26th December 1994 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.
It was a little startling, the way the quiet of his mind seemed to compete with the loud chatter of the Great Hall.
Honestly it was astounding to him that anyone had the will to be loud at all after the previous night, but Draco supposed the gossip mill stopped for no one's misery.
He himself had only just managed to drag himself away from his bed and down to breakfast just before the morning post had arrived. Which was how he came to be sitting with the paper half in his plate, staring at the front page.
There were, as always, several articles that had made the front page. Each shuffled and sized for best fit, and no doubt pondered over to decide which articles if viewed in passing were most likely to lure in potential readers.
There were only three though, that had garnered any lingering attention from him, foggy as he had been after the long night of revelry.
The first - and least impactful, he felt - was the notice of ascension.
Potter had apparently decided to use his newfound power to award the blasted ginger family to Noble status, effectively putting the Weasley's and the Malfoy's on the same political foundation.
Obviously there were still worlds of difference between them, but it did mean that a certain level of civility was demanded on both sides. Regardless of how many years the Blood Feud predated this new change in status, it meant that failure to observe certain social niceties meant a distinct risk to socio-political position.
It was galling.
After everything that had been said and done. Or more importantly what hadn't been said and done…
Then of course was the second article, announcing there would be a nation-wide period of grieving to honour the loss of their not-really lamented Minister who had finally succumbed to the poison despite 'best efforts'.
Personally, he thought it was all a steaming heap of shite. He was sure there were droves in the Ministry that were quietly toasting the late Minister for finally kicking off, no doubt relishing the opportunity for someone else to step up to the plate and unfuck the current public opinion.
Not to mention the currently strained relations between Wizarding Great Britain and the International Confederation of Wizards and Volstar.
Which, of course, brought him to the more - arguably - important article of the day's front page.
Harry Bloody Potter.
Sorry, King Harry Bloody Potter.
Who had managed to achieve something his father, grandfather, great-grandfather - and further - had aspired to, but never quite managed.
Before he was even of age.
When he'd apparently only been part of their world for four years in total - if you counted his first year in hiding with his parents - and with little-to-no actual working political experience.
His father had been absolutely livid when he had discovered what had happened, over the summer. Still was, according to his mothers weekly letters. He had spent quite a bit of money - even by their families standards - hiring people to dig up any information they could get on the 'When' and 'How's of the whole mess.
He had been even less pleased when they had turned up with nothing.
No letters. No meetings. No bribes. No blood pacts.
Nothing.
No leadup to the deal that had crowned Harry Potter king of his own domain - his own sizeable domain - and no word since.
Just that a deal had apparently been negotiated and signed between the Underhill, by way of Gringotts London Branch, and the Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter.
Seemingly in the space of a day.
Which anyone with a lick of education in either politics or business could tell you, just didn't happen. Particularly on large scale deals like that. Each stage needed to be carefully evaluated and negotiated to ensure both parties were satisfied - if you couldn't manipulate things to your own advantage - and there were certain cooling off periods to ensure no one backed out at the end when all the hard work had been done.
Still, the deal, however it happened, wasn't Draco's main concern. Despite his own fathers seeming inability to move past it.
No. Draco's problem was the stupidly powerful feats of magic Potter kept tossing around like bread crumbs at a duck pond.
He had been watching Potter very closely during the first task, admittedly hoping to see the annoying bastard set aflame, crushed or otherwise maimed. But the point was, he had been watching Potter like a hawk, and he had seen neither hide nor hair of any sort of foci.
No sight of wand nor staff, nor sceptre.
The entire performance had been entirely raw, unfiltered and instinctively controlled and directed. It was the kind of magic most couldn't even begin to fathom, much less actually perform.
And it had come out of Potter not once, but twice.
He watched the photo of Potter and McGonagall dance through the air on loop.
Insanely difficult feats of transfiguration, flight, and all the other things that had been invented - and patented, much to more than one person's chagrin - over the last handful of months.
The Dark Lord gone, Dumbledore and the Ministry at large intractable as far as the wants and demands of the old blood were concerned and Volstar rising up out of almost literally nowhere with laws and magical and societal advancements most had argued impossible.
It had inspired more than one heated debate in the quiet sanctuary of the Slytherin common room. And probably not just there.
Especially with the ever spiralling negligence that had become impossible not to notice in the Ministry.
A certain amount of ineptitude here and there was par for the course, his father had told him. It helped certain things go smoothly. Stupidity, greed, negligence all paid a part in getting things done in the Ministry. To know who to bribe, the right whisper in which ear, who would overlook things where other more diligent workers would notice.
