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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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Chapter 61: Memory Lane

I fiddled with the newest addition to my wardrobe as we silently exited the Bank of Gringotts, allowing my mind to wander in the hopes of forgetting about what I was about to do; go through the ruins of my first home, where my parents were— parent, singular— was murdered by Voldemort in cold blood.

It was a little fitting, in a way.

Everything was about to go full circle, back to where it all started.

"Truly an intriguing piece of jewelry." Erebus whispered in my mind as Sirius and I went for some quick, ice cream. I took a seat and let him do the ordering. "It is gathering energy from the world— a very small amount, but it is doing it at a constant rate."

"So what does that mean?" I thought back. "I'll have infinite energy?"

"Not as such." Erebus said. "Not even Mundus has limitless energy. What this does is greatly increase your magical recovery rate."

Oh, so it was Mana regeneration, to steal a term from the gaming community. Having such a thing meant that I could cast spells, and launch magical offensives for much longer than before.

"How much Mana regen are we talking about, here?" I asked, wanting a number estimate— the fledgling gamer in me feeling woefully uncomfortable with the lack of certainty in my limits when it comes to fighting.

"It seems to be a passive effect, and your pool of… 'Mana', as you put it, will be increasing from it— a very small increase, but still there." Erebus mused, before getting back on subject. "Interesting, in the span of fifteen seconds, it gives you enough magical energy to throw one of your Breakdown Fists, I'd imagine."

Not bad at all, when I considered it.

I frowned as an idea came to me.

"What happens if I am fully regenerated?" I asked.

"Good question." Erebus replied, and said nothing after.

"Well?" I pressed.

"I don't know." Erebus answered with. "You think I have all the answers, child?"

I shook my head in slight irritation as the conversation was halted by Sirius coming over with the ice cream; a sundae for him and just vanilla for me— I had developed a strange preference for that particular flavor after my… melding with Balthazar.

We enjoyed the ice cream in a somewhat comfortable silence, slightly marred by the fact that we were going to a place that would make the both of us feel miserable; it made sense that we were at an ice cream parlor, just before.

Once done, and after cleaning up, Sirius and I walked back out into the Alley, watching the people walk around, freely showing their happiness to the world, for they were with their families, and it was a time of celebration.

I peeked at Sirius; he looked as grim-faced as I did.

Twelve years he spent in prison, and fourteen years I spent in a negative—until recently, anyway— environment, with the threat of a powerful dark wizard over my head, as well as the misery with having very few people that were close to me in any meaningful way.

"Let's go, Sirius." I said.

Sirius dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Yeah. Grab my shoulder, will you?"

I did.

With a loud crack, we were off in the squeezy realm of apparition, before reappearing back in the real world, in a completely different place.

It felt like the complete opposite of what Diagon Alley was.

The first thing I noticed was the oppressive silence, and the persistent feeling of gloom in the air— a stark contrast to Diagon Alley's life, its vibrancy.

In front of me was…

"So, this is the place." I said, more than asked, frowning at the state of it.

The cottage was a mess. It was covered in dark ivy, and the right side of the top floor was blown apart. My eyes drank it all in; the lawn had been left to grow wild, and there was rubble everywhere, still.

"You would think they would clean the damned front lawn, at least?" I asked slowly. "I mean, it's been years, and the place has been left completely untouched. Was there even an investigation conducted?"

"…" Sirius looked like he was gathering his wits. "…Probably not, seeing as I was chucked into Azkaban immediately."

I grabbed the rusted front gate, and pulled it open with an annoyingly loud squeak that made me cringe.

I felt a surge of energy, and backed away immediately, ready for an attack. Nothing happened, aside from a sign rising out of the ground in front of Sirius and I, up through the weeds and earth.

Written in golden letters on the wood, I read the contents.

"On this spot, on the night of 31 October 2000,
Lily and James Potter lost their lives.
Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard
ever to have survived the Killing Curse.
This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left
in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters
and as a reminder of the violence
that tore apart their family."

Around the words, several messages were carved out or graffiti-d on there. People who were wishing me luck against Voldemort.

It cheered me up slightly, but I could not get my mind off of the contents of the sign.

It made me angry.

Unbelievably so.

"Left as a reminder, huh?" I said calmly, raising my hand and charging it with enough power to smash through concrete. "On whose authority?"

