Good Evening Friends!

I told you that this story wasn't done and I have fulfilled my promise. I made a nice long chapter for all of you, so brace yourselves!

I wish to thank Arawn D. Draven and my beta SimmerOnIce, for helping me with this story. Thank you so much guys!

I hope you all enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome!

I do not own Harry Potter or Fairy Tail. All right go to their respective creators. If I did, I would make Acnologia a much more complex character...


Chapter 8 - Crocus

Life in the capital city, as Bahamut found out rather quickly, was far different than anything he had ever experienced before. There was never a moment, even when he was inside his room, that he felt the relative isolation like on Mt. Zonia. People were always milling and chattering about, hundreds of them in groups all over the place, no matter where or when – even at night!

The only thing preventing him from going out and exploring the city however, was the fact that he had little money. To try and remedy this, he spent a lot of time in the bookstore helping the old shopkeeper Gaelich with various menial tasks, like sorting books or cleaning shelves. The shop did have a daily influx of customers, but it looked like dripping water in comparison to the number of people out in the street. The pay he received, as expected from such a simple job, the number of customers and the fact that he was boarding there, was miniscule. Nevertheless, the young mage saved every last jewel he was given and did as he was told.

Currently, Bahamut was sitting on his bed, munching away on some fruit while reading a book that contained the very reason – or at least, the beginning part of it – his father had sent him out on his journey; magic. More specifically, the art of Plasma Magic.

A bonus perk for having to work in a bookshop, he didn't need to pay for the books.

Bahamut had been excited beyond words when first laid eyes on the book's title. He was finally starting to get somewhere! He opened the book and started reading, eager to learn. After two minutes however…he tilted his head in confusion.

Apparently, casting Plasma Magic required far more than simply Reinforcing or Projecting. According to the book, for the first spell alone he needed to have knowledge of plasma itself, cast the correct magic circle, maintain a good flow of Magic Power…and a lot of terms that seemed to fly over the young mage's head.

'I can't give up because of something like this,' Bahamut thought as he shook his head in defiance. 'I only started reading the book! I made Father a promise and I won't go back on it!'

He turned to the next page. 'Maybe there's more in the rest of the book…'

One afternoon, a week later, he closed the book and went downstairs to speak with Gaelich, who was writing something down in a large record book of sorts. Hearing the pitter-patter of the young mage's footsteps, he looked up.

"Is there someplace I can practice my magic?" asked Bahamut excitedly.

The old man raised an eyebrow. "Are you done reading that book already?"

"Yes, but I only learned the first spell there."

"Plasma Bolt?That was fast. More importantly though, do you understand how to cast it?"

Bahamut nodded and the shopkeeper let out a 'hmm' of thought. He looked down at the large book and back at Bahamut before letting his gaze linger on him for a while. The old man then sighed and rose from his chair.

He went underneath the staircase that led to Bahamut's room and dusted off a section of the floor. He then pulled at what appeared to be a black handle and the section opened up, revealing it to be a trapdoor.

The shopkeeper gestured for Bahamut to follow him, and descended into the hole.

Shaking off the slight bewilderment he felt, the boy followed him and peered down the hatch. He saw a rickety old staircase, that looked more together than the one leading up, and led to complete darkness. He tried to see what else was down there when the old man spoke from below.

"You comin' or what boy? I'm not getting any younger here!"

Not wanting to annoy the shopkeeper any longer, the young mage quickly descended. When he felt stone beneath his feet, a clapping sound rang throughout the room.

Instantly, the room became illuminated by torches that sat on the walls and Bahamut was treated to the site of a large stone basement. In the middle of the floor was a circle carved into the stone, and on that circle was a large wooden log. The shopkeeper stood near the far wall, besides a pyramid of similar logs.

"You say you understood what you read? Well, we shall see about that. Talk is cheap, but actions speak."

The old man pointed to the log in the circle. "I want you to blast that log with a Plasma Bolt. You fail, you go back to reading that book."

Bahamut looked at the shopkeeper with alarm. "Why?"

"Because I don't want you to fry yourself every time you try casting a spell. Now, less talk and more magic!"

Bahamut looked back at the log before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He then opened his eyes and raised his arm, all the while remembering what the book said.

Unlike the basic projection Acnologia had taught him, casting an affinity spell (at least for beginners) required the use of a magic circle. Said circle contained all the information required to "transmute" the magic into the affinity desired by the caster. In order to cast the spell, Bahamut needed to visualize the circle and let his magic power flow through it, while at the same time he had to keep the effect of the affinity in the forefront of his mind.

Bahamut channeled magic power into his open hand and imagined the circle and the effect of plasma described in the book; it was like fire, but it didn't burn. It vaporized.

