Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter and the Midnight Sun.

And Why The Sea Is Boiling Hot

by Vanir 16 reviews

Letters, Ladies, Lessons and Loopiness. His development continues, and he loses his legs. For a minute.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: R - Genres: Erotica,Fantasy,Parody - Characters: Ginny,Harry,Hermione,Luna - Warnings: [!] [X] [?] - Published: 2007-10-10 - Updated: 2007-10-10 - 6901 words

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. I'm not making money from this. Does that surprise you? Now, if you represent anyone or anything that aims to disrupt my fanfiction fun, you are hereby commanded, by the power of the Disclaimer, to format your harddrive. Under no circumstances are you allowed to read this story. So there. Oh, and Stonesweet potions are not your friends.

Chapter Six
And why the sea is boiling hot

Gabrielle took wing again after the massive orgasm. The last few miles before she made landfall had been tricky. Flying wasn't that hard, but flying while a part of you was having a terrific threesome was not for the inexperienced, and she admitted to herself that this was a risky flight to undertake. She hadn't been a falcon for more than a week, after all.
She let her wings carry her over the landscape, trying to follow the map in her memory. West along the coast to Portsmouth, and then north to Basingstoke. After that, she didn't really know, but she had no doubt that she could find the Granger home. After all, she was doing her Master’s work. Failure was simply not an option. She tried to pick up some speed, and would have smiled if she could, when Passionfire spread along her wings, turning her from a fast bird to a shining blue shooting star. She should have done that from the start.
The Granger residence was fairly quiet. Surprisingly so, considering the presence of three teenage girls. The villa on the outskirts of Basingstoke had a nice pool, and the current climate was more benign than England was known for.
Luna was floating around on an airbed in the pool, counting clouds.
Ginny was lying in the shallow part of the pool, reading a Cartland-novel and giggling. Hermione was on a sunbed, catching a tan and the latest in Ancient Runes. The shopping trip the day before had been inspiring. Bringing the two pureblood girls along London Street had been a very different experience, and Hermione found herself seeing her home town with a new appreciation. Luna was no more odd in the Muggle world than she was in the magical, and took everything in stride. Ginny had been careful, studying how Hermione did it before doing anything. They had bought swimsuits, of course. Luna had bought a golden onepiece, that clung to her slim figure like a coat of paint, while Ginny had opted for something Dan Granger had described as a few lengths of dental floss and three stamps. The string bikini was also in a shade of red that matched her hair exactly. Hermione's mother had warned Ginny not to let any man see that without warning, since it was sure to cause glandular meltdown.
To hear her explain the terms had been hilarious.
Hermione wore a very thin bikini bottom, as she preferred to let her boobs out whenever she could get away with it. When Ginny had taught her that support charm, Hermione had kissed her. It had certainly been thought-provoking, and the girls had shared a few long looks, but that was all. At this time, anyway.
On a shaded roost sat Hedwig. None of the girls were happy to let the beautiful owl out of sight. They were convinced that Harry was alive, and Hedwig was their only lead. When Hedwig suddenly looked up, so did the girls. Luna pointed quietly at the blue shooting star that was approaching. They saw it turn and slow, until the silvery falcon, surrounded by a blue glow, was hovering above the three witches. Hedwig gave an unusual screech, and launched herself at the newcomer. The falcon didn't move to avoid the heavier bird, but Hedwig swerved in the last second, and began circling the silver-blue bird with every sign of familiarity. As the snowy owl guided the falcon to her roost, the witches stared. This kind of behaviour was rare among birds, and unheard of from their friend's reserved owl. The two birds were sharing the roost, and had settled down long before anyone noticed the letter.


¤Greetings HenofMaster.

¤Greetings Hedwig. How did you know who I am?

¤Self is OneWhoFollows. Self can sense TouchOfMaster and ChickOfMaster.

¤You don't mind, then?

¤Master sometimes HeadOfPigeon. Self is glad Master choose good hen. HenOfMaster has hard feathers, but Self approves.

¤I am very glad to hear it. Shall I give him some message from you?

