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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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Hello, and welcome to the "Official" first chapter! I hope you guys are excited!

Ar Sciatháin Sciobtha

~On Swift Wings~

Chapter One

Dathanna de Ghlas

~Shades of Green~

'I'm going to die,' Harry thought in sudden, painful clarity as he sat in the Champions tent, awaiting his turn to face the Dragon and steal the golden egg. His green eyes were dazed as he stared blankly down at the tiny, vicious form of the animated Hungarian Horntail model in his lap. The miniature Dragon was arching and prowling about on his thighs, spitting gouts at random, wings fluttering in agitation, spikes shifting forward and back as it skulked.

Absently, Harry stroked a single finger from its head to its deadly tail, making it give a high-pitched growl of pleasure that would have been amusing in any other situation. ' How am I supposed to out-fly a massive creature born with wings?' he wondered, listening in the back of his mind to the cheers of the crowd as Cedric did something while facing his Swedish Short-Snout. Now that he considered it, Moody's suggestion was stupid, dangerous, and made no sense.

Harry knew that, as a Gryffindor, he was expected to have a certain amount of brash rashness and a stupid amount of bravery, but seriously! He was fourteen bloody years old and they were making him face a bloody Dragon! And he would be doing it with next to no moral support from anyone in the school, because they all thought he was an attention seeking prat, when he'd never attempted or even thought of putting his name in that bloody stupid cup!

'Ah, but you're Harry Potter!' he mentally mocked himself with a small, bitter smile. 'Of course you'd be a Champion, you do the impossible on accident!' He closed his eyes briefly in pain. He had been relieved when the Age Restriction had been applied to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, because it meant he wouldn't have to participate, and he'd be allowed to just sit out on the sidelines and watch without needing to do anything.

But noooo, he couldn't have a bloody break for once, now could he? Harry's lips thinned as his eyes burned, and he stubbornly forced the tears back, hands remaining gentle as he once again stroked the miniature Horntail, who was curling and rubbing against him like a cat.

He refused to cry.

He hadn't cried when Dudley and his gang beat him up. He hadn't even when Uncle Vernon had broken his arm that one time he'd pulled him from his cupboard too hard. He hadn't cried when the hunger had gnawed at his insides like a living thing after over a week of nothing but water and the occasional piece of burnt toast. He hadn't cried, not since he was three and his Aunt Petunia had told him that his parents were dead, and how. She had slapped him across the face immediately after he'd started, and told him that Freaks weren't allowed to cry, and he'd gone to his cupboard for three days without food.

He would not cry now. Not when he was about to step out into what amounted as a Gladiator's Arena, to be murdered for the amusement of the bloody crowd and government. Not when he had lost almost everyone for the second time since he'd entered this damned, fickle world.

Anger rose up, eating through the dark despair that had begun to plague him. No, he wouldn't give them the pleasure of his tears, not when he'd denied his own relatives for the last thirteen years. He lifted his eyes, watching with hard, narrowed eyes, as Fleur was escorted out for her own match with the Common Welsh Green, and a growl tore from his mouth, quiet and soft, with a strange, melodious quality.

Viktor shot him a strange look, and the Horntail model in his lap reared onto its hind-legs, setting its forelegs against his stomach, and began to claw its way to his shoulder as he didn't move, his resolve and determination firm and unflinching as he prepared to face this one, last obstacle. The growl quieted to a mere vibrating in his throat as he settled in to mentally go over every spell he knew, and try to come up with a plan that would at least give him a good chance at coming out of this alive.

Viktor left several minutes later, still occasionally casting the youngest Champion those strange, vaguely curious looks. Harry breathed deeply, trying to keep his thundering heart in check as his turn grew steadily closer, the furious roars of the Chinese Fireball turning to pained screeches as the crowd screamed and cheered and shouted like the glory-and-blood-hungry vultures they were. Harry bitterly remembered all the times in the last four years where they cried his name in joy, only to turn around and hiss it like a curse, then to pivot and return to the previous state as if nothing had happened, and expecting him to just accept it for what it was.