Fire would eat its way through its victim. Plasma would explode upon touch and turn its victim to ash, scorching what survived.

The origin of fire and lightning.

As the young mage kept his magic flowing into his hand, keeping in mind the steps of the book, a bright-red magic circle appeared in front of him, slightly bigger than his head. Almost immediately, orange and red wisps drifted from the circle, merging together into a white sphere with a flaming red halo that seemed to electrify the air around it.

Bahamut squinted under the bright light the sphere gave off and his palm seemed to sizzle, but he didn't lose sight of his target and positioned the sphere in line with the log. He took a short breath, and then mentally pushed.

He knew that he did something wrong though, when the plasma ball suddenly split in two, with one half flying towards the log…

…and the other half blowing up in his face.

The resulting explosion sent Bahamut flying backwards into the wall, while the other half slammed onto the log, exploding as well. A reddish-white light illuminated the entire basement, causing Gaelich to avert his eyes.

When the brightness died down, he opened them back and saw two things:

One, Bahamut lay against the wall, smelling like charcoal with his clothes burnt. His glasses, which were already in bad condition due to not having repaired or replaced them ever since he got them back on Earth, lay cracked on the floor. The boy himself groaned in pained as he tried to move his arms, but clenched his teeth in pain from doing so.

But apart from a few singes here and there, he looked rather intact.

As for the second thing…the log has exploded into bits, leaving a charred, smoking stump.

'I knew it' the old man thought as he approached Bahamut. 'Reading the theory is an entirely different thing than casting the spell. Whoever this kid's father is, he taught him the bare frameworks for spellcasting.'

He picked up the broken glasses and looked at the boy, before turning to look at the stump.

'The fact that he managed to at least fire part of the spell does show good progress though. Even if he has just the basics, he's off to a relatively good start.'

The shopkeeper turned to the boy and helped him up, ignoring his cry of protest. "So? Have we learned our lesson?"

Bahamut coughed a bit. "W-what happened? I'm sure I did the spell right."

"What happened was you lost focus. You started off good, but when you tried to fire the spell, your concentration slipped. As such, it blew up in your face."

Bahamut looked up to meet the old man's eyes, albeit squinting due to his lack of glasses.

"How did you see that?"

"When you've been around magic for as long as I have, you notice these things rather quickly. You also struggled for a moment when the circle popped up."

Bahamut winced at the shopkeeper's blunt pointing out of his mistake and looked down at the floor. The old man stayed silent for a moment before speaking up again.

"I noticed something like this when I told you to rearrange some of the books upstairs. You had trouble remembering where to place some of them."

Bahamut remained silent, a grimace of frustration creeping on his face.

"You…you have trouble multitasking, don't you?"

The young mage slightly clenched his fist. It was true; he always did seem to have trouble with performing multiple tasks at once, especially when magic was involved, and such an issue could prove detrimental - even fatal – when in combat. Thanks to his father's training though, it wasn't as bad as it used to be, but it was still there. His father never commented about it, but he felt the ever-so slight tinge of disappointment behind his emotionless gaze every time he screwed up like that.

And he hated it. It was showing that he was still lacking where he shouldn't.

It was showing a…weakness.

But what Gaelich said next surprised the young mage.

"Don't feel too bad about yourself; very few manage to get it right on the first try. The fact that a good part of it managed to hit the log is a very good sign. You have everything down – you just need to iron out a few wrinkles first."

Bahamut looked up at the old man's face, and he could've sworn that, despite the blurriness of his vison, that the corner of his lips twitched upwards.

"Besides, if the Plasma Magic doesn't work for you, it doesn't mean that you can't learn other magics."

Bahamut tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Some mages – particularly Caster-Types – are naturally attuned to a certain kind of magic. Intermediate, even some beginner mages such as yourself can cast multiple spells of different types, but there will always be that one branch of magic that will work better for you than any other. That's why most mages use only one or two types of magic: it's easier for them and they can cast the spells at their fullest potential.

You just have to find yours."

The green-eyed mage kept staring at the shopkeeper. The compliment and its soft delivery – very much unlike what Acnologia would do – sent a small pulse of warmth through his body.

"Making mistakes isn't bad, it's learning from them that truly counts."

'Father said something similar, didn't he?' thought Bahamut. Yes, he made a mistake, but now that he knew what it was, he could correct it, and next time he would do better.

"Well, now that you failed, you will reread that book and familiarize yourself with the feel of that magic. In the meantime, you can look through different magic books to see if there is something that you like better. After your chores of course."

Bahamut pouted in response, but the old man just let out a chuckle.

"But first, why don't we get you some new glasses?"

