This is a story that will contain smut in later chapters! That means sex! If you're still with me, this fic involves one of Warcraft's under-used characters jumping ship from a video game to live in the novel-based Harry Potter world. Or, the story in which Harry comes to bargain and Lady Luck falls out of her chair cackling.
"This is someone speaking out loud."
"This is someone speaking a magical language."
This is someone's inner monologue.
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The Blood of Serpents:
Chapter One: Quetz'lun, I've Come to Bargain!
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Three weeks before the second task of the Triwizard Tournament Harry Potter knelt in front of an altar he'd carefully carved with his own hands, eschewing any kind of magic. As he made his final preparations, he reflected that this could very well be a terrible idea, that he could be making a horrific mistake. But honestly, he'd read everything he could find on the subject in the Room of Requirement, made every preparation he could and any doubts were countered by just how tired he was. He was tired of living in fear, of constantly careening from one danger to the next. He was tired of no one in power having his back, and most of all he was tired of having no control over his own life. Upon reflection, even his adventures at Hogwarts seemed less his own idea and more like he'd been guided along a path. No more. I'm tired of being used.
Glancing over at his familiars, Harry took a deep breath and then let it out. He'd found this room by asking Dobby for someplace he could relax a week before he'd faced a Hungarian Horntail on his broom. He could still remember, vividly, walking back and forth pleading for help, without even knowing exactly what he needed; to his surprise the Room had given him a book of advanced offensive spells, targets, a dozen bottles of butterbeer, and a magically relaxing hot tub. It hadn't taken him long to realize that the Room of Requirement could give him whatever he asked for, whether that was a library of every book to ever pass through Hogwarts or a fully-stocked potions lab. It wasn't long before he was reading truly interesting tomes with Hedwig perched on his shoulder. After the first time she'd managed to join him in the Room, somehow, she'd guided him towards a rather large book on familiar magics. That had been an interesting tome for certain, it was a long read on all the different benefits and spells dealing with the Familiar Bond, magic that bound a magical human and magical animal together for mutual benefit. When he'd finished, he understood what Hedwig seemed to be suggesting and had felt really bad as he explained that while she was a great post owl, she simply wasn't magical enough to build a stable familiar bond. Hedwig had simply cuffed him with a wing and led him to another book on biological alchemy, or Living Alchemy as the author described it.
Harry couldn't help but smile at his bigger and better familiar. He'd asked the room for blood from the most powerful magical big cat possible, then used half of it in the ritual to change Hedwig from an owl into a gryphon. (The other half was under a stasis spell, Harry was saving it for a potion that could create a pregnancy using the blood in place of sperm. He was planning on 'acquiring' an African Lion or two over the summer.) Already, she was larger than most dogs and her front half was mostly unchanged while she'd gained the midsection, rear legs, and tail of a beautiful white and black striped tiger. Harry knew she was enjoying her new form, even if she had to be very careful not to be seen. Hedwig was enjoying hunting the grounds and forest while under a disillusionment charm for now though: She was showing her appreciation by bringing him haunches from whatever boar or deer she brought down in the forest.
Next to Hedwig were the other familiars he'd picked up in the months after the first task. Saska was an eight foot-long Horned Serpent, and he felt a little bad at how he'd acquired her: It hadn't taken more than a few words for Hagrid to include a Horned Serpent in his lessons. Even the students who didn't like snakes were grateful to work on something other than those damned Screwts. Hagrid had gotten in trouble for losing the rare magical creature, but after that detention in the forest in first year, the way Hagrid had let Harry and his friends get into trouble for solving his dragon problem without so much as speaking privately to McGonagall, the man-eating Acromantula colony the man had created by releasing the spiders into a forest with nothing to control their population, and the clearly illegal and stupidly dangerous Blast-Ended Screwts, Harry was a little less sympathetic. (Hagrid wasn't evil, but neither was he very smart. He had a tendency to put people in danger and the man was probably the entire reason the Forbidden Forest was Forbidden. Harry had asked the Room for more information, and it had given him notes from a century ago on group assignments where sixth and seventh years had entered the forest, guided by Professors, to harvest potion ingredients.)
