When Tickling A Dragon
IIIII
The M Rating isn't for show. There will be swearing, graphic violence, and depictions of what happens to people caught up in that graphic violence.
I own nothing but my imagination, so take what you want, just give me an honorable mention in the notes.
. . . . . .
Prologue
. . . . .
The house was an absolute mess of shattered glass and torched walls, and that was only the outside. The whole place had been cordoned off with yellow tape, and two police cars were stationed outside.
Marius Malfoy could only stare at it in numb horror from where he sat on a low wall across the street. Muggles shouldn't have even been able to find the house, much less investigate a murder inside it.
Despite their presence, none bothered him as he sat beside a grey cat with black stripes while they took it all in, just as they'd been doing for the last few hours.
The cat had a decidedly unfeline expression on her face. One could have easily called grief as the creature sat solemnly atop a low wall across the street.
Slowly, the streetlights started to flicker out one by one.
Marius saw one of the police step out of his car to glance about, but he soon sat back down, staring at nothing through glazed eyes. His partner looked at him briefly before his eyes did the same. The same happened to the officers in the second car a moment later.
A tall silver-haired man dressed in rather extravagant robes of white and silver stepped into the moonlight now filling the street. A fine beard reached nearly to his waist, and he gazed at the world through a pair of half-moon spectacles.
Those eyes drifted over Marius to rest on the cat after a forlorn moment. "Ah, I suppose I should have thought to find you here, Minerva."
The cat jumped from the ledge. Despite the short fall, the beast never reached the ground. Instead, in a shift the human eye was built to see, it became a tall woman in dark green robes, a desolate expression on her worn feature. "Where else could I be on such a night, Albus?"
The woman's expression almost instantly turned remorseful, clearly regretting her waspish tone.
Before she could apologize, Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."
Minerva bowed her head, unable to meet her old friend's gaze. Dumbledore turned to Marius, giving her a moment to collect herself. "It's good to see you again, Marius, is your family well?"
Marius nodded politely to the older man as he rose to his feet. "As they can be after such a night headmaster."
"Understandable." Dumbledore acknowledged almost painfully as he looked towards the devastated house. "Have you received any word back from Edgar?"
Marius shook my head. "The auror office is an absolute mess at the moment; a squad chief doesn't have nearly enough time to stop and talk with a retired soldier such as me."
One silver eyebrow rose, but the old professor made no further comment. Instead, he started to walk toward the house. "Sirius is tracking down a lead with Peter, but neither was particularly heavy on the details."
"And Remus?" Marius asked, remembering the last member of the little band of miscreants.
"He's. . . having difficulties at the moment; Severus was assisting him when I left." When Marius only nodded, Dumbledore turned to look at the house. "Have you gone inside yet?"
The pair both shook our heads, and the old headmaster let out a tired sigh. "No, I don't suppose you would have."
He didn't say any more, only started walking towards the house. McGonagall and Marius hesitated until the old professor looked back at them as he held the police tape surrounding the yard over his head.
He didn't say anything. Didn't even look hurt by our hesitance.
After a long moment, Marius gently touched Minerva's shoulder. She didn't look at him, only nodded faintly and stepped forward, Marius in her wake. She managed to give Dumbledore a soft smile as he continued to hold the flimsy plastic up for the both of us.
The house was even worse inside, and not just because this was where James had made his stand.
"This was done by another witch or wizard," Marius finally stated, disbelief shaking something deep within him.
The world of magic hosted too many enemies for those of magical descent to be killing each other. Even Grindelwald had done his best to limit who he killed during his rebellion. Who'd ever done this had come in looking for blood.
"I agree; this was two exceptionally talented duelists doing their best to kill each other," McGonagall replied, clearly just as disturbed by the notion as Marius was.
"Sadly, I fear you are wrong, Minerva." Dumbledore's calm voice jerked their speculations short, and Marius whipped about to stare at the headmaster.
"This wasn't two exceptional duelists." Pale eyes perused the walls grimly. "This was an exception duelist being toyed with by an overwhelming force."
Marius followed his eyes toward the entrance where their attacker had entered. There were some marks of spell fire about it, but only a few, and they were too small to have been missed spells. James would have blown holes through the wall. No, these spells had lost their power after being batted away with contemptuous ease.
Shattered furniture lay scattered about in a crude half circle when he'd no doubt tried to overwhelm the invader with numbers. Judging from the closest piece of debris to the door, Marius doubted any had made it within five feet.