He probably would have, too, if he wasn't forced to continue in this damnable Tournament, and if they weren't out there, eager to watch as he fought for his life, like it was all some perverse form of sport for them, the voyeuristic fans, screaming and howling for more like demons. ' And to think,' he reflected with no small amount of bitterness, 'that if I do somehow manage to come through this alive, they'll all be pawing at my coattails again, the eager dogs who bite the hand that feeds them and still expect him to be stupid enough to feed them with his fingers again. Bastards, the lot of them.' He absently lifted a hand to stroke the Horntail model as it nuzzled its spiked, rough head against his neck, rumbling out high-pitched, crooning growls.

Finally, McGonagal was pulling open the tent-flap, and it was Harry's turn. He stood and walked through the opening, gently handing the Horntail model over to his professor after giving the little thing a stern look.

"Behave," he told it, and received a grudgingly accepting growl in reply. The fourteen-year-old gave his professor a grim, self-mocking smile, turned and strode out into his Arena, head held high, eyes cold and hard, ready to face his death once more and concentrating on his plan, grateful he'd allowed Hermione to pound so many new spells into his brain over the last month or so.

His eyes trailed around the space he had to work in, ignoring the shouts and cheers and insults from the crowd as he remained perfectly still, taking in the situation. The Horntail was lying down in front of her eggs, the golden one he needed set right in the middle. The massive Dragon was watching him with narrowed, mustard-yellow eyes, vertical slits narrowing and widening as it focused on him and nastily-spiked tail twitching like a cats as the crowd started to quiet, confused by Harry's lack of movement.

Harry eyed the massive Creature, and was eyed in return, before he glanced at the eggs, considering his plans, back-up plans, and random bits of ideas that could or could not come in handy, depending on the Horntail's reaction. Finally, after five minutes of simply standing there, he nodded to himself and began to cautiously move towards the closest boulder, eyes remaining on the Dragon. She gave a loud, thunderous growl in warning, tail lashing harder, as Harry disappeared behind the large rock. Quietly, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at himself.

"Ad Invisibilis," he whispered, and grimaced at the itchy, spiders-crawling-along-his-skin feeling as his magic slowly turned him invisible. It wouldn't last longer than ten minutes, and it didn't hide any noises he made, or his scent, but Harry was cautiously optimistic that it would at least get him close. He'd just have to be quick, because when the spell dispersed, it tended to do so with a loud crackling sound. Peeking around the side of the rock, he watched the Dragon, before hesitantly stepping out into the open and taking a few large steps away from his protection.

The Dragon's eyes never shifted away from the rock, her tail continuously moving, spikes scraping the ground harshly. Harry nodded to himself, pleased, and returned to standing behind the rock. He didn't want to give up his position with his next spell, after all. First, he cast the Bubble-Head Charm on himself, though. Then he stuck his wand out from behind the rock, aiming for the area directly in front of the Horntail.

"Fumos," he said with a sharp circular motion of his wand that ended in a jab. Immediately, thick, acrid-smelling black smoke poured from his wand tip and set to filling the space in front of the Dragon, who reared up, her wings mantling in alarm as she snarled at the oncoming smoke. Harry didn't waste any time, running around the opposite side of his boulder and zigzagging through the rocks well-away from the smoke, which the Horntail had begun to attack with her flames, wing-claws holding her steady, and forcing most of the smoke away. He barely made it around the creatures lashing tail unscathed, and cautiously stared up at the eggs, lips pursed. He once more pointed his wand at himself.

"Ascendio," he murmured, and flinched slightly as he shot into the air, over shooting the eggs, and began to fall. "Arresto Momentum!" he hissed in alarm, and almost sighed as he abruptly began to hover, then slowly descend into the middle of the 'nest'. He cast wary eyes toward the Dragon, who was now looking around warily, sitting up, wings spread slightly to defend her brood more fully. 'Too bad I'm already in her nest,' Harry thought idly, before he began to inch his way around the many eggs, slowly making his way to the middle, where the golden egg rested. He reached out a hand to grab it-

And that is when the Invisibility Spell ended with the sound of a thousand plastic and paper bags being shaken viciously. Harry's head shot up, the crowd screamed, and the Horntail was suddenly there, snatching him from her nest and dropping him to the ground, his wand flying from his hand, his glasses tumbling off to shatter with the tinkle of glass against stone.

