my pleasure!" She gave us a smile— typical work smile twelve™, reserved for high paying customers. "Please, come again whenever you need anything stored!"

We bid her goodbye, before exiting.

"All right." I said. "Gringotts is three floors down, but the apothecary— the place that sells potions." I explained at Clark's slightly confused look. "Is a single floor down. So we'll stop there first, to see if they have anything for your dad."

Clark nodded, but said nothing. He probably didn't want to get his hopes up, or anything.

The trip to the apothecary was quite short, as it was right next to the base of the escalator. We entered the store, and the owner greeted me, recognizing my face from the last time I've been here.

"What can I do for you, son?" It was an elderly man, with kind eyes. He was balding, with only a few hairs left on the top of his head, and was missing a tooth or four— or seventeen, but who's counting?

"Well. I'm here for a few different things, but first…" I started. "Do you have any healing potions, specifically tailored to undo stress related damage?"

"Hm…" The old man rubbed at his chin. "Could you be a little more specific than that?"

I looked to Clark, and urged him to speak.

"My father." Clark gulped. "Well, he took on powers that his body couldn't handle, and it's caused a lot of damage on his body."

"What kind of damage are we talking about?" The man said, a hint of curiosity in his tone of voice.

"Frequent chest pains." Clark said. "Low endurance. Weakened muscles. He's around forty years old, but his body is acting like it's sixty five."

"Ah, I think I know what you are talking about." The man had a look of understanding.

"Can you help us?" Clark asked, and the man smiled in reassurance.

"Of course, my boy. It warms my heart to see sons so worried about their fathers, like this." The old man said, before going around the shop, grabbing a few vials here and there.

"You really think it's possible?" Clark repeated, but got no answer, as the man just kept grabbing potions left and right. Clark looked at me for encouragement, and I replied by patting him on the back in what I hoped to be a reassuring manner.

About a minute later, the old timer came back, four different colored potions in hand.

"These should do it." The man said, placing them in front of us. He waved his hand over them.

"This is the Healer Series." The old man explained patiently, and pointed at the first one, a yellow concoction. "This one is the Mind Healer; its name is quite self-explanatory, wouldn't you agree?"

He motioned for the second one, a dark yellow potion. "This one is the Nerve Healer. It's a little different than the Mind Healer, since it targets the nerves in the entire body, and not just the ones in the human brain."

He coughed a few times, before holding up the third one, a blood red potion in a very small vial.

"This one is the most important." He said, showing it to us. "The Heart Healer. I don't need to tell you what it does."

"The last one, well…" The man hesitated, before placing the Heart Healer and picking up the blue potion. "It's not quite needed, but it is supposed to clean up all the arteries and veins, clear them of things like cholesterol, and the like; it also has the bonus effect of strengthening the integrity of the veins. The Vein Healer."

"And these should help my dad?" Clark said slowly, trying very hard not to sound hopeful. He failed.

The old man smiled kindly at the older teen. "I can tell you that they've definitely helped me, kid! I used to have some very painful heart problems— even had a heart attack at some point, you know— but then I whipped up this set. Your father can take them in no particular order."

I had never heard of any wizards having heart problems as bad as this.

I figured the logical conclusion was that the old man was a Squib.

"You made these?" I repeated.

"Yes." The old man nodded, looking quite proud of his achievement. And why shouldn't he be? If the Statute of Secrecy didn't force him to keep these potions away from the non-magical market, he could've been the richest man on the world by now— and he probably knew that, too.

"The Statute of Secrecy sucks." I said bluntly, gaining a confused look from Clark.

"Don't I know it, kid." The old man grumbled good-naturedly, before addressing Clark. "So, do you want to buy the Healer Series?"

"Y-Yeah." The older teen stammered. "I want them, please."

"All right." The man said, scooping up the potions and placing them in a specialized bag, with each potion taking its place among the slots at the bottom. It made for a safe method of moving them. "That will be a hundred Galleons."

I spelled out the money out of my bag, and to the man's desk, next to his cash register. He dumped the coins in the register, and read off the display, which said "100 G".

The first time I had seen that particular machine, I was quite impressed with it. This guy may have been a Squib, but he sure was resourceful, in everything he did.

We spent another five minutes in that store, the old man going from end to end, getting me all of the potions that I needed. He placed them all in a large case, which I stuffed in my mokeskin pouch. All of that was worth about a hundred and fifty Galleons. I gave him three hundred, and told him to enjoy the money, before leaving, Clark following behind me, carefully holding his bag, as if it were the most precious thing on the planet.

"Hey, Clark." I gained the man's attention. "You should use this stuff on your dad right away."

"Ah... What about you, Harry?" Clark asked hesitantly.

"Well, I still need to visit the Goblins for a scabbard— that'll likely take some time. I figured I could check out a few places around here." I explained. "I figured, why drag you around when you can help your dad?"

"…You sure?" Clark looked a little uncertain, and I smiled at him.

"Don't worry. I'll be here when you get back." I said. "That's a promise from your guild mate."

He looked at me for a long moment, before nodding and going up the escalator. "Okay. I'll leave you to it, Harry."

