Authors Note:

Drem Yol Lok, dii braan joor. Hello, everyone. Ashtheking here once again, with the next update. Sorry for the late update, this chapter went through several iterations in my head, and before it knew it, Sunday was over. Sorry. As always, I'm delighted at the followers and favorites I get every day, so let me once again say thank you. I like some of the suggestions and comments that I've read in the reviews, though I must say that Alduin will not be making an appearance in this story in person. As far as I'm concerned, the Last Dragonborn took care of that guy, and he won't show up until the end of this kalpa, to perform his duties as World-Eater and bring about the next world.

As always, please read, review, and recommend!

Faal Sen Voth Dovah Sos

"The first ones were brothers: Anu and Padomay. They came into the Void, and Time began.

As Anu and Padomay wandered the Void, the interplay of Light and Darkness created Nir. Both Anu and Padomay were amazed and delighted with her appearance, but she loved Anu, and Padomay retreated -." Harry paused as his teacher interrupted him.

"Not that one, kiddo. That's the Annotated Anuad. It's nice, but not what I wanted you to read. Grab that scroll. No, not that, the other scroll. Yes, read it out now, please." Bjorn Stormhold called out, looking up from his writings to guide his apprentice.

Harry opened the scroll in question, blinking once at the dust and crinkled paper, as if it hadn't been opened in a long time. He gave a questioning look toward his teacher.

Bjorn caught the look and gave an explanation. "There are more modern rewritings of the text, but I find it more useful to read the original when one has it in their possession. Now, stop dallying and read it."

Harry gave a sheepish grin, and started reading.

"Zok fautiid do lot Dovah Kren lost Ni mil naal Rah, nuz lost droz do Fahliilen krozahvok voth Zahreik do Lorkhan….

The most recent of the great Dragon Breaks was not caused by the Gods, but was the result of Elven Interference with the Heart of Lorkhan. This was also the most noticeable of the Dragon Breaks, as the entirety of the world was changed, from the continents to the Aedra themselves. The Thalmor (see Reference Scroll 3, section 10), following the goals of the Aldmeri Dominion, were directly responsible for this Dragon Break. Their goal was to reclaim the glory of their ancestors, and ascend to godhood yet again. So they used the powers of the Earth Bones themselves, the remains of their ancestors the Ehlnofey, and the Heart of Lorkhan, which they had discovered deep within the seas of surrounding the Summerset Isle. They fashioned a great and terrible ritual, meant to send any truly loyal High Elf servant of the Aldmeri Dominion into godhood, by using the essence of these powerful artifacts. Instead, what they wrought was naught but horror. The Earth Bones shattered, disappearing into pieces which vanished before their very sight. The Heart of Lorkhan pulsed, a powerful vibration of raw magic linking every mortal soul in the realm to the chamber where this ritual was preformed. All of us watched in horror, as the very earth itself shouted a terrible cry of anguish, as the Heart Shattered, as we felt the souls of every High Elf in existence who followed the Dominion was shredded and consigned to the Void. We returned to our bodies, and saw how the world changed. The world twisted, and warped, the very continents themselves moving and changing.

Civilization disintegrated, as space twisted and grew, increasing the size of Tamriel into a larger plane. Akavir moved westward, smashing into Morrowind and the Black Marsh, even as Black Marsh moved northwest, rotating almost perpendicularly. Elsweyr rotated ever so slightly, the great river which flowed into the Imperial City closing, drying up and forming a new sea, depending on the region. Those seas would become the Caspian and the Black Sea. The famed continent of Pyandonea came northward, colliding with the Black Marsh and Elsweyr to form a large sea known today as the Mediterranean. Skyrim detached from the north, the cavern of Blackreach (found by the Dovahkiin in her quest for an Elder Scroll) causing massive faults along the province which separated into two isles north of the main continent, known today as the British Isles. The Continent of Atmora fell southward, a part of it forming the region of Scandinavia, while the rest became Greenland. Over time, the land which was formerly Morrowind and Akavir became known as Asia, while the remains of Tamriel became known as Europe. The continent of Yokuda, resurrected and warped by the Dragon Break, became known to us as the Americas, while Pyandonea was renamed Africa.

Civilization had suffered greatly, in the years after the Dragon Break. People who were neighbors but days ago seemed to be miles apart. It took ages for Skyrim to connect with the mainland again. The current Greybeards at the time, along with our great master Paarthurnax, cast a spell upon the Throat of the World. They used powerful words of Draconic that even today He would not divulge, separating the mountain from the land, rending it from the confines of space. It exists within a fold of space, a rip in the dimensions that could only exist because of the Dragon Break. No cities existed for years, all buildings obliterated in the warping of the world. People wandered, drifting from land to land, until the start of known history, when people gathered again across the world in river civilizations, the first of which was the great and powerful land of Sumer. The rest may be learnt in the history textbooks.