I drove my fist into the blasted sign. The magic woven into it fought me, but it only lasted for a mere second before my Lightning smashed through the wooden construct, sending its broken, half burnt remains among the rubble and overgrowths.

There was silence for a moment.

"Feel better?" Sirius asked dully.

I frowned, dusting off my knuckles. "No, but it needed to be done. The war's over, and I'll eventually rebuild this place, start a new family..." I sighed, remembering that Daphne had just randomly taken off. "Let's just go inside."

"All right."

The door had been left open, even after all of these years.

I could smell the musty stench of fabrics that had been left untouched for a long time. I was acutely aware of all the dust particles clinging to every surface around me, and could even smell a hint of urine, though it was quite weak— indicative of something that had done its business here a fair bit back, but not too long.

Most likely, it was someone who thought they could defile my parents' last stand with such pettiness.

We went up the stairs, checking every room on the way, until we reached the spot where Voldemort had attempted to curse me. I gave it a moment's glance, not even wanting to be here long enough to drink it all in. This is where my mother had died, and to be truthful, I did not want to linger too long, lest I be distracted from my quest of finding my father.

Nevertheless, I checked the room out, just like everywhere else, for clues. There was nothing but a hole in the ceiling, and the torched walls around us.

I sighed, before moving back downstairs, where Sirius and I just stood, trying to think of our next move.

I glanced at Sirius, who looked around with a sadness that was beyond what I was currently feeling. Unlike me, he had been here before the place was reduced to this pathetic state.

He stifled a sob.

"Sirius..."

"Just—" Sirius choked, wiping away the tears. "Give me a second."

I grabbed his shoulder. "All right."

"Evans— that's what I called your mother, even after she got married— James and I would just sit on that couch, and watch you play with your toys." Sirius admitted, resting his hand on a sofa that had definitely seen better days. He looked around the room, as if lost in the memories.

He moved to a miniature, broken broom, picking it up the floor gingerly.

I approached it.

"This used to be yours." Sirius said, smiling ruefully. "I remember handing it to you, and you sent it flying through the window. Of course, your mother happened to walk by at just the right moment."

"What happened, then?"

"Sweet talked my way out of it, of course." Sirius said with a big smile that faded almost immediately after. "Those were the days. That's when life was looking up; I was considering marriage with my girlfriend—" Woah, Sirius had a girlfriend? "— even Moony and Wormtail were settling in quite nicely. We were going to start a new tradition; our next generation would go to Hogwarts together and cause mayhem, for the most part."

"Heh, they would've had to compete with Fred and George, Sirius." I grinned.

"Those two are quite good." Sirius admitted. "But, against children who would've been taught by Marauders? No contest."

As soon as Sirius had uttered the word 'Marauder', I had felt a shift in the air, similar to when the sign had popped out of the ground outside, but much more powerful.

I froze, sending out tendrils of Lightning to connect with whatever magic was gathering.

I could hear the sound of stone grinding against stone, as the fireplace began turning to the left, revealing a set of stairs leading down. I stared at it in disbelief, before shaking my head and making my way down, Sirius right behind me.

"Have you ever been here, before?" I asked after about a minute of going down the winding staircase. This thing must go deep underground. "Sirius."

"No." My Godfather denied. "I have no idea what this place is."

"It's starting to get a little— oh, here's a door." I said, turning the knob and pushing the wooden frame open, revealing a large room, with a round table at the center. There were a few chairs, here and there, and a freaking Pensieve in the corner.

Open books, scrolls and papers were strewn all over the table, with sketches of both beautiful and horrifying creatures. I examined the lot of it.

"I can't believe he wrote all of this." Sirius looked at the pile of books, scrolls, missives and notes with wide, impressed eyes.

"The redcap." I read; it was a sketch of a humanoid with straight, black hair, high cheekbones and a vulpine smile on his face, the canines a little too large, and sharp. "Cemented in legend as the being known to greet wandering travelers in a friendly manner, and then murder them horribly in order to freshly dye his cap in their blood; thus, redcap."

Next to it, was a long dissertation on faeries, and how words, promises and oaths bound these creatures absolutely.

Beneath the text, there were words scrawled in a hurried manner.

"- Ask a question three times for absolute truth from faerie-
- Oaths are how faeries ensnare humans, be wary but be ready to make an oath, Potter-"

This was my dad's handwriting; he had been taking notes, huh?

