Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Ar Sciatháin Sciobtha	By : SenNightShade Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 12190 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, we also make no profits as well. But the Drayches and anything about them, belongs to myself and my partner.

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Here's the second Prologue! This answers all those questions we got in the reviews!

Prologue 2

Falls an Tiarna de Solas chun Scáth

~The Lord of Light Falls to Shadow~

June 20^th, 1980, 4:00 PM

Albus Dumbledore stared in blank surprise at the Wizard sitting across from him in his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He couldn’t have heard that right.

“You’re… leaving?” He asked hesitantly. James Potter nodded. “Leaving London?” he asked with no small amount of hope; the young Auror shook his head.

“Lily and I are leaving Britain, Albus,” he said, hazel eyes serious behind his smart, oval glasses. Albus felt a small surge of panic, pushed back by the firm grip he held over his Occlumency shields.

“May I ask why?” James sighed and dragged a hand through his naturally tousled black hair, face tightening with a look of such stark grief that Albus was taken aback.

“Lily lost the baby,” he said simply; Albus’ mind stuttered and came to a halt.

“What?” he whispered; James nodded, eyes brightening as he swallowed harshly, closing his eyes tightly.

“The Mediwitch said it was because of all the stress thanks to the war,” he said quietly. “That she’d been feeling too much pressure and worry and that it affected the baby until…” he couldn’t finish, and merely bowed his head with a deep sound of pain. Albus sat, stunned for a few moments, before he wrenched his mind back into gear, thoughts running furiously. He could not allow the youngest Auror in a century and a powerful Charms Mistress to leave in the middle of a war!

“I am so sorry for your loss, my boy,” he said quietly, getting up and walking around his desk to crouch before the distraught young man, placing a hand on his shoulder. James grabbed it and gripped it tightly as tears began to slide down his cheeks, looking up at the older man with grief-wild eyes.

“I don’t know what to do, Albus!” He gasped, voice choked. “Lily… Lily is inconsolable, she won’t even let me touch her! She just sits in the nursery and touches all of the baby’s things. I don’t know what to do…” he sobbed and Albus tightened his hand, and let him, a plan forming in his mind.

“I believe I have a solution,” he said quietly; James gave a shuddering, deep breath as he tried to calm himself, and looked up at the powerful Wizard with grief-filled eyes. “I have a colleague who will be giving birth soon,” he told the Auror quietly. “She is putting the child up for adoption. I am sure she would not mind if you were to receive the babe instead, and, I could even perform the Blood Adoption myself, so that only the four of us would be aware of the child’s true origins.” James stared up at him.

“A child…” he murmured. “I-I must go speak with Lily,” he said, scrambling to his feet, eyes bright with an intensity that had been sorely lacking since he had entered the Headmaster’s Office half an hour before. “Please, contact your friend, Albus, and tell her that we may be interested. I need to go now. Thank you, Albus, thank you so much!” With a tearful, grateful smile, the young Auror threw a handful of green ash into the fireplace, stepped into the resulting emerald flames, shouted out his desired destination, and spun away. Albus waited a few minutes, before he stood and strode to the armoire, reaching inside and pulling out a very special pale orange scroll, with an insignia that looked like a flying serpent on it. He carefully opened it, and picked up his favorite self-inking quill, and wrote a short message in bright, acid-green ink.

Must meet, have need of assistance, mutual satisfaction to be gained.

Phoenix

That finished, he pricked his thumb and dripped three bright red dollops of blood under his pseudonym, and watched as his message glowed gold before melting away, to rewrite themselves on an identical scroll in his colleague’s possession. He closed the scroll and set it aside, and sat back, tapping his age-narrowed fingers on his desk-top in silence as he peered around himself in contemplation. Perhaps I should redecorate, he thought absently. The orange scroll gave off a soft tinkling sound, like pieces of broken glass falling against a porcelain countertop, and the Wizard swiftly unrolled it to read the message within.

Two hours, usual place.

Better be worth it, old man.

