Chronicle of Scales: Dragkyn Rising | By : BrutalTrvth Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 32267 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5 |
Disclaimer: The magical world of Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling. Therefore I don't own it. I'm also not getting paid for this. |
Twin roars shook the small cottage as a young woman, barely past being a girl, cradled her infant son to her breast. Lightning flashed outside, briefly illuminating the blacked out nursery, even though the sky outside was clear and full of stars. The lightning was accompanied by a sharp crack of thunder, which was answered by a pain-filled roar. A moment later two enormous bodies smashed together, accompanied by the harsh sound of bone scraping across metal, jaws snapping closed, and trees splintering as they shattered under titanic weights.
“Shhh, Harry, it will be all right,” Lily promised as she began to bounce her now screaming son. “It will all be all right. Your father will make the bad man go away, you’ll see.”
Outside came one last scream, like a trumpet full of blood. It was a sound that Lily had never heard before, but one that she recognized instantly. It was the sound of a promise being made into a lie. It was the sound of her heart breaking.
It was the sound of her husband’s murder.
Lily stood up quietly and carried Harry back to his crib, just as the front door creaked open. James had promised to oil the hinges later that weekend, but now that would never happen. She tucked her son under his blankets, making sure that he was wrapped nice and snug as heavy foot steps stomped their way up the stairs. The steps grew quieter as their owner reached the thick carpet at the top of the landing. Lily turned to face the nursery door, drew her wand, and waited.
The door knob turned slowly and silently, then the door swung open to expose a towering figure clad in black robes. In the darkness he looked human, but Lily knew that was wrong. She could picture the way his legs must have bent backwards at the wrong angle as they supported a body that seemed hunched over, unbalanced. It was the lack of a tail, really. Lily had never seen a dragkyn in their hybrid form before, but dating one had made her intently curious and she had studied everything she could about them back in Hogwarts.
Dragkyn. Half human, half dragon, the descendents of curious beasts and curious humans who had found love in one another’s arms, or at least a night of passion. The resulting children were the most powerful of the mixed-blood, not only seeing an increase in their magical capabilities, but often developing an amazing array of individual powers. The most common was the ability to shape shift; all dragkyn could take the form their draconic parent, and most could even morph into a hybrid form. For the majority it was just the ability to twist their arms and legs into claws and talons as their body covered their body in scales. Some of the most powerful could manage wings, though they were often too heavy and clumsy for real flight, but were instead better suited to gliding. Only the rarest souls could manage an actual tail, even though it was necessary to properly balance the weight and bounce of their wings.
So it was, in a way, oddly calming to see that her husband’s killer lacked a tail, as if it were physical proof that the Dark Lord wasn’t as terrible as he claimed. Lily raised her wand. “That’s far enough, Voldemort.”
The Dark Lord scoffed and took one more defiant step into the room. His black robes unfolded into eight foot wide wings, completely blocking the last avenue of escape. Emerald scales glittered in the moonlight as it danced across his arms and chest, as if he were wearing a suit of armor crafted from the finest jewels. Voldemort raised his own wand and hissed, “Move aside, girl. Your foul life does not need to end this night.”
“No.” Lily silently cursed the tremble in her voice. “I have already summoned the Order. You cannot hope to fight them all. You cannot have my son!”
“And so you think to play for time.” Voldemort sounded almost disappointed. “Your Order will not save you. My followers have made sure of that. Your husband’s bloodline ends here, now. But you do not have to. So I tell you for a second time, move aside!”
‘Why is he hesitating?’ Lily shook her head. “No. I give my life, that you may never harm my son.”
“So be it!!” Voldemort snarled as he lunged forward. Lily’s lips parted as she prepared her spell, but the Dark Lord was simply too quick. The spell died in a blood-choked gasp as Voldemort’s claws plunged into Lily’s chest and ripped through her heart. All Lily could do was stare at him as the light slowly left her eyes. She found just enough will left to spit on his cheek. Voldemort hissed and squeezed her heart tighter, bursting it with his bare hand.
So passed Lily Evans Potter.
Voldemort pulled his claw from her chest, watching dispassionately as her corpse slumped to the ground. A flick of his claw scattered more gore over the rapidly spreading puddle of blood soaking into the carpet. He stepped carefully over her body and towards the crib and looked down at its tiny occupant. “What fools these mortal be, that they think to bargain for lives that were never theirs to begin with. The deer never seeks to bargain with the lion for the fawn, for it knows it has nothing to offer. You are either strong enough to take what you desire, or weak and therefore prey for those who will take from you. And now it ends, the long thread of silver.”
It would have been easy to just kill the child. The Dark Lord had more than enough options at hand. He could crush the infant’s soft skull between his fingers, or rip the boy’s lungs from his chest. There was the silver dagger hanging from the Dark Lord’s waist, eager to be plunged into young Harry’s stomach so that it might feast once more on a child’s blood. But Voldemort had always suffered from a flair for the dramatic. It would not do to simply end one of the wizarding world’s last great bloodlines, to let it slip quietly into darkness like a ship sinking beneath the waves. The end of power required power, not just to send it to death, but to consign it to oblivion.
“Avada kedavra!”
There was a flash of green light, followed by an explosion. For a brief moment a titan’s rage echoed throughout the sleepy village of Godric’s Hollow. The roof of the Potter home erupted upwards, filling the air with splinters like some sort of wooden volcano. The first neighbors to respond quickly ducked back under porches and awnings, looking for any shelter from the deadly rain. Smoking debris continued to plummet earthwards for several minutes, until the last piece splashed into a backyard pool.
Those living closest to the ruins gathered in the street as they debated whether to enter the house or to wait for the authorities. The argument grew more and more heated, until the one thing guaranteed to draw action occurred.
Somewhere in the midst of all that horror, a baby began to cry.
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