…. In Alistair, Kinbok do faal Mudozaan, 530 AD (circa. 15E 10)."

Harry finished reading the scroll, his throat scratchy from all the speaking. This was a common task for him, having to read a text in draconic while translating it out loud into English. This was one of the longer texts he had read, though. He was only ten years old.

Bjorn smiled, and handed Harry a glass of water. "Good job, boy. That was very long. I must ask, though, do you understand, now?"

Harry nodded, grinning. He had asked earlier in the week why some texts referred to lands such as Skyrim and Cyrodiil, on the continent of Tamriel, while others were in the continents he knew, and countries he could find in a textbook. Instead of answering plainly, Bjorn did what he always did, and found the appropriate text for Harry to read, making it a lesson in-and-of-itself.

His musing was interrupted by the doorbell, a chiming sound interrupting the amiable silence that had fallen after his reading. Bjorn bid Harry to open it with a wave of his right hand, his left hand holding his wand aloft. A flick, and all the inherently magical artifacts were hidden, either stored away or made invisible by latent enchantments.

Harry ran to the door, which was sturdy and made of oak. He recognized from his studies several runes of enchantment on the door itself, enough to make a frost troll struggle with opening it. There were some benefits to knowing a language which literally shaped reality, after all. He opened the door, knowing that there were protective wards over the door itself which would keep anyone outside the door from harming him.

An old man stood there, with a short grey beard and long white hair that fell to his shoulders. He was wearing what could pass for proper mundane clothing (a tee shirt and pants); alongside a trench coat which would pass unnoticed in the Wizarding world. They were all grey and white, mainly, with some curls and spirals trailing through it. What drew Harry's attention was the dragon-on-a-mountain symbol on his shirt that was the unique symbol of the Greybeards.

Harry bowed low, as was respectful. He was their student, even if he evidently hadn't met all of the Greybeards yet. "Drem Yol Lok, In. I welcome you to the House of Stormhold. I am Harry, of clan Potter, one who holds the dragon blood, student to Master Bjorn. Please, enter."

The man smiled, and nodded away the bow, stepping into the threshold.

Harry blinked, suddenly short on breath. The war drums at the back of his head, which beat slightly whenever he met a Greybeard, suddenly erupted into full song. He struggled for a minute, trying to calm down, and mute the song.

What is this, Harry wondered. Whatever it is, I've figured out that it reacts to those who know the Thu'um. That much I can tell, from hanging around the Greybeards so often. But this! I've only felt this once, and that was with…

"… Master Paarthurnax?" he ventured, hoping he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

The man chuckled, and spoke. His voice was harsh and guttural, though not to the extent of inhumanity. However, Harry could still recognize it as the voice of Paarthurnax, though it was muted and human, as it was processed through human vocal cords instead of draconic ones.

"I had almost forgotten about the Lovaas, young Sen. I should have remembered that it would proclaim me as not mortal. Tell me, what do think of mine disguise?" He spread his arms wide, chuckling slightly as he did.

Harry goggled, impressed and shocked. "But… How? You're a dragon, aren't you?"

Master Paarthurnax raised an eyebrow. "Zu'u Dovah, Harry, a change in form will never change that. Draconic comes naturally to you. Can you think of no words which could cause this, if put to the use of Thu'um?"

Harry frowned, pondering the question. As he did, Bjorn entered the room, to see what was taking his apprentice so long. He caught sight of Paarthurnax, and bowed deeply. "Master, I will admit to not believing the elders when they told me of this, but there is no denying this. I can feel your draconic soul, especially as Harry is here, and his blood is crying the Song out to any who are sensitive."

Harry exclaimed suddenly, just then. "AH! I have it. Slen Jul Vuldak, or Slen Jul Muriiv, both would work."

Paarthurnax nodded, responding. "Well done, sen. It is the former I have used, though, as you say, both would work. I discovered this shout after much introspection ages ago, when I wished to walk among mortals to hide my presence. I call upon Slen, or Flesh, to signify that which I am altering. I use Jul, or Man, to show what form I use. Fahliil can be used for the form of an elf, though not many exist nowadays. Vuldak is Change, and so my form changes into that of man. The opposite shout is Slen Gestin Meyar, which translates to Flesh, Release, Self."

Bjorn visibly ponders the words for a moment, before nodding. "Yes… I see. Wow, that's quite useful. Could it be used to take the form of a Dovah, Master?"