-OBW-

True to his word, the next day the Gaelich went out with Bahamut to get him some better glasses, but hearing about contact lenses, the child asked if he could get those instead, saying that they might interfere less in training. After the old man bargained with the salesman for a bit and telling him that the child was a mage, Bahamut was given a box of reinforced lenses, designed for mages so that they are very durable and needed very little cleaning.

Getting them on the eye was a pain though, not that Bahamut would admit that to anyone.

The young mage started practicing his magic right after that, both in his father's teachings and Plasma Magic. Having managed to reconvince the old man to allow him to use the basement again (under supervision of course), he took that day's advice to heart and tried to familiarize his magic flow with that of the Plasma Magic's, which was met with…limited success.

After managing to successfully cast a plasma bolt in the basement, the shopkeeper asked how he felt and asked if he managed to learn another spell. Bahamut said that he was working on two more spells, but he gave this answer for the former question:

"I feel fine but…I get this weird feeling every time I try to use them. They work really well, but the magic flow feels sometimes a little…bumpy, I think?"

The old man reassured him however that he needed a just little more time and practice to get used to the feel of the magic, and for that he needed to either learn more spells or use the magic n a different way. All the while reminding him that if it didn't work out, he could try and look for other types of magic, but these all had their own issues:

First of all, while the bookstore did have a nice collection of magical tomes, it was rather small, so the options given to him were limited.

Second of all, if he did manage to find a more compatible magic, he would naturally need to practice it. But practice, especially with magic, can leave more than a few marks on its surroundings, as seen during his first attempt.

An underground basement under an old house would only hold up for so long, stone walls or no.

As such, Bahamut needed both more options for learning and a place to train.

The shopkeeper told Bahamut of this predicament, and both of them tried to think up a solution. It was then that an idea got into the young mage's head.

"Um…Crocus is the capital city, right?"

"…Yes"

"The king lives in the capital city, right?"

"Yes. The Royal Palace lies in the center of city."

"The king has guards and soldiers to protect him, and they probably know magic right?"

"While I'm not sure about the soldiers, the royal family does have mages in its employ."

"Then they need a place to train as well, right? I can find out where it is and use it."

The shopkeeper blinked in surprise at the young mage's flow of logic.

"How did you think of that?"

"I…I read about the city in a book once and since the king is important, he needs to be strong, or to have someone strong be with him."

"…One problem with your idea. How are you going to convince the king of Fiore to let you, a boy from the streets, use what is most likely his Royal Guard's personal training grounds?"

Bahamut scratched his head in response and tried to respond, but nothing came to mind. He dropped his head in frustration and tried to think of something else.

'What do I do? If this keeps up, I won't be able to learn magic properly and I'll never see my father again! He'll…He'll…'

A thought then sparked up inside Bahamut's head. His father was the Dragon King! The people here must know him! If he spoke to the guards, they would surely let him in.

But just as he was about to try and suggest the idea, a memory suddenly popped up in his head, from one of his first visits to Kilika with his father…

Bahamut was sitting on a bench in Kilika Town's small park, reading his newest book – a fairy tale – to pass the time. His father had gone off to get a few more things, and told him to stay put before giving him the book.

The child didn't mind at all; he was very happy. Acnologia may not be an affectionate father, but he always rewarded him with a book or two whenever they came here, provided that he behaved and followed his training.

The only thing that annoyed the green-eyed mage was that there were a couple of times when he had moved to grab a certain book and his father would refuse to buy it. He didn't even let him read it while in the store and wouldn't budge until Bahamut chose another book.

Most children would have sulked for the rest of the day, but not Bahamut. He always did what his father told him to do, and he never had any real possessions before he was adopted, so he valued what he already had more than other kids his age.

He was about to turn to the next page of the story when a voice spoke up from beside him.

"That's a nice book you have there. What is it?"

He looked to the source of the voice and me the eyes of a young boy who to be around his age, with messy dark-green hair, freckles and large brown eyes. He wore a striped t-shirt and green pants with sandals. A curious expression was on his face as he bent down a little to try and read the book's cover.

Now, Bahamut didn't answer him right away. This was the first time anyone his age spoke to him nicely, and his years of isolation (on both worlds) didn't exactly help his social skills. Acnologia wasn't really much of a conversationalist.

The child kept staring at the newcomer, unsure what to do, when he spoke up again.

"Um…hello? What are you reading?"

Bahamut snapped back into focus and saw that the green-haired child was staring at him.

"Oh, h-hi. I'm reading 'The Rainbow Mist'". The green-haired kid perked up in excitement and smiled.

"Really? I've heard of that story but I never saw it at the bookstore! Can I read with you?"

