Authors Note:
Drem Yol Lok, dii braan joor. Hello, everyone. Ashtheking here once again, with the first of my many (hopefully) weekly updates. I'm pleased at how many people have already read this story, and the number of followers and favorites grows daily. I don't have anything much to say, so I'll now respond to the reviews.
Spirit of the Aces57: Thanks. I'm retroactively changing it from "my style" to "I insult". I was going for "manners", originally. Essentially, I meant "Ah, my manners!"
Arselbengt: Thank you for catching that. It's easy to miss something that simple, and I'm happy someone caught it and informed me. I've changed it now.
Ddragon21: I haven't planned that out too much, and what I have planned out will be covered shortly, but both of them pity them more than anything, in my current plans. It's a long way's away, so I don't want to give away that much already.
Bernard Karp: I would as well, but the sentence at the bottom was purposefully un-translated for plot purposes. It'll be translated in-story this chapter and most dovahzul will be translated either in story or at the bottom.
Aria-chanforever: Bonjour! Merci, monsieur (madame?), j'essaie. Le dragon était le second, comme vous le verrez dans ce chapitre. Pardonnez mon français, que ma grammaire est terrible malgré trois années d'études.
Sam: As far as I can tell, he is generally portrayed with the head of a dragon and the body of man, when he does not appear in Nirn as a giant flaming dragon to stop Mehrunes Dagon, of course. In any case, thanks for the compliment.
Colin0513: I try not to bash any characters; it seems unbefitting of a good writer to do such a thing. I try to keep to their original personalities as much as I can, even if I'm not that good of a writer in my own opinion. I have no particular love of Ron Weasley, I'll admit, and Dumbledore is a powerful manipulator, but I don't hate them, as I can understand their personalities to some extent.
Dark Neko 4000: This chapter. In all seriousness, I try not to spoil things, but the general plan is to finish through the plot of the Philosopher's Stone, before I decide whether to make each book a separate fanfic or not.
Thanks for the reviews, I enjoyed them. I won't be as comprehensive in responding to reviews in later chapters, but I will answer ones with questions I haven't previously answered or points I hadn't considered.
As always, please read, review, and recommend!
Faal Sen Voth Dovah Sos
The words resounded in Harry Potter's mind, as the dragon peered down upon the small boy.
The war drums beating at the back of Harry's increased their tempo, pounding out a feral and majestic tone that resonated in his blood, crying out in challenge.
Harry wanted to attack the dragon.
No, that wasn't quite right.
Harry wanted to slay the dragon (dovah, his mind whispered), to meet the beast in glorious combat, and best him. He wanted to prove his superiority and his dominance, and establish who the greater being was. His very flesh was urging him, his hands twitching and curling, grabbing the grass as if it were a weapon.
A greater part of his mind, though, pointed out to him that he was a small and scrawny nine year old boy, with arms as thin as reeds and no muscles to speak of apart from what was developed from a lifetime of running away from Dudley.
His mind also pointed out that although the dragon looked old, and his wings were somewhat tattered, he was still a dragon (dovah, his mind insisted.) He was a lot bigger than Uncle Vernon, and had claws and teeth that could rip him apart before he could even move.
Harry's mind (and self preservation instinct) won out over the song, and he took a deep (and terrified!) breath. The song died down in his head, becoming a soft chant in the background.
The dragon peered at him with what looked to be amusement on its face. It opened its mouth and spoke again.
"Krosis. I forgot how difficult it must be, for a joor sen of your Bok to resist the call of the Dovah-Sos. The Lovaas calls deeply to all of the Dov, but it is confusing to one without a Dovah Sil."
Harry finally found his breath, and his voice. In a shaky tone, he responded "So-sorry? I do-don't understand what you mean."
The dragon was most definitely amused at this point, judging by the expression on its' face. It made a low growling sound, which, Harry realized with a start, was a sort of laugh.