"Other than yourself, headmaster, how many witches or wizards do you know who could have done this?"
"None that remained among the living, or so I thought."
Minerva stepped to the bottom of the stairs, looking up into the shadowed second floor. "Lilly was found up there, wasn't she?"
Dumbledore nodded though his gaze never left the moonlit carnage.
"And their son, Albus?"
The ancient wizard shook his head, soft specks of clear silver beading at the corners of his eyes while a wave of his hand reassembled the comfortable armchair he'd always taken every time he'd visited.
"Albus, where is Harry Potter?" McGonagall asked again, clearly desperate.
"I don't know, Minerva." Dumbledore settled into the chair with tired gratefulness despite the still partially scorched leather undoubtedly causing dreadful smudges on his robes.
"I just don't know."
. . . . .
Harry
. . . . .
Icy rain pelted the boy's pale skin, soothing the bruises and washing much of the mud off as he lay curled up against a tree. His body hurt so much that he didn't even want to think of sitting up, let alone going back to his aunt and uncles.
"Let us off at the playground!"
That had been all Harry's cousin had needed to say after the fiasco at the zoo. Caught between him and Piers, Harry never had a chance.
They'd dragged him to the back corner of the neighborhood playground, which had a lovely little wooded area that was a favorite spot for Dudley's gang to beat up other kids.
The two managed to exhaust themselves in only a few minutes, but not before turning Harry into a bruised mess.
Dudley even managed to step on his cousin's glasses almost as soon as he'd knocked them off Harry's face. Aunt Petunia would be annoyed with him for that. Harry, not Dudley. Especially when he told the doctor what happened.
It was nearly dark, and to no surprise, no one had bothered to come looking for him.
Harry wasn't complaining; Petunia would only hiss at him to get up in her shrill voice, and Vernon would step on him. Maybe even by accident.
That last thought almost made the boy laugh.
Closing his eyes, Harry tried to imagine being free for once. Free of the Dursleys. Free of Dudley's gang. Free of Little Whinging.
Caught up in the impossible fantasy, he never noticed drifting off despite the cold rain.
He did notice how the small grove smelled. The rich earth mixing with the trees was much better than his cupboard. There was an oily scent from car exhaust, but that was muted, probably thanks to how far he was from the road.
It really is a nice scent. Harry thought as he dreamed about exploring a forest by its smell alone.
The rich smell of the trees intermingled with the sharper scents of the bushes and sweeter ones coming from flowers, all mingling with the healthy decay coming up from the ground.
The scent Harry liked the most was the Evergreens, so sharp and pungent but truly bringing the forest to life as he slipped deeper into the dream where nothing could harm him.
Even the rain stopped being quite so cold as it passed through the thick mass of his hair but never quite reaching his skin. It did tickle, and Harry had the sudden irresistible urge to shake vigorously.
Water whipped away in shimmering arcs, and Harry's ribs protested the motion enthusiastically, dragging a grunt of pain from the boy.
It came out as an oddly high-pitched yelp, and when Harry tried to rub his chest to ease the pain, his arm contorted as if someone had just tried to rip it out of its socket.
Caught off guard, Harry fell onto his side with another high-pitched yelp when his bruised ribs hit the ground.
Once the pain subsided enough for him to think, Harry frowned, not remembering getting on to all fours in the first place. Stranger still, soft whines echoed from his throat where a groan should have been despite the boy's clenched teeth.
That was when a massive shadow came out of nowhere. It settled beside Harry with a soft whuff, and green eyes set over a narrow, black-furred muzzle gazed inquisitively down at the boy.
It was hard to make out the details in the strange twilight filling the grove, but Harry could tell the beast beside him was huge from the shadow of its head, which looked as big as his chest.
Other than its size and distinctive eyes, the only notable trait Harry could make out was a twisted patch of white amidst the black of the beast's forehead. It could have been a lightning bolt, but it looked more like a claw or talon.
The beast nuzzled the boy gently with its nose, licking his face and ears affectionately as Harry tried to stand. His limbs felt awkward as he forced them under him, trying to get back onto his hands and knees. That's when Harry realized his hands weren't hands at all. They were large paws covered in black fur. Yelping in surprise, Harry straightened his limbs so quickly that he managed to jump almost a foot into the air.
The landing wasn't pleasant.
