Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Children of the Moon	By : aidoneuskiss Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male Views: 11161 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or Harry Potter they and any similiarities are owned by their respective authors and I make not a cent off this fic

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AN: Third chapter woo-hoo... well, as you can see Trunks is very different in this fic than the first version. More Hardcore like future trunks but not as nancy. I never did understand how someone who grew up in such a horrible timeline could be such a whiny crybaby. I blame Bulma. Which is why Trunks was raised in this story by his father. Vegeta rocks! I didn't go into detail on the scouters this time so maybe I'll add it to my profile info but it's Saiya Tech's main interdepartment comm. link. All employees, the werewolf ones that is, can speak Saiya-go (saw that somewhere and liked the spelling of it) no human can because their vocal cords are fundamentally different and it's a very guttural, growling language but dead sexy. As for the goblin/saiyajin armor, basically it changes at the wearers will. Muggle,wizard,saiyajin whatever kind of outfit Trunks wants he gets in an instant. As he sleeps in the buff, he just wishes the material away but the protections and stuff are still there. Now to the story...

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The division of wands and the masters they choose.

*****

Trunks hand stilled on the doorknob of the shop the power level had emanated from and barely managed to stifle his laugh. It was the wandmakers. Which explained why the flare of power was so momentary. Wandmakers had a different type of "sight" from those of Psychics. They were able to touch a person's ki with their own and by doing so devise which combination of wood and core would best compliment and strengthen their ki.

A wand's true purpose was to access and channel one's ki, strengthening it through extended use, so that eventually the user would be able to access it without verbal incantations and in some cases without the wand itself. The latter was a rarity in the current times, however, due to the inbreeding and general slothfulness of wizarding society as a whole. Nostalgically Trunks reached over his right shoulder to touch the wood of his own ki's "magical" conduit, smirking as he remembered the experience of his own selection.

Gregorvitch, the man whom Grindelwald had stolen the wand from, had been less than pleased to find the man's heir in his shop. His probe on Trunks' ki had been more of an attack than an assessment and the saiyajin had reacted instinctively to the threat. When the dust settled, three-quarters of the man's shop was destroyed and all the wands that survived the blast were scattered about the floor, completely useless, their cores overloaded, wooden confines splintered inside out, from the sheer power coming off the super saiyajin in amber waves.

On his knees the old man had prostrated himself beneath the glowing ball held outstretched from the eleven year old's hand, his own shaking as he offered the staff left in trust to his ancestors until one worthy arrived.

The Nyoi-bo.

Intrigued, Trunks dissipated the ki ball and took the offering to better examine it. It was a red wooden pole with a sheath of the same wood, fashioned with a golden rope attachment so it would rest diagonally across the chest, securing the weapon to the wielders' back. Of good weight and balance combined with it's magical properties it made an exceptional tool for combat even for a saiyajin however...

Drawing the staff with speed unseen by the human eye, Trunks pointed one blunt end between the old man's eyes prodding there in emphasis of his words. "This. Is. A. Weapon. Not. A. Wand." A round bruise was already forming when he pulled the staff end away, waiting for a reply, his expression one of impatience. Though stuttered and laced with dry sobs the old man spoke with conviction.

"Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then the mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.(1)"

Trunks was silent for a very long time as he considered this, then sliding the rope over his head and across his chest he nodded and turned to go. Before the door shut behind him he threw these words over his shoulder: "I do hope your life is payment enough for this. If not, I can always leave the gold with your corpse."

The papers had declared Gregorvitch's retirement within the week.

It was in good spirits that Trunks entered Ollivander's shop and caught the last end of a conversation. "....I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather-- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother-- why, its brother gave you that scar. ....Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember...I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter...After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things--terrible, yes, but great."(2)

"What do you mean 'the phoenix GAVE feathers'?" Trunks questioned, his voice loud in the subdued silence causing the other three occupants to jump. The small spindly chair splintering under the enormous man Trunks recognized as a half giant.

"I'll jus' er..wait fer ya outside eh, 'arry?" the large man offered, sheepishly excusing himself.

"Well?" Trunks pressed once the door closed in the man's wake.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand the question young man." the amber eyed shop owner informed him politely.

Trunks was silent momentarily, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he took in the boy purchasing the wand in question. Unruly black hair, a starved stunted look, clothes ten sizes too big, broken glasses with the framing taped hiding vibrant, if a little confused, green eyes and a scar crowning his forehead. So this is the infamous Harry Potter. Interesting. He also has two ki's like the wizard in the pub and the secondary kis are identical to one another. Very interesting.

"I asked you, sir, what you meant when you said that the phoenix GAVE two feathers. I know my wandlore and I believe it was you who was quoted in Magical Beasts Cores and Why They Choose Us by I.R. Special saying: "Wand cores should only be chosen from those beasts which remain unattached to any master. A familiars bond with another wizard would stunt the magical growth of any witch or wizard unfortunate enough to wield it for the wand would not be able to give it's complete allegiance. In rare cases, if the wizard of the familiar is exceptionally powerful, their will may be imposed upon the wielder through the wand's core in a way similar to that of the Impervious Curse or worse, bind the wielder's magical core and siphon it through the wand's core into the familiar's wizard."

That being said, if the feather in that wand was GIVEN to you, then doesn't that mean that the phoenix was the familiar of someone? Won't Mr. Potter be in danger of losing his magic if he uses that?"

Horror passed over the boy's features at these words and dropping the wrapped box with said wand inside he backed away from the old man, Trunks stopping him with a hand on his shoulder before the kid trod on his toes. Blue eyes never left the golden ones of the wandmaker and he watched grimly as the man fought off the fog of the compulsions Trunks' scouter and ki senses had warned him were woven through the man's psyche. The satisfactory snap of the questionable wand seemed to coincide with the complete freedom of the patron's senses and he profusely apologized to Mr. Potter before selecting more wands for him to try. The boy was understandably hesitant of touching any and looked to Trunks imploringly.

"Will you stay with me?"

Trunks leant against the door frame, considering, immensely intrigued by the whole situation and finally with a smirk replied:

"As long as you'll have me."

Another forty-five minutes later, Harry Potter left the shop with a wand entrusted to Ollivander by the Unspeakables four decades prior. Twelve inches, made of Elder wood and containing a single strand of Thestral tail hair. It was the wand that had driven Grindelwald to madness, yet had perfectly bonded with Mr. Potter as though made for him. In a sense, it had been, for the nagging familiarity of the boy's ki and smell, which had been bugging Trunks since he'd laid eyes on him had finally registered.

The kid was a Saiyajin descendant.

****

1. Ollivander, Deathly Hallows pg. 494

2. Ollivander, Hp and the Sorcerers stone pg. 85 TBC
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Children of the Moon