"See you in a bit!" I yelled out as I lost sight of him. I heard a muffled 'see ya!' coming from his direction, and shook my head in slight amusement.

"All right." I sighed. "Goblin time."

It took about a minute to get to Gringotts. I entered the bank, seeing the familiar white marble surroundings, as well as the many tellers examining chunks of gold, and piles of jewels of many kinds.

I walked up to the teller I had met the time before— Clawgrip, his name was.

"Hello, Clawgrip." I greeted.

The Goblin in question looked up from his work, at me. His slightly annoyed gaze faded into a look of surprise, before he gave a slight bow. It irked me slightly.

"Mr. Potter." Clawgrip began. "A pleasure to see you again. How can Gringotts be of service to you, today?"

"Well, I was referred to you guys by the owner of Sam's Storage." I began. "She said you guys could make a scabbard for my sword, Erebus."

"We Goblins are capable of such a task, yes." Clawgrip confirmed, looking right at my duffel bag. "A scabbard for a Devil Arm, then? What form does it take?"

"How did you—"

"Know that your sword is a Devil Arm?" Clawgrip gave me a nasty grin. "We Goblins have been blacksmiths since the early beginnings of our race. Our weapons have been known to match, or even sometimes overpower, the vaunted Devil Arms. Our wards simply told us that you were in possession of one. Since you weren't threatening any one, we saw no reason to apprehend you."

"I… see." I said slowly. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"On to the subject at hand." Clawgrip got off his chair, and led the way to the back of the bank, into a hallway which led nowhere.

It was a dead end.

Clawgrip ran his fingers over the center of the wall, and it opened up, revealing a large chamber, filled with the various tools of a blacksmith's trade. A single Goblin stood near the anvil, hammering away at a piece of hot metal, shaping it with every blow.

Various weapons, shields, and armor were on display, everywhere in the room. This man's crafts were exquisite to look at. I didn't know anything about weapons, but I wouldn't have been surprised if these could cut through titanium. They appeared that well made.

"Master Rogar." Clawgrip addressed the elder Goblin, grabbing his attention.

"What is it, brat?" The Goblin— Rogar— growled at Clawgrip, before turning to us. He gave me a contemptuous look. "What is a human doing in here?"

"Master Rogar." Clawgrip chided. "This is Harry Potter, the man who helped drive Mundus back into the hell from whence he came."

At that, Rogar's demeanor completely changed from decidedly grumpy to cautiously curious.

"You are indeed Harry Potter?" The Goblin asked for confirmation, dunking the hot metal in the water, causing it to boil.

"Yes." I said politely, figuring this approach to be the best one.

"The Hero who took down the Demon Emperor?" Rogar continued.

"Eh…" I trailed off with a frown. "I channeled my power, combined with that of two powerful half Devils, as well as that of my Devil Arm and of my pet snake, and it only served to push him back out. To say I took him down would grossly misrepresent the contributions of my allies, as well as my own."

Rogar gave me a fierce gaze as I spoke, before smiling at the end.

Looks like I passed the old Goblin's test.

"Good answer." Rogar grunted out, before addressing me directly. "Why have you come here, Harry Potter?"

Straight to the point. I could appreciate someone like that.

"I need a scabbard for Erebus." I said, unzipping the duffel bag, and pulling out the Devil Arm in question. The black Falchion gleamed in the firelight, giving it a powerful, deadly look.

Rogar stared at the blade, impressed. He took a few steps forward, and held his hands out.

"May I?"

I nodded, and handed him the blade. He observed it, changing the angle of view with every observation.

"A fine blade, indeed." The Goblin acknowledged, before handing it to me. "What kind of material would you like for your scabbard?"

"Hm…" I said slowly. "What do you have?"

"Well." Rogar began. "There are many different ways to craft a scabbard. It could be made of wood, leather, silver, steel…"

"What do you think, Erebus?" I asked the Falchion directly, to the surprise of the Goblin smith.

"Wood is terrible, period. The leather would make for a lightweight build, but with your Lightning Dragonslayer Magic, weight isn't an issue… Go with steel. It should prove useful against the Sidhe, later on." Erebus answered dutifully.

"Well reasoned." Master Rogar praised, before giving the sword one last appraising look. "This will take some time, Harry Potter. Come back here in an hour, and the scabbard will be ready for you."

The blacksmith got to work, grabbing a piece of metal, and stuffing it in the furnace. Clawgrip led me out of the blacksmith area, all the way to the exit of Gringotts.

"Your scabbard will be at my desk, when ready." Clawgrip informed me.

"All right. Sounds good." I nodded. "How much will this cost me?"

"Free of charge."

"Wait, what?" I was completely confused at the turn of events. "Why?"

"Consider it additional payment for protecting the world from the likes of Mundus." Clawgrip, shooed me away. "One hour, Mr. Potter. See you then."

I dumbly left the bank, absentmindedly placing Erebus back in the duffel bag before any of the passer-bys noticed the deadly blade.

Goblins giving things away?

Hell must have been freezing over.