Resisting the urge to speak to her in class, he'd returned shortly after wearing his invisibility cloak and the curious serpent had been rather easy to recruit. Her only condition for becoming his familiar was that Harry do something to preserve her species. For once, Harry's plans for the summer didn't involve visiting the Burrow, instead he would be sailing with a map of magically hidden islands whose owners had died without heirs. (Thank you Room of Requirement!) Harry had found (and duplicated) a fantastic book of nautical spells, 'The Ultimate Compendium of Pirate Magic' by Polaris Black and Dobby had already 'borrowed' an old yacht and wizard tent from his former master; Harry was looking forward to using magic over the summer as soon as he reached international waters. Apparently private islands were once very popular with the magical community and many families had claimed one for themselves. And if I get there first, rebuild the wards, and lay a magical claim it's perfectly legal to use those islands however I want. Well legal in a 'this island is an independent magical nation and Britain can go bugger itself' kind of way. I kind of like the sound of 'The Lily Potter Refuge for Magical Creatures.' I can name the second island after my father.
His third familiar was not terribly impressive yet. With help from the Room, it hadn't been difficult to steal an egg from a Hebridean Black dragon, since their nesting grounds were within easy portkey range. The room had helped him target the portkey to exactly the egg he wanted and Dobby had brought the egg through the castle's wards. Sethria had only hatched two weeks ago, and was already proving difficult to control. Dragons made for difficult familiars to tame, but the effort paid off in the long run. Since she'd hatched, Harry had been layering her with obedience, loyalty, and contentment charms and potions three times a day. Eventually the familiar bond would grant her intelligence and conscious control of her magic, and she absolutely needed to be his loyal, submissive pet by then or calamity would follow. It is a risk, but even if the worst happens and she turns on me, it's still better than Hagrid creating a massive colony of ravenous man-eating spiders next to a sleepy village and school! Not to mention that having a dragon at my side would be a great deterrent.
{-*=*-}
Half an hour later Harry had finished the simple wooden altar. He had checked and double checked it to be sure all the essential elements were present, and he was sure his own elements would not throw off the ritual. The instructions had suggested adding something from his own kills, so Harry had included a fang from an Acromantula he and Hedwig had killed last week in defense of the forest's Centaur, an antler from a stag he'd hunted and used every part of, from the preserved meat he'd be eating over the summer to the simple leather armor he wore under his uniform. He'd thought hard about the third item to add, and eventually settled on a scale from the Basilisk he'd put out of her misery. (And after reading copies of Slytherin's notes and books from other Parselmouths, he knew that was what he'd done in the Chamber when he was twelve. Harry had no idea what Tom Riddle had done to Slytherin's Basilisk, but the inquisitive, affectionate creature Salazar had raised to be the school's first line of defense against an invading army was long gone by the time he faced her in the Chamber of Secrets.) Feeling an odd sense of calm come over him, Harry collected a glass beaker and a silver knife from a shelf and strode over to Saska and his other familiars who had been watching him. Carefully keeping away from where Sethria was chained to the floor, he knelt in front of his second familiar. "Okay girl, just like we discussed. Let me know if you start to feel dizzy, the book didn't specify exactly how much blood I needed."
With a nod from his Horned Serpent, Harry carefully slid the knife between her scales where a vein ran through her lower body. He quickly moved the wide-mouthed beaker under the cut without missing a drop. A few moments later Saska spoke to him. "I'm getting dizzy, Harry."
Harry removed the beaker and pressed gauze into the wound, then quickly applied medical tape to hold the gauze in place. (He'd apply a healing charm after the ritual, when he could do so without risking upsetting his preparations.) With a hurried thanks, he quickly scrambled to the altar and began to focus his magic. This wasn't something he could practice, but if there was one thing he was talented at, it was performing under pressure. Slowly he threaded his magic through the objects in front of him, going slowly at first, then faster as the cut gems and magic-infused carvings started to glow softly. As the magic reached a crescendo, Harry lifted the vial of blood and spoke aloud, choosing to use Parseltongue instead of English. "The Blood of Serpents, For the Loa of Cunning!"