Now Bahamut was taken aback at the child's excitement. Read with him? "What do you mean?"

"You turn the pages, and I'll just read over your shoulder" said the kid as he climbed on the bench and sat next to Bahamut, head just over the black-haired child's shoulder.

"…do you want me to start at the beginning?"

And so it was that anyone who passed by the park that day saw two children sitting on a bench behind a red book, occasionally sneaking peeks at one another. When they reached the end of the story, Bahamut closed the book and the other kid smiled.

"That was a great story! Thank you for letting me read with you."

"Uh…you're welcome." The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching the people stroll by. The green-haired boy then asked:

"I haven't seen you before. Are you new here?"

Bahamut shook his head. "No, my father and I sometimes come here to buy things."

"Oh. My mom and I live close by, near the woods. We don't have a dad."

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know. A few years ago, he just…left" the child replied in a sad tone.

"I'm sorry. Then I'm like you, but I don't have a mom. It's just me and father."

"Did he get you the book?" Bahamut nodded. "That's cool. My mom always gets me new stuff if I'm good. She helps me a lot, even though she always seems sad."

Bahamut smiled at the admiring tone the child used. "She sounds like a nice person. My father doesn't talk to me a lot. He never smiles…but he shows me a lot of cool stuff and he trains me."

The brown-eyed child's eyes widened in awe. "He trains you? Is he a mage? That is awesome! Mages are so cool!"

"Father's better than a mage" replied Bahamut in excitement. "He's a- "

"BAHAMUT!"

The yell made both boys turn to see the blue-haired Dragon King standing at the entrance in front of them, arms crossed and a tiny sliver of anger in his eyes.

"We're leaving!"

The young mage, surprised by his father's appearance, nonetheless jumped off the bench and began to walk towards his father. After he took a few steps though, he turned around to see the green-haired kid staring at his father in shock, intimidated by his presence. He opened his mouth to say goodbye-

"NOW!"

Buuut his father's command took priority, so he ran to the Dragon King, who quickly took him by the arm and dragged him outside the town. Once they were at their usual arrival/departure point in the woods, Acnologia finally let go of his son's arm, who winced (ever so-slightly) at the feeling of his father's grip.

The older male quickly turned to look at Bahamut. "Next time we come here, you will not leave my presence. You will not speak to anyone without my permission, understood?"

The young mage grew frightened at his father's angry tone. "W-why? What did I do? I just spoke to him and –"

"Then you should pay more heed to what you say! Your words could have brought upon us an unwanted heap of trouble!"

"Why didn't you tell me this before? How was I supposed to know!?" Bahamut asked in frustration, his voice rising with each word.

The Dragon King narrowed his eyes at his son's remark and straightened his body, his tone biting with each word that he spoke. "Watch. Your. Tone. WHELP."

It was then that Bahamut knew, he screwed up. His father was never this angry. He gulped in fear and stood frozen in place, hugging the book to his chest, awaiting whatever punishment he would be dealt.

But it never came. The duo just stood there, eyes locked with each other's.

Acnologia then let out a mix of a growl and a frustrated sigh, before returning his gaze to his usual, emotionless one.

"As you know, I am the most powerful being in this world. Long before you arrived to my mountain, I ruled the skies of this land. The beat of my wings would freeze armies in terror, my visage would paralyze the bravest of warriors, and my power was – and always will be – unparalleled. Everyone knew my name, and would dread its very utterance."

Bahamut nodded to show he was listening.

"Consequently, the humans grew fearful and jealous of my might. They just would not accept that someone could be more powerful than any of them, so once in a while they would send someone or more to try and slay me. Naturally, they all failed."

Bahamut nodded again. "Eventually, these attacks dwindled to a near halt and I secluded myself in Mt. Zonia for some peace and quiet. But the humans – the educated ones at least – still remembered me, if not by name, then by description of my dragon form."

Acnologia then pointed at his son and his voice became sterner. "Should anyone find out about the fact that you are my son, the word will pass on to someone who knows of me, and they will stop at nothing to hunt us down. I can kill any number of them with ease, but you are vulnerable."

Bahamut's eyes widened in horror at that revelation. "You cannot tell anyone about our connection. Should you talk to anyone, do not tell them my name or my true nature. It will save us a lot of unnecessary headaches and prevent delays in your training. If by any chance something will come up that will reveal my true nature, tread cautiously and trust no one.

Am I clear?"

The boy nodded, trying to control his shaking body. He would never disobey his father.

"Good. Let this be another lesson unto you: power attracts others, and sometimes this can be very unwelcome. If it can be an asset, use it. If it proves a liability, hide your strength unless you wish to end your opponent. For power can attract enemies, and underestimating your enemy can be a person's greatest weakness.