There were more depictions of creatures, like gigantic trolls, something called the Erlking, and even Demons like Erebus. James had done a ton of research on the matter, trying to find a way to save his family, whichever way he could.

It was a humbling thing, to see.

My eyes landed on a sketch of a drop-dead gorgeous woman with curly, copper-scarlet hair, and amber eyes. Her lips, a blood red, were slightly pouted.

The title; the Leanansidhe.

I studied the text intently.

"The Leanansidhe, pronounced Le-a-nan-shee, is considered to be a high ranking faerie of the Winter Court, considered second in power only to the Winter Queen, Mab herself. Known in Celtic myth as the fairy mistress, taking human lovers and providing them with artistic inspiration, at the cost of madness and an early grave."

This was her. The one who had taken my father.

"Harry, come here." Sirius' voice broke through my thoughts. "There are memories in this Pensieve."

I turned and walked to the corner of the room, as Sirius waved his wand over the stone basin.

"It seems that the Pensieve is set on some kind of auto-play." Sirius said, frowning over the magical artifact. "Once we go in, we have to go through all of the memories within."

"How many are there?" I asked.

"I don't know." He answered. "There's some kind of obfuscation magic on it. I'm guessing so that no one can scry for the Pensieve, itself."

"Really?"

"It's possible. I don't know what the contents of this Pensieve are, but a Pensieve itself is quite the expensive artifact. It's smart to protect it, like that." Sirius said. "Most old families do similar things out of sheer paranoia."

I wondered what was in there, feeling a shiver crawl up my spine. I was almost afraid to find out.

"Harry?" Sirius asked.

"I—" I said, but shook my head.

"You don't have to—"

"Yes." I cut him off. "Yes, I do. Come on, before I lose my nerve."

"Okay." Sirius said, before dipping his head in the basin and getting sucked in, with me following suit. I felt the familiar, icy cold sensation I had experienced last year, and found myself standing in the living room of the cottage I was in, but it was different.

The floors were spotless, the couches and various furniture practically reflecting the shine of the sunlight filtering in through the open windows. The curtains were shifting from what I expected to be a pleasant wind, though I could not feel anything.

It made sense; since this was a memory, I was likely to not actually feel the physical impact of much. Frankly, I was amazed that I could stand around here and not fall through the floor. Thinking a little about it, I surmised that the Pensieve was likely enchanted to possess these limits on movement within.

Sirius was standing next to me as a man who greatly resembled me walked into the living room, a baby sleeping soundly on his shoulder— that was me. James rocked the baby slightly while humming a random tune with no particular pattern, rhyme or reason.

A few minutes of that, and he put the child in a nearby crib, making sure to cover the little lad very carefully so he wouldn't catch a cold. Then, James sat down on the couch, sighing contentedly.

"How is he?" A familiar voice came from the kitchen as Lily Potter entered the living room, holding a couple of sandwiches in her hand.

"Sleeping, so far." James answered, frowning. "What Dumbledore said, about the prophecy…"

"Nothing will happen." Lily assured. "The Fidelius Charm will hold, and we have no reason to distrust Peter."

Sirius shifted in his position. We exchanged a nod, and went back to watching the events unfold.

"You're right, of course." James chuckled, snatching one of her sandwiches and munching on it, ignoring her feeble protest. "Still, I've already started looking into other solutions."

Lily frowned. "You mean that silliness with the Leanan—"

"Shh!" James shushed her quickly. "Don't say her Name. Names have power, and if you say someone's Name, they can actually hear what you're saying, provided they have the talent to do so."

"But, that makes no sense." Lily protested in a low tone of voice, so as not to wake toddler Harry. "What about people with common names like Thomas, Chloe, Emily, Mary, Jack?"

"Well." James started. "I'll start by explaining how it works. There are names, and then there are Names." He insisted on the last word. "With a capital N for emphasis. I suppose you could call it the 'True Name', if it makes you feel better."

"Anyway," He continued, not letting her get a word in edgewise. "By knowing something's name, its True Name, you can create a magical link between yourself and the target in question. But it's not enough, just knowing the being's name; you have to know exactly how to say it, and what to think about when actually mentioning it."

He took a breath. "For example, if you try to summon forth a Demon while saying the Demon's name in sweet tones, you won't likely get anything— unless it's some kind of sweet Demon, but something like that would probably be useless. As for humans, their True Names can change over time, depending on if their perceptions of themselves change, or not."