It all formed a delicately balanced ecosystem that the worthy could manipulate to best effect.
Too much however, caused problems.
It drew the attention of outsiders and destabilised the ecosystem, turning carefully controlled chaos into absolutely useless madness.
Hence the mess that had been in the papers. And the whispers that were sounding more and more in favour of jumping ship entirely for greener pastures.
There was a certain easily recognisable appeal to that, Draco knew.
With the country still in its fledgling state it meant there was a wealth of jobs on offer. Even with the stricter requirements in regards to education and finances, it was an investment that wouldn't take long at all to see dividends.
Provided you could swallow your own bias regarding blood status and creature and being rights.
Though, from what he had overheard in the common room - and around quiet halls about the school, that he may or may not have lurked nearby - that didn't seem like much of an issue for most. Even among the other pureblood students.
Which had inspired the question.
What, outside of his family, was actually keeping him in Britain?
1st February 1995 - City Outskirts, Skyfall, Volstar Island.
Harry had spent the last little while staring intently at the clouds that had blown in from the east that morning, watching them grow steadily darker until finally lightning had flashed arcing in a jagged line and crashing down to earth.
This was it, he could feel it dancing along his skin and tingling at the nape of his neck.
The time and the place.
Here, feet bare on the blackened patch of grass where the first lightning strike had touched down, he would drink down the potion that had turned a wicked blood-red in its crystal phial and complete the last step in his blessedly short journey to freeing his animagus form.
Remus and Sirius were standing shoulder to shoulder a couple of meters away, eyes locked onto him.
Over the last month Sirius had been poring through their transfiguration books to give himself a crash course refresher on all things animagus. He had been absolutely sure that somehow Harry would do something that would set them all on their asses so had buried himself in their combined library and had glowered at Harry when the teen had suggested that he might be exaggerating things a tad.
Remus had kindly taken over most of Harry's day to day business, checking in with the various construction teams, settler groups and fielding mail. Things that ranged from brief check-ins, to more complex matters like keeping track of their resources and negotiations to cement trade agreements.
All the while Harry fasted and meditated, communing with the deepest reaches of his Self. And then when it was time, gathered together the ingredients he needed and set to work carefully adding them together so they would break down and blend into their new form.
The Animagus Potion.
It had been a bit of a hassle, since the timing of each step of the process had to be exactly right. But now, now the potion was complete, the spell was cast and each flash of lightning caused an echoing beat in his chest to dance alongside his own steady heartbeat.
Surrendering to instinct Harry let loose his hold on his magic and let it spill out around him, blanketing the area in near oppressive power.
The teen cast one more look to his godfather and friend before swiftly uncapping the phial and downing the mouthful of blood red potion before stuffing the empty phial in his pocket to be sterilized and reused.
Almost immediately heat began to radiate out from his core, burning hot along his limbs and seemingly growing hotter with each thumping beat and echoing beat of his heart.
It escalated, growing hotter and hotter until he could barely feel anything beyond the burn, hear anything beyond the beat until finally when he thought he was surely going to burn up from the inside out, he noticed a different sensation.
It almost felt like he was being stretched.
Like giant hands had grabbed hold of him from both ends and were pulling him in separate directions to see if his arms and legs would just pop off his body.
There was a flash of light over and around him that blinded him and all he could smell was ozone, all he could taste was rain.
The sensations continued to spiral higher and higher until he felt dizzy with them, blinded by it and numbed to everything else but the burning inside him, the pounding beat in his ears and the soothing taste of pure rain on his tongue.
Eventually though he came back to himself enough to feel that he was lying down, breath shuddering in and out of his exhausted body.
Gradually his vision cleared and his hearing returned to him, at least enough so he could hear and understand the words someone was saying nearby. Even if his mind was a little sluggish to register.
"...d to tell with him curled up the bit that he is."
"Got to be around, fuck, at least fifty feet tip to tip, and he's not done growing."
"Four toes. Those claws have to be...they are. Eleven centimetres for the shortest and…fifteen for the longest."
"Look at that blend of scale, plates and fur. And those horns...are they horns you reckon, or antlers?"
"They look a bit more like antlers than most horns or spikes. Not entirely the same though."
"And that patterning, he's definitely not built for stealth, not on land at least. Hey, have you found his breed in the book yet?"
"Not yet, I had it marked to the Europe natives. I honestly wasn't expecting him to have a form that comes from somewhere further than Ireland." The voice fell quiet for half a moment before speaking again. "Actually, why is that? You, Peter and James all have...had...you all had forms that we could find here. Just about every animagus I've met since leaving Hogwarts has had a form that reflected the place they were born. Harry's doesn't though."