¤Tell Master Self is watching over FriendsOfMaster. MasterOfFawkes tries to take FriendsOfMaster's letters. FriendOfHercules steal letters back. Fawkes pick MasterOfFawkes. Fawkes can share Self's prey anytime.

Gabrielle let out an avian laugh, and continued to chat with the snowy owl.


“That is the falcon that was with that Richard-guy, isn't it?” Ginny said quietly.

“Unless there's another one just like it, that also hasn't been seen before. Caradoc Pritchard, by the way, and I know I read the falcon’s name too,” Hermione replied without taking her eyes off the beautiful bird.

“Caradoc Pritchard was seen first and last the day Harry disappeared. They are connected. His falcon can allude to all three of us, and is very friendly with Hedwig. There is something normal going on.” Luna's tone was sharp and clear, and no trace of her usual spaciness could be heard.

“Allude?” Ginny said, with obvious confusion.

“Normal?” Hermione filled in.

“Yes. The unusual colouring, especially the silver, can allude to my hair, or name. The very bird is associated with Hermes, and the keen eyesight also has it marked down as a symbol for seekers. Of knowledge, for instance. Her name is Guinevere, which is nothing more than the old spelling of Ginevra. As I understand it, strange and absurd things happen to Harry all the time. Hence normal. Hermione, will you please take the letter? I am loosing my calm.”

Hermione approached the falcon warily. It extended its leg, and allowed her to take the letter and watched the bushy-haired witch study it carefully.

“It's sealed with a signet… something. Too large to be a ring.” She showed it to the other girls.

“It's the Potter shield, anyway, and their family motto.” Ginny peered at the imprint. “The other one must be Harry's own. 'Audaces Fortuna Juvat', is Fortune Favours the Bold, but I can barely read the other.”

“It says Non Ini Me, Non Vincet,” Luna injected. “Slide it off with a knife or something. We can study it later. I want to know what's in a letter that's been sealed by Harry's Consort.”



“This impression was obviously made with a Consort's medallion. Since it's Harry's shield, it has to be Harry's consort,” Luna defended.

“She's right, Hermione,” Ginny said tonelessly. “If you look at the lion, it's crowned, right? This Consort is pregnant by Harry, and the child is at this moment his principal heir.”

“I wouldn't know. Wizarding heraldry is very different from Muggle. I can't believe I haven't studied the subject more…”

“I wouldn't have guessed that he even knew about those old traditions. Neville, maybe, but not Harry.” Ginny spoke slowly, as if completely distracted.

“The nargles might have told him. Or he might have had a deep and meaningful conversation with a fern, but would you think that someone like Caradoc Pritchard might know about these things?”

“I'll open it now. We will certainly not be more confused afterwards.”

Hermione slid a knife under the seal, managing to pry it off in just two pieces, and she quickly read the short note. Then, she read it again. Once she had let the other girls read it, she read it two more times. Then, she promptly ran from the room.

“Where can we find the address to this Miss Thrope?” Ginny asked.

“Nowhere,” Luna replied. “It's moderately clever. Miss Anne Thrope. Misanthrope. It doesn't sound too good, really. Let's wait for Hermione’s usual bibliophallic fireworks.”

“Bibliophallic? Luna, I think Hermione has a perfectly platonic relationship with her bookshelves.”

“So she's spending that much time and affection on something that doesn't even have a penis? Sometimes I can't believe they call ME loony.”

After a couple of minutes Hermione returned, looking quite crestfallen.

“I was certain there was a code or something, but I couldn't find anything. Jupiter and Uranus won't converge for years, Rosea Arctica is a well known adaptogen and aphrodisiac, and the shelf life of the tincture is a little less than nine months.”

“The entire note is rather flirty,” Luna observed. “It mentions an astronomic event that might have a double meaning, it mentions a potion with the same shelf life as the human gestation, and the potion is in itself an aphrodisiac. Is his Consort trying to recruit more, I wonder?”