"What I'm trying to get at here." James said. "It's that True Names have power, so you should never utter someone's— or something's— True name without being ready to be counter-Named, and watched."

A dead silence greeted his explanation.

"You took the time to study all of that." Lily said.

"Oh, laugh it up, lady." James said, picking his nose and flicking a booger at her.

"Ew, what the hell, James!" Lily yelled out.

Toddler Harry started crying as the memory cut off, depositing us into a black void.

"What did you think?" Sirius asked slowly. The both of us were still processing the information about Names.

"I can't believe my home was reduced to that state that we found." I said. "It really was amazing to see what it looked like, before."

"I know." Sirius said, sighing. "Seeing it like that, upstairs; well, it hit hard. Evans, Prongs, Moony, and my own dreams and plans for the future; our lives were destroyed, that day. Sometimes, when I was in prison, I wondered if Lily and James were the lucky ones— they didn't have to stew over in Azkaban."

"I know it's kind of callous of me to say, Harry." Sirius said as I opened my mouth. "And I'm sorry for that."

"No, no, don't apologize." I answered. "Dying is much easier than living over a decade in misery. I've also wondered the same."

"But James is—" Sirius never got to finish what he was about to say, as another memory began 'loading up', as it were.

Our surroundings shifted to the secret room that held the Pensieve we were currently using.

I briefly wondered what would happen if you entered a Pensieve inside of a Pensieve, but thought better of it. The room was much tidier than what it was now, and James was religiously taking notes, making sure to reference the proper text, cross reference with information from other books, before drawing his conclusions.

He drew the sketches that I had seen prior.

"The Redcap is no good." James said, and I looked around, startled. There was no one but me, Sirius, and James Potter. Did he know we were there?

"He's got a track record of slaughtering innocents that simply bump into him on their travels." James continued, scratching his chin. "Asking him for help would get everyone killed within a few seconds, and he'd do it just because he can."

"Don't worry." Sirius patted my shoulder. "James liked to throw out ideas, bounce them against the wall; it helped a lot with his concentration."

"Asking the Queen of Winter would be akin to stomping on a dragon's nest and requesting aid. I would get destroyed in seconds." James scratched his head. "Possibly, I could contact the Summer Court, instead, but the Potter Library has nothing that can help me in that regard. I couldn't even unlock the tablet in the Family Vault. I feel so helpless."

James stopped talking, and looked around, before focusing his breathing, getting it back down to normal levels.

"Calm down, Potter." James harshly said to himself. "You can do this. It's only your family on the line, how hard could it be?"

I gave Sirius a glance; he looked as perturbed by this as I felt.

The memory cut off again, putting us back into the void.

"He was scared." I said. "I never even thought—"

"Yeah." Sirius said, looking down in shame. "I know how he felt, cooped up in his own home with nothing but a library of books depicting the most horrific creatures on the planet, and he was seriously considering asking one of them for help."

A new memory appeared, and the Pensieve deposited us in the familiar scenery of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; more specifically, the Headmaster's office.

This time, James Potter sat comfortably in his chair, as Dumbledore inspected a familiar looking Cloak— my Cloak.

"My thanks, for your lending me your Cloak of Invisibility, James." Albus said, folding the Cloak up and placing it on his desk. "It shall prove to be a very intriguing analysis"

"How long would that take?" James asked, feeling a little wary about handing a priceless heirloom over.

"Not too long, I would assume." Albus answered genially. "I would like to study it, to see the reason why it has remained in your family for centuries."

The man was lying through his teeth— I guessed that he already knew what the Cloak was, and why it stayed active for centuries.

"I guess it makes sense." James allowed. "I've never heard of any other Invisibility Cloak capable of maintaining its invisibility for even a few years, let alone centuries."

"I'm glad you understand." Albus said, before steepling his fingers in consternation. "Now, there is another reason I have asked you to come here."

"Yeah?" James asked, leaning forward.

"Lily has presented me with her concerns, dear boy." Dumbledore said. "I do not believe that asking—"

"She put you up to this?" James seemed quite put out.

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore looked a little sheepish. "Normally, I would not interfere with other families' business, but as your circumstances are currently special…"

"Look." James almost growled out. "I'm sitting at home, hiding away like a pathetic waste of space, while other people are fighting the good fight. You can't expect to stop researching different methods of fighting. Prophecy, or not, I'm going to be researching this, no matter what."