Never. Show. Weakness."'

Bahamut immediately shut his mouth and mentally hit himself for even thinking about using his father's name for such a thing. How could he forget such an important lesson!? He couldn't trust anyone here, not even the shopkeeper. There's no telling what might happen to him.

He looked up to see the old man looking at him with a quizzical expression. "It's nothing."

While Gaelich wasn't entirely convinced, he just nodded. Everyone has secrets, after all.

"Well…if the Royal Grounds are out of the question, why don't you use your free time to take a look around the city? It'll help you find your way around here and you might just find something that could help you on the way."

The young mage looked up at him with a glint of hope in his eyes. "Do you think so?"

The shopkeeper just shrugged. "It's a crazy world out there kid, and it can get even crazier when it comes to magic. Mix that with the capital, and practically anything is possible."

-OBW-

The month passed and Bahamut could safely say that he had settled into a routine here in the capital. Every morning he would get up, eat something to start the day and go down stairs to help Gaelich with the shop. After lunchtime, he would go down to the basement with the shopkeeper and practice with his magic and an altered version of his father's training regimen. After the training, which didn't last for more than a couple of hours each time, he would go back to reading whatever book that was in his room (and not just the magic books) or keep helping with the shop. Once or twice a week, after his training was done and Gaelich didn't assign him any more work, he would follow the old man's suggestion and go out to explore the city.

Crocus was huge. Possibly the biggest city in Fiore. He only managed to explore a third of it up until now, but even the small part he lived in still amazed him every time he left the shop. True to its moniker "The Flower Blooming Capital", flowerbeds were everywhere; from the streets and roads to the rooftops and rafters. They painted the entire city in a kaleidoscopic pattern of bright colors, never seeming gloomy, even at nighttime. Shops, taverns and apartments were everywhere Bahamut went, with people flowing in the streets like a human river. He had nearly gotten lost the first time he went out, but he quickly managed to mentally plot the location of the bookshop.

The young mage had seen other bookshops of course, some of them larger than Gaelich's, but none of them sold magic tomes, or the shopkeepers just told him to leave. That was rather annoying, but there was nothing he could do about it except keep on searching.

It wasn't a total loss; rather, it was during one of those trips that he discovered something very important – the existence of Mage Guilds.

Mage Guilds were organizations made up of mages (who else?) that were scattered throughout Fiore and answered to the government. These guilds would receive job requests that guildmembers could accept and get paid in return. A lot of powerful mages came from guilds and helped to establish their respective guild's reputation and strength. Bahamut was very intrigued by the concept of these guilds, and should he have heard about them anywhere else, he might've been inclined to try and join one.

As it turned out though, the book (which was up-to-date as far as the child could tell) mentioned that no guild existed in the capital as a way of maintaining an equal business balance between the guilds, since a guild in the city with the most people would naturally receive the most requests, regardless if the mages there were powerful or not. Along with that, all the other guilds were too far away from the capital to go to on a daily basis.

'That's a shame' thought Bahamut as he read the paragraph. 'It's not too bad though. I like it here and I learn magic well enough at the bookstore. But I need to find a way I can actually use my magic and not just practice.'

Currently Bahamut was jogging near the gate where he first entered the city. If he was outside, he might as well try and make the most of every time, after all. The gateway was flooded with caravans and merchants seeking to sell their produce in and out of the city. The guards were directing the traffic flow and talking to the merchants animatedly as they inquired them about their goods, their intentions, etc. The ones that passed the gates entered a large roundabout that led to the various districts and neighborhoods.

The young mage passed by said roundabout when he noticed something that he hadn't seen before. On one of the buildings, a tavern to be precise, was a billboard with several pages stuck to it. What made it unusual though was that some tough-looking men walked up to it and eyed one of the papers, before tearing it from the wall. His eyes followed them as they went to one of the stalls and talked with the merchant there. After a few minutes of discussion, which Bahamut was unable to hear due to the sound of the masses, the merchant and one of the men shook hands and parted ways.

His curiosity piqued, the child went over to the billboard and saw what was written on a good portion of the pages:

Caravan Guard/s Needed!

Will Pay Well!

A grin slowly crept up on Bahamut's face. Now this looked like an interesting prospect…

-OBW-

Potter Mansion, 1989

Nighttime

A cloud of depression had settled over the grand Potter Estate. The laughter and joy that once filled its halls has been noticeably subdued over the past couple of months. What took its place was an aura of sadness and emptiness, screaming and accusing its denizens of the most horrible thing that they have ever done.