Wolf Queen

Immensely pleased with the outcome of what could have been a dreadful day, Albus leaned back in his chair and finally allowed himself to relax, if only a little. An hour later, he was interrupted by James’ head in his fire, telling him that the Potters were definitely willing to adopt the child of his ‘colleague’ and that Lily was already getting back to her old self. At a quarter ‘til, the old Wizard dressed in what must have been his only set of black robes, hiding his waist-length white beard inside and keeping the hood the robes held up over his head. He tweaked the schools Wards and Disapparated with a sharp crack. He reappeared at the mouth of Knockturn Alley, and strode in without any hesitation, moving towards the darker areas until he reached a pub that had no name, and stepped inside, moving toward a table in the back, weaving through the hazy atmosphere and drunken Dark Wizards and Witches with ease until he reached his desired seat.

And the person already waiting for him there, clothed similarly, but with elegant black gloves added.

“Why you insist on this place to meet, I shall never understand, my dear,” he said quietly as he took his seat, and a feminine chuckle slid out from under the shadows of the deep cowl that hid his companions face.

“I like the atmosphere, old man,” she replied in a throaty, deep voice, idly dragging her index finger around the rim of her dirty glass of what looked like Firewhiskey. Albus chuckled softly and refrained from commenting further. “Now, what is this assistance you require, and what would I gain, hmm?” Dumbledore settled his elbows on the table, meshing his fingers and peered over them from beneath his own hood, blue eyes cold and serious.

“I need a newborn baby,” he said simply, calmly. “Preferably one of your ilk, and I need it by the thirty-first.” His companion was silent.

“And how exactly would this help me?” she asked, lifting her glass to take a sip.

“You would lose a competitor for your children,” he said simply, knowing exactly what the other would do to make sure her spawn would get a foothold in the world. “They would have an opening to step into, if you happen to bring me a child from one of the older families, that is.” She was silent, contemplating.

“The thirty-first you say?” she asked; Albus nodded once, simply. “May I inquire…?”

“You may not,” he said sharply, a spike of his magic making several patrons around them shift and glance over at them warily. “Beware, Guadalupe, you overstep your bounds.” His companion snorted and he got the feeling that she was sneering at him.

“Beware yourself, Albus, for you, too, tread where no mortal should. We are testing the Treaty and if we are caught-”

“We will not be,” Albus interrupted with the utmost confidence, voice firm and grim. “Now, do we have an agreement?” Silence, and then his companion gave a jerky nod.

“There is a child due on that day,” she informed him quietly. “I shall bring it to you.” They nodded to one another and stood, neither even attempting to offer the other their hand.

“Until then,” she said simply.

“Until then.” And Albus Disapparated, leaving the nameless Knockturn Alley pub with a pleased expression, unseen beneath his cowl.

His plans would still continue. Nothing had changed. Settling behind his desk, he popped a lemon drop in his mouth and gave a pleased hum, lacing his fingers together over his chest as he leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly. Now, all he had to do was wait until the thirty-first, and his colleague would provide the main instrument in his greatest chess game yet.

Tom wouldn’t know what hit him.

(Page Break)

July 31st, 1980, 1:55 AM

King Cadwaladr Fflamddwyn paced in the atrium outside of the room his Beta Queen, Tanwen Onllwyn, was secluded in, giving birth to what would be his second born child.

“Be calm, husband,” his Alpha Queen, Xiao-xing He-ping, said with exasperation in her voice, her scarlet-scaled golden arms wrapped around the sleepy form of their son, Cadwaladr’s Heir, Cynfaen, who bore mint green skin, dark green streaks in his wild mane of hair, and left acid green eye from his father, while carrying gold scales, fire red streaks to go with the green in his hair, and a right eye that was the same balefully bright yellow as his mothers. The seven-year-old had been bouncing off the walls not two hours before, eager to see his little brother or sister, but had since tuckered himself out. Cadwaladr flinched as a furious shriek rippled out from beyond the door that stood between him and his latest mate, and a snarl curved the King Drayches' lips, exposing his fangs, before he once again began to furiously pace, reaching up to drag his fingers through his messy, spiked emerald hair, his dark green skin flushing slightly under the amused look his first mate was giving him, making his pale green scales and eyes stick out even more.