"Vrah, yes, in this age, which has lost itself to the Gods, none would know of the Dovah-Sos, let alone the Lovaas. Ah, again I ramble. Let us do tinvaak, Conversation. I am Paarthurnax."
Harry's mind whispered to him. Ambition – Overlord – Cruelty, it translated. Harry responded. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
The dragon (Paarthurnax) blinked once, and threw his head back in an unmistakable laugh. Shaking his head as he once again looked at Harry, he spoke. "So, the Pogaankul of the Laat Dovahkiin stands before me at last. Truly, my Bormah finds amusement in repetition. My Mudozaan kept track of her offspring, even as the world changed. None have displayed the reactions of the Lovaas as you in a century."
Harry, who understood maybe half of the strange non-English words in the conversation, was confused. Not only in part because he didn't know how he did understand the words.
"You know me, because I'm the childof someone called the Last Dragon?"
The dragon snorted, a puff of smoke coming out of his nostrils. "Impressive, joor sen. But you are not scaled and winged, despite what the Lovaas tells you. You are the descendant of the Dovahkiin. The Dragonborn, as it would be called in your tongue. The Mudozaan, the Greybeards, kept track of her children over the ages. You are a child of clan Potter, with the Dovah-Sos. Who else could you be but the descendant of her youngest son?"
Harry was startled, and stuttered out "You… you knew my family?" As far as he knew from Uncle Vernon, his dad was a good for nothing drunk, and his mom was a bitch and a whore. He didn't know what those last two were, but he knew it was bad.
Paarthurnax frowned draconically, and spoke. "Not personally, sen. The Greybeards, members of an Order dedicated to peaceful usage of the Thu'um, kept track of all those who held the Dovah-Sos. Three lines were known, back in the age of the Dovahkiin. She had three sons, all of whom inherited the Dovah-Sos, but none with the Dovah-Sil. The family named Potter gained the Dovah-Sos near the first of the kings of this land, when Alana Jorgensen, who was do sos, of the blood, married Garen Potter. They were tracked descendants of the Dovahkiin through her last son. From what I understand, their son gained nobility in one of the Kein that occurred upon this land."
Harry was ecstatic, for this dragon knew more of his family than anyone else he knew. He asked excitedly "Can you tell me anything else about them? My dad was James Potter, and my mum was Lily."
Paarthurnax frowned again, but looked sadly upon the excited boy. "Krosis, sen. Sorry, boy. I know not much about them. The ways of Lahzey are hard to observe." The dragon then blinked, and seemed to realize something.
"Zu'u fon wah lost sizaan vahrukt ko dii Bok. I forget my reasons, and drift among the currents of tinvaak. You, sen Harry, how be it that you possess the blessing of dii Bormah? This age has forgotten the Nine, and even the Seventeen walk unnoticed. Yet here I find you, a young joor, holding the King Blessing. Did you stumble upon a forgotten shrine, sen?"
Harry was confused, and said as such. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Paarthurnax."
The dragon snorted amusedly. "Zu'u Paarthurnax, child, I am not a Mister. If you wish to address me, call me as the Mudozaan do, and know me as In. But I speak of the blessing of Akatosh which surrounds you." The dragon peered at him, leaned in close, and took a sniff.
Harry's mind translated the term in the meantime. In. Master. Something in him snarled at that, but he forced it down. It was just a title, after all.
"Nid, this is no shrine blessing. The last I felt this," here the dragon peered up in remembrance, "was the closing of the Third Age, when the Daedra were banished by dii Bormah and his blessing bestowed upon the Hero who aided him. Geh, the blessing lasted for his lifetime upon this plane."
Harry then realized that the wise old dovah was probably talking about the glow that he had on his skin just before Paarthurnax arrived. He spoke up.
"Erm, In Paarthurnax, do you mean the glow I got from the Dragon-Man?"
The dragon in question, who was pondering the thought with his head up in the air, swiveled around so fast it would have broken a human neck.
"You speak of a Dragon-Man? Do you perchance mean a human with the head of a Dovah?"