Paarthurnax laughs, before replying "Indeed, my young student. Though learning to fly is a hassle for those not accustomed to it, and the Lahzey would mistake you for a wyvern, and take you to their enclosures. I would advise caution, and a lot of open space away from the mundane. The forest which we met young Harry here would work."

Bjorn and Harry grin, instantly deciding nonverbally what to do next summer. Paarthurnax chuckles at the look of glee on their faces, and speaks.

"Enough. I have come hither to instruct Harry on the Lovaas, and to aid him on the usage of the old magic, as I have to all of the students of the Greybeards."

Bjorn looks at Paarthurnax in surprise, before nodding. "Of course, In. There is a practice room downstairs, shall we go?"

Harry sat down on one of the chairs in the practice room, which was a large room that, dimensionally speaking, was larger than the house itself. He had been down here once or twice before, mostly to grab something that Bjorn had left down here.

Paarthurnax cleared his throat, and spoke. "Harry, what do you know of the Lovaas, or Song?"

Harry was puzzled, and said as much. "I know many songs, but I get the idea that's not what you mean."

Bjorn laughed, and shook his head. Paarthurnax was the one to respond, however, looking vaguely amused. "No, Sen. The Lovaas is a calling, a tune that affects all with the Dovah Sos. It affects both all and none of our senses, a primal chant that urges us to our primal nature. It is akin to a song, and is called such, except that we can not only hear it, but see it, smell it, taste it, and feel it at the same time. When it sings, our very blood and soul cries out."

Harry realized then that must be what the war drums must be. Paarthurnax seemed to gleam some acknowledgement from Harry's face, for he continued. "It cries out to us, usually in the presence of another Dovah, or more specifically anyone who possesses the Dovah Sos. We can usually feel each other's presence through the Song, if we try. It is not only limited to crying out upon Dovah, though. The Greybeards, who walk amongst me, and were taught the Thu'um by me, can be felt, if only slightly, due to their connection with me. The Aedra, and Daedra, and those bearing severe influences from either, cry out to the Song, as well."

Harry nodded to show his understanding, and Paarthurnax smiled gently. "Release your hold upon the Song, child. Bask in it, and understand it. Do not let yourself be consumed by it. You do not have the Dovah Sil, for your soul is mortal. You can survive its call, without being drawn to battle."

Harry then breathed out, closing his eyes reflexively. The Song, which he had been keeping a mental hold on, released itself, drumming a war chant of primal aggression and energy. He felt it course through him, every muscle in his body twitching as his very blood called for battle. He could feel everything, his very senses overloaded from the power of the Song. Harry's eyes were closed, and yet he could see things. Chief among them was a bright flame, pulsing in the darkness, taking the shape of a dragon. Paarthurnax, he realized. He felt Paarthurnax in front of him, the Song a loud tempest in his presence. Beside the dragon, under the shadow of a wing, was a small orb, a tiny thing almost unnoticeable in the sheer glory that was a dovah. Harry realized that this must be Bjorn, for the Song was barely noticeable, but the feeling was recognizable from the year he had spent in the man's presence.

Paarthurnax spoke, his voice sounding through the shadow. "Impressive, youngling, I can feel your actions. Now, open your eyes, and look upon the world."

Harry did as instructed, and looked at the pair. Paarthurnax was in front of him, smiling gently. Harry could feel him, though. His presence was shouted out to his mind, the Song chanting loudly from the old dragon's direction. A smaller chant was coming from Bjorn, who was looking interested in the dialogue.

Paarthurnax gave a small laugh, and spoke. "Well, young Harry? What do you feel?"

Harry responded, basking in the song. "Like I hadn't understood what it meant to sense something, before. I feel like I must have been blind and deaf, ignoring the call of the Song before. Wow."

Paarthurnax nodded, visibly pleased. "That is how it should be. You hold the blood of a dovah, even if you possess the soul of a joor. You are kiin (kin), and should learn to feel as we do. Now, reign in the Lovaas. Having the battle-blood is not conducive toward our next lesson."

Harry nodded, for he was eager to learn real magic. He took a calming breath, and the song faded to a chant in the background, easily ignorable.

Bjorn smiled, and took over the lecture. "Harry. What have you learnt of magic, from your studies?"

Harry responded dutifully. "Magic is the manipulation of the real world through intent, by utilizing magicka. In older times, magicka flowed here from the sun and stars, which were conduits to the realm of Aetherius. However, after the Dragon Break, magicka can also be drawn from the earth at several geographical regions known to the greater world as ley lines. Magicka is the energy of all living things, and can be harnessed in many ways."