With that, Harry poured the blood over the other objects he'd spent hour upon hour preparing. Time seemed to slow as the crimson droplets fell, inching closer and closer to the altar. Harry was beginning to wonder if he'd made a mistake when the blood glowed green for a moment and vanished. At that moment he felt a weight in the air as a powerful magic wove around him and his familiars. Despite the urge to panic, he remained calm when between one beat of his heart and the next he found himself kneeling on a stone pyramid overlooking a desolate frozen plain. Despite the ice and snow covering everything, it wasn't cold that froze his veins, it was the sense of collapse, of end, of death in the very air. Seconds after he arrived, shadows in front of the… temple began to coalesce in a shape. A moment later the shape of a great winged serpent even larger than Slytherin's Basilisk with arms ending in talons was visible as a shadowy outline, but it seemed almost out of focus.
{-*=*-}
Quetz'lun was not a happy, content Loa. Her people, the Drakkari Ice Trolls, had spat in the face of millennia of her efforts on their behalf, of the endless toil by which she kept the madness lurking beneath Northrend from leaching into their dreams as they slept. If not for her and the others that worked with her, madness would have crept into their minds as they slept helplessly, turning them against each other and enslaving those who survived the massacre. She had made fair deals with her people and kept her bargains. But the Drakkari were hard pressed by the Undead Scourge and they refused to open their borders and work with others. Their pride had ended their civilization, just as it had ended her. Her priests had summoned her, trapped her, and killed her using her own stolen power and now her corpse would rot on the frozen tundra, fodder for vultures.
But Quetz'lun was a Loa, and that meant she was something more than mere flesh. With her last breath she had killed all those who had betrayed her save only her high priest, who'd only survived by bending her stolen power into a shield. Even with her body freezing to the tundra, she had worked with an outsider to end him as well. But now, with her last vengeance completed, her grasp on the physical world was slipping. Something was pulling her, dragging into an abyss, and she was afraid. Azeroth's Ancients, cousins to the Loa, survived death; their echoes were still active in the Emerald Dream and grew stronger every century, but she knew of no Loa who had truly died and returned to life. What waited beyond the veil between life and death was a mystery to her, and she could only feel terror at that cold emptiness gnawing at her soul.
When she felt a mortal reach out to her, using the ritual the Zandalari used to make bargains with the Loa, she was tempted to throw her dying might against whoever it was, to make the ritual blow up in their face and kill them. I could take out my misfortune on someone else, but I am still dying. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to have one last conversation before I fade away.
With nothing to lose, Quetz'lun reached out to the magic seeking her and completed her end of the ritual. She was surprised when it was a human that sought her attention, and more surprised by the three creatures with him. The gryphon was interesting only in its small size, the dragon whelp was black but the colors were wrong for a member of Deathwing's Dragonflight, but it was the serpent that truly caught her eye. She knew all of the serpents that lived on Azeroth, and this being was not one of them, the feel of its magic was wrong, it had not hatched on this world. It was injured but the wound was bound and the serpent was healthy, if a little weak from blood loss. That brought her attention back to the human, who had drawn the blood for the ritual from his companion; it was less obvious but his magic was different, less powerful but more malleable than Azeroth's humans. I always did enjoy making deals. If nothing else, this will be an interesting conversation before the darkness claims me.
Drawing her insubstantial body up to its full height, Quetz'lun spoke. In this realm, this mental space, the only real language was meaning, something the Zandalari had made sure of to prevent misunderstandings in the fine details of their bargains with often capricious Loa. "Greetings mortal. I am Quetz'lun, the Loa of Cunning. Why have you come before me?"
The human squared himself, rose and gave a shallow bow before he spoke. "Greetings Loa. My name is Harry Potter and I have come to bargain."
Quetz'lun let out an amused snort. "Obviously. What do you seek, mortal? And what will you give in return?"
The human was obviously afraid, maybe even terrified, but he put on a brave face and soldiered on anyway. "I have enemies, even one who tried to murder me in my crib as an infant. What few allies I have lack the power needed to even help themselves. I need power, strength, and cunning if I am to survive long enough to become an adult. I come to seek any boons you would grant. As for what I can offer? I am unsure what I have that you would even want, Loa, but there are things I will not do. I will not harm innocents or offer you blood sacrifices as some other Loa demand. According to that ancient tome, you are the best choice to give me what I need at a price I am willing to pay."
Quetz'lun smiled, not that the boy could see it as she lowered herself and coiled around her temple, resting her head on the top platform where her petitioner stood. In this place, the human before her was an open book. Not his thoughts, but his character, his ideals, the things that made up the very core of who and what he was. She liked what she saw; this was a boy who'd known suffering, who was beset on all sides but still retained an inherent nobility. This human had hidden depths, and strength of character even he had yet to uncover. This human child… was impressive, even to her. "Human, you are one who I would aid, even if I only broke even on our deal. I can feel you are kind, cunning, and have a strong will hidden under your doubts and fears. Believe me, I would have aided you if only to see what kind of man you became, to see how you shaped your world."