"Mm, it's a bit of a misconception that. It's a bit like the argument about nature versus nurture, since most animagus do end up with a form that's close to home, most people believe that the environment and local factors play a bigger part in determining form than is actually true. The nurture side of things."
"From the look on your face, I gather that's not strictly true."
"Right, the thing most people forget about is soul. The animagus is the truest reflection of our core selves, our base animal selves. And souls have no border, no culture or sovereign, they just are. Our animagus reflects us in a way that cannot be lied about or otherwise obfuscated. Everything we are is there for all the world to see."
"Provided you understand the beast in question."
"Yeah, that helps."
"Ah, found it, in the Korean section. The Osyontaigo or Bada-Horangi Yong, oh I probably butchered that. Ah, right, Korean native dragon of the Yong genus, strong water affiliation and power. Purely carnivorous and impeccable hunters. Very fast in the air and underwater but somewhat cumbersome on land. Oh that's handy."
"What?"
"Two methods of breathing. They can breathe underwater and in open air, in fact it says here that they have four lungs and particularly powerful hearts because they like to sleep at the bottom or rivers, lakes and oceans. That's why they've got such a sturdy chest compared to most Asian dragons and those thick plate scales, to protect against jagged rocks and coral outcrops."
"Does it say anything about the fur?"
"A lure apparently. When they're underwater it floats waves with the current which lures in fish looking for somewhere to hide, then they snap them up and eat the fish."
"Huh, that's pret- Harry, Pup can you hear me?"
Harry for all his want to answer only managed a groaned garble of noise as he slammed his eyes shut tight.
"Okay, you're okay. The first shift is always bad, I remember that very vividly, so don't try to get up just yet. You'll probably experience a horrific amount of vertigo and end up on your face anyway." Sirius told him.
And it was Sirius. The more time passed the more clear Harry's mind became, at least enough that he could begin to process information properly and as he lay there he began to consciously note the things his body was experiencing.
The feeling of rain hitting his body and the smell of it mixing with recently disturbed earth. He could smell what he assumed was Remus and Sirius and felt what he assumed was a hand brushing over what he could feel was his nose. Although as more and more of his brain woke up and returned to normal function he thought over the information Remus had read out from the giant book of beasts he had brought along, he wondered if he should think of it as his snout?
"You're probably more sore than anticipated, sorry about that. Only you would get struck by lightning mid-transformation, Pup." Sirius said.
That probably explained all the jittering and muscle twitching, he realised.
"Gave us quite a shock, luckily we could see you were still breathing. Speaking of which, I'd like to call Healer Graves out to do a proper check-up, just in case." Remus said from somewhere on his right.
With great effort he managed to lift his head enough to nod in acquiescence before oh so slowly peeling his eyes open.
"Well, good news." Sirius informed him cheerfully as he slowly came into focus. "Your eyes are still green and they still glow."
Harry huffed at the man and opted to ignore him in exchange for slowly wiggling and flexing his fingers and toes.
To his left he heard the telltale pop of apparation and slowly raised his head so he could turn his focus, just in time to see a very wide eyed Frederick Graves beat a hasty retreat.
Sirius gave a hearty laugh at the reaction and stepped back a couple of steps to give Harry more room since he seemed to be shaking off the worst of the transformation disorientation. "No need to fear, it's still our Harry in there. He just decided to throw us for a loop again."
Graves moved in closer at the reassurance, dual coloured eyes watching Harry intently. "His eyes seem to be struggling to focus." He mutters, blond brows drawing down in a frown as he draws out his wand. "I didn't think people could have a magical animagus?"
"It's pretty rare, although I think the numbers are a bit skewed by how few people actually try to become an animagus. And you know, the amount of people that actually register themselves." Sirius replied easily, giving a half-hearted shrug. "As for his eyes, the fact that he was struck by lightning might have something to do with that."
"What?!" Graves exclaimed and quickly flew through a barrage of diagnostic spells.
Remus moved around where Harry could see him, wand raised to shield himself and the thick book he had been reading from the rain. "We know from experience that an elevated heart rate and some muscle spasms are a normal side effect from the first transformation. So it's a little difficult to pick out the natural expected side effects and what was caused from the electric shock."
"How experienced?"
"Three individuals, fifteen years of age. Sirius, Peter Pettigrew and his father, James Potter." Remus answered succinctly. "All three had elevated heart rates, muscle spasms, some temporary blindness and deafness and a fierce appetite post transformation. The negative effects faded and then ceased completely over a period of a half hour."
"Any loss of motor function or difficulty distinguishing between individuals?" The healer asked evenly as he pored over the results from his spells.
