Chapter 1:
An eleven-year old boy laid in bed, he tightly hugged a stuffed white dragon to his chest and tried his best to fall asleep. For several years now he had been getting these dreams of a sad girl in a false world ruled by unforgiving, endless cold. It took many attempts before he was able to reach out to her and reveal his presence.
The sad girl with bizarre yet beautiful features, remained distant and apprehensive no matter how hard he tried to become her friend. Yet, people didn't coin the terms, Potter Luck or Charm, for no reason. His mom always did say he was a handsome and charming young boy who would surely grow up to be a notorious lady killer. Or was that his uncle Sirius? Both, Harry decided.
Harry only saw a lonely girl in need of a friend no matter the differences between the two. Not to mention the infatuation within him that only seemed to grow exponentially with every visit. Harry was utterly enchanted by the girl who introduced herself as Priscilla, a crossbreed?. Harry was floored to learn that humans were capable of mixing with dragons. There was also something so magical about having a dream pen pal. Pretty sure only I have one in the entire world.
Oh, I'm getting sleepy. The excitement at seeing his friend once more caused a rush of energy to flow through him. He felt his young body begin to regain its youthful energy, much to his dismay. Bugger. Nevermind, here we go.
The Painted World of Ariamis, Time Unknown
"Harry?" A dainty, stern voice called out to him. "Harrrry?"
"One more minute, Mom. Please?" Harry murmured as he rolled over and reached for his pillow. Reaching out he grabbed the fluffiest object to ever exist and he was certain it was. The texture was like the untouched, pure mane of a unicorn but magnitudes better. It was refreshing, like the cold side of a pillow and just what he was hoping to find.
A loud squeal tore Harry from his rest, he sprung up to his feet ready for a fight. Instead of finding himself in his room at the Potter Manor, he was in the beloved home of his friend. Speaking of her, Priscilla stood a few feet away from him, red-faced and breathing heavily while clutching her forbidden tail. Harry kicked himself, he had the object of his desires in his hands yet he was not lucid enough to enjoy the experience.
"Sorry, Pris. I thought I was back home and yeah.." He finished lamely, rubbing the back of his head. She let go of her tail and Harry watched in longing as it disappeared into her white dress.
Priscilla glared at him but it faltered after a few moments. She had no friends and the thought of her only companion leaving because she ran him off was mortifying. "You are forgiven, commit this grave sin no more lest you suffer my wrath."
Harry kneeled and reached for her hand. "Of course, my lady. A thousand apologies." Priscilla giggled as he kissed the back of her hand repeatedly. "Please don't punish this foolish mortal, I have a hard time understanding thy speech. I did not know the tail was off limits."
Priscilla harrumphed and pulled her hand away. "I have endeavored to teach you my nobler tongue. It is no fault of mine that you are too simple-minded to grasp it." Harry never asked for her age but he was under the impression that Priscilla was around the same age as him. Harry saw her speech change over the years as she picked up his dialect.
Back then he struggled to understand half the things she said but thankfully that resolved itself over time. This line of thought weighed on him heavily when he realized the reason why– Priscilla had no one else to speak to. Remnants remained however even after all their years together. Harry didn't pick hers up simply because his family ended any chance of it ever happening.
"I told you. Your bloody lessons had me sounding like an uptight pureblood wanker. My family laughed at me for weeks straight. They still do." Harry groaned in embarrassment, remembering the time he accidentally referred to Sirius as… Those memories were better left forgotten. Sirius had a field day. Harry figured it might have been his uncle's disdain for pureblood customs. Sirius sure was motivated to stamp out any burgeoning thoughts of blood supremacy in his nephew, even if Harry never fancied any thought of them.
He didn't know the full story but he eavesdropped on their conversation once. Sirius was raised with hardcore supremacist views and the belief that House Black was the Wizarding World's royal family. They certainly carried themselves as such if the stories were to be believed.
Priscilla looked at him oddly. "What is there to mock? It is far more refined and steeped in elegance."
Harry sighed. "I told you, this way of speaking fell out of use a long time ago. You'll sound stuck up, it is a very pretentious way of speaking in my world. Only nobility during ceremonial events speak like that." He laid back down onto the snow and watched it fall slowly from the grey sky. "You told me you were part of the royal family too, right? I can see why you would."
Priscilla turned away from him, feigning an interest in the snowy scenery. "I… Aye, I am of their blood…" Harry frowned at her sudden change in demeanor.
"Hey, was it something I said? I'm willing to give it another shot if you want me to learn how to speak Old English. I'll have to try twice as hard to make sure I don't let it slip out again but I can certainly do it." Harry quickly said, hoping it would make her happy. He hated seeing her in a bad mood.
