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Chronicle of Scales: Dragkyn Rising	By : BrutalTrvth Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 32268 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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    The next couple of days just seemed to fly by for Harry. He and Hagrid spent most of their time in their rooms at the Toiling Cauldron, though every so often they would venture back to Diagon Alley so that Harry could a do bit more exploring of his new world. When they weren’t out and about or eating, Harry locked himself in his room and devoured the books he had purchased. Hagrid had warned him about trying to practice magic on his own, and Harry had sworn to behave himself. But studying wasn’t the same as practicing, and he had almost as many questions about his heritage as he did his future.
   Unfortunately, books on dragkyn were exceedingly rare. When he had asked about them at Flourish and Blotts the woman behind the counter had apologized and told him they were already sold out. She had offered to order the books for him, which had seemed promising until Harry had learned that it was going to be the better part of three weeks before they would be delivered. It didn’t seem worth parting with his gold, not when he figured that he would already be at Hogwarts by that point, which was sure to have copies of the books in its own library.
   Instead, Harry was left with a mountain of books on spell casting, potion making, and the history of the wizarding world. He had also found several biographies concerning his own life, but they had all be laughably bad. One claimed that he had been sent to study with an exotic, and likely fictional, cult of Tibetan monks until the time he could return and claim his birthright. Another claimed that he had actually been killed the same night as Voldemort, and that rumors of his survival existed solely as propaganda. The thought that he had spent the last fifteen years sleeping under the stairs in a muggle house seemed to have never occurred to anyone.
   More intriguing, and hopefully more accurate, were the books on wizarding history. There were a few mentions of dragkyns here and there, usually as a mention when discussing half-breed wizards. It seemed the magical world had made a rather bad habit of dropping its pants around, well, just about anything. There were werewolves of course, but also wereleopards, weretigers, werebears, werelephants, and even werehorses. They weren’t to be confused with animagi, who were normal humans who could take the shape of animals via magic, though many of the books seemed to think that the animagi spells might have been the origin of the various were-curses. No one came right out and said it, of course, but it was very heavily implied by all that mixing animals, sex, and magic tended to result some rather permanent results.
   More common were the demihumans. Half-giants, half-veelas, half-leprechauns… Again, if the anatomy matched even part of the way it seemed that some wizard or witch somewhere had tried it, and often gotten a baby as a result. Harry wasn’t sure why that was. He’d had a basic course in biology when he was thirteen that had included a section on genetics. Everything he knew said that species just shouldn’t be able to mix and match that way, but magic seemed to say otherwise. Even stranger, the non-human side never seemed to dilute. A half-veela would always have half-veela children, and they in turn would have half-veela children. Harry couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if a half-veela had a kid with a half-giant, for example, but none of the books seemed to want to discuss that. So either it had never happened before, or it happened so rarely that no one knew what to say about it.
   Dragkyns fell solidly into the last group, that much at least all the books agreed on. They also agreed that dragkyns were becoming increasingly rare as time went by, but none of them seemed to be willing to discuss why. Harry couldn’t help but curse whoever had bought those other books and left him feeling so frustrated with the answers he was getting. He had tried to ask Hagrid, but Hagrid hadn’t been able to tell him much more than the books had.
   “You’re right that I’m a half-breed myself,” Hagrid admitted when Harry asked him during dinner. “My father was a wizard, and my mother a giantess. There was a bit of a growth potion involved, or so my father claimed. Mother sent me to live with my father shortly after I was born. I know I’m big to you, but to an actual giant I’m really quite tiny. I never would have survived growing up among the mountain tribes. The blood gives us a little bit extra power, more you than me, most likely, but I don’t know much about dragkyn’s other than that you’re half dragon. Your father was the only one I really knew, and it just never seemed polite to pry.”
   So Harry had, reluctantly, put the topic on the back burner until he could get to Hogwarts. His next topic of research was the man who had killed his parents. Here, at least, he found plenty to read. Everyone and their mother seemed to have written a memoir about their experiences during Voldemort’s reign of terror, so it took a bit to sort the actual histories out from the quick cash grabs. Harry had managed to narrow it down to three books of particular size and review, then spent an entire afternoon reading each one from cover to cover.
   No one seemed to know where Voldemort came from originally. He had simply appeared one day and started gathering followers with an eye towards become Minister of Magic. No one knew he was a dragkyn at that point, but he still managed to acquire a fairly loyal following by preaching about blood purity, and cleansing society of the taint of half-blood and muggleborn wizards. Being a half-breed was perfectly acceptable, but in Voldemort’s eyes there was no use for anyone contaminated with mundane human blood.