"Some disorientation but no actual loss. The three transformed at the same time so there was some confusion when they recovered as to who was who, but they were all able to hear and understand me when I explained." Remus told him, catching sight of Sirius pulling a face out of the corner of his eye at the memory.
Graves hummed quietly. "What form was his father?"
"Stag." Sirius answered, moving closer again now the wand waving was done with to resume running his hand over his godsons nose. "Red deer, specifically."
"So completely different then." The healer said before shifting his focus back to the glowing green eyes that had been watching him work. "Alright Harry, the scans were all clear aside from the bit of dehydration that you warned me would happen. How are you feeling?"
"Better than before."
They all stopped for a long moment, shocked by the deep voice. Both for the fact that he apparently still had a voice and that it's quality was so different from his human voice.
"Ah, I hadn't gotten to that part. His particular breed is one of the sapient varieties. One moment…" Remus quickly and rather awkwardly shuffles the book in his arm so he can read from it properly.
"Asian dragons when compared to their European counterparts are as different as night and day. They are largely benevolent in nature, their few sapient species often deified and worshipped in exchange for their wisdom and protection. They are closely associated with the element of water and in fact breathe water rather than fire with only a few notable exceptions and are more closely tied to serpents, while their European counterparts are almost uniformly fire breathers and are more closely related to lizards…"
"So the Pup's a living fire hydrant?" Sirius snorted, earning himself a rumble from Harry at the teasing.
Remus rolled his eyes and pressed on. "Similarly most Asian dragons utilise their own powerful magics to fly, rather than wings like their European cousins. Once again with only a few notable exceptions that are commonly believed to originate from early attempts to crossbreed certain traits among the various non-sapient breeds.
"These Eastern species are closely tied to all forms of water, including but not limited to; rivers, lakes, underwater caves, rain, storms and the ocean. They have in the past also been tied to agriculture, luck and healing. Likely due to historical intervention of these sapient and benevolent dragons during times of draught."
More curious now, Sirius shifted back, leaning around Remus's arm to read from the book. "Where their European cousins are largely viewed as beasts of great power and destruction with few exceptions, the same is not true with Asian varieties. By and large Asian dragons are considered to be great protectors and guides. So much so that muggle mythos often portrays them as heavenly beasts, messengers of gods if not gods themselves. Well, they got the protective part right...where's the list of traits..."
Sirius started flicking back and forth through the book while Remus tried to hold it steady without displacing or dropping his umbrella charm.
Turning away from the other men, Frederick leveled his focus on Harry's large form instead. "Do you think you can stand Harry, at least long enough to take down your physical characteristics?" He asked carefully, backing up a bit to make sure he had plenty of room, just in case.
"I think so." He said as he carefully shifted to get his hands and feet under him.
With a great heave and only a bit of wobble Harry managed to get himself up onto his feet and promptly found himself towering over the three men.
"Alright, let me know if you have to lay down again, Harry. I'll try to be quick." The Healer told him before he started to shoot off quick charms to measure him. "Sixteen meters from nose to tail tip, not counting the fur. That's another meter. Two and a half meters from hip to hip. Four meters from shoulder to shoulder. Five meters from shoulder to top of the head, plus one meter for horns. Claws…"
"Oh, here it is!" Sirius exclaimed, jostling Remus as he tried to turn the book about for him to see the section he was looking at better. "Protective, wise, humble, brave, devoted, kind, insightful...quick to anger, quick to forgive, slow to forget."
"You're going to make me drop it." Remus chided.
"Harry, can you lower your head for me?" Frederick requested, gesturing toward himself with one hand.
Looking away from the bickering Marauders to his healer and Harry dropped his head, holding himself patiently in place while the older man pushed aside long tufts of fur that had fallen forward over his brow.
"Huh, that's odd. Your scar transferred over to this form."
"Shouldn't it?" Harry asked, perplexed.
"No, most scars and other distinguishing marks that a person has doesn't appear on their animagus. That's why the registration forms ask specifically for the distinguishing marks of both forms, so regardless of which state we end up in, emergency services have means to identify us. Since the transformation back and forth is affected by our conscious will, we can pass out and stay in our other forms until we wake up and shift...or I guess get hit by the spell." Sirius explained, abandoning Remus and the book to move over beside Graves to study the scar.
The same scar that despite the rest of Harry's physical body changing had remained exactly the same. The same size, the same shape and even the same colour scar tissue, despite the area it was located now being of an entirely different colour and skin texture.
Healer Graves hummed thoughtfully. "I did check it with the standard array, but aside from noting that it was resistant to external magic, nothing much registered as odd about it. Have any of the goblin healers or shamans had a look?"