His friend remained silent. "You were right, ok? Your fancy speech is way better than my peasant garbling. You can continue teaching me now if you want. I will be fluent by the end of this dream, I promise." Harry carefully reached out to touch her shoulder.
"It is nothing so simple… I have no family." Priscilla said softly with a slight quaver in her voice. Turning around, he could see her red-rimmed eyes glistening with unshed tears. "None, not since the day I was cast away. I only spoke lies. This is no home but my prison." Finally, she unleashed the tears she'd been holding back into her knees as she curled up into a ball.
"What? What do you mean this is a prison?" Harry looked around but didn't notice anything that indicated she was barred in here. No iron bars were keeping her in nor were there any shackles strapped to her body. Unless… Unless it was some sort of magical trap. Harry thought to himself. "Where are the guards?"
She pulled her head out of her knees to look at him. Her beauty caused Harry's breath to catch in his throat. Pale, porcelain skin with bright green slitted eyes just like his. He considered them vastly superior to his own even if he liked to claim otherwise when they got into one of their heated arguments. White scales of immortality that adorned her face and neck.
"A monstrous knight lingers further down the lower bridge… but the true wardens? They lie outside the confines of this painting, guarding the sole entrance." She explained hoarsely. Memories of white-cloaked warriors scattered throughout a temple briefly passed through her mind. Graceful, deadly, and nimble warriors with no other purpose besides stopping any intruders trying to reach the home of the gods.
"Painting? You're saying I'm in a painting, or we both are?" Harry's young mind had trouble wrapping his mind around these ground-breaking revelations. "How?"
"I don't know but strange sorcery was required to craft it. Lord Ariamis was a well known artist who crafted prison paintings where Anor Londo could incarcerate the worst of the worst. I just never thought I was deserving of such a fate." She gazed at her scythe with forlorn. She had extensively warned him of its dangers, but it wasn't enough to scare him off, much to her surprise and happiness.
"Magic." Harry whispered. He grew up in a magic household and was aware of its existence. In fact, he was expecting his letter from Hogwarts soon. His mother wanted to keep it a surprise but she sometimes regaled him with stories of the grand magical castle that were enough to fuel the imagination of two hyperactive children. Priscilla enjoyed those along with the tales of King Arthur and Camelot. "You were correct, they are the real monsters. Those people are the ones who need to be in here not you. How much longer do you have in here?"
"If I leave, my life is forfeit." Harry reeled back in horror. The thought of someone wanting to kill his friend was horrifying. Sure, a dark lord had tried to kill him and his sister when they were babies but he couldn't remember the night. The concept of death was yet foreign to him.
"They can't do that! What about your family?" Harry hugged her tightly. "How could they allow this! Did something happen to them?" What kind of family would do this to one of their own?
"My kin are lords, powerful and proud, ruling from their seat in Anor Londo. Many call them gods... I lived there for a time, until the lifehunt awakened within me. I have spoken to you of its peril. When the scythe appeared, they deemed my presence a threat—a danger to everyone. Many called for my death, branding my gift as heresy. Yet my mother pleaded with Lord Gwyn to spare me. Thus was my life spared… and I was cast out instead." Priscilla's voice had become monotone, her tears long dried up.
Harry was about to curse these gods with every naughty word the Marauders had taught him, but a slender pair of arms wrapped around his waist and all thoughts of bad-mouthing faded into nothing. "I… I'm really sorry to hear that. Why did you never tell me?"
She avoided looking into his eyes. "I did not wish to burden you with my personal woes. I feared you might do something stupid." She knew his corporeal body wasn't in the painting nor was it in the world outside. They both came to the conclusion that he was simply from another world. However, she wasn't sure what might happen if he jumped down the bridge so it was another secret she planned to keep for herself. If only to protect her only friend.
She looked up and had to hold back her laugh after seeing his indignant face. "I am your sworn knight, Lady Priscilla. It is also my duty as a friend to worry about your well-being. Those gits, they can go shove all that holiness up their bums."
"Harry!" Priscilla felt herself go a little faint from hearing such crass language. A dignified lady like herself wasn't used to hearing someone speak in such a vulgar manner before. It was clear to her that someone in his world was acting as a bad influence.
"It's true. Remember, you knighted me a few years ago so it's kind of my job." Harry pressed on.
"That was just a silly game we were playing." Priscilla said, immediately regretting her words.
Harry looked at her with hurt so painfully visible in his eyes. "So you don't want me to be your knight anymore?"
