Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

Written in the 1st point of view. Just thought you should know.

Will contain some escapism, feelings of anger, guilt, and violence. Moving the timeline to today, as well.

Some **very slight** bashing at best. Dumbledore is **not** some evil mastermind binding Harry's magic and using his vaults while trying to dose him with love potions to Ginny-gold-digger-Weasley and having Gloryhound-Ron and Blindly-Obedient-Hermione spy on him. I've stopped reading stories like that quite a while back —with a few good exceptions of course. *cough* jbern *cough*

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 1 : Dudley's Apology  
><strong>

"Shit!" I bit out through gritted teeth, before sucking on my index finger in a futile attempt to relieve the pain. I was outside, weeding the garden on dear Aunt Petunia's orders- I mean _at her request_, of course. As per the usual course, the neighbours would pass by and glower at me for daring to look so scruffy in my clothes that are a few sizes too big for me.

'I swear, I'll never understand these people's obsession with normalcy, and looking proper. Do they expect me to wear a tux to dig my hands into the dirt to pull out these stupid weeds?' I thought to myself.

Which reminded me; a few more of these weeds left and I was done for the day. Then I could go rest up.

At least, I could've done that if it weren't for the stupid nightmares. Most of my nights have been restless. I'd wake up at random points of the night, feeling like shit. It's usually the same kind of dream, with variations here and there. One thing was always certain, though.

Cedric would die or was already dead in every one.

Now, you may think: "died or was already dead? What could you possibly mean?"

Well, my good man, I'd be quite happy to explain that to you, since my friends have been blowing me off all summer, sending me inane replies like "we can't tell you because it's secret", "we can't talk about you-know-what right now, stay safe", and my personal favorite, "we're quite busy but I can't give you details". I asked for assistance and they refused to share the sorely needed information, writing letters that made me feel like they're lording it over me. I only wanted to know what Voldemort was doing. Was that too much to ask for? The whole situation infuriated me.

'Everyone's so quick to keep information from me. If Remus had talked to me about Sirius' possible innocence, the whole situation that night could've been resolved.' I thought to myself. Hindsight was 20/20, I reminded myself. I just wished they would trust me more. All they did was push me away, thinking I was fragile and can't handle it. Only Sirius seemed to treat me as an equal; sucks that he's a fugitive.

But I digress. Where was I, again?

Ah, yes. You see, my tentative friend and fellow Triwizard Champion, Cedric Diggory, was killed last June during the Third Task. Wormtail— curse that rat to the ninth level of hell itself— did the deed, and then resurrected Voldemort himself. Remember that disembodied spirit that made Quirrell its bitch a few years back? It was the very same one. However, now it had an actual body. Voldemort was revived, but let's not get into that subject just yet.

On to the matter at hand. I've been having nightmares centering around Cedric's death. Sometimes the nightmare's simplistic. Cedric and I arrive to that wretched graveyard, and I watch the Killing Curse take him away from the land of the living. I stare at his blank and expressionless eyes for an eternity, before I wake up in a cold sweat.

Think that's bad? Sometimes, my nightmares become more creative. I could be in the Great Hall, having a simple lunch with Ron and Hermione, and Cedric would come by to speak to me about the second task, but something's off. Cedric's mouth isn't moving, yet I can hear his voice. I look into his eyes, and yet again I see those accursed blank eyes, haunting me. My mind can tell something is wrong, but I keep on talking to the floating, dead Hufflepuff, staring at me with those unblinking eyes. Then, all of a sudden, he'd latch on to me, with wide eyes and face almost pressed up to mine. His breath would smell rotten.

"Why didn't you save me?" He would ask, and I would wake up in my room, head pounding.