She let out a long sigh, looking at the human who was slowly realizing that his efforts in reaching out were all for naught. "But I was betrayed. The people I made deals with, whose minds I protected every day of their lives, betrayed me." She closed her eyes, imagining the disappointed expression she would see on his face. "They killed me for the power I was already using for their benefit, and my corpse is frozen on the tundra. My soul lingers, but I can feel death pulling me into darkness. My time is short, and my power is nearly gone. There is little I can do for you."
She expected to see a lot of things on her supplicant's face: disappointment, anger at time and effort wasted, maybe even pity. But when she opened her eyes again she saw empathy, determination, and a mind that was already in motion. After a moment he spoke up. "Do you want to die? If you had the chance to live, would you take it?"
Quetz'lun only hesitated for a moment before she replied. "Mortal, I can feel something dark and cold reaching out for me as I slowly grow weaker. It terrifies me. It shames me to admit, but any deal that saves me is one I will take. How would you save my life?"
Harry paused for a moment, obviously gathering his thoughts. "Three years ago a man at my school was possessed by a wraith, two souls shared the same body, and that was killing him. But what if I had a body with no soul? My dragon, Sethria, isn't an intelligent, thinking creature. I'm working on magic to bind her as my familiar which will eventually grant her intelligence and fine control of her natural magic. Four months ago my gryphon was an owl, I used magic to gradually change her into something more. I think we could bind your soul to the dragon's body and then change that form into something more comfortable for you."
Quetz'lun was quiet for a moment. "That may work, or it may not. But under the circumstances I'm willing to take the chance. I know enough Soul Magic to agree with you that two souls in the same vessel would be a painful way to die. But first, name your bargain Harry."
Harry gave the Loa a warm smile. "My bargain is this: I shall save your life and provide a body to house your soul, and in return you will be my loyal companion and friend. You will help me to carve out and maintain a place in my world so that both of us can survive and thrive."
"I accept your bargain Harry Potter, son of James and Lily." Quetz'lun was quiet for a moment. "I have learned more about Soul Magic and Undeath from the horror attacking my people than I ever wanted to, but at least now there will be a benefit. For this to work we will need to craft a phylactery, a soul jar. A necklace or crown would be ideal, but the best object would be a magical item, something that has withstood the centuries without wear or tarnish. I will let the connection fade until you are ready, but first open your mind and I will share the spells you will need."
Harry obeyed and suddenly a complex spell and a relatively simple potion filtered into his head along with the changes the Loa felt best. Normally this would be a very dark bit of magic where one sacrificed their physical body for immortality (as long as the object, the phylactery remained intact anyway) as a lich, but since Quetz'lun currently existed as only a soul… Harry ran over what he would need before he spoke again. "I think I have a family heirloom that would work. Can you give me an hour to get everything ready? I don't know if you can bring any objects with you or not, but if you want to try…"
The Loa snorted at the human, the gust of air ruffling his hair. "Perhaps a few small things, anything more would strain my soul to the breaking point. Maybe a weapon… There are many wonders and horrors on my world. Name what you want and I will try to bring it with me."
Harry thought for a moment. His thoughts raced for a moment before he spoke. "My godfather was tortured for a decade by Dementors, so something to help him heal would be nice, or if your world happens to have a cure for werewolves…"
In this mental realm, the words foreign to Quetz'lun conveyed everything Harry knew about the creatures in question. "What wonderful demons your people raise. I… have some ideas, I will restore our connection in an hour or when I am ready, prepare to create my phylactery."