He landed with a nasty crack as his left leg took most of the fall, crying out in pain, and then again as one massive, clawed hind-foot pinned him in a way reminiscent to a falcon with its prey. Horntail reared back, wings flung wide, and roared her triumph, a gout of flames rocketing into the sky. Harry struggled, the pain from his leg making the world gray-tinged, and his lack of wand felt all the more keenly because of it. Horntail bared her fangs and leaned down, taking a deep breath-

And froze, yellow eyes staring at him unblinkingly. She took another slow, deep breath. And another. Abruptly, she released him, the clawed 'hands' of her wings landing on either side of him, boxing Harry in, as she leaned her massive head down and snuffled at his frozen form. His breath hitched at the hot, acrid smell and feel of her breath against his skin, his pain-fogged memory straining towards something, egged on by her massive, brown-black form above him.

'She's not the right color,' he thought dazedly, and then wondered why he thought she should be copper.

The Horntail let out a low, crooning growl, and lifted her head, eying his prostrate form, before her yellow eyes narrowed and she took a deep breath. 'This is it,' Harry thought closing his eyes. 'I wonder if being burnt alive hurts horribly?' The sound of the Dragon's exhale had his eyes shooting open again instinctively. He expected to see the rush of red, yellow, and orange, with that outline of bright blue, edged in green.

He did not expect to see a wave of rippling air, gold tinged, come towards him, and engulf his form.

The pain took his breath away and, for a few moments, he blacked out.

(Page Break)

Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour had been raised in a Magical Community vastly different from Britain's. In Bulgaria and France, there were immeasurably different laws regarding Creatures, and none of them were anywhere near as restrictive and demoralizing as those in Britain, just like the laws considering Dark Magic were much laxer in the other two countries. In fact, it was common for the Pureblood families in the two other countries to raise their children as Neutral until they reached their majority, at which time it was determined that they were mature enough to make their own choices considering Magical Alignment.

In fact, the Delacour's were vicious advocates against Britain's laws on creatures and, more importantly, half-creature. The Krum's, while not as politically inclined, had enough clout on their own to make sure that the Bulgarian Minister of Magic never considered any of the laws or regulations Fudge often suggested when they met at Conferences.

But at the moment, the two foreign Champions were sitting in the stands near the older Hogwarts Champion, and were staring in blank shock at the Hungarian Horntail the Dragon Handler's had set in the Arena. Krum, who had been raised around Dragons all his life due to his father's status as Head Dragon Handler, recognized both the subtle changes in body posture and the rippling of magic about the massive creature that declared it to be more then it seemed. Fleur, with the Veela blood in her veins, could both feel and smell the difference between this Dragon and the others.

"Drayche," Krum murmured just loud enough for the French girl to hear. She sucked in a sharp breath and turned her wide blue eyes on him.

"Are you certain?" She asked softly in her heavy accent; Krum nodded slowly, watching avidly as Harry Potter stepped through the opening of the Champions Tent and into the Arena.

"My Father is a Handler," he murmured as the fourteen-year-old seemed to just stand there, face hard and calculating as he examined his opponent and the field. 'Smart of him' the Bulgarian thought absently. "I have grown vith Dragons, and met vith Drayches. My family is on close speaking terms vith the Ukrainian Ironbelly Drayches, the Kostyantyn Clan, who are a Vassal breed under the Chinese Fireball Drayches, a Royal breed, fourth of the lines beneath the Royal Line. We are in monthly contact vith the head of the Kostyantyn Clan, and know one another well. That," he said quietly, nodding toward the Horntail, "is a Drayche in their larger form." Fleur would have been amused (this was the most she'd ever heard her fellow Champion speak, beyond grunts and growls, that is), but the situation was far too worrying for her to smile.

"What about zee Treaty?" she asked softly, eyes darting over to watch as Harry finally moved, and approving of his cautiousness in immediately taking cover to, hopefully, come up with a steady plan.