“Where do I sign?” Ginny laughed. “Whoever wrote this note knows enough about you, Hermione, to predict your questions well enough to answer or avoid them. I don't think there's more hidden here than what the note says. Come on, let's write him a letter. One with lots of cryptic things and double entendres.”


Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he was almost prepared to die. The heat was intense, and his last vestige of strength a long lost memory. With a last, heroic effort, he gathered up his will, and forced his arms to make a final attempt, but the bloody anvil just wouldn't bloody budge!

“Hasse, have you understood now that when I say that you can't move a three hundred kilo anvil by hand, I mean it? You have the power. Use it.”

“I bloody can't! It only works when I'm not really thinking about it. I have a few tricks, but they're not working. I'm done for.”

“You can't run out of magic. You are magic. You live and breathe magic. Now pull it around the anvil and lift it!”

“I can't. It won't move like it should.”

“All right. Let's go outside. It's too bloody hot in here.”

The bald man helped Harry out of the smithy. Once outside, Harry regained his composure quickly, but he still fell onto the grass in a disorganised heap. He looked up at Surt.

“What do I do wrong?”

“Nothing. You think wrong, is all. We decided, Leif, Sigyn and I, to throw you in the deep end to see if you'd sink or swim. When you get to Sigyn, tell her that you need to meet the relic. We've made some progress here, after all.”

“What? Making the nails was great. To add fireproofing charms to nails is just brilliant. It was after that things started going wrong.”

“Yes. That's when I magnetized the steel beams in the whole building. When you made those charms, you used Wand magic without a wand. When I magnetized the place, the wandmagic swirls become unstable. You don't have to think about swirls or patterns or words. Just know what you want, picture the effect and make it happen.”

“Shall we try again?”

“Not today, we won't. We've been at this for four hours. You may not be magically exhausted, but if you look at your arms, they're glowing. I'd guess your magic is repairing your broken muscle fibres.”

“So now what? Go to bed? I'm not really sleepy.”

“Good. See that path there? A couple hundred meters down, there's a small lake. Swim across to the other side. Leif lives in the only house there. It's his turn now.”

“I can't swim.”

“Not my problem. Scoot.”

The words sounded a lot more hostile than the bald man's smile let on, but it was with a feeling of dread that Harry found the track to the lake. There was no gillyweed around to save his neck this time. Sure, he could always run around the lake, but the instruction had been to swim. One lesson that he had learned quickly was that there was usually a point to Surt's instructions. The birch forest gave way to ferns, and he could see the lake. It was perfectly round, and maybe a mile across. Four small islets could be seen. One of them was covered in grass, and had a little cottage on it, another was forested, there was a sandy one and the final one was rocky, complete with a cave. It looked fake.
There was a hut by the shore. The pegs suggested that he was supposed to hang his clothes there, but he figured he might need them on the other side. Besides, he knew a few drying charms. With a sense of impending doom, he waded out in the water. He set his sights on the other side of the lake, and decided that he was going to get there or die trying. Suddenly, he felt something funny, and before he knew it, he was carried forward in the water, still with his torso above it. He decided to... will himself forward to the other side, and he flew over the water. It almost felt like he was running or walking. He was clearly doing something with his legs but it was something he couldn't identify. Paddling, perhaps? He reached the opposite shore and slowed down. He misjudged his momentum, though, and landed on his back ten feet from the water, and he was missing his legs. Not just the legs, but everything from the waist down! As he stared uncomprehending, he saw a trickle of water running up the shore and connecting to his body, and as more water ran up the hill, his body restored itself.
“It fills up much faster if you stay in the water, you know. You shouldn't be in such a hurry.”
A head was taking shape over the water. At first it was just a shape of water, but it soon took on colour and texture, revealing the face of a perhaps eleven-year old girl.
“I've never done that before. What's happening?”
“If you're like me…I am Stina, by the way… you are at least part a Lake Warden. Any body of water can be your body. The trick is to think right. You raced over the surface now. You could just have vanished on one side, becoming the entire lake and then pulled your body up on the other side. Where you are on the lake doesn't matter. Anyway, Your devoted wives asked yours truly here to tell you that once Sigyn's done with you, there will be food and all kinds of care ready for you right away. How they can expect you to be able to fuck at all once she's done with you is more than I can say, though.”
“Oh, she's a hot-blooded one. I am the warden of this lake. Everything that happens here, I know. Trust me on this. If she can take on a half-giant, she can take care of you. Hey, let's change the subject? You can't swim normally, can you?”
“No, why?”
“This is the perfect place to learn. I will carry you, so there's no way I'll let you drown. I'll try to teach you other neat things that you can do with the water, too. Now you should really get to Leif's. Just follow the sound of chopping. You can't miss it. See you later, Hasse Hunk.”