So to keep my mind off of my problems, I did an extraordinary amount of chores. I'd also been listening to the news, and reading every newspaper I could find to keep busy. Perhaps there would be a hint of Voldemort's comings and goings in the Muggle news. Perhaps an unexplained storm, or some disaster. In any case, it was helping me keep busy, and forget about Cedric for a while. My friends certainly weren't taking my mind off of it, and I didn't have anyone to talk to at _Casa de Dursley_. The Dursleys weren't exactly a loving family, if you catch my drift.

In fact, they're quite terrible people. For the first ten years of my life, I lived in the cupboard under the stairs, you see. I had to learn how to cook and clean for them because I had to "pull my weight around the house". I wasn't too well-fed, but they never deliberately starved me. They didn't physically abuse me either. Most of the things they did to me was petty at best. They spread rumors about me being a hooligan who attended a school for incurably criminal children. What was the name again? St-Brutus, or something.

All things considered, it could've been much worse. It didn't excuse their behavior, however, and I hate them for it. Once I was of age, I'd leave them behind forever, never looking back.

I quietly prepared a sandwich in the kitchen, and headed to my room, intending on getting some much needed sleep. Petunia and Vernon were out, doing something or the other. Never really cared to ask. Not that they cared to tell.

I ambled up the stairs, absently munching at the chicken sandwich that I made, before passing by Dudley's room. The ponce wasn't in there. I got to my room, and saw him quietly closing my door. My eyes narrowed dangerously.

"My, my," I said, making the not-so-fat boy— boy, was that surprising when I laid eyes on him this summer— jump in surprise at being caught. He absently switched into a fighting stance, before slightly relaxing when he saw it was me. Looks like that boxing thing was paying off. "What have we here?"

"P-Potter!" Dudley looked frightened for a second, before quickly switching to a cool look. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" I replied incredulously, advancing. My wand was already out. "You just left my room, all quiet like. Take a guess at what I want to know."

He visibly paled at the sight of the wand. "Y-You can't use that outside of your school! You'll get expelled!" He bravely said, or at least attempted to. Sounded more like when Malfoy was crying about his "broken arm" in Third Year. I briefly wondered if Dudley would've made Slytherin, what with his similarities to Malfoy. Both of them always ran to daddy when things got tough. Both of them were spoiled brats. I shook my head, and focused on the boy in question.

"You want to try me?" I gave a savage smirk, now pointing my wand at his face. He flinched. "You want to become a full pig, this time?" I let that particular threat hang in the air for a few seconds. "Just tell me what you did."

"A-Alright, alright, Potter." Dudley squeaked out fearfully. "There was too much stuff in my room, so I took all the stuff I didn't want and threw it in yours. Happy?"

I was about to say something rather foul, but paused halfway through the first word.

"Why didn't you just throw it away?" I asked instead, half curious and half angry at what he'd done without my consent. In a roundabout way, he seemed to be giving me stuff. That wasn't possible, though. This was Dudley we were talking about. The same kid who made fun of me at every turn. The same kid who looked for excuses to get me into trouble. The same kid who bullied anyone who tried to be my friend.

"I..." He hesitated, looking around for a way out. "Look. I don't know. Maybe I gave you that stuff." He admitted, quietly. He refused to look me in the eye.

"Why?" I was genuinely confused.

"Look, just stop asking, okay?"

"The hell I will!" I spat out venomously. "All my life, you've been nothing but cruel to me. Why change now?!"

He didn't answer.

"Answer me!" I almost yelled.

"It's complicated, okay!?" Dudley exploded, surprising me. His eyes had a nice, fiery glint to them. "Maybe I had some words said to me during my school year. Maybe I took a good look at the mirror and was disgusted by what I saw!" He blurted out, his face flushed with shame.

Words escaped me after his outburst. So I thought about it, instead. True, as far as I could tell, this summer, Dudley had stopped hanging with his old crew, often hitting the gym, or disappearing for hours on end on 'dates'. At first, I thought he was just messing around with his mates, but now..

"I- What-" I attempted to speak but couldn't concentrate. I took a deep breath to calm myself down.