There was a long silence, a palpable tension in the air as James Potter stood up and turned to leave.

"I want my Cloak by the end of next week. You hear me, Dumbledore?" James said, before exiting the Headmaster's office, which prompted the Pensieve to send us back into the dark void.

"We're getting close to the end." Sirius said, shoulders slumping slightly. "I remember James being angry over something to do with the Headmaster, but didn't think much of it, at the time."

I nodded, offering no words in return, as our surroundings shifted yet again, revealing the room he was researching in. Now, it looked practically identical to the room that I had been in, outside of the Pensieve.

James was milling around the room, in a bit of a hurry. He was talking to himself again, as he usually did.

"Preparations are made, wrote my will, put the relevant memories in the Pensieve—" James spoke in bits and pieces, as he stacked a few papers, placing them on the table before disrupting their order once more. "I know who to call if Wormtail does betray us— however unlikely that might be. Still, I have to be prepared for anything. There are other ways of extracting information from people."

"Lily has woven blood magic and linked it to Harry's skin." He said to himself, nodding. "That should protect from any direct touch of anyone who truly wants to harm him, but it won't protect him from something like the Killing Curse, or any curse for that matter."

He pulled out a folded up piece of paper from his back pocket, and unfolded it. It was a sketch of the Leanansidhe— the exact same sketch that was lying on the table. As expected, the man placed the piece of paper on the spot I had found it in.

"When in trouble, call the red haired ice bitch." James said, grinning at his ingenious way of avoiding saying the Leanansidhe's name.

James' smile fell, and he turned to leave the room, before stopping at the door, and looking down.

He hesitantly turned around, and walked a few, unsure steps forward. He closed his eyes, and sighed, looking as if he'd aged a decade in a few seconds.

"Harry." I jumped at my name. He could see me? "If you're watching this memory, then I'm either dead at the hands of the Dark Lord, or enslaved by the redhead fae. Both cases sound awful, but I want you to know, that I'm doing it for you, kid. Old Voldy wants your head, and I'm not going to give it to him, because I'm not done being your dad just yet. Even if you are a whiny, fussy brat who likes to pee on people's faces when they change his diapers, I would never give up on you."

"I— I know I'm supposed to give some kind of rousing speech, but I'm tired." James looked down. "I'm scared. I don't know how long we have to live like this; it's not a healthy environment for any of us— not me, not your mother, and most certainly not you."

"Look at me, talking to myself like a crazy bastard." James said, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes. "Harry. Defeat him. I know you can do it— not because of this prophecy bullshit, but because I already know you are powerful. Last night, I found you in your crib, levitating things around while sleeping. You have great power, and might even be able to unlock the Potter's Blue Light, our family magic." James pleaded. "And, I want you to know that I'm sorry for leaving you, but I can't seem to find any other choices, here."

He gave a long, suffering sigh, and rubbed at his temples.

"I better get back to feeding you, kid." James smiled, and made for the door. "Good luck."

My body lurched back as the Pensieve forcefully ejected us back into the real world. I fell to my knees, uncaring of the dust dirtying my clothes. My father had somehow figured out a method to save me from a Killing Curse, and paid the price for it.

"Harry…" Sirius started, but I held up my hand, cutting him off.

"We have to find him." I said.

"We can't go in this blind." Sirius said. "You know that, right?"

"Yes." I nodded, feeling quite disgruntled, and angry. I had just seen my father deliver an impassioned plea, not even knowing if his message would ever reach his son— hell, he didn't even know if he was going to survive the day, let alone his son.

So I gave the situation a few minutes' thought, weighing in all the pros and cons, all of the actions I could take, and their possible consequences.

I could storm into faerie territory in search of my father, but I figured that would not be the best bet, all things considered. Another idea came to mind.

"We need to talk to her." I said. "Figure out where she's got dad held up."

"What if she tries to lure us into a promise?" Sirius protested

"She won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because we'll be smack dab in the middle of the Dark Realm, where she simply can't do anything to me. Avoiding falling for the bait these faeries always seemed to dangle before my eyes." I said savagely.

I would meet with the Leanansidhe, but it would be on my own playing field, my own rules.

And if she no longer had my father stashed somewhere, well…

You get the idea.

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Next chapter, we meet up with a powerful faerie and attempt to make some plans.