"Förbannade helvetes skit!"

This was the start of an impressive rant in the universal language of cussing. The large half giant screamed and cursed and jumped around on one leg. Careful observation led Harry to the understanding that a block of wood had fallen off the chopping block and landed on Leif's foot.
As Harry walked the few feet up from the shore and made his presence known, the large man made an amazing recovery. A slight limp and the occasional grimace were the only traces of the incident that had made him such an amusing sight. He picked up a cricket bat of aluminium, and came to meet the younger man.

"Hello Hasse. Surt work you good?"

"Oh yes. He broke it off before I hurt myself. I didn't get much done, though."

"No fear. You not here because you can, but to learn. We will train easy combat with sorcery today. You know world around you with a magic sense. We will train that today."

"How do you train that?"

"Easy. I make simple magic devices. You will walk around with this baseball bat. Devices will throw golf ball at you from behind. You sense, and hit ball away. Full point, hit me."

Sometimes education hurts. Sometimes lessons are painful. Sometimes, they throw golf balls at high speed at the back of your head. Pain is one hell of an efficient teacher. Well, at least it is if there's something to learn from it. It didn't take very long for him to start sensing the oncoming balls. It took him a lot longer to learn how to turn around in time to bat them away. This bat also felt quite a bit heavier than the beater's bats he had used before. When he finally learned to hit them, the cruel and sadistic taskmaster doubled the speed, and triggered two balls at the same time.

Harry was getting annoyed.

A few hits in the back of his head later and anger was a better term.
He was dancing and spinning faster and faster, beating an ever-increasing number of balls at an impossible rate. Finally, his moves were a blur, and most of the balls never hit the bat, but were banished or simply blown up. He had been going for five full minutes before he realised what he was doing, and an evil smirk formed. The golfballs stopped being banished, and simply hovered in the air around him. Still capturing the incoming balls, he turned to face the half giant, and brandishing the bat like a wand, he pointed at his teacher and unleashed a mighty stream of golf balls, powerful enough to toss the huge man into the lake. When Leif rose from the water, he was facing a laughing Harry who still had a few balls orbiting him.
The huge man showed an impressive amount of teeth in a truly immense grin.

"Good trick. Very bloody great. You fun to teach. Next time I remember to duck when pushing too hard. You Sorcerer. Wife will see if you Aesir or Vanir, but you can fight anyway."

Harry sensed an incoming attack, and opted to simply duck. The ball flew over his head and hit Leif straight in the chest. This made him laugh even harder.

"Good, very good. I like it. Now, remember that you have the power and you can use it when you want. You did it holding a fifteen-kilo club of magnetite that has been charmed with magic disruptor charms. You can do it any time. Wait. You not wet. You not swim here?"

"Not really. I walked down into the water, but then my lower body disappeared, and I flew over the water like a racing boat. When I reached the shore, I landed without my legs. They came back later, but I was a bit concerned there for a second.”

“I should think. You meet Stina?”

“Stina told me what to do. Apparently, I have some traits in common with her."

"This great news. I never train Lake Warden in combat. You should learn more of this. First, you must face fire. You must undergo great test of character. Time, young Hasse, to meet Sigyn, my wife. Now, strange things may happen but it is OK. Vala follow different rules. You have fun now and use it all. All will be good in the end."