{-*=*-}
As the mental realm faded away, Quetz'lun marshaled her strength, her focus, and set to work. There was a time for doubts, but this was not it. With the Drakkari turning on her, and the way unfriendly Loa (or worse things) jumped on any perceived weakness, binding her soul into a phylactery and eventually a new body had little chance of saving her on Azeroth. Both the Lich King and the self-proclaimed 'god of death' had power over souls, she would prefer death to what they would do to her while she was vulnerable. Her personal realm, the realm all Loa created for themselves as a refuge, was already collapsing, but there were still treasures inside. Most would not be very useful on a new world, but a few tomes and her collection of magical gemstones would be. One last glance around what had been her home ever since she and her brother had chosen to walk very different paths, and her eyes fell on something interesting. It was an offering she'd been given thousands of years ago, a sword forged by a people who lived in a land of sun and heat. The one-handed blade glowed even now, lighting up a crumbling corner of her realm. She quickly levitated the blade and tossed it into her personal pocket dimension, a useful bit of magic she'd learned from a Blue dragon long ago. The memory of that bargain brought a smile to her face. A blade imbued with solar magic, the power of fire and light seems like a useful counter to those demons my new priest mentioned.
Knowing that time was running out, Quetz'lun shifted into the Emerald Dream, a layer of reality that was created and sustained by the dreams of all living things. All Loa had a connection to the Dream, could enter it as they wished even if they were not the Dream's masters. Steeling herself, Quetz'lun shifted rapidly through the Dream, taking advantage of the way thought and will could be harnessed in the sleeping world to cover a long distance quickly. Only moments after she'd begun to travel, she emerged from the Dream half a continent away from where she'd started, floating in the air above Wyrmrest Temple, home of the Dragonflights. With little time to lose, she shifted her ghost, her soul? Whatever she was, she moved to the top of the tower, where she could feel two Dragon Aspects holding court in the humanoid forms they wore when interacting with mortals or stretching their food supplies. Appearing just off the tower's side, floating in the air, she spoke quickly. (It was never a good idea to startle dragons, after all.)
"Alexstrasza, Ysera, I am Quetz'lun the Loa. For a very long time we have shared this world without conflict, and now I come to you with a bargain. The Drakkari have betrayed and butchered me, so I have decided to leave Azeroth behind for a distant world where my newest priest waits for me. Over the years I have collected many offerings, enough for you to hire mercenaries to end the Nexus War swiftly. I offer you the entire contents of my personal realm, all the offerings and treasures, all the weapons and trinkets I've been given over my long life, save a few items I will try to take with me, in exchange for three things: First, an acorn enchanted by the Green and Red Aspects to provide healing and nurture magical life, second, the Scythe of Elune or a contagious Worgen, and third everything regarding the cure to the Worgen Curse so I can begin using it on a distant world."
All of the dragons present were quiet for a moment before Alexstrasza spoke up. "Tell me why you wish for these items and I will send Chronormu to collect them, assuming that a cure for the Worgen Curse is discovered in the future."
Quetz'lun, or the shadow that was all she could maintain in the physical world, nodded and replied, speaking as quickly as she could. "My priest requested something that could heal those whose strength had been leached from them by a kind of demon infesting his world, and I wish for that acorn both to restore vitality and because I could feel how weak his world's magic is. It almost felt like magic itself was dying out. I asked for the ability to inflict the Worgen Curse and then cure it because his world has a similar affliction that isn't as strong as the Worgen Curse. I have felt through the Dream that even now many are working feverishly for a cure and I have learned not to doubt the ingenuity of mortals."
Alexstrasza, the queen of all dragons, was thoughtful for a moment. Right now she was fighting two wars, and more resources would do nothing but help. "I agree. Chronormu, please collect the items, including the acorn if you can find one from Nordrassil or G'Hanir. Meet us in the Chamber beneath the Temple."
For a moment the Bronze dragon wearing the shape of a gnome wanted to argue, but then simply sighed and teleported away in a gust of sand. Nodding to the dead Loa, Alexstrasza leapt off the edge of Wyrmrest Temple and took her true form, a massive crimson scaled western dragon, catching herself after a moment and gliding downwards. Her sister Ysera followed after a moment, her real body covered in emerald scales, and Quetz'lun followed the Aspect. By the time they arrived, Chronormu was already there with the items they requested, having exploited her abilities as a time traveler to collect what was asked for. Quetz'lun examined the deceptively small box and Alexstrasza, returning to her elven shape, opened it and displayed the contents. Chronormu spoke up. "It took weeks of searching, but the small box contains an acorn from G'Hanir. The tree that grows from this seed will be the sibling of Azeroth's world tree, but will not be as powerful unless your new world has something like the Well of Eternity to nourish it. The Scythe of Elune is there as well. I spoke to Elune through Tyrande three years from now and the goddess bids you luck using the scythe for good."