   Naturally, Voldemort lost the election. Maybe it was the fact that he was openly condemning more than half of the voting population to a life of misery. Maybe it was the fact that he was running around calling himself Voldemort. Maybe it was the fact that no one had ever heard of him before, or had any idea where he had come from. Likely it was a combination of all three, and in the end he came in a distant sixth.
   And then the murders started.
   Voldemort and his followers decided that if they couldn’t win at the ballot box, then they would win by spilling enough blood to dye the streets red. They started with their political opponents, those they could get their hands on, then just turned to open terrorism, slaughtering muggles and wizards alike. The Auror’s, the Ministry of Magic’s elite police force, did everything they could to try and keep the Death Eaters in check, but they were often outmanned and overpowered at each turn. Many dark dragkyn had flocked to Voldemort’s banner, greedy for the power and wealth they expected his victory to bring them.
   Until the day it all came crashing down because a tiny little boy who had refused to die.
   With Voldemort gone, the Death Eaters had fallen apart like a house of cards in a hurricane. Most were rounded up and arrested, prompting a few new scandals. A few went free. More died fighting for their lives. Only a handful remained on the run, believed to have fled to some of the more wild areas of Eastern Europe. Rumors continued to come in, and every once in a while there would be enough reason for the Ministry’s Aurors to go investigate.
   But what Harry found strangest of all was where the line had been drawn between half-bloods and half-breeds. Muggleborn wizards didn’t appear to be any stronger or weaker than their full-blooded counterparts. After all, everyone kept telling him how powerful his mother had been, and she was muggleborn! Yet despite being equal almost across the board, half-bloods were looked down upon as somehow lesser. Even squibs, those sons and daughters of witches and wizards who were born without any magic of their own, were treated better than the half-bloods. Voldemort and his followers had embodied the absolute worst of these beliefs, but the rest of wizarding society seemed to agreed with them at least in part. At the same time they almost worshipped the half-breeds, who were often seen as somehow strengthening the overall magical power of spell casting society.
   The closest Harry could find to an explanation was the witch hunts back in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. No actual witches or wizards had ever been caught, despite the thousands of lives lost, as those who did accidentally end up in muggle hands simply cast charms to ward off flames or apparated away. At least one coven formed that made a game of being caught, if only to deliberately scandalize the townsfolk with whatever truths the witches managed to acquire through various scrying spells. Still, it had given the magical world a bit of a fright where the mundane was concerned.



   But surely those prejudices hadn’t remained for more than five hundred years? Everywhere Harry looked there was evidence that the magical world had continued to adopt the conveniences of the mundane. There were flush toilets and electric lights, he’d seen the Night Bus go by in the wee hours of the morning and was expected to take a train to school. The radio hanging over the Toiling’s bar played a mix of classic rock, Queen and the Stones right alongside Twitchy Jackson and Three-Sixty Broomsticks. Muggle music was apparently fine, but muggle parents weren’t?
   As far as Harry was concerned, it was a question without an answer. He had tried to ask Hagrid about it, but the normally forthcoming giant had just hemmed and hawed about the cycles of human stupidity. The entire conversation had just left Harry feeling even more confused than before they had started.


*

   Five days later it was time to say goodbye.
   “But why can’t I just come with you?” Harry demanded as they pushed their way through the crowds gathered at the King’s Cross station. “I mean, if you’re just taking your bike back to Hogwarts anyway…”
   “Because there’s a process to these things, Harry,” Hagrid explained. “It’s been a good week, but there are things that need doing before tonight’s ceremony. All the time I’ve been with you is time that those things haven’t been getting done.” He held up his hand to forestall Harry’s inevitable protest. “That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy our time together. It just means that I have other responsibilities that need to be attended to as well. Once you are up at the castle it will be much easier to come and visit me, and I’ll be able to answer your many, many questions.”
   Hagrid paused as he spotted a mobile sea of red hair crossing the station at the tail end of a small army of luggage carts. “Molly!”
   The woman who had been commanding said army turned and looked as the giant’s voice boomed throughout the train station. A grin spread over her face as she waved back. “Oh! Hagrid! Over here!”