That phrasing had the sound of advice about things to come. Leif’s smile was a bit peculiar, but Harry assumed he would learn about it soon enough. Leif had taken him to a large gate in the side of a mountain. The large man pulled a bell string and the doors swung open. Leif didn't say anything, but gave him a nervous smile and pushed him in.
The gates swung shut. Harry was left in the dark, but his eyes adapted immediately. He could also easily sense the room's layout and the presence of someone friendly. He could see the outline of someone obviously female on the other side of the fairly large room. The room seemed to be octagonal, and eight statues were placed in the corners. The only door, except the gate that had let him in, was an arched doorway behind the woman. She began walking towards him.

"So, you are the young man whose tonker has my daughter in such a state?"

He could easily guess what Tonker meant. After the warnings, he had decided to be absolutely straightforward himself.

"If your daughter is Disa, then yes, " he answered.

"Good. You didn't even stutter. You can see in here already, right?"

"Yes. I can also sense the room magically."

"You have decided to be completely open, yes?"

"Yes. If Disa, Jorunn, Surt and Leif trust you, that's good enough for me. I have also learnt enough about magic to know that others tend to know more than I do. If I need help from others, I need to tell them what I need help with."

"Do you? What do you do if you don't know what you need help with?"

"I have to trust them to know, and give as much information as I can. I tend to screw that part up."

"Good. At least you know that. Now, this room is designed as a sort of sluice. Some things in here can't stand sunlight or fresh air. We will move further in a few minutes. What do you want me to call you? I know who you are, of course. In here, secrets are kept, so if you want to be Harry in here, that's fine by me."

"Hasse, I think. I like it and I need to get used to it. What will happen here? Surt said to tell you that I might need to see the relic, by the way."

"I know. He called, so that's where we'll start. Now, this is not the usual procedure, so we'll have to wing it, I think you say. We have no time to teach you properly, so we have to figure out some way to make you understand dragonspeech at least somewhat. It's necessary. You will also have to drink a really interesting potion."

"I'm a parselmouth already. What does the potion do?"

"Brilliant! Parsel and Wyrm are close enough, and the only thing I can only guarantee about the potion is an upset stomach and a pounding headache. It's possible that it will help you understand your power, it might show you things I can't imagine. Quite a few have also been sent on quests that have been very beneficial for them. I guess it's up to the relic."

"What is the relic? This is beginning to sound really strange."

"You'll see. Is it true that you have faced a basilisk?"

"My second year. I had help, though. Why?"

"Have you heard of Fafnir?"

"The name is familiar, but that's it."

"Fafnir was a dragon, of the Lindorm family. No wings, no legs and no fire. Plenty of acids, though. He was slain by Sigurd, who was made almost invulnerable in the process. Then, Sigurd chopped his head off. It's just that Fafnir didn't die. We have his still living head in a chamber in here. His greatest wish is to die, but we can't figure out how to do it. He was a mean old snake once upon a time, but he's been a great help to us since. As a woman, I know that many of the problems men have come from the balls. Fafnir lost every gland he had. I guess he was cured. I wouldn't recommend you to try it if you begin to feel peevish, though."

"Your daughter would be quite unhappy with that, I guess. So would Jorunn, and my Consort, as I understand it. They seem to like my glands as they are.”

The Vala laughed a chiming laugh, and agreed.

“That they do, Hasse. That they do. From what I See, there's a young LakeWarden who wouldn't mind some water sports too. We'll talk more about that later, though.”

“But right now I am to take a brain-numbing potion, have a heart-to-heart with the cut-off head of an ancient snake-dragon, and trust him enough to take his advice?"

"Pretty much. Nothing to worry about. Happens to everybody, right? Well, the potion tastes like vanilla, so if you don't like vanilla, we might have a problem. Oh, let's get some light in here."

The room lit up, and the shape on the other end of the room revealed itself to be a remarkably beautiful, slightly older woman in a long white gown with an intricately decorated golden belt holding it in. She had honey blonde hair, ice blue eyes and a deep golden tan. Her face was gorgeous, and she might have been too top-heavy for the catwalk, but her beauty was still immense. She could have been about thirty-five, and the few signs of age on her features didn't affect her beauty at all. She stood quite tall, more than a head taller than him, slim of waist and hip, and Harry wondered briefly how those narrow hips could take someone like Leif, if he now was equally large all over.
She saw his gaze as she walked towards him and smirked.