In the master bedroom, Lily Potter was asleep, her husband missing from her side; a common occurrence these past couple of months. Ever since the incident that fateful Christmas Eve, James Potter had used his influence and connection with the head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, to discreetly conduct a country-wide search for Harry, with the help of Dumbledore and Sirius. Sirius was naturally distraught when he had heard the news, and was doing his best to search every nook and cranny in Britain for his godson Harry. Thanks to Dumbledore's political prowess and Amelia's competence, the entire search was kept under close wraps, but they knew they couldn't hide this forever. When, not if, the wizarding public would get wind of what had happened, it would cause mass panic and concern due to Harry's status.

Lily was tossing and turning in her sleep, a frown crossing her beautiful features and mutterings escaping from her lips, as a horrible scene played out in her mind…

"Stand aside, foolish girl" a black-robed man commanded with a snake-like voice.

"NO! NOT HARRY! TAKE MY LIFE, NOT HIS!"

"I will not waste my power on you." Then he waved his wand and ropes sprung from the tip, binding the woman and pinning her to the ground. She tried to move, to do anything to try and stall him, but all she could do was watch as the foul creature approached the crib that held her baby.

"Now no one shall stop me! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A sickly green light illuminated the room, drowning out the screams of a desperate mother.

"HARRY!"

Lily leaped up from the bed wide-eyed as she searched for her wand, only to stop when she registered the surroundings. She wasn't in Godric's Hollow, she was in the manor. She was alive, James was alive and Harry…Harry was…

(Schindler's List – Main Theme)

Her heart was filled with sadness as the harsh truth reared its ugly head. Harry, her baby boy, was missing and she had no idea where he is. She hoped every night she would wake up and find out that these past 6 years concerning him was a bad dream, that her husband and children were all living together under one roof in happiness, as they should've been. But the nightmares, which were appearing in constant frequency ever since that night, awoke her to the harsh reality of the world.

She grabbed her wand from the nightstand and waved it, whispering a spell. A large book appeared out of thin air and landed on the bed. She reached out and opened it to a picture that caused tears to drop from her eyes, all the while a sad smile adorned her face. It was the picture of her and James, holding and kissing an infant Harry, who was waving at the camera with an innocent smile on his face.

Lily kept tracing her finger lovingly on her son's image, desperately trying to recall the warmth and joy she had felt while holding him, but that too has eluded her after so many years. She tried to recall his laugh, his giggles, his expression of delight when he climbed on his toy broom for the first time, but those became harder and to remember as the days passed by.

'I have failed as a mother. How could I abandon my own son? Why didn't I stand my ground when Dumbledore and James talked to me about this?'

There was no excuse for what she did. Not one, single, thing. She was even ashamed of herself for trying to even think of one. A mother never abandons her child, no matter what happens or who gets in the way. And she failed at that.

Both as a mother and a person.

'What would my mother think, rest her soul? She took care of me, supported me and loved me even after she found out I was a witch. She never abandoned me, she never even abandoned Petunia for Merlin's sake!'

Her eyes narrowed in anger in thought of her hateful sister. Petunia was always jealous of her for being a witch. She tried so hard to reconnect with her, but she was always rebuffed with screams and glares. She would've kept on trying to communicate with her if it wasn't for the war.

A dark thought crept into her head and something clicked. If Petunia hated magic and Dumbledore gave Harry to her then…

She quickly banished that thought from her head. Her sister was spiteful, true, but she would never go to such lengths, no matter how much she hated her…right?

Not that Harry should've ever been left with her in the first place, but even so!

She was broken from her thoughts when she heard the bedroom door open. She looked up and saw her husband entering the room. He took off his auror robes and cast a floating candle to shed some light. The man sat down by her side, giving her a strong hug.

"Any luck?" she asked in a soft tone.

James shook his head. "No, but I might have a few ideas. If not those, then I'll start searching outside the country."

She gave him a grateful smile, albeit one filled with sadness. "Please, whatever you do don't give up."

"I would never dream of it."

She looked back down at the photo and held her husband's hand. "Are the twins asleep?"

"Yes, I checked up on them before I came here. Didn't look like they had any nightmares, so there's that."

A phantom knife twisted Lily's already broken heart. They tried hiding the terrible news from Ivy and William, hoping that by the time Harry's Hogwarts term would start, he would be found and all would be right again. Unfortunately, William was a smart child and recalled the patronus that flew in that evening, and confronted them in front of Ivy a week or so later. The parents caved in and told them what had happened, which left the twins in shock and disbelief. It morphed into worry as time passed, but a feeling of sadness and a tension had sprung up between them and the children. William was spending more time in the library, while Ivy would sometimes sit in her room and look out the window. The fact that James was absent most of these days and she was trying to find out more memories of Harry and assisting him didn't exactly help matters either.