The wolf was by his side in an instant, mouth lolling open in a wide grin as he jumped playfully on Harry's side with his front paws before lowering his head to rub it affectionately against the boy's. Excited yips and snarls filled the air as he darted about, trying to get Harry to play with him.
You'd think it was a puppy. It was an amusing thought as Harry watched the beast scamper about. The bloody beast was enormous for his age if he was.
Harry tried to stand again, and the wolf rushed to the boy's side, letting Harry lean on him. Just as the boy made it to his feet, Harry realized he could see the black velvet tip of what could only be his own nose. It was a little strange, especially with how it blocked a portion of his vision which had sharpened to almost crystal clarity.
Even with glasses, Harry's eyes had never been all that great. Now he could make out things as fine as the texture of the different tree's bark and individual leaves, even in the dim twilight currently filling the forest.
Beside the boy, the wolf growled playfully and nipped at Harry's ears before jumping back. Caught by surprise, Harry tried to tell him to stop, but all that came out was a sharp growl. Undeterred, the wolf jumped at the boy, shoving Harry with his paws, toppling the child all over again.
The process repeated for what felt like hours but eventually led to Harry not only being able to stand comfortably but even jump and run with some degree of grace.
Soon he was racing his new friend about the forest in an exciting game of chase.
A heavy mist had formed as they played, adding an extra sense of mystery to the woods as Harry raced after his new friend's black flanks as the wolf darted between the trees at incredible speed.
He vanished over a large boulder, and Harry didn't hesitate to follow.
The cub cleared the eight-foot height just as easily, his front paws catching the smooth lip with ease, but still wasn't fast enough. His friend had already vanished in the bare heartbeat Harry had lost sight of him.
In the distance, a long eerie howl penetrated the thick mist and twilight-lit woods—a cry to join the hunt. The cub's stomach growled in response, and he raced to join.
Faster and faster, he ran, the tangled brush, frequent boulders, and fallen trees no obstacle in his pursuit. His excitement spiked when he picked up the wolf's scent. It was thick and musty, speaking of good health and power. His prey was fainter and much more pleasant, driving Harry on even faster.
Until she screamed.
Young.
Very young, utterly terrified, and very, very human.
Panic gripped Harry, and he charged recklessly through a thick bracket, breaking into a small clearing overlooking a large ravine.
A small girl who couldn't be more than seven or eight rushed towards him as she tried to escape her hunter. Her once fine green dress was heavily stained by the forest, and her white-blond hair was tangled with leaves and even a few twigs.
Most importantly, it wasn't Harry's friend that was hunting her.
It wasn't even a wolf at all. The head was almost right, but the creature's body was remarkably human-looking aside from its thick grey fur and oddly shaped legs.
Harry never slowed. Pale grey eyes met Harry's as the girl spotted him, and she stumbled. A deep basso roar echoed from the monster as it celebrated its success.
Harry leapt, clearing the top of the girl's head effortlessly, slamming into the monster, sending both to the ground in a tangled mess right at the edge of the ravine.
Harry lunged for the monster's throat opening a ragged gash, but the thick fur and muscle were too thick to reach the artery he . . . just knew was there.
Fire flared as the monster's claws caught his shoulder, ripping jagged lines of agony across it. Yelping in pain, Harry shoved free of the tangle before the creature could get a proper grip. He escaped, but not without another shallower rake closer to his back legs.
Despite the pain, Harry forced himself between the girl and the monster. It snarled viciously at the cub, its outrage coming out in a blood-curdling rumble.
Harry's chest rattled, his shoulder and sides aching as he answered in kind.
The beast's ire dimmed at the sound as it looked at the cub almost inquisitively, clearly confused. Any chance of it backing down, if there'd ever really been one, vanished as the girl behind me shifted, reminding the monster of its prey,
It lunged.
Out of options, Harry rammed his uninjured shoulder into the beast's leg, throwing my entire body against it. In a lifetime's worth of luck, the beast toppled over his back, crashing into the ravine in an uncontrollable tumble, rapidly vanishing into the mist below.
Staggering to the edge, Harry listened to it fall, each meaty thump or wet crack kindling just a bit more hope. He didn't move, even after everything went silent; ears pricked for the slightest sound.
None came.
Eventually, the pain of his wounds started to set in, forcing him away. With nowhere else to go, he limped towards the girl. She was still staring at where the beast had fallen, a dazed look on her face. Just making it to her side left Harry panting for breath.