"I cannot help it, my love," he murmured, his melodious voice, like all of his kind, soothing and soft despite the anxiety that leaked through it clearly. Xiao-xing shook her head, tossing her wild gold hair over her shoulder and standing to hand their dozing son off to her personal Vassal, Hryhoriy of the Kostyantyn Clan. The massive, ponderous Vassal gently took the Crown Prince in his arms with a slow nod, blinking his large, dark red eyes as if he, himself, were considering a nap, though a keen intelligence and shrewdness glinted within that silver-gray face, decorated with darker silver-gray scales. Cynfaen muttered a sleepy complaint, but Hryhoriy merely shifted the young Crown Prince up onto his shoulder, one massive hand settling on his charges back, and the child settled, soon falling asleep. Xiao-xing nodded, and turned her attention to her still-pacing husband with exasperated fondness lining her exotic face, sliding up to him and slipping her arms around his trim waist, forcing him to stop and instinctively wrap his own arms around her, as she settled her head against his chest and closed her gleaming yellow eyes with a soft sigh.

"Tanwen is fine, my love," she said simply, quietly. "That silly Onllwyn wouldn't let something like this keep her down for long." Cadwaladr snorted softly in amusement, burying his nose in his Alpha Queen's wild mane of silky, golden hair, breathing in her scent of nutmeg, cinnamon, and honey with relish. Theirs had been an arranged marriage when they had been eleven, true, between their fathers, but love had blossomed between them not a year before they were to be wed. And now, a year after he had taken his second Queen, their family was growing. In a few more years, he would take his standard third Queen, and he would keep them all close and cherished, and their children well-protected and well-loved by all.

The door to the room opened, and the pair looked up. In the doorway stood a lean, tall woman with pale blue skin, silvery-blue scales, silver hair, and a pair of small, curving blue-black horns arching up from the center of her forehead. Turquoise eyes blinked at them, before she gave them a warm smile and a low curtsy.

"Your Majesties," she said in a higher-pitched voice that had a strange vibrato affect. Xiao-xing smiled slightly in welcome.

"Valkyrie," she greeted the Einar Midwife, who had also been her own Midwife, with warmth. Cadwaladr inclined his head, but his pale green eyes were bright and intense, and the Midwife knew better then to try and keep the King from his mate and child.

"She is well, as is your new son," Valkyrie informed him with a gentle smile, and stepped out of the doorway. "She will be tired, though, and the babe will probably be a bit fussy for a while yet." The King nodded, and then strode into the room, leaving his Alpha Queen to share an amused look with her friend, before she slipped into the room after him. She found him giving an exhausted, pale Tanwen a long, gentle kiss, leaning over her on the bed, and just paused to observe the two for a moment. Tanwen's grass-green skin, acid-green scales, and lush, dark green hair blazed against the black and white monochrome of her bed coverings, and her tired bottle-green eyes smiled up at their husband tenderly even as her mouth tilted wryly.

"Your son," she declared, poking her taller husband in the chest with her right hand as her left cradled the bundle of what must have been their child close, "is definitely a Fflamddwyn. He wasn't going to come out unless he did it his way, when he wanted, and that was that!" Cadwaladr laughed, and a soft wail rose from the blue bundle in the tired woman's arms. She obligingly handed it over to her husband when he carefully reached for it, and watched as he gently uncovered his sons scrunched face, Xiao-xing moving over to look at her own child's little brother.

He had the same pale, mint-green skin as Cynfaen did, dusted with the, as yet, tiny scales that were a deep emerald green. His hair was messy but already showing his father's natural spikiness, and was a bright spring-leaf green. And, when he squinted his eyes open to glower unhappily up at them all, the bright, acid-green of his eyes was a beautiful, breathtaking sight. He continued to wail, the musical voice of his Clan turned grating and strident in his displeasure, and Xiao-xing and Tanwen shared wry grins.