Harry responded affirmatively.
Paarthurnax opened his eyes as wide as possible, and started peering around the area. He made a startled gasping sound, and spoke. "Dii bormah lost silkun het. Los rok Hun? Ko daar tiid? Faal Kel, nid ren. Fos qostiid aak mok? Waan dii bormah worax nii vost wah gestahdim mok, ahrk drun zey het... Nii los dii heyv wah frey mok. Hmm... MUDOZAAN!"
The last word was Shouted to the sky, the very cry shaking the earth beneath Harry's feet. The word translated itself naturally to him, ringing in his very flesh. Greybeard, it meant.
The forest was silent for a minute after that, Paarthurnax shaking his head slightly. Suddenly a loud –CRACK- sounded out.
Far away, in the office of a wise old wizard, there exist instruments meant to monitor any wizardry preformed around one Harry James Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World. It was critical toward keeping him protected that they work at all times. The wizard who created them kept track of them as much as possible. Sadly, he was having dinner with his pupils when the unthinkable happened. They stopped working.
A faint golden glow started emanating from them, before stopping. The power of the King of the Nine changed them, making them ignore any who could use the Thu'um, which in this era meant only the Dovah and the Mudozaan.
To the left of Harry, on the right of Paarthurnax, a cloaked man in a stately grey robe appeared out of thin air, the edges of his robe fluttering. He walked over to the dovah and bowed.
"Drem Yol Lok, Paarthurnax." The mystery man intoned in a formal manner. His voice had a cultured Nordic accent. "Why have you summoned us? Shall I call the rest here?"
Paarthurnax shook his head. "Inform them later, Bjorn. Feel this area, and tell me that I am not mistaken in my seeing."
The mystery man, Bjorn, who Harry figured was this Greybeard person, raised his arms, seemingly tracing patterns in the air.
"There is something here…. A tear in the dimensions, closed quite recently. I have never felt this before. What crossed? This presence is Daedric? No… It's an et'Ada, certainly, but…perhaps an Aedra? No, the power required for this… only The Nine could have made this. One of the Nine crossed onto Mundus? Gods above, did Mehrunes Dagon attack a minute ago or something and we missed it?"
Paarthurnax shook his head, and gestured with a wing toward Harry, who the man apparently hadn't noticed. "Look upon the sen. Tell me what you see."
The man came closer to Harry, and looked at him. He whispered something, and closed his eyes. This man, Bjorn, was about six feet tall, and had a black, if slightly graying, beard, with dark hair coming down to his shoulders in a ponytail. His eyes, which Harry saw before he closed them, were ocean blue.
His robes made Harry think of a monk or priest.
Bjorn spoke aloud, seemingly to himself. "Hmm… Well, I can feel the dragon blood, that's obvious enough, considering you're here, In. He's got a decent enough magicka level to be trained as a Lahzey. But that wouldn't be why you told me to look. Hmm, wait, there's something. Oh. Ooh. Very interesting, this is. It's a blessing. Hmm… it's definitely of the Nine. I think I can figure it out. One second. Ah, is this… Auri-El? No, I've seen that one before. Is it Alkosh, maybe? That's not right. No, it seems to be all of them."
Bjorn's eyes snapped open. "But how can it be possible? It's Everlasting, as far as I can tell." He addressed Paarthurnax, turning away from Harry. Paarthurnax simply raised a draconic eye ridge, challenging him to figure it out.
Bjorn hummed, tilting his head slightly. He seemed to then realize something. His eyes bulged, and he turned to Paarthurnax sharply, before staring at Harry intently. "It… It can't be! But… to break His own Veil, and come to Mundus! It'd require insane events upon Nirn."
Bjorn's eyes then seemed to find the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead. As far as Harry knew, the scar was the remnant of the car crash that killed his parents. So he didn't know why Bjorn widened his eyes further, if possible, and started paling.