"No, no. I do wish for you to be my knight and… companion." She hurriedly said. "I will not see you harmed for my sake. My kin are ruthless and possess great strength. Do not worry about me, prithee."
"Harry! Time to wake up!" He could hear the voice of Lily Potter echoing around him. It seemed only he could hear her voice as Priscilla never made a mention of it in all the years he spent with her.
"I discovered a stream teeming with fish in the mountain across the bridge. Do you wish to catch some with me?" Priscilla abruptly changed subjects. Visibly uncomfortable with the talks of her estranged family.
"Next time for sure." Harry said, with a final hug he was pulled back towards his body. Time flies by way too fast when I sleep.
Potter Manor, Location Unknown, Somewhere in England
"Harry, dear, I have something for you here. Iris has hers already so go ahead and join her in the dining room. The elves made eggs, sausage, and bacon but remember to go easy on the pumpkin juice, ok?" Lily Potter told him as she patted him on the cheek.
"I hear you, mum." Harry grabbed the letter and opened it to find what he'd been waiting for all his life. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "Sweet."
"Got one too? We were starting to think you were a squib." Iris quipped with a playful tone. "You should have seen the relief on mom's face." Harry snickered.
"Yes, we all got one. Settle down, girl wonder." Harry said as he took a sausage from her plate and devoured it.
"Hey!" Iris glared at him and reached for a bacon strip hanging off the edge of Harry's plate. Harry didn't bother to mount a rescue for it and instead took three more sausages from her plate in return.
"Mom! Harry is taking my food." Iris yelled at the top of her lungs. Harry would bemoan how whiny and dependent his sister had turned out. It didn't help that his parents always favored her which meant she got her way more often than not. All that girl-who-lived nonsense had gotten to her head.
"Mom is getting ready and Dad has already left for work. It's only you and me here, little sister. No daddy or mommy to help you." Harry yanked the bacon from his sister's grasp.
"I don't need them to deal with you." Iris replaced her stolen food from the overflowing dishes in the middle of the table. "Besides, you know I'm older than you, Harry. Mom and Dad said so." Harry knew she was right but it was fun to rile her up.
"They only said that because you threw a fit." Iris balled her hands into fists and glared impotently at her brother. Iris grew ever more resentful at her inability to beat Harry in a battle of wits. She was supposed to be the older sister and what a piss poor job she was doing.
"I'm going to tell Tonks." Iris said in a sing-song voice. Harry scoffed but became gravely silent at the threat. He held himself back from saying something no matter how much he wanted to silence his twin sister's snickering and smack the smug look off her face.
His sister's role model, Nymphadora Tonks, or also known as Tonks, was a force of nature. A sadistic and cruel woman who took pleasure in his pain, embarrassment, and shame. She had already graduated from Hogwarts and was well on her way to becoming an Auror. Harry made sure to steer clear of her when she visited.
Nymphadora was one of Iris' more annoying friends or acquaintances. In fact, he labeled every friend his sister had as pests. Ron Weasley was a mongrel with no manners, damn you Priscilla. Ginny Weasley was a little better than her brother. Hannah Abott and Susan Bones were tolerable but still girls.
Ernie Macmillan was a tool and a loser who only inflated his sister's already large enough ego. Daphne and Astoria were… the less said the better. Neville was okay but he was also a big pushover. The moral of the story was that Nymphadora was an evil witch who would get what was coming to her once Harry learned powerful magic.
Harry had once tampered with her dyes to give her permanent neon green hair as part of his initiation into the Marauders and his body still ached from phantom pains. Harry supposed he was perhaps being a little unfair in his description but the pain was nothing if not the truth. Priscilla lamented the cruelty the evil witch inflicted upon him when he complained to her and it led to some nice cuddles, about the only positive thing Tonks ever did for him, even if it was indirect.
"Time's up, let's go. If you're still hungry then I'll buy you something from Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. We need to get your wands and I need to stop by Gringotts so hurry up. Don't forget your coats." They both got up and filed out of the kitchen.
How hard could it be to defeat one of these lords? Harry asked himself. Surely you need great magical power, right? Can a lowly knight like myself really hope to ever defeat one? Who am I kidding, I can't even stand up to Tonks… Harry dejectedly walked through the floo, shoulders slumped pitifully.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm not sure if I want to use a short or long format. Short as in I briefly summarize the years he spends in Hogwarts. Or long where I flesh the years out more. As of right now, I'm leaning towards the short format but maybe something in the middle. I'm not a big fan of writing long dialogue sequences and mostly everyone is here for the Dark Souls bits. I'll think on it. The girl-who-lived might be an odd choice for this fic but there's a good reason why, IMO.