"You are thinking about how large Leif's cock is, aren't you?"

"Yes. I'm remotely curious about how he can fit inside you. Of course, I don't have any experience at all with human girls, but I can't believe humans would stretch more than a Veela or a Huldr."

"Very good. No blushing or stuttering at all. The truth is I use a potion that makes me able to take his, yes, really huge cock in my ass if I want to. I guess I should warn you, too, that the potion you're about to drink is a Vanir brew, and as such, it will make you insanely horny, and I fully intend to let you fuck me to pieces. Everybody involved knows about this, and Disa said I was lucky. Apparently you were a bit too gentle with them. I will get the benefit of a potion-induced frenzy. You won't run any risk of bonding me or anything. I am a Vala. We are unaffected by such things. Disa was suggesting that I might become addicted to your cum, but I think that's just her. On that note, thank you for my daughter's happiness. Now, just bugger her, and make her yours. She won't have a life here without you. Now she knows how good she can feel, and to return to the low level she had gotten used to might kill her. Jorunn has already decided that she will go with you, but really, both girls have lost their assertive nature where you are concerned. Huldr are supposed to be unable to feel unselfish love or devotion, but there has never been a confirmed affair with a Huldr and a Sorcerer before. I'm beginning to think you might be the exception. It's a bit too early to tell, though. Vala can see the future, but we are very good at gazing into the present. You are a good man. Please fuck my daughter’s arse. Have I shocked you yet?"

"Nope. I am a bit surprised, but not shocked. I'm an alien here. I don't know anything about Vala, too little about Huldr and next to nothing about myself. Why should I be shocked? All I have to do is accept different customs. How hard is that?"

"Even the assfucking?"

"Especially the assfucking. That's bloody great. Am I supposed to do that to you too?"

"If you like. I like it a lot, and whatever Disa says, you just can't be close to Leif's size. I think I really would like that, yes. Unfortunately, you won't really have a say. You will be all instinct, and the instincts usually tells you to breed, so I figure it will be my pussy that will take the pounding."

"Is it time to go in yet?"

"What, did I embarrass you? Oh yes. Here, down this bottle. Let's meet the old serpent before we go on to the more interesting parts." She smiled and walked ahead of him towards the arched door.
It opened before they got there, and revealed a fire lit chamber with rough rock walls and a floor of gold, polished to a mirror-like finish. The magic was humming around them, and after downing that potion, Harry had a hard time blocking it out.

Things were beginning to feel very odd. Sigyn was leading him through a maze of similar rooms with odd things in them. Harry's mind was playing some interesting tricks on him, mixing physical objects with concepts, making Sigyn stand out like a symbol of the worldly wisdom, the exquisite knowledge made flesh guiding his way in a series of rooms, with smooth foundations of centuries worth of intelligence, condensed into gold and polished by the ponderings of generations, but still unable to smooth the walls above, because the walls wouldn't let themselves be polished. They wouldn't listen to the song of the gold which would make them marble, but they were comfortable with the rough grain of the granite. Here and there in the rough walls were tiny reddish gemstones, shining in the firelight like truth in a newspaper. Objects spoke to him as he passed. A group of sticks on a pedestal roared silent rows of runes across his mind, the song of a brass horn was etched on his eyelids and a large sword on a stone table made his arms flail in a peculiar dance. All sorts of things made him react in the most bizarre ways, but the golden tome of knowledge that surrounded the narrow waist of his guide in this the strangest of journeys had him in it's grip, making him follow it through the misty fire-lit realm of mind and magic. He heard battles, he saw visions of incredible bravery, of the most horrible betrayals. He saw men with wicker shields fighting on a frozen lake, in the light of the flaming night sky of the north, adorned with a comet whose tail reached over half the sky. He saw longships and burning cities. He saw his parents and himself. He saw Sirius, with a blonde girl on his knee and a tankard in his hand, spilling beer all over himself and the laughing girl. He smelled the smoke from a funeral pyre. He tasted the coppery taste of blood. He tried to snap out of it, to tell himself he was having a potion-induced trip, but he wouldn't listen to himself. He sighed in exasperation over his own stubbornness. The mists cleared as a resounding voice spoke to him all through his body.