Bjorn nodded, pleased. Paarthurnax spoke. "Good, you know the basic theory. Now, what the older texts will fail to mention is what is commonly referred to as the magical core. Modern theory places it as the source of magic, which increases steadily during puberty until the magical age of maturity at seventeen, where it stops growing, and stabilizes. They know that it can be of varied size, but are uncertain to the cause, though the current political ideology professes blood as the cause. However, we know the magical core as the connection to Aetherius inside all of us. We can all hold a certain amount of magicka inside of us, which we draw from the air, sun, and stars. This can be increased in many ways lost to modern wizards, including shrine and amulet blessings, along with certain potions that have fallen out of common knowledge."

Harry, who had been jotting this all down on a notepad he kept with him at all times, nodded. Paarthurnax smiled gently, and instructed Harry to close his eyes. He did so; and breathed deeply, causing the Song to fade even more.

Teacher Bjorn spoke, his voice reverberating in Harry's mind. "Good, good. Breathe in, breathe out. I will now send a tendril of magicka toward you. Feel it? Good. Now look inside of you, and find something similar. Can you find it?"

Harry reached inside of himself, looking for the magicka that he had sensed. He almost… had it…. Oh.

Wow.

He pulled with the magicka he had, and directed it toward his palms, as his teacher instructed. Harry opened his eyes, and held out his hands.

His hands were illuminated with a soft blue glow, pulsing ever so slightly. Bjorn smiled, speaking merrily. "Well done. Let it dissipate now, though. Raw magicka is irritating to mold, even for an experienced wizard. It'd be irresponsible for me to make a preteen do so. Remember that, Harry. Trying to mold raw magicka can cause very powerful shockwaves, if you don't have the right skills or equipment. This is especially true if it hits any other source of magicka. Now, let's have you learn a basic spell. In, would you do the honors?"

Paarthurnax nodded, producing a book out of a small pouch on his side. Harry had no time to ponder how that worked, as the book was as big as the pouch, easily, for he was handed the book.

The old dragon instructed him. "This is a Spell Tome, or stav deykel. It was a relatively common item, back before the Dragon Break. Its' creation is not difficult, in truth, but the knowledge of how to do so was lost from common Wizarding folk many years ago. It passes on the memory of the writer in how to cast the spell, allowing you to instantly gain knowledge of the spell in question. The book then disappears into dust, as it contains no memory and is thereby useless for everyone. Master Bjorn can teach you later how to form them, if you so chose. Simply open the book and let the knowledge flow into you. It is not unlike the sharing of Shouts, though less instinctual. This particular tome contains the basic spell Candlelight, which produces a small hovering light for roughly a minute."

Harry nodded, and opened the book. Instantly his mind was filled with knowledge of how to cast the spell. A simple Alteration in the world, by manipulating magicka to form a light source which will exist for a while before the World corrects itself and deletes it. He simply had to shape his magic like that, and change it like this.

His musing was interrupted as the book disappeared in his hands, literally fading away into nothing.

Master Bjorn urged him. "Go on, try it."

Harry nodded, and cast the spell. He felt his magicka reserves drain a little, and his light source appeared, floating by his head in a soft blue-white light.

"Well done, Harry." Paarthurnax almost literally beamed, but suddenly grew serious. "I will leave you several Novice level tomes, but I urge you not to practice without Master Bjorn's say-so. You are not yet 11, and have clearly not reached puberty. The connection to Aetherius does not stabilize until roughly then, and can lash out easily. It is called accidental magic in this age, and it is as good of a term as any. There is less danger with innate magicka manipulation at a low level like this, where you simply turn the magicka into the form you want, but I wish to warn you none the less. When you practice magic, Harry, please su'um ahrk morah. Breathe and Focus."

Harry nodded, committing the warning to memory, trying to imitate his master's solemn attitudes. Still, he was only ten, and couldn't help his grin surface.

He could do magic!

Bjorn and Paarthurnax shared a look, and said the same thing almost as one.

"Oh, dear..."

Authors Note:

Well, that was a fun chapter to type. As promised, here is the Draconic / Dovahzul that was not translated in the chapter proper.

In Alistair, Kinbok do faal Mudozaan – Master Alistair, Leader of the Greybeards

There was surprisingly little that didn't get translated in chapter, this time around. Anyway, I hope I meshed the two worlds together well enough, please inform me if you find some fault or logical error. I'm fairly knowledgeable about geology and plate tectonics, so yes, I know, this isn't how the world was. Still, let's just hand-wave that little bit away, shall we? Perhaps the geologic record is based off the Dragon Break, and how the world was populated by the Nine. As for the magical systems, they've been meshed quite well in my opinion if you're good at reading between the lines. Otherwise, just wait a chapter or so for Harry to visit Diagon Alley and get a wand. There'll probably be an exposition there.

As always, please read, review, and recommend!