"No… Harry Potter? It has to be, with that scar and those eyes and hair. But, If He came here… The Dark Lord isn't truly dead, then… I can't believe it. A Hero? It's been millennia since the last, and that was the gods-be-damned Dovahkiin. What… Oh dear, this is not good."
Harry, who was very confused by all the terms that the man was spouting out, opened his mouth to ask how the man knew his name, and what his scar had to do with anything. Before he could, Bjorn turned to Paarthurnax, and spoke sharply in that strange language. Paarthurnax responded in turn.
"Los Zu'u ges, In? Los rok Hun? Zu'u mindok ni fos voz rok vust kos. Mu kend delah mok."
"Zu'u krolur. Tinvaak hi, ahrk kuz mok wah ok vahlok. Nid ren rok lost stav siiv. Dii bormah ofan kogaan fent wadren tol."
"Do rahlo, In. Zu'u fund kos honored wah delah mok ko faal Strah do faal Su'um."
"Shur, ruz. Zu'u fent gun fod korasaal."
"In? Hi los dovah. Nust los ahminaal nuz ko faal Suburbs."
"Zu'u mindok pogaan zaan, goraan gein. Qiid hin zuwuth ahstiid."
Bjorn nodded, at that. Smiling, he turned back to Harry, and spoke to him. "Forgive me, young one. My Master spoke to me, and so I listened. I have not yet introduced myself. Sorry. I am Bjorn Stormhold. I know who you are, of course. Harry Potter." He grinned. "I didn't expect to meet you, of all people, when my in summoned me here. Come; let us walk back to your camp and talk."
Harry was very confused. "Wait, what? How do you know my name? I'm not going anywhere until you explain things, first, Mr. Stormhold."
Bjorn laughed, and sat down on a rock near Paarthurnax, who looked amused. "Very well, Harry. You want to know how I know your name. It's the scar."
Harry reached up to touch the scar. It prickled under his touch, sending a cold shiver down his spine. "I don't understand. I got this from the car crash that killed my parents!"
Bjorn looked angry. "James and Lily Potter, killed in a mundane car crash? As if. Is that the tripe that your guardians told you?"
Harry nodded, not wanting to make Bjorn angry. He was scary.
"I see. By the Nine, this is problematic. Hmm… Harry." He addressed Harry sharply. Harry responded quickly. "Yes, Mr. Stormhold?"
Bjorn gave a tentative grin, and asked a strange question. "What can you tell me about magic?"
Harry gave a small frown, and answered as best he could. "Erm… Uncle Vernon says there's no such thing as magic. I would believe him, but I'm talking to a person who appeared out of thin air, and a dovah - err, a dragon, after being given what is apparently a blessing from a Dragon-headed man who glowed like the sun."
Bjorn laughed at that. "I suppose I can't fault that. But your guardians say magic doesn't exist?" Harry nodded. "Well, then. What do you call this?"
He stretched his arms out, and flame erupted from them, twisting and curling in the air in a stream.
Harry's eyes went wide. "Whoa! That's awesome! How did you do that?"
Bjorn chuckled. "I sent magicka through my hands, molding it into flame as it left. It's a simple Flames spell, though the majority of the Wizarding world doesn't know how to cast it. In any case, let's walk and talk."
He bowed low to Paarthurnax, saying "Lok Thu'um, dii In. Sky Above, Voice Within, my Master."
The dragon nodded his head back, repeating the farewell. "Lok Thu'um, Bjorn, Harry."
Paarthurnax then flapped his wings, once, twice, and flew away into the sky, heading north. He roared once, and quickly became a speck on the horizon.
Harry and Bjorn were left alone in the rock outcropping, in the midst of the forest. Bjorn gestured away. "Lead the way, young one. Where did you camp, out here in these secluded woods?"
Harry named the campsite, gathering the sticks he had collected from where they had fallen. Bjorn blinked, and spoke incredulously. "There? But that's nearly thirty miles away! How long did you walk?"
Harry was very confused. "I followed the Dragon-Man, Aka-whatever, for about 7 minutes. Before that, I was about ten minutes from the campsite."