Despite the pain, he crooned softly to the girl and tried to smell for injuries over the scent of his own blood. There was, but it was too faint to be anything more than a handful of bad scratches.
The girl didn't respond until he brushed his nose against her cheek, startling her. Storm grey eyes widened behind silky blond bangs as she met his eyes.
Harry stepped back, not wanting to scare her, but surprise rapidly shifted to panic. "Don't- don't go." Her grey eyes became a stormy mix of emotion as she reached for him.
Harry hesitated, if only because he was covered in blood. The three claw marks on his shoulder were particularly painful, and he could feel the slow but steady trickle beneath his fur running down one leg. He took another step back, and pain or possibly fear flashed in the girl's eyes.
Guilt ate at him, and he hesitantly stepped back to her side.
The storm settled, and the girl smiled at him, tentatively offering her hand. Harry sniffed it gently, enjoying the underlying herbal scent the forest and dirt failed to cover.
Distracted, he didn't see the hand coming until it brushed against his cheek, small fingers slipping through the stiff pelt. He flinched and tried to jump back, but his injured limb finally faltered, and he ended up sprawling across the girl's lap instead.
Pain lanced up his shoulder from the gashes dragging out a yelp of pain as his limbs flailed wildly.
The girl gasped, no doubt finally seeing the blood as it coated her dress, and she tried to hold him still with surprising strength." Don't move; you'll make it worse." Her voice was more desperate than confident, but Harry didn't have the strength to resist.
Harry wasn't sure how long they lay there; it could have been minutes or hours with how he kept fading in and out before someone started shouting, jolting him from the daze.
"LYRA!" A man shouted off in the distance.
The girl jerked, then all but sagged in relief as she quickly started shouting back. "UNCLE!" She shouted back. " UNCLE, I'M OVER HERE; I NEED HELP!"
I heard the rustling of someone charging through the underbrush at what must have been a reckless pace for a human, and it didn't sound like he was alone.
The tension racking the girl's body slowly dwindled as the footsteps drew nearer.
A large man dropped down beside her, and Harry could just barely make out pale skin and blond hair as he caught the girl about the shoulders in a tight hug. "Merlin be praised; what happened, Lyra?" He hissed out between heavy gasps for air.
Despite his clearly winded and slightly bedraggled condition, calling this man handsome would be like calling Vernon fat. Accurate but a grotesque understatement all the same.
The difference was only augmented by his apparent lack of regard for the fine material of his clothes. At a guess, Harry would say it was a coin toss whether Vernon would get as equally dirty for Dudley's sake, and his clothes couldn't even be half as expensive as whatever this man was wearing.
Lyra shared many of his features, including her hair and nose. "It was a werewolf, uncle; I don't know how it got through the wards, but it had my scent; I would have died if this dog hadn't helped me."
The other man, the one I still couldn't see, whistled in admiration. "That's no dog Lyra, bloody things a wolf or at least a crossbreed."
"Thank you for clarifying that, Uncle Severus; now could you please heal him before he bleeds out." The girl replied testily.
Harry heard the man chuckle, followed by his footsteps as he made his way around them. A strange tingle washed under his fur, tickling the skin beneath it, and Harry couldn't help squirming a little. Lyra gently tightened her hold in response. "You need to stay still."
"He's sensitive to magic; I've barely done more than a light diagnostic; most occulmens aren't as talented." The man stated, clearly impressed.
"So he's not just a wolf?" The man still holding the girl asks, clearly just as fascinated.
"Definitely, but I'll be damned if I can guess what else he is," Severus answered, clearly half-distracted. "Bloody beast has a magic core worthy of a talented Animagus, but he's too young, he wouldn't be more than nine or ten as a human."
The fire in Harry's shoulder and side began to fade, turning into an aggravating itch, then an annoying tickle before finally fading to nothing. "Full of surprises this one; I've seen veterans squirm more from lighter wounds."
"I know that wasn't a shot at that time back in the Black Forest." The blond man stated imperiously, but he was also fighting a smile.
"Didn't mention any names, did I, Marius?"
Lyra ignored the older men as she helped Harry back to his feet. While the pain was gone, his head was still swimming, making standing even on four limbs something of a trial. Still, he managed to get his first look at the man who'd healed him.
The first thing he noticed was that, if possible, he was even paler than Marius, but it was probably because of his hair. It was as black as Harry's, contrasting almost violently with his skin. Beyond that, the man's most distinctive feature was his prominent hooked nose, overlooked by a narrow pair of jet-black eyes.