"What brought this on?" I finally asked.

"I..." Dudley said unsurely. "I met this girl during the school year. We talked a bit, she seemed pretty cool to me, you know?"

I nodded, not really believing Dudley was sharing this with me. "Go on."

"Right, well I thought she was cool, but a lot of other students didn't like her because she was so good at her studies and a looker to boot. By other students, I mean the female population. Rest of us mates liked what we saw." Dudley chuckled mirthlessly. "I noticed the girls would play pranks on her. Thought they were harmless, really. But then I caught her crying in an empty hallway."

Dudley shook his head at the memory. "I don't think she saw me. But it got me thinking, you know?"

"Thinking about what?" I pressed on.

"You know, the stuff I did to you when we were kids." Dudley looked uncomfortable. "I didn't really know what it was I was doing to you, Harry. You never seemed to be affected by it. I didn't know. I just didn't know, alright!?" He sounded like he was pleading.

Half a minute ago, I'd thought he was a total jerk for trying to throw some shit in my room. Now I'm finding out that he really was feeling remorse over the things he'd done.

People can change, after all.

Sure, I'm still pissed at his treatment of me, but could I really blame him? We were both teenagers, we didn't know better. People were shaped by the environments they lived in. That's why, when most of those shootings I used to hear about as a kid happened, the people behind it had often been kids in their late teens living in poverty. They'd been lashing out at a world that treated them like garbage.

Which was why I found myself forgiving Dudley. I just hoped it wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass.

"It's fine."

"W-wha?" Dudley sputtered disbelievingly.

"It's all right. Forget about it." I insisted. It was a few moments later I saw him sigh in relief, and reminded myself I needed to breathe as well.

"So, what did you put in my room?" I asked. Dudley scratched the back of his head, before entering my room once more. He beckoned me inside. I warily followed suit, still not really sure if this was all some sick joke or that Dudley was actually sorry. What I saw when I walked in beat my expectations by a mile. I figured he'd dump a bunch of stuff on my bed and leave me to sort it out.

Instead, I found a pair of headphones, and the MP3 player I'd seen Dudley use a few years back, on the bed. Dudley turned his attention to a previously empty corner of my room, which now had a desk with a computer on it. It was already turned on, showing the desktop of a "Windows XP", whatever that was.

"You can't possibly not need all of this."

"I really don't need it." Dudley disagreed with a wry grin. "I got a new computer last month, and I figured I'd give this one to you. It's not bad or anything, but mine's just better, and I wouldn't get much for the old one since it's not cutting edge any longer."

The previously fat boy took the time to show me how to use the computer. I'd used some back in primary school, so it was pretty easy to get back into it. Dudley showed me how to get on the internet, as well; said I could "learn a lot of shit" from it, both good and bad. He also showed me how to use the MP3 player, and then pointed behind my computer screen; there was a small box full of batteries to keep the music player running.

With all of that covered, Dudley apologized once more for the treatment he made me endure.

"It's fine." I rolled my eyes. "Go meet up with your girlfriend already. That's where you usually go around this time, no?"

Dudley froze, before shaking his head and leaving the room. I gave a smirk, plopped myself onto the rickety bed, and turned on the MP3 player, wondering what songs Dudley put on there. The song seemed to start partway through the song. Dudley must have paused it instead of stopping.

"_I used to be the type of kid that would always think the sky is falling_  
><em> Why am I so differently wired? Am I a martian?<em>  
><em> What kind of twisted experiment am I involved in?<em>  
><em> 'Cause I don't belong in this world<em>  
><em> That's why I'm scoffing at authority, defiant often...<em>"

I smiled. This was going to be a different summer.

**ooooooooooooooo**

Lyrics taken from Eminem - Legacy.