Bjorn gave an "ah" of comprehension, before stretching his arms out. "I see. So Akatosh bent space. Or was it time. Hmm… Ah, found it. Oho. A portal disguised with an illusion. You'd need an Archmage to make a portal this powerful. Well, why not use it. Let's go."
He put his hands down, and made a "follow-me" gesture. "So, Harry. Tell me about your guardians."
As they neared the campsite, Bjorn looked very calm externally. On the inside, he was seething. If even half of what Harry has told me is true, I would hold no qualms in sending them to the Deadlands, vow of non-aggression be damned. How they could treat a child, of their own blood no less, with such disdain and hatred is beyond me.
He then realized something. No need to make them irritated. If I'm to secure Harry for tutoring in the Way of the Voice, then I must make them like me, as repugnant as it seems.
He held up his hand in the universal stop gesture, and asked Harry something. "Your uncle, he works for a drill company, yes?"
The young boy nodded, smiling at him. Bjorn discretely drew his wand from inside his robes with a flick of his hand. While I could probably perform transfiguration in the old way, no need to take the chance of screwing up such a delicate process.
With another flick, his robes melted and shifted into a high-quality collared shirt, and formal pants. I could go hiking in these, I suppose. It'd be silly, but as they say, first impressions count.
Harry was looking at him in awe. "Ah, yes. This is Transfiguration, a school of magic dedicated toward changing one object into another. This is fairly high level work, but I want to impress your uncle for something. Remember, Harry, not a word about Master Paarthurnax or Magic."
The boy nodded, and they walked into the camp. The sun was setting, and the orange-red glow of the sun worked with the cheery orange flames that flickered in the Dursley's campsite to make a picturesque scene.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were sitting on lawn chairs by the fire. Mrs. Dursley was reading a tabloid, while Mr. Dursley was heating up marshmallows on the flame. There were a multitude of brats sitting by one tent, playing with poker cards, and poking at any bugs that came by.
Mr. Dursley noticed the duo enter the campsite first, and got up. He shouted "There you are, boy! Do you have the sticks I told you to get! The fire is growing small, and it's your fault if it dies, you hear me?"
He then seemed to notice Bjorn. Taking in the higher quality clothes, his piggish eyes seemed to gleam with greed, to Bjorn. "Ah, excuse me. Who are you, my good man?"
Bjorn smiled gently. "Greetings, Mr. Dursley. My name is Bjorn Stormhold. I'm a professor at Oxford University. I was camping nearby. I found your nephew when I was out looking for wood, and kept him company on his way back." Reaching into his pocket, he discretely conjured a business card with the correct details on it. He wasn't lying about his profession, but he wasn't going to waste an actual card on this man. Better one that would disappear after a few hours.
Bjorn handed it to Mr. Dursley, who spoke. "Ah, I see. Thank you. Well, I hope he didn't cause you any trouble."
Bjorn gave a small laugh. "Nothing I wouldn't expect from a nine year old, my good man. I know how to handle kids. A firm and steady hand, with no tolerance for foolishness is the way to go. My old man taught me the same thing."
Mr. Dursley smiled, clearly pleased. He spoke again. "Well, my apologies for his distraction. Thank you for visiting." He waved him out, wanting to end the conversation so he could yell at the brat.
Bjorn smiled again. "It was nothing, my good man. If I may, sir, I was hoping I could ask a favor of you?"
Mr. Dursley gave a small frown. "What sort of favor, Mr. Stormhold?"
Bjorn gestured at Harry. "I require an assistant for some of my work. Someone to haul books around, and take notes when I'm planning lectures. I live on Magnolia Crescent, not that far from you."
The Dursley parents were frowning, with Mrs. Dursley having put down her magazine. She asked a question in a sharp tone. "What exactly do you study, Mr. Stormhold?"