Despite his somewhat unfortunate features, he was nearly as broad-shouldered as the blond, even if his plain, somewhat faded black robes hid it better than Marius's much finer silver and green ones. They were also distinctly looser, giving them a flowing quality to their appearance.
Something brushed against his ears. Looking back at Harry realized the girl was petting him. Her small hands trailed from his ears across the thick fur covering the back of his neck. The sensation wasn't entirely unwelcome, but it did make Harry feel somewhat awkward. He wasn't a dog, after all.
When her hands got too close to his throat, some instinct raised his lips in a soft growl, and he pulled his head away.
She pouted but didn't press her luck. Marius chuckled and held out his hand. Instead of smelling it like he probably expected, Harry just looked at him. Something about his expression sent Severus into a coughing fit while Lyra giggled, covering the sound and her mouth with her hands.
The man looked so perplexed that it took him a moment to notice the other's reactions. When he did, he stiffened for a moment before chuckling lightly with a shake of his head. "Should have known the cheeky girl would attract a kindred spirit." The mutter emerged with a distinct note of fondness as he rose to his feet, pulling Lyra up with him.
"Can he come with us?" Lyra all but pleaded.
Her uncle shrugged. "That's really up to him, Lyra; he could be as wild as they come."
Harry wasn't, not that he had any way to tell them that, so instead, he huffed and brushed his head against Lyra's stomach. She laughed in delight, and Harry felt her fingers running along the back of his neck once again.
"I suppose that settled then," Severus commented dryly. "I hope Dobby doesn't mind cleaning up all the fur."
Marius grinned. "Or feel too much like a potential snack."
Lyra laughed and continued to pet me. "I doubt he'll be interested in eating a house elf; Dobby will probably look too weird to him to be appetizing."
"Worst comes to worst; Dobby will just toss him our dinner and run the other away." Marius retorted playfully.
A snort exploded from Severus's lips. "I didn't realize Dobby was quite so petty as to leave us to go hungry."
"Never underestimate any creature's vindictiveness when he knows he's been wronged." The blond man spoke in a pompous tone that had both Lyra and Severus chuckling.
Harry, on the other hand, spotted an opening. Pulling away from Lyra, he nipped sharply at the air beside the man's hand. Marius jumped with an unmistakable yelp as he jerked away.
Lyra and Severus all but fell over with laughter, Lyra nearly leaning over Harry when she started gasping for breath.
Marius was quick to compose himself before looking Harry dead in the eye. "This is war, understood?"
Harry only felt his mouth fall open in an easy grin, leaning against Lyra. The girl looked over the moon with satisfaction.
"Honestly, Marius, if you're going to declare war with someone, pick a creature with wits equal to yours." Severus drawled when he finally recovered his decorum.
"The bloody beast started it." The blond wasn't whining; his cultured accent hid it too well.
"I know; that's why I said equal wits." Severus shot back dryly.
Lyra tried to muffle her giggles into my thick fur. It didn't work, and Marius grew a distinctly pained expression at the evident betrayal. Finally, he raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, even I can see where this wind is blowing."
"Good, because we need to get this one home before Narcissa comes hunting for us," Severus replied crisply, one hand squeezing Lyra's shoulder firmly.
Marius didn't shiver, but his spine notably straightened at the name. "Of course, come along, dear; we really shouldn't keep your mother waiting." He looked down at Harry with a stern expression but laughing eyes. "You coming, beast?"
Harry answered with a sharp huff.
"Sounds like a yes," Marius looked towards his niece. "Can you walk, Lyra?"
She nods. "Yes, uncle," She answers firmly.
Neither her words nor evident confidence was enough to convince her uncle, his entire demeanor shifting with surprising swiftness. "Speak up if that changes; you should be crashing at any moment."
His words were prophetic as we barely walked for more than ten minutes before she started to lean heavily against Harry. Severus didn't bother to wait for her to speak. He simply scooped her up in his arms. Her protests were faint and slightly slurred as she fought against the exhaustion rapidly pulling her under.
Harry vaguely wondered why he wasn't feeling the same, if not worse. The best he could come up with was a side effect of whatever means Severus had used to heal him.
Whatever he'd done, Harry was grateful as it let him keep his ears pricked for any sound of the monster returning.