Harry shook his head, just slightly. "Didn't seem like there was much point." He said, and absently noted that his new form didn't seem particularly geared towards shrugging.
"You said once last year that it hurt a couple of times. Around your first year Defence professor, if I remember correctly." Remus cut in as he moved to stand with the others, tome shrunk down and returned to his pocket.
The look Frederick levelled on Harry was not a particularly flattering one, in fact, the teen felt it was safe to say that his healer was silently bemoaning every stupid thing Harry had ever done. All with the silent raising of one brow.
He was a little curious to know if his healer and his very dear transfiguration professor were in any way related.
McGonagall had similarly been able to make him feel just as foolish with a very similar look.
"Goblins?"
"Goblins." Graves agreed.
By the time everyone had finished subjecting him to their seemingly nonstop tests and cleansing rituals, Harry - still in his animagus form - was only slightly less disorientated than when they had started.
He was definitely hungrier and much more disturbed.
The latter of which had not helped him calm down enough to change back to his human state and when combined with the discovery that the forced reversal spell merely bounced off his scales like a paper ball, it meant that Harry had little choice but to take the opportunity to learn how to hunt in his new form.
Which, as it turned out, was actually a deeply pleasant experience.
Something the teen was immensely grateful for, since it had to counterbalance the knowledge that he had apparently been walking around with a hunk of his would-be murderer's soul lodged in his scar.
Sirius had taken worse than Harry himself had, retreating into his own animagus form in a way he hadn't since before they had made that first move to their new home, refusing to speak to any of them. Though he had opted to stay close to Harry, dogging his steps while the teen had made his way down to the beach and waiting curled up on the warm sand while Harry dived about in the water for fish to eat.
It just about broke Harry's heart to see the behaviour resurface, since he knew first hand how much progress he had made over the course of his informal therapy sessions.
Though he made sure to gently remind Sirius, while in a large loop around the older animagus, that some setbacks were expected when dealing with mental and emotional trauma. That his need to turn inward to the familiar comfort and escape of his animagus' more simpler emotions was neither unexpected nor shameful, particularly in the wake of such a world shaking revelation.
It was never wrong to seek out comfort when distressed by something truly horrific.
Which, Harry felt, summed up the whole topic of Horcruxes to the nth degree.
Let alone the fact that he apparently had been one for most of his life without knowing.
Everyone else had had an almost uniform response of grim determination.
Healer Graves had set about discussing the matter with Stoneshaker, the head shaman for the goblins of Skyfall. And Grimmaw, their head healer.
Remus had quietly excused himself to head back into the city proper with the intention of doing a deep dive into the Black library. His focus set on the small mountain of books that dealt almost exclusively with curses, black rituals and the warded journals of some of the more twisted individuals to dot the family tree.
Which considering the 'average' proclivities of the House at large, had earned the whole mess a wide berth previously.
Goldhammer, who had accompanied Stoneshaker and Grimmaw as he tended to when Harry was involved, had informed the boy king that he would need to discreetly inform his own king so they could utilise the resources of the Underhill to further look into the matter.
It seemed recklessly seeking immortality was a purely human endeavour so the general response undertaken the last - and only - time the goblins had been confronted with a horcrux the response had been to simply destroy it and everything related to it.
With great prejudice.
Needless to say, given how invested they were in Harry being whole and hearty, that particular option was well and truly off the table.
Nevertheless, before he had left to chase down his own avenues he had suggested a few places Harry and company might look for more information, if not outright answers. Egypt, and by extension Africa itself, for their deep studies into life and death. India, for their studies and belief in the cycle of soul rebirth. And Japan, who had made great strides over the last millennia into healing magics and rituals.
He had also noted that Harry's animagus form might open doors that would otherwise remain closed to outsiders, purely because of the importance and symbolism of his particular form in their culture.
So everyone else had rushed off to look into the matter and find some means of rectifying the horrifying problem while Harry himself decided that he had had enough shocks for the day.
And he'd been hit by lightning, so he rather thought he deserved to have the rest of the day off.
So rather than run about in a mad dash effort to investigate and fix the - frankly horrific - problem, the teen opted to shelf the problem for the moment and let everyone else deal with it while he curled up in the warm sand under the cloudy sky.
Wrapped around Padfoot in a protective circle while the older man alternated between dozing and using his currently simplified thoughts and emotions to slowly work his way through the here and now.
For all his shiny new form might be vaguely attributed to luck and many other splendid things, Harry couldn't help but think that he had maybe used all of his up on Volstar.
He was pretty certain that the only luck he had left was bad luck.