Bjorn gave a disarming grin. "I study the old Nordic myths. The ones predating the Vikings, you know. I'm currently working on a thesis dictating how the 'magic' referred to in those stories is nothing more than good old fashioned science. Because, there's no such thing as magic, you know. I have a three year hiatus to work on the paper."
Mr. Dursley looked pleased. "Well, that seems nice. How long do you want the boy for?"
Bjorn pretended to misunderstand. "Oh, well, I was planning on borrowing him from 7:00 AM to 8:00 PM on weekdays. I do understand that it might be a bit much, however."
Mrs. Dursley looked excited. "Well, that seems alright, I suppose…."
Bjorn again pretended to misconstrue their sentence. "I'm willing to pay. Say… 20 pounds a week?"
Mr. Dursley jumped up and shook Bjorn's hand. "It's a deal, good sir. We'll send him on Monday, if that's alright with you."
Bjorn nodded, and addressed Harry. "Bring nothing, boy. I live on 47 Magnolia Crescent. I want to see you there at 7:00, sharp."
He then turned and walked away. Once he was a sufficient distance away that the sound would not be heard, he turned upon himself and vanished with a loud –CRACK-, disappearing into the night.
Authors Note:
Well, that was a fun chapter to type. As promised above, here is the Draconic / Dovahzul that was not translated in the chapter proper.
Krosis – Sorrow (Used as "sorry", or "apologies")
joor sen – Mortal boy
Bok – Age
Dovah-Sos – Dragon Blood (They were known as the "Dragon Blood" emperors for a reason)
Lovaas – Song (The war drums that play whenever you fight a dragon. More on this later)
Dov – Dragon
Dovah Sil – Dragon Soul (What makes a Dragonborn a Dragonborn)
Pogaankul – Many-Son (Descendant)
Bormah – Father (Refers to Akatosh, who all dragons claim as their father)
Thu'um – Shouts (Self explanatory)
Kein – Wars
Lahzey – Mages / Wizards
Zu'u fon wah lost sizaan vahrukt ko dii Bok - I seem to have lost memory in my Age ( I am forgetful in my old age)
Dii – My
Nid - No
Geh - Yes
Dii bormah lost silkun het. Los rok Hun? Ko daar tiid? Faal Kel, nid ren. Fos qostiid aak mok? Waan dii bormah worax nii vost wah gestahdim mok, ahrk drun zey het... Nii los dii heyv wah frey mok. Hmm... MUDOZAAN! - My father has aura (presence) here. Is he (a) Hero? In this time? The Elder scrolls, no doubt. What prophecy guides him? If my father saw it fit to hallow him, and bring me here. .. It is my duty to aid him. Hmm... GREYBEARD!
Drem Yol Lok – Peace Fire Sky (Used as a greeting [Your fire lies in peace])
Los Zu'u ges, In? Los rok Hun? Zu'u mindok ni fos voz rok vust kos. Mu kend delah mok. - Am I right, Master? Is he a Hero? I know not what else he could be. We must train him.
Zu'u krolur. Tinvaak hi, ahrk kuz mok wah ok vahlok. Nid ren rok lost stav siiv. Dii bormah ofan kogaan fent wadren tol. -I agree. Talk (Introduce) you (rself), and take him to his guardian. No doubt he has spells to find him. My father given (father's) blessing shall block that.
Do rahlo, In. Zu'u fund Kos honored wah delah mok ko faal Strah do faal Su'um. - Of course, Master. I would be honored to train him in the Way of the Voice.
Shur, ruz. Zu'u fent gun fod korasaal. - Go, then. I shall visit when possible.
In? Hi los dovah. Nust los ahminaal nuz ko faal Suburbs. - You are a dragon. They are noticeable in the Suburbs.
Zu'u mindok pogaan zaan, goraan gein. Qiid hin zuwuth ahstiid. - I know many shouts, young one. Ask your elders sometime.
Hope this helps you understand the chapter better. I was very happy with all the reviews and favorites. Here's hoping I get many more over time!
As always, please read, review, and recommend!