Lily leaned onto James and started sobbing. "Our family is falling apart James! We need to do something!"

James hugged her tightly, rubbing her back with his hand. "I swear to you Lily-flower, I won't let our family fall apart. We'll find Harry and everything will be alright again. We'll finally be a family, and we will never abandon him."

Lily just kept sobbing, holding onto him for dear life.

-OBW-

In another room, Ivy Potter was lying in her bed staring out the window, as the full moon illuminated her room with an eerie glow. All the while her thoughts were turbulent. Luckily, she fooled her father into thinking she was asleep.

These turbulent thoughts were all gathered around her older brother Harry (who else?). She had been so looking forward to meet him all this time, and who could blame her? Between the fictional and sometimes outlandish descriptions those books in Diagon Alley gave and her parent's stories and memories, she couldn't wait for the day that she would meet her older brother for the first time.

Except now, that might never happen, no matter how much she would want to deny it.

When her parents came home after that message from Professor Dumbledore, they looked like they had seen something horrible. She and her twin tried to ask them if something was wrong, but after sharing a glance with dad, her mum just smiled and said everything was fine. She wasn't very convinced, and neither had been William, but she was willing to give her parents the benefit of the doubt.

Even that however was broken a week or so later when William asked them if the reason why dad had barely come home these past days had something to do with Harry. He mentioned the silver bird that flew through the window and asked them to tell him the truth.

She couldn't believe what her parents said. Harry was gone? It couldn't be! They said he was kept somewhere safe! They promised they would meet him when he went to Hogwarts! Even worse, when William kept asking them where Harry was staying, they told him that Harry was placed with Petunia, her magic-hating aunt! To top it all off, mom tried to defend herself by saying that Professor Dumbledore placed Harry there!

She might be six years old, even she recognized that such a decision was stupid.

The young Potter didn't even know what was going on anymore. Her parents were barely in the house, leaving her and William in the care of the family house-elves, and whenever she saw her mom, she would always be looking at some toy or a picture and would then burst into tears.

She gripped her blanket tightly as she came to a decision. She would find a way to bring Harry back. The adults didn't seem like they were making any progress, and William was constantly in the family library reading up on magic. She might be more of a prankster than her twin, but her father always said that they were both as smart as their mother. She would help William find Harry, even if they had to do it without their parents' help.

-OBW-

A kingdom to the north, X775

The forest around him was burning. Screams and wails of despair filled the air. Bolts of magic flew above the burning houses and hit him, only to feel like fly touches.

Pitiful. They never manage to put up a good fight. But against him, who could?

He looked down to see that people were fleeing the destroyed town, all heading towards whatever part of the forest that didn't catch on fire yet. The ones who stayed were the local mages, who were currently pulling every spell in their arsenal to try and slay him, or to at least buy the others time.

One of the mages, who by human standards seemed pretty strong, raised his hand and screamed "Thunderclap Skywolf!"

A bolt of lightning struck the earth before him and formed into the shape of a giant wolf with blue fur, one as big as his head and neck, with gnarling teeth and a maw that spewed lightning and breathed thunder. Were they fighting another mage, they would have won with that spell.

Unfortunately for them, he needed to remind them that the Black Dragon of Apocalypse was no mere mage.

The wolf snarled and leapt at him with fangs bared, eager to tear out his flesh, but Acnologia grabbed the wolf by its snout and threw it across the forest. It got up and snarled at him once more, before dashing towards him in an instant and trying to bite him again. He turned to the side, only for the creature to discharge a lightning shockwave that nearly messed with his vision.

He growled angrily to himself as the wolf turned towards him, a glint of smugness in its eyes. 'How dare these impudent insects. Time to end this.'

With a beat of his mighty wings, Acnologia took to the sky. He flew above the smoke plumes and looked down with his enhanced vision to see the humans having hopeful looks on their faces, and the wolf's summoner looking smug. 'Oh, how do I enjoy watching their expressions morph into despair…' he thought as he opened his maw and a bright light illuminated the twilight sky.

'…when they realize there is no one in this world that can defeat ME!'

He fired his Roar onto the ground, where it exploded into a deathly blue light that devoured the town whole and some of the surrounding forest. The shockwave blew out the fires and flattened every tree within the area of a couple of leagues. After the explosion dissipated, all that was left was an enormous smoking crater, with not even a body remaining.

The Dragon King mentally smirked to himself and flew off, satisfied with his work.

A while later, he arrived to the familiar sight of the snow-covered Mt. Zonia. He descended onto his sleeping spot on the peak and transformed into his human form. He stretched a bit, a sadistic grin on his face as he imagined the despair on those pathetic mages faces. That was a nice end to the day.