I don't expect many people to like this story, since I don't really see eye-to-eye with a lot of people. Hopefully whoever reads this does like it. If not... meh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 2: Electric Introduction  
><strong>

It had been a month since Dudley and I did our reconciliation thing. To be honest, I hadn't seen much of him, seeing as I've been almost completely focused on the computer he'd so graciously given me. I even lost track of which day it was, strangely enough. I knew so much, now. Was this how Hermione felt when learning things? I never really had any interest in schoolwork, since I picked up on the basics and managed to score over 80% on my tests; it was the same story in Hogwarts. Most of the time, my scores were Exceeds Expectations— except Potions, but then again, Snape was a total shitstain. Hermione helped with my homework, but I never really put my all in theoretical work.

Anyway, back to what I was talking about. The day after I'd received Dudley's 'presents', I started using the computer. Took me around ten minutes to get the hang of properly typing on the keyboard. And so, the first thing I did was launch something called 'Mozilla Firefox' — a program that accessed the internet— and, like every curious fourteen year old boy, what I decided to look up was 'girls' on the search index called 'Google' (later of course learning that I could say "I googled girls" without sounding stupid).

I got a list of TV shows, and actual definitions for the word 'girl', which made me face-palm. Luckily, at the top, there was a link to a series of images. What followed was a veritable fucking _ocean_ of the hottest women I'd ever laid eyes on. Pictures of women in bikinis, underwear, maid outfits, or no clothing at all, showing off their curves and tanned bodies in glorious high definition. Some were even kissing! It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on. Why the hell did wizards hate Muggles, when they could provide us with such beauty?

That was the beginning of my corruption. By the end of the first week, I'd already went through thousands of pictures and hundreds of videos— discovering porn was like icing on the cake— as well as all the tissues in my room. Now I understood why Dudley had all those 'colds', last year.

Over the remaining weeks, I began 'surfing' on the internet. It was difficult, at first, since I had no idea where I was supposed to go, but Dudley had given me a list of websites I could access. He told me to access them in order, and not randomly. It was strange advice, but he hadn't steered me wrong yet.

As to the list itself, he gave it to me in point form:

1) Google: I was already using this website quite extensively for most of my 'needs'. If anything confused me, or I didn't understand a reference, or a certain word I saw, I was to 'google' the term. So I used it to research anything and everything that grabbed my fancy, or seemed any useful.

2) YouTube: According to Dudley, this website was essentially a library of videos that people shared with the world. Most of the content was boring and harmless. Some were comedic in nature, like videos of people failing at just about anything I could think of. A lot were just people playing video games to show people how to beat certain games— playthroughs, they were called. Then there was the so called 'weird' section of YouTube. Snakes eating eggs, and various animals including other snakes. Japanese commercials. Naked people performing odd cultural dances. Personally, I preferred watching videos about martial arts and documentaries of all kinds, learning a great deal about the sciences, and non magical animals. I was by no means an expert, of course. However, thanks to this crash course, I wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb when conversing with non magical folk. I snorted at the thought of Ron butchering terms like "electricity" and "telephone".

3) Encyclopedia Dramatica: At first, I thought this was like Wikipedia. It certainly shared an identical template; oh was I wrong. As the name indicates, it was a website dedicated to cataloging any and all interesting and dramatic happenings on the internet, also known as the Internets, interwebs, the web, WWW, DubyaDubyaDubya, etc. Said to be created as the 'final arbiter of truth'. Mostly filled with humorously racist and offensive content, ranging from indiscriminate mockery directed to every single race on earth, to recorded beheadings (complete with jokes in the subtext). Needless to say, desensitization occurred soon after.

4) 4chan: Encyclopedia Dramatica got most of its disturbing content from here. It was an image board, with sections of all kinds. The weirder parts of it was in the section titled 'Random', also known as /b/ ("Do not talk about /b/!" I muttered to myself amused, remembering the so called rules of the Internet). The things that were seen in there could simply not be unseen. If Encyclopedia Dramatica did not do the job of desensitizing me, 4chan surely did.