“Welcome, hatchling. It has been a long time since a Vanirman was last here. How can Fafnir help you?”

Harry looked up and tried to focus. In front of him was a snake's head. It was at least fifteen feet wide, and ten high. Its scales were miniscule, about a centimetre across and brilliant green. The slitted eyes of the great serpent were also a shade of green, one that Harry recognised from his mirror image. If it hadn't been for the wing-like fins and horns protruding from the jaw line, it would have looked like an ordinary snake’s head, only larger. The mouth was open enough to reveal row after row of needle-like teeth. At the corners, though, there were two huge, sword-like fangs, dripping with a clear substance. Without knowing how or why, he went down on one knee, and answered as formally as he could in Parseltongue.

“Master Fafnir, I need help in understanding how to use my power. I need help to slay my enemies. I need help to bring justice to those who have none. I need truth and light. I need wisdom to go with my power.”

“No small request there, hatchling. The first is easy, or should be. You have to realise that you don't have limits the way other's do. You have a quick mind, but your understanding of yourself has been stunted in your youth.

“You can learn, though. Find people to ground you, and help you see yourself as you are, and not as you think you are. Your Veela is good for you, and the two Vanir Huldr girls you have made contact with will help you, too. I will speak to the lovely Sigyn about that.

“That will also help you to slay your enemies. Your enemy believes himself to be a snake. He gives us a bad name. We do not hate. We do not rage. We take no pleasure in killing or making others suffer. I have killed to defend my greatness. I have killed to be feared. Mine was the path of chaos, as all dragons are. I healed, I helped, I killed and maimed. Not because I was good or evil, but because I was Dragon. Not snake, Dragon.

“My family, the Lindorm Family, has many branches. Most are snakes; one, mine, is Dragon and even more are now extinct. One branch of our family has been diminished unto extinction. There are only two family groups left. One in the south of this land, and one in the lands of the bluemen, far far away.

“This family was the only one of all Jormungandr's children to ever take flight. The Leharv is smaller than your dragons, but it is a more accomplished flyer, and fast as those mancontraptions I sometimes sense overhead. Like me, they have no fire, but can spray acids and poisons instead. Their hide is tough against both magic and weapons, and they fly easily under water. There is little hope for them to survive, but one will fly, to honour our name, and cleanse the world of the poor beast who thinks himself a snake. That I can do to help you.

“You needed truth and light. You needed wisdom. You will go to the Stones of Sjögestad, where their Keeper will send you on another journey. You are of the Vanir, and my magic and wisdom are Aesir. You must see your own kind for this kind of help. Now, I ask something from you. When you go to Sjögestad, can you please ask those you meet for my release? For your promise, I will give you the greatest gift I can give. Will you ask for me?”

“Yes, Master Fafnir, I will ask for your release. I trust the help you have given me already, and ask for nothing in return.”

“For nothing you ask, but something you shall receive. I name you, for your stay in the land of the Midnight Sun, Harald Fafnersson.

“Harald, for many great kings, and for some not so great, as reminders of what to do, and what not to do. Fafnersson as I claim you as a son of scale and fang, to restore the name of snakes.

“I will give you my fangs. You shall coat the right one in Audsilber, and use for a sword. You shall empty the left, and brew the poison with wormwood and stonesweet, and willingly given blood from a Huldr, easy for you; that, and finally honey for a potion.

“The poison will contain the greatest magic I am capable of now, granting you a Leharvshamn, what you would call Animagus shape. You will also receive the Snakemastery, the command of snakes. The beast of the Danelag, I mean Britain, has a snake familiar with a piece of him inside. If you order the snake to kill her master, she will at least try. Such is the power you would gain, but I ask you to consider the lives of the small ones. No life shall be thrown away, unless it has thrown itself away already.