Opening a small box that contained a single acorn, Alexstrasza returned to her true form with the tiny item clasped in her claw as her sister drew near. After a few moments where blinding swells of crimson Life and emerald Nature magic danced between the sister's cupped talons, Alexstrasza returned to her smaller form and replaced the much more magical acorn in the box. With satisfaction, Quetz'lun drifted closer and dropped the sword, gemstones, and tomes she'd collected into the box that was larger on the inside than the outside. She placed the box into her personal storage dimension, then grabbed her fraying personal realm and inverted it. Treasure, weapons, and a surprising amount of dust followed, filling the large room knee deep in some places. Turning to the Dragon Aspects, the Loa bowed as much as she was able. "Thank you. I hope my treasures can help you, Alexstrasza. You deserve a better life than you've had in recent years. Warm sunlight and favorable winds, Dragonqueen."
Alexstrasza gave the nature spirit that had coexisted peacefully with the dragons she commanded for fifteen thousand years a sad smile, reaching out a glowing hand and infusing the spirit with some of her power. "Thank you Quetz'lun of the Loa. I wish you well in the future."
With everything she came for, Quetz'lun widened the connection she and her new priest had made and spoke into their shared mental space. "I am ready whenever you are."
{-*=*-}
As the frozen temple faded back into his workshop in the Room of Requirement, Harry blinked several times. "Did I just invite a creature used to being worshiped as a god to Britain? Shite, this could go wrong in so many ways." Harry thought carefully for a moment, then called out. "Dobby! Winky!"
It only took a moment for the two elves to appear before him. After the first task, when Harry was reeling from his close brush with a Horntail, he'd spoken to Dobby and learned his friend Winky wasn't coping with freedom very well. One thing had led to another and Harry had ended up hiring Dobby and offering to let Winky serve his family, on the condition that they never tell Hermione. (He loved his friend, he really did, but once she got an idea in her head it was nearly impossible to change her mind. The relationship between house elves and wizards wasn't nearly as cut and dry as Hermione was convinced it was, something he'd learned by listening to the elves themselves. He would come up with a way to convince her it was a good idea, but that would take time.) Both elves were dressed much better than any others he'd seen, Winky had proved her skill as a seamstress and provided them with dark green clothing and comfortable shoes.
Looking at the two elves who had proved themselves incredibly helpful, Harry started to speak. "I'm in a rush, so we need to move quickly. Dobby, I need bone dust, preferably from the Basilisk in the Chamber of secrets, blood taken from a fresh human or other sapient corpse, and mushrooms growing on a grave. Do not kill anyone for the blood. Winky, I need a piece of enchanted jewelry from my parent's things, preferably a necklace. It needs to be magical, old, but in good condition. I trust your eye more than mine on that. I'll try getting the Room to give me the old jewelry from the Room of Lost Things just in case my parent's stuff doesn't have what we need."
Harry glanced at the rack of potions he'd been brewing to help tame Sethria. Part of him rebelled at the thought going through his head, but eventually he convinced himself that it was better than unleashing what could turn out to be a blood god on his world. In hindsight, that tome's descriptions of Quetz'lun, Loa of Cunning, and Hakkar the Soulflayer, the blood god, were nearly identical. He sighed and got to work in the Room's potions lab while Winky opened the trunks filled with items that had once belonged to his parents and grandparents. An ember of anger blossomed in his chest over the fact that he'd had to send his elves out to steal everything that should have been given to him. (Some of these things had been collected from his parent's house in Godric's Hollow, left to rot. Others had ended up locked away in Hogwarts in places no students could reach. Several of his mother's things had been found in Snape's quarters. All of his parent's journals, wands, and personal effects had been locked away deep in the Ministry of Magic. Harry still hadn't been able to figure out if he owned any land or the legal status of his parent's ruined home; hell, he wasn't even sure if he had any investments or assets besides his Gringotts vault.) He should have been given these items the moment he returned to the magical world, and the fact that he hadn't was enough to make him deeply suspicious of everyone who had power over him. Harry really couldn't figure out a good reason why he'd been denied, but reading his father's journal or the letters his mother had written to him while pregnant had left him weeping and absolutely sure that his parents had loved him deeply, even before he'd been born.