"He has quite the pair of lungs on him, doesn't he?" Tanwen mused; Xiao-xing nodded.

"He's perfect," Cadwaladr said reverently, placing a soft kiss on the squalling child's forehead.

"What shall you name him?" Xiao-Xing asked curiously.

"Fidencio," Tanwen said without hesitation; Cadwaladr grinned.

"That's perfect," he told her, leaning over to give her a peck on the lips. "The perfect name for a perfect little Prince." They remained in that room for an hour, watching as Fidencio fed and then slept, and then they moved to their personal chambers, Cadwaladr carrying Tanwen the entire way while she cuddled their child to her chest, and Xiao-xing following with an amused smile. They laid the newborn in his crib in the room joined to theirs by a door, and the King took his Queens' to bed with loving kisses and tender caresses.

A few hours later, while they were sleeping, little Fidencio woke in his crib but remained quiet, looking around himself in silence, as much as he could look around, that is. Mostly, he looked up, through the large glass dome over his crib that allowed him to see the night sky clearly. Though he didn't know it, the window was enchanted to only show the night, showing a copy of the previous night during daylight hours while showing the actual night otherwise.

Little Fidencio watched the stars in silence, until a large form came out of the dark, shapeless to his infant eyes. He scrunched his nose as the large form landed over his window, blocking out the stars and crescent moon, and set large talons against the glass. It leaned forward, a flash of copper in the weak moonlight, and there was a hiss as something dripped from its mouth onto the side of the window, and, a few minutes later, it was lifting the entire skylight away, letting a warm breeze enter the room. Fidencio stared up at the copper-colored creature who smelled like something that hurt his nose, and whined low in his throat, face scrunching.

The creature shifted and disappeared in a flickering of copper lights, though, catching and distracting the infants attention, and now there crouched a woman at the mouth of what once had been his skylight. Copper scales laced dark gold skin, and black hair curled to her shoulders. Two black, spiraling horns curved back from her temples and she smirked down at him coldly, exposing strangely long, thin fangs that glimmered oddly in weak lighting.

"Hello, little Prince," she said in a deep, throaty voice, and made a flicking 'come here' motion with her hand. Fidencio made a startled sound as he was lifted, blanket and all, right out of his crib and into the air, floating up out of the skylight until he was suddenly in the woman's arms and she was smirking down at him.

"I would apologize," she told him in an absentminded way, "but then again, I'm not really all that sorry." And then she was covering them in a strange way, fracturing off the light around them, until they blended in like a chameleon, and she strode away, leaping from roof to roof until she reached the ground. She plucked a black cloak with a long hood off of a post and pulled it on, wrapped little Fidencio tightly in his blanket, and, with a sharp twist of her Magic, they disappeared from the Fflamddwyn Castle grounds.

Meanwhile, in the castle, the Royal Family slept on for a few more hours, until they were roused by Tanwen's personal Vassal, Bernadette of the Maks Clan, who had been charged with checking on the newborn Prince once every two hours. She informed them of how she had been hit from behind with a spell of some sort, and had only just woken, her wings shifting and mantling in desperate agitation. When she had rushed to the princes room…

Queen Tanwen's wail and King Cadwaladr's roar were heard throughout the castle, and a search for the missing infant was instigated immediately, but no clue was found, besides the open skylight with its melted sides. The kingdom grieved for the loss of its newest member, all but Tanwen, who was nearly fanatical in her firm belief that her son was alive, a feeling she described as a warmth beneath her heart. As the years would pass and the kingdom moved on, she would, in secret, send out her own spies to search everywhere for her missing child.