"It is a simple matter of intent," he said calmly, and both were mildly impressed as they watched Harry turn himself invisible. "If you have no intent to assist a Drayche with their plans, any information you pass to them vould be accepted vithout the consequence. And," he added with a small smile, "leaving scrolls of information around vithout thought of the Drayche specifically getting it helps. After all, if they happen to pick it up and read it, vell,you did nothing, yes?" The French girl smiled slightly, and both blinked in surprise at the smoke that filled the center of the Arena, before nodding in the most approving way.

"What do you zink zee Drayche ees 'ere for?" the girl asked him curiously, watching the Horntail snarl and attack the smoke filled area in front of her.

"I think Harry is a Halfling," Viktor replied without hesitation, eyes trained on the field, scouring for the young boy. Fleur's sharp intake of breath had him nodding.

"Zat would explain eet," she murmured. Even if she had grown up knowing more about creatures like her own families bloodline, even she knew that the Drayches would be furiously protective of any and all children, including 'Halflings' as half-human/half-Creatures were called. And, Harry was fourteen, the age when the father in the coupling would be allowed to attempt to gain full custody or, at least, visitation privileges. As Harry's human family was killed, the two foreign Champions could only assume that his true father was a Drayche, and that the Horntail was there to retrieve him for his father.

The two sat in silence, until the unfortunate mishap happened, in which Harry was forced to reappear, with a horribly loud noise, directly behind the Horntail and in her nest of eggs. Fleur let out a horrified gasp as the Dragon snatched the small boy away from his goal and dropped him, the French girl's hands shooting up to cover her mouth as Harry landed with a cry, his left leg bending in an unnatural way, and then watched as he was pinned to the ground.

"Do something!" Cedric shouted towards the judges seats, where all the Headmasters sat, seemingly frozen in horror as they all watched the Dragon roar flames into the sky.

"Get the Handlers in there," Dumbledore ordered harshly, blue eyes bright in his pale face as his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists on the judges table. It was an order given too late, though, as the Drayche-in-disguise lowered her head, and took a deep breath to ready her flames… And paused, head tilting slightly to the side as she stared down at her prey as if surprised.

"She has his scent," Viktor murmured to Fleur. "She knows he is the Halfling now." Fleur nodded shakily, and reached over to grab and cling tightly to his hand to comfort herself, getting a bizarre look from the Bulgarian, before both refocused on the scene laying out. Dragon Handlers had entered the Arena, and were making their swift way towards the two in the very center, when the Horntail released her hold on Harry and lowered her head.

She took a deep breath, and Fleur's breath caught at the beautiful ripple of pure Magic that rolled from the Drayches great maw and covered the prone boy's form, hiding him from sight, for a few moments, due to the pure distortion of the air around him. When she sat back with an undeniably pleased expression, everyone in the crowd gasped and began to murmur amongst themselves. Fleur and Viktor could only stare in blank shock.

Where the small fourteen-year-old had laid, looking utterly fragile and tiny in comparison to the Horntail's massive size, a decidedly different being lay now, unconscious and limp. Harry's once raven-black, messy hair was now a bright, spring-leaf green, and in a series of messy spikes, sharp and pointy looking. His once unhealthily pale cream-colored skin was now a soft, mint green, and covering him in swirls and patterns, were bright emerald scales. He also looked to have gained at least four inches in height, from his previous five-four to around five-eight, shorter then Viktor by only four-and-a-half inches.

The Horntail gave the boy's prone form once last assessing look, then turned and carefully used her left wing-claw to lift the gold egg from amongst her brood, turning and setting it beside the fourteen-year-olds body with a low rumble, then turned and acted as if he wasn't there, snuffling over her eggs and checking them over cautiously. The Handlers moved in and she growled at them, tail lashing, as they levitated Harry up off the ground from a safe distance, one grabbing his wand and the bent frames of his glasses, before they hastily left.

"He ees not a 'Alfling," Fleur breathed as the two Handlers carried Harry off.

"No," Viktor agreed, dark eyes staring blankly at the Horntail as she lay curled around her eggs like a cat.

"Harry Potter is a Drayche."

And that's a wrap! I hope this chapter was worth the wait, so please remember to read and review!

Also, I'd like to remind you guys of our replies to your reviews on AFF, you can find them on this link: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/31933-review-replies-for-ar-sciathain-sciobtha/
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Ar Sciatháin Sciobtha