Harry shook his head and started getting out ingredients, glad to lose himself briefly in the simple work of preparing a few things for a potion he would never use on another person except in dire need. It turned out that with the help of his mother's notes on potions she'd brewed and methods she'd experimented with, he'd gone from a hopeless brewer to one that was actually competent. Snape trying to stamp out any joy for potions is just one more thing that they tried to take from me. I remember being excited for the subject before my first class with him. When I pass my OWLs and NEWTs with flying colors I'll be sure to laugh at him. Now, I have time to mix up another batch of Proximity Contentment potion if I let Winky stir for me while I work on the Phylactery Binding Tincture when Dobby gets back.
Harry was calmer but no less determined when Dobby came back with the ingredients he'd asked for. By then Winky had chosen an understated but beautiful necklace from the Potter's jewelry collection; it had thick gold links with an emerald pendant in the center. Winky thought it was six hundred years old, and it was enchanted with several spells to protect the wearer from hostile spells and poisons. Giving Winky the instructions for the potion, Harry moved over to a mortar and pestle, quickly working the bone dust into the mushrooms as Dobby ran to fetch the blood from some poor woman killed by a drunk driver in a coastal town not too far away. Harry felt conflicted about using human blood, but the phylactery spell required it and it wasn't like he was killing anyone or even harming the already-dead woman. Still, this is very dark magic. I should be able to make the spell work if I'm extremely careful. It isn't like I have any real talent for dark magic.
{-*=*-}
Thirty minutes later, an ornate expanded box clattered to the floor as Harry hurried to bind Quetz'lun's hazy, fading ghost to the necklace. He watched as the mixture of bone, blood, and mushroom frothed and boiled as it was sucked into the old necklace, sealing the Quetz'lun's soul into the object, the reaction much more energetic than he expected. Or maybe I have a special talent for casting black magic. Just what I needed, like the Prophet needs more ammunition to call me a dark lord.
Given that it was now three in the morning and he was expected to wake up in three hours, Harry groaned and stood up, rolling his shoulders and drawing his wand. He'd avoided using any magic at all to avoid messing up the rituals, but now he decided that he was absolutely not going to touch a soul jar with his bare hands. Taking a moment before he levitated the necklace that was now a shiny black (though the gemstone still looked pristine) onto the dragon whelp's neck, he looked at his two elves. "Keep the whelp strapped down for now, and keep the feeding tube in place. Winky, I want to keep a steady drip of the potions I marked with green labels going in along with the nutrient solution. Feel free to up the dose if you think the whelps body can take it, but both of you must never mention what those potions do. I'm playing a dangerous game, especially because I don't know how strong my new friend is going to be. That's why the potions need to be subtle, I can't use something like the Imperious Curse because with my luck it would fail at the absolute worst time. I'm… going to get some sleep after I get the phylactery in place. Feel free to talk to her once this is on, I don't know if she'll be able to hear or understand us right away."
With that, Harry levitated the necklace around the dragon's neck, carefully locking the clasp without touching it. The click as the clasp locked was strangely loud, the sound echoing around the Room. Desperate for some sleep, Harry trudged for the Room's door, briefly pausing to 'require' the doorway to lead to the Gryffindor Common Room. Between the ritual to contact the Loa and the intense creation of the phylactery, he was beat.
As he trudged through the common room, desperately wishing for a shower but far too tired to accomplish it, he never noticed the shifting outline of his bushy-haired best friend on the couch by the fire, hidden under her best attempt at a Disillusionment Charm. The nosy teenager blinked the sleep from her eyes as her alarm spell alerted her to movement just in time to see Harry step into the room from a doorway that disappeared a moment after he stepped through. She could see her friend was barely standing up and knew she wouldn't get anything out of him tonight. As she headed up the stairs to her own dorm she realized there had been flecks of blood on Harry's sleeves. Hermione became even more worried about her friend.
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A/N: This is another side fic I'm working on. Pairing will be at least a small (3) harem. I'm not sure what my next update will be, my muse is restless.
I have a new adult fic, 'Dragon Concubine,' posted on Archive of Our Own. It's under the same username as here, but I probably won't post it on Fanfiction because Ao3 has better comment moderation.
I have a ko-fi account at /tendragos if anyone wants to support me. I don't put my work behind paywalls, it's just a tip jar. If you enjoy my fics, consider tossing me a buck or two.