None came, and soon the brush began to rapidly thin as the forest gave way to the sight of a rather impressive gothic-oriented mansion.
From the lack of a proper pathway and the rather austere grass and surrounding gardens covering the space between the forest's end and the beginning of the house's veranda, Harry reasoned this was the rear of the house as they crossed the well-tended grounds.
"Lyra!" An attractive blond woman in grey dress-like robes shouted as she burst from the house, a man clearly related to Marius on her heels.
The woman all but snatched Lyra from Severus's arms the moment she was close enough, and the girl pouted tiredly at her. "Mother," She protested, clearly unprepared to wake up despite her earlier bravado.
The woman only held her daughter tighter, and Harry couldn't tell if she was rocking her child gently or barely keeping herself from shaking. "Thank the old ones you're safe."
The man said nothing as he rested an arm across both his daughter's and wife's shoulders, head bowed to rest against the crown of Lyra's head.
"Aye, she had our Lady's favor this time or possibly even the Huntress' given her savior," Severus stated, the drawl replaced by something Harry couldn't describe.
The man and woman looked up, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Marius and Severus both pointed down at Harry.
Lyra's parents stared at me for a long moment. Long enough that Harry sat and looked up at Severus.
The dark-haired man looked away, covering his mouth with a hand as if covering up a yawn.
"This. . . animal, it saved Lyra?" The man's voice was slightly deeper than his brother's, but that could be from the undoubtedly intense emotions he was no doubt trying to keep in check.
"He has good taste if a questionable sense of humor," Marius comments dryly. His dignity was clearly still smarting from Harry's little prank.
"He saved Lyra." The woman nearly parroted her husband, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Cost him the better part of a pint of blood if I had to guess, given how much Lyra's wearing," Severus added, gesturing towards the girl.
Lyra's mother nearly threw the still-drowsy girl into her husband's surprised arms. Ignoring the girl's protests and her husband's shocked cry for her to be more careful, Narcissa took in the dark splotches covering the girl's dress, turning the beautiful grass-green fabric nearly black.
The most prominent is centered right in the girl's lap. The cloth was still damp enough to reflect a faint scarlet sheen. Some of it had even stained the front of woman's robes, the scarlet fluid showing easily on the grey material.
"Donum Sanguinis." Again, the strange words had a note I was unfamiliar with as Harry watched Narcissa quickly wrap Lyra back into a tight embrace with a sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
"Momma?" Lyra finally lost the poise she'd managed to hold even through her exhaustion. The softer endearment slipped out as her mother gently stroked Lyra's hair, even as she left gentle kisses across her daughter's temple.
"The old laws, dear one," Her mother explained. "Blood freely given, for good or ill, must be returned." She laughed brightly at her daughter's sudden dismay. "Not literally, dearest, not this time, but for all intents and purposes, you're his ward as much as our daughter now."
"Narcissa," her husband snapped.
"Oh, hush, Lucius, what do you expect the beast to do?" Narcissa chided.
"It's the principle of the matter," Lucius replied with stubborn fervor.
"That only shows just how little history you know," His wife replied, clearly enjoying herself. "Such familiars have saved dozens of famous wizards and witches since the round table." Long graceful fingers ran through Lyra's hair as the woman spoke. "Our child has been shown favor beyond our wildest dreams, Lucius; just be happy for her already."
Happy was clearly the last thing the man wanted to be, not that Harry blamed him. The obvious straw to break the tension turned to look at him, grey eyes pleading silently. Lucius sighed and nodded. Lyra nearly squealed in joy as she threw her arms about her father's neck in a tight hug.
"Now that that's settled, what will you call him?" Her mother asked.
Lyra pulled away from her father, thoughtful eyes darkening in their cloudy depths. They lit up barely a moment later. "Corvus."
Snape chuckled. "You're naming your wolf dog after the wolf bird?"
"Yes, he's smart enough, besides he has that white talon on his forehead." She might have been on to something there if Harry was only a wolf.
"A fitting name, dear one," Narcissa praised her daughter, then moved gracefully to stand only a few feet from me before offering a small smile. "Welcome the ancient house of Malfoy, young Corvus."
IIIII
And there's chapter one for you.
Corvus: Raven constellation though in modern English, it means crow.
Lyra: Represents either the vulture or eagle on star maps and is frequently referred to as Vultur Cadens or Aquila Cadens
Donum Sanguinis: Gift of Blood.
More information on Google, all translation errors are their fault.