   Hagrid turned Harry towards the swarm, which had turned into a chaotic dam in front of the arch leading to platform nine. Pissy travelers were forced to squeeze themselves around the sharp edges of the luggage trolleys to make it through to their trains, but the family paid them no heed as they waited for Hagrid and his ward to catch up.
   “Oh, and Hagrid, who is this?” Molly asked once the pair had reached the family. There were four sons, one who looked to be about Harry’s age, a pair of twins who couldn’t be much older, and the last who looked to be in his mid-twenties. The three younger sons were dressed in muggle clothes, while the eldest had already changed into his school robes. The pocket above his right breast had been decorated with a scarlet patch embroidered with a golden lion. He had, fortunately, forgone the matching pointed hat, so it was possible to dismiss him as just another young professor set a little too early for the new term. Their father was dressed in a faded tweed suit that had not just seen better years, but looked to have survived several rough decades as well.
   Hiding behind her father was the only Weasley daughter. She couldn’t have been much younger than her youngest brother, to the point where Harry might have suspected they were twins if the family hadn’t been short a luggage cart. She was at the cusp of womanhood, and it was obvious that she was going to be strikingly pretty once she took the final plunge. She had her mother’s hips matched to her father’s height, giving her a healthy, robust look. She blushed when she caught Harry staring at her and quickly turned away. That just made Harry more interested in her. He did manage to keep from growling or breathing steam, though. That would have just been embarrassing.
   Hagrid cleared his throat and Harry realized the giant had been speaking to him. “I’m sorry,” Harry said, unsure exactly of who he was supposed to be apologizing to. “I’m afraid that I wasn’t paying attention.”
   There was a knowing twinkle in Molly’s eye as she said, “We were just talking about how we knew your parents, back before their loss. Your father used to get the same way at times. He’d see a certain something and poof! Just off in his own world.”
   “You knew my parents?”
   Molly nodded. “We were allies, back during the troubles. As members of the Order, we all fought side by side. Well, Arthur more often than myself, of course. It was important that someone remain behind to take care of the children. You and Ron even played together a tome or two, when your parents were forced to go off to war. Why, I remember this one time-”
   “MOM!”
   The boy who looked to be Harry’s age had turned so red that it was impossible to tell where his hair ended and his face began. He looked torn between embarassment and anger, which, judging from the sly smile on Molly’s face, may have just been what his mother had been aiming for.
   “I was just saying, Ronald, that the two of you could get into no end of trouble when you were together,” Molly said primly. “I expect its going to become a bit of a tradition, now that you’re going off to Hogwarts.”
   “Don’t worry, mother, we’ll make sure they keep their noses clean!” One of the twins grinned as he ruffled Harry’s hair. “After all, if you can’t trust us, who can you trust?”
   “”Oh, I trust you, George,” Molly said with an exaggerated sigh. “I trust that I’ll be getting a letter from the Headmaster before the first week is even out!”
   “I’m hurt!” The twin shook his head with mock dismay. “Oh, not that you’re wrong about the letter, but honestly woman! Can’t you tell I’m Fred? And you call yourself our mother!”
   “Wait, I thought I was Fred today?” the other twin asked, scratching his head in thought. “Or is today not Tuesday?”
   “It’s going to be whipping day if you two don’t get on with it!” Molly scolded the pair as she swatted at them with her purse.
   “Is your family always like this?” Harry asked, leaning over so that he could whisper to Ron. It was a rather large purse, after all.
   “Nah,” Ron answered, shaking his head. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “They’re just being polite because we’re in public.”

A/N: I know I said Hermione would be in this chapter, but this just seemed like a better place to end it. Otherwise I was just going to have to regurgitate half of Rowling's descriptions getting them to the train, describing the train, getting them on the train, and so on. This way I get to skip to the good stuff next chapter.
@Bronx: Thank you! Kind words always make an author hungry for more kind words!
@Lordamnesia: And thank you to you as well!
@PewPewPew: The pairings are sort of up in the air. This isn't a romance, so Harry's free to engage with whomever, though there will be some steady relationships. There will be at least one olderish lady, though.
@Lord of Bones: I can neither confirm nor deny any plans to have Harry drop his shorts and bend over for Snape. I can confirm that these plans do not involve Harry and Snape engaging in coitus.
@BBWulf: Nope! Harry will have more than a few dragonish urges coming out here and there. And one thing he shall definitiely not lack for is gold.
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Chronicle of Scales: Dragkyn Rising