He then leapt down the slope until he reached the mountainside cave, only to stop himself when he landed at the entrance and realized what he was doing.

'Right. The whelp isn't here.'

The reason why Acnologia was slightly frustrated (and thus prompted him to go and destroy the town) was the fact that ever since his son Bahamut left, he found himself doing things that he would usually do while he was here, like waiting at the bottom of the mountain. At first, he thought it to be nothing more than a reflex, but after it happened for the fifth time, he realized something:

He had grown used to the boy's presence.

He scoffed at first for even thinking of that notion. Him, the Dragon King, getting used to the presence of a mere human, even if said human was his adoptive son? Impossible. It was just a reflex, something that would wear off in a week or two.

But now…as he looked inside the cave, he could feel it devoid of his son's presence. The meat in the side of the wall had been thrown out, and there was no firepit in the cave. Even the books near his fur blanket were starting to gather dust.

He growled in frustration. This was both stupid and beneath him. Maybe another flight would do the trick. He was Acnologia, he needed no one.

Just as he was about to leave though, something caught his sharp eye, standing near the pile of books.

It was the wooden carving Bahamut had given to him when he dropped him off on that road, his supposed birthday present. He placed it there with the whelp's other possessions, but other than that he had forgotten about it.

Acnologia found himself unconsciously moving towards the carving and picking it up, looking at it from all over. Like before, it was the image of a dragon curled around a small human, done in very basic detail. He looked to his hand and was surprised (on the inside of course) that he was holding the carving gently, as though not to break it. He looked back at the carving and stared at it, and the barest flicker of a flash of…something sparked in him, before disappearing like it was never there.

The corners of his lips twitched very slightly upwards as he shook his head. "Hn. Damn whelp."

He placed the carving on the floor and was about to turn around when suddenly, he sensed a very familiar magic right behind him. The blue-haired mage turned around sharply and his eyes narrowed at the sight of someone he never hoped to see, who was standing on the cave's entrance, looking at the walls like he hadn't a care in the world.

He tensed his body and spoke in a low tone. "What do you want…

Black Wizard?"

-OBW-

Boy-Who-Lived Missing?

Rita Skeeter

Fellow witches and wizards, the other day, this reporter was in her office when she came across a startling piece of information: Lord James Potter was talking to Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE) about the status of his missing son, Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived!

As we all know, the infant Harry Potter defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on that fateful night on October 31st, 1981, freeing all of the Wizarding World from those dark times. He was supposedly taken away by Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Headmaster of Hogwarts for his safety against followers of You-Know-Who and for training.

Despite numerous inquiries, the location of our savior was kept secret by both the Potters and Dumbledore. It was easy to assume so for security reasons, but now that he is missing, this reporter cannot help but ask if every effort was made to ensure the safety of young Harry Potter, as he went missing despite said "protections".

After careful investigation, it came as a shock to this reporter that the Boy-Who-Lived was placed with Muggles! Yes, that's right, Albus Dumbledore left young Harry Potter with Muggles! This reporter and naturally the wizarding public cannot explain how one of the most prominent heirs of Magical Britain was placed with Muggles, most likely ignorant of his heritage and without the childhood he deserved.

But an even bigger shock came to this reporter when she learnt that the Potter heir went missing after the Muggles' house was set aflame! From conversations between Lord Potter and his friends, as well as inquiring the locals, this reporter deduced that on Christmas Eve, the house was suddenly set aflame with no explanation, and the Boy-Who-Lived mysteriously vanished. No magic was reported to be used at the scene. This raises distressing concerns whether Albus Dumbledore is fit to protect not only the Boy-Who-Lived, but our children learning in Hogwarts.

This reporter, along with other upstanding members of our society, will try and figure out the mystery of what happened to the Boy-Who-Lived.

More on Harry Potter, see pg. 3.

More on The Potters, see pg. 5.

More on Albus Dumbledore, see pg. 9.


Multiple twists in this chapter! What do you all think?

Anyone who notices the God of War reference in this chapter will get a cookie! (Honestly, the game fits with my story so well that I'm trying to avoid plagiarism). There was also one other character here that was referenced, if only by looks. Guess who?

I did receive a comment that Plasma Magic is a little too 'generic', but rest assured I put thought into this decision. Bahamut learning a forbidden magic or even an advanced magic right off the bat seems a little off for me, and I don't want to make him learn a lot of magic types because of...well, it says so in the chapter.

I should point out that the OMAKE CHALLENGE I posted before is still active. No one has sent me anything. If you guys can think of something, be sure to PM me!

Read and Review!