She was aided in this endeavor by her best friends and confidants, Xiao-xing and Valkyrie who, six years after Fidencio's disappearance, became Cadwaladr's third and final Queen, and, nine months later, gave birth to twin girls who both had pastel green skin, silver-blue scales, dark green hair with silvery-blue streaks, and metallic blue-green eyes, as well as their mothers horns. The first born was named Blodwen, and she was quiet and calm and sweet, while her sister, Glennette, proved to be outspoken, bossy, and mischievous. The two were viciously protected, and were never seen without their mothers personal Vassal, Luminita of the Streiter Clan.

It was many years before Fidencio was seen again.

(Page Break)

July 31st, 1980, 12:00 PM

Albus was once again in the nameless little pub in Knockturn Alley, this time arriving before his colleague, something that very rarely happened. He sat and pondered risking a drink ten minutes later when she finally arrived, striding straight to him and unceremoniously dropping her bundle in his lap.

"One newborn baby, as requested," she said, voice smug. "And before you ask, yes, he's alive, merely drugged. I grew tired of his damn yowling." Giving the woman a dry look, Albus shifted the blanket covering the infant the slightest bit, just enough so he could peek under it, and hissed out a breath when he caught sight of green skin, scales, and hair. No doubt the child had green eyes to go with the rest of him.

"Are you mad," he wondered aloud. "When I asked for a child of your ilk, I didn't mean get one of the Royal Family, you know." He gave her a baleful look when she chuckled and sprawled in a chair across from him.

"A child from a lesser branch would hardly open doors for my own children, old man," she told him without a hint of anything but smug satisfaction in her voice. "My Maritza is going to be a candidate for Princess, now that old Cadwaladr is going to be so distraught over the disappearance over his Secondary Heir, and when he and his harpies die off, she shall be a Queen. I can only hope the child I am carrying now will be so lucky," she said with a wistful tone, placing one black-gloved hand over her belly. Albus shook his head slightly and stood, and she did as well.

They nodded to one another, and went their separate ways without a backward glance. Albus was unable to Apparate or Portkey with a newborn, especially as Wizard Magic wouldn't work on the child, and he'd be more likely to get them both splinched than anything else. So, instead, he called the Knight Bus, and rode in unsteady silence to Hogsmeade, and walked up to the empty school after that. He had two stolen vials of blood and a highly illegal Blood Ritual to enforce a human Glamour to do before James and Lily arrived for the Blood Adoption, and he needed to move quickly.

It really was a good thing Blood Magic worked on Drayches, or he wouldn't be able to make the brat out as human at all.

(Page Break)

July 31st, 1980, 1:55 PM

Lily and James both finished adding their blood to the potion and then watched as it was dripped onto a Rune cut onto the crying baby's chest. The Rune flashed brightly twice, and the wound instantly healed, the Rune disappearing, and, as they watched, the previously brown haired, blue eyed baby changed. His hair became James' black mess, and, when he squinted open his tearful eyes, they were a green even brighter then Lily's own. The redhead gasped and scooped the boy up, cuddling him close and peppering him with kisses, cuddling him almost desperately and giving her husband a trembling smile when he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"What are we going to name him, Lils?" the Auror asked softly, one large hand reaching over to lightly stroke down the crying infants messy black hair, marveling at the velvety texture.

"Harry," she said, and gave him a wide, tearful smile. "Harry James Potter." And, standing a few feet away, Albus Dumbledore smiled to himself, pleased that his plan would continue on.

A year and a half later, the Dark Lord Voldemort stormed Godric's Hollow and killed James in his living room. He then went up the stairs and into the nursery, and killed Lily while she begged him to let Harry live. And, as the Killing Curse sped towards the small toddler who was standing against the bars, staring at him, there was a moment before it hit, when the evil Wizard could have sworn that he'd seen scales on the youngest Potters forehead, right before the spell hit, and was sent ricocheting back to slam into the gaping Dark Wizard's chest, to send his body to ashes and his torn, wraith of a soul screaming into the night.

And little Harry Potter was left, blinking in confusing in his crib, without a single mark on him, wondering why his mother was sleeping on the floor.

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