“Young Harald, I have spoken much, and it will take some time to make the poisons as they need to be. The Vala will take them to you when I am ready. You should wait with your trip until the potion is ready and has done its work. I shall rest now, and the potion inside you will enter its last stage any minute now. Be well, Harald Fafnersson.”

The ancient dragon closed his eyes, and Harald Fafnersson turned and looked at his guide.

“How much of that did you understand?”

“Enough, Harald. I know the potion he talked about, and Surt is the only smith these days who can work with Audsilber. The quest is unheard of, though. Fafnir has been waiting for you all these years. Someone who can restore his name, and release him.”

She quieted, because there was a new light in the eyes of the man called Harald Fafnersson. There was something wild, dangerous and primal about him, and in spite of having been in this situation many times before, she shivered in both anticipation and fear. This would be intense, she thought as the young man prowled towards her. She didn't think much after that, being preoccupied with the sheer force of a Sorcerer's passion.

Ronald Bilius Weasley, the Boy Who Lived, couldn't believe it. Those annoying Goblins lied to him all the time, saying that Harry hadn't left him anything when he knew he had. Of course he had. He had tried to get his girlfriend to come along to convince them, but she hadn't even answered his call. She was probably busy finding the way he should kill that dark guy in. He had already found it out himself, of course. He was the Boy Who Lived, after all. It was brilliant. A tickling charm! Make the dark guy laugh. There was no way laughter wouldn't kill him, right? He was probably some kind of boggart anyway, or maybe a dementor. That didn't matter, because his Patronus was a monstrous Dragon. The most amazing thing about this Patronus was that he was the only one who could see it. His mother had said she thought she could see it, briefly, but then it had been invisible to her too. If that wasn't a sign that he was the Boy Who Lived, nothing was. No one had ever heard of an invisible Patronus before.
It was great, being the Boy Who Lived. Everything was so clear, all the girls just loved him, and he had all the money in the world, or he would have, as soon as he could find a goblin who didn't BLOODY LIE TO HIM! He whipped out another notebook and scribbled something important down. The most amazing things came to him all the time. Wasn't it obvious that all goblins had to die? If they could just lie to the defeater of Vold… they would lie to everybody, right? He tore the strip of paper off the book. It wouldn't do if just anyone could just find his notebook and discover his plans, would it? Besides, it was charmed with a secret Boy Who Lived magic to keep all things secret and magically correct the spelling. Now there were some men coming to meet him. He immediately understood. It was the supertrained support wizards who were absolutely devoted to him, and who would fight off all the Death Eaters while he threw the tickling charm on their boss. The Life Eaters. He liked their uniforms. The white robes, to be opposite the Death eater's black, and to complete it, the white robes bore a symbol of health and life, just to mock the Death Eaters in their ugly black smocks and hideous tattoos. As the whiteclad wizards grabbed him, he followed willingly. It was really a brilliant uniform he had invented for his troops. It was light and comfortable and could stop a hundred Killing Curses without needing to be washed. His attention to detail was amazing. He remembered placing incredible powerful runes in every stitch, even the embroidery that said, “St. Mungo's Psychiatric Ward.” Ronald Bilius Weasley, the Boy Who Lived, was enjoying his life.

Author's notes. This was a set-up chapter. I had some foundations to lay, and I crammed most of them in to this chapter. Stories of the beast called Leharv can be found with that name in Halland, Sweden and under several other names in Kongo, of all places. It's “really” some kind of radioactive pterodactyl, with bones that can be seen through the wings when the moon is behind it, and cause blood vomiting and hairloss, but I stole it, repainted it twice and sold it to a guy who swears that he's had it for years. Norse dragons spray acid, not fire. The “classic” six limbed firebreathers are Celtic, and I'm not. If you recognise the relics I used, brownie points to you.
Next: Smut, sweet stuff and cycling. About performance anxiety. The mandatory secret relative. Massive thanks to my beta, ZZ9PluralZAlpha, who makes sure this is readable.
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