However, Anonymous surprisingly did deliver. Among the many posts detailing gruesome murders, accidents, self experimentation, videos of wizards attacking people in Europe began surfacing. My first thought when checking these posts out was "fake and gay", but then, more and more were posted. Incredibly, 4chan made an announcement on their homepage, telling its European user base to be excessively careful on the streets if they saw people in robes waving sticks at them. Most of the basement dwellers took that as a joke, but some who actually regularly left their houses took it rather seriously. All this communication between Muggles was occurring underneath the wizards' noses; I found this highly amusing. Some Bulgarian bloke took it to the next level, as usual, keeping a camera with him at all times— and a gun. He ended up somehow filming himself killing a Death Eater, and followed by taking his stuff; a stick ("HOLY SHIT, A WAND?" was the general response), some gold, silver and bronze coins ("wat", was the general answer), and a few bottles of foul tasting, viscous liquid ("What is this, an MMORPG?"). The original poster (or OP, as it were), was hailed as a legend among the great 4chan heroes of old, and was subsequently arrested by the local police force (AKA "party-vanned") for first degree murder, as per the usual course.

The deeds of that Bulgarian bloke made me realize something. Here was a guy, a Muggle, who took down a full fledged Death Eater, all on his own. Sure, the bloke was probably a glory seeking, murdering piece of shit, but _he actually pulled it off_. If he hadn't shared it with 4chan, he would've probably gotten away with it, as well.

So, if he could do it, why couldn't I?

The answer was simple: I _could_. Then came the following question: _should_ I?

An image of Dumbledore with a disappointed expression on his face appeared to the forefront of my mind. I savagely tore it aside, feeling a little satisfaction at doing so. That old man pissed me off back in June, when he'd refused Mrs. Weasley's request that I stay with them for the summer.

I'd remembered it quite well. Dumbledore had simply refused her request and said that he had 'his own reasons'. I was reminded of the night that Voldemort was resurrected.

_"But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations' care. Not even I can touch him there..._" Voldemort had said, back then. I remembered the words. Dumbledore put me with the Dursleys when old Tom was beaten the first time. While I was now on decent terms with Dudley, and to a lesser extent Petunia, I still hated Vernon with a burning passion. I understood the need for safety, but why not take care of me himself?

The answer, of course, was easy. He's not my next of kin, so why should he bother? In my head, I acknowledged the validity of that statement. That didn't stop the feelings of resentment I had towards the man, though. I just hid them better, that's all. I still respect the man, for making the hard decisions, but respecting and actually liking someone are not the same thing.

Back to my current dilemma.

I knew that I was definitely going to be at the heart of this war, no matter what people might have said. Voldemort has been after me for a long time, now. Twice in First Year; the first, was when he jinxed my departed Nimbus 2000 during a Quidditch game; the second, at the end of the year, when I was forced to kill Quirrell to defend myself. Again, Tom tried to kill me in Second Year, through an enchanted diary of all things. My Third Year was, impossibly, delightfully free of Voldemort. Of course, it all went to the crapper in Fourth Year. Hell, that entire year was particularly horrible in more ways than one; shunned by most of the student body, scared out of my mind about the upcoming tasks, forced to get past a dragon, to swim through a freezing lake for an hour, to make my way through a maze filled with dangerous creatures and traps of all kinds. Just when I thought it was all over, when I got to the Triwizard Cup... Voldemort came back. After somehow managing to not die, yet again, I was almost killed by Moody, who turned out to be Barty Crouch Jr.!

'I'm half expecting next year to fight a Nundu or a Giant or something. Maybe both. Or maybe another dose of Voldemort. Maybe Voldemort ON the Nundu, with his pet giant stupidly walking behind him. That's it!' I thought to myself, my mind going off in tangents.

Anyway, it was time to take the kid gloves off, time to take things seriously. I wouldn't kill anyone, of course. Maybe beat them into submission, break their wands, go as far as cut off an arm or two. As for old Tommy... Well, I don't really think he was just going to roll over and die if I asked nicely enough. He pretty much dominated the entire fight last June. It was only thanks to random chance that I made it out of there at all. If that portkey wasn't there, and if the reverse spell effect hadn't occurred when our wands connected, I would've been dead. Or worse, held hostage, at the mercy of Voldemort, who seemed to dole out Cruciatus curses like candy.

I got off my chair, and stood in front of the mirror, gazing at myself. I needed something powerful, something fast. My eyes flitted to the scar on my forehead. That lightning bolt scar made me a target, I needed to become stronger!

Wait a minute... Lightning. I jumped back on my seat in front of the computer, and opened a new tab in my browser. Quickly typing in "Lightning", got me several Wikipedia links, as well as a few videos on YouTube. I clicked one of the video links, watching the thunderstorm recording. The original poster included a few slow motion takes of it, and I was literally in awe of it. The caption at the bottom of the video stated that lightning travels at a speed of over a hundred kilometers per second. To put it into perspective, it was almost 300 times times as fast as the speed of sound.

I pulled up a new tab, searching for even more and more information, no matter how mundane it seemed. I looked up articles, books, more videos, checked out a few manga I'd been reading online. I dismissed nothing. Magic was like energy, right? It wasn't just about pointing a wand and saying the words. If that were the case, there wouldn't be Muggles, now would there? I remembered the sword of Gryffindor appearing to me when I was fighting the basilisk. Sure, Dumbledore had said the sword would appear to any true Gryffindor, but it was definitely _me_ who managed to summon the sword.

I fondly stopped at the Fairy Tail manga; I'd been reading this comic for a while, always eager to check out every new chapter being released on a weekly basis. The whole story struck a chord within me, because most of the characters were children who'd been through horrible circumstances, but found solace in each other and the guild that they joined. The comics sometimes felt like great lessons in morality, encouraging friendship, loyalty, and love towards your fellows, your guild-mates, as it were; and to be honest, it was something of a private desire of mine to find others who were like me. People who'd suffered like me. That way, I wouldn't feel so alone in this world. Sure, Hermione was a pretty great friend, but she didn't really understand what I've been going through. On the other hand, Ron's betrayal hurt me deeply. I'd only told him I forgave him because I had enough enemies that year, and didn't need to make even more. I didn't think I'd ever trust him again.

I shook my thoughts of Ron and Hermione off, and backtracked. I especially enjoyed reading about the magic that existed in the world of Fairy Tail. Lost Magic, Dragon Slayer Magic, Celestial Spirit Magic, God Slayer Magic, Demon Slayer Magic, various elemental magic types as well. My personal favorite was the Dragon Slayer magic. And now, the idea of becoming a Lightning Dragon Slayer was looking incredibly appealing. Speed, precision, and power. Laxus Dreyar was a total powerhouse, completely dominating most of his fights. Something of an awkward jerk, to be sure, but powerful nonetheless.

But could I really replicate that kind of magic? We students had always been told that wandless magic was incredibly rare, and highly difficult to control. But I'd also seen Dobby throw Lucius Malfoy across a hallway with a push of magic. Goblins had their own style of magic. Veela were capable of throwing fireballs. Basilisks used magic in their eyes to kill you with a single gaze. Phoenixes could teleport anywhere they wanted, and carry great weights. Owls could find you anywhere unless you were hidden behind wards. The list went on and on...

I was reminded of a speech by Makarov that I'd read at the start of the story. "_Listen up. The power to overcome reasoning is born from reasoning. Magic is not a miracle. When the 'spirit' flow within us and the 'spirit' flow in nature connects, they will form an embodiment for the first time. You will need a strong mentality and a lot of concentration for that. I mean, pouring all of your soul into whatever you do IS the magic._"

The Patronus charm was a great example of this. I could say the words and point my wand somewhere, but if I did not think of a happy memory, nothing would happen.

I needed to believe in myself, that I could do it. No doubts. And my magic should act accordingly. It had to.

That was why, not thirty minutes later, I stood in front of a contraption I'd made on the fly. Borrowing some copper wire and electrical tape from the garage, I hooked up a series of batteries together, taping them up so they don't easily separate, as well as fixing both ends with copper wire. I held the wires with rubber gloves, and inched them closer to my mouth, which was wide open.

I hesitated for a moment, a part of my conscience yelling at me that this was incredibly stupid and that I could die. I laughed at it, just like I usually did, and bit down on the copper wire, hard. Bad move. Almost immediately, my nerves flared wildly, sending chaotic pain signals throughout my entire body. I tried to open my mouth, but the electricity forced me to clench my teeth even harder. My tongue burned, the smell of burning flesh entering my lungs as I hyperventilated. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, twitching erratically.

'Concentrate, damn it!' I thought to myself, forcefully calming down with deep breaths. It hurt like hell, but I forced through the pain. My gums and tongue were blistering, my teeth blackened, showing many cracks. My muscles made random spasms, a side effect of the electricity interfering with nerve signals. I was starting to reconsider this whole thing, when my magic answered my call. The electric current stopped being chaotic, and instantly took the path straight to my stomach instead of various parts of my body. The pain was much worse now, now fully concentrated in my abdomen. It felt like my stomach was being cooked from the inside. Tears were streaming down my face, but I didn't give up hope. It was working! I directed the electricity! So what if my stomach couldn't handle it? I could simply fashion myself a new one, one that can digest electricity and add it to my own power! I felt my insides gradually morphing. The pain lessened and lessened, until it was completely gone. Nothing hurt any more. Not my tongue, not my teeth, not my muscles, not my stomach...

I stayed that way for a few minutes, until the current stopped. The batteries were completely drained. I relaxed my jaw, and spit the copper wires out of my mouth, not really enjoying the taste of it. I stood up and walked in front of the mirror again. I hadn't even noticed the wide grin on my face. My teeth were still black, but they felt fine! I worriedly ran my tongue over them, the saliva cleaning off the dark charcoal layer, showing the white behind it. The charcoal tasted horrid, so I quickly licked off any spot I could reach, and spit out the black wad of spit mixed with charcoal. It wasn't enough, so I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, idly realizing that my canines were slightly longer than before.

I went back to my room, and made sure the batteries were empty, by stuffing one into my MP3 player. It didn't turn on.

I grinned again, and began hooking up even more batteries.

There was work to be done.

**ooooooooooooooo**

Yay, Harry!

Should Voldemort learn anything to balance things out? He's already powerful enough, I think.

I would certainly appreciate any input you guys have.

Toodles!


	3. Chapter 3

I've got a few messages with people telling me that the Harry Potter timeline occurs in the 90s. You can be assured that I am aware of this; I pointed out that I'm moving the timeline to the current year in my first chapter. Just clearing up the confusion.

You're right about the whole balance issue, though. Voldemort has been doing magic before Harry's own father was born, so I probably shouldn't add to it. I could possibly add more sides to this war, but I'm not too sure how that would work out. I've got basic plans for how the fifth year is going to occur, but not much else. This story is, of course, HBP and DH compliant, meaning the existence of Horcruxes and Deathly Hallows.

I've got a whole slew of ideas in my head; would help a lot if I had someone to speak to about this. As it is, my mind is just chaotic to the extreme.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 3: The Obligatory Dementor Encounter  
><strong>

"_As a child, you would wait  
>and watch from far away.<em>

_But you always knew that you'll be  
>the one that works while they all play.<br>_

_And you, you lay, awake at night and scheme  
>of all the things that you would change,<em>

_but it was just a dream!"_ I mouthed, my headphones blaring sweet music in my ears. It was a song that came out just a few hours ago, made by the company that created League of Legends in collaboration with Imagine Dragons, a band from the United States. I was quite familiar with the game, having reached a pretty decent rank. Platinum, if you were wondering.

I was currently in the grocery store, waiting in line behind Dudley and a few other people. I'd gotten myself some more batteries, some coke, and chips. Needed something to munch on and drink while I played games and surfed the web, after all.

It's been a week and a half since I had the bright— and successful— idea of trying to eat electricity out of a series of batteries. At first, I started with a low voltage/amperage, since I'd read somewhere that the human body can only take so much before the heart fails. Though, so far, I have not felt anything aside from an increase in my physical strength, and a sense of full-ness that I'd never really felt before. It was like my magical energy soared through the roof every time I exposed myself to electricity.

Regardless of the apparent lack of danger, I didn't want to risk things, so I worked my way up steadily. It was a boring effort, but the alternative would've been that I bit more than I could chew, and would end up dead. Within the space of a few days, I confirmed that I could eat high voltage/current electricity by feeding on the power given to Number Four Privet Drive.

With that done, I began to experiment with my powers, by going out, at night, with my Invisibility Cloak on. I would go to the local park, find a secluded spot, and practice my new magic heavily. I still referred to it as Lightning Dragon Slayer magic, of course. The same magic Laxus used in the manga.

Laxus' signature magic, over which he possessed great mastery, allowed him to produce, control and manipulate lightning and electricity at his will. Through its use, Laxus could not only generate lightning from his body, but also make it appear from almost anywhere to strike his opponents, taking them by surprise. By generating electricity on different parts of his body, he was capable of making his hand to hand attacks deadlier, and of propelling himself around to gain extra momentum. The bright light from his lightning can be also used to momentarily blind enemies. In addition, much like other Elemental types of Magic, the magic allowed Laxus to turn his own body into lightning, in order to evade enemy attacks and move around at high speed.

I realized it would probably take me some time before I fully mastered these powers. The fact that I've only been working on channeling the electricity around my body for the rest of my time was indicative enough of how difficult this was. So far, I managed to charge my body with electricity. Through thorough testing on the trees in the park, I noted that my attacks have gained a little _oomph_ to them. I was much faster, and my reaction time had increased significantly. I could also make electricity fly in between my fingers, which was very intimidating, come to think of it.

I absentmindedly handed the items to the clerk, who quickly scanned the products.

"That'll be fifteen quid." The worker drawled lazily, holding out a hand expectantly. I fished out a twenty pound note from my back pocket, and handed it to the man. He pulled out a five from the register and gave it to me.

"Thanks." I said, and he gave a slight nod, before turning to the next customer.

Dudley and I made our way to Number Four in silence. It was night out. Dudley was giving me strange looks for a couple of minutes now.

"What is it?" I finally said.

"Oh, nothing." Dudley answered, flushing in embarrassment. "Must be seeing things, but I could've sworn you looked scrawnier. And I still don't get how you don't need glasses any more."

Ah, his looks made more sense now. To explain, a nice side effect of eating electricity was that body automatically corrected its flaws using the excess energy I'd absorbed into my being. I found I could run faster, jump higher, and tire less easily. My eyesight was being gradually corrected, as well. It was good enough right now, that my glasses weren't helping much. Hell, these days, they'd been causing more headaches than actually helping.

"It must be my... special gifts." I hedged around the subject, hoping he'd drop it. Dudley nodded.

"I.. Figured as much." Dudley muttered. "I'm kind of jealous, honestly."

"Jealous?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah." Dudley confirmed, looking away from me. "Do you know how long it took for me to lose my fat, and replace it with muscle? It was a lot of hard work, and you just did it in the span of a couple of weeks."

"Oh, I see." I gave a non-answer, not sure how to react to this. I felt bad that such things were easy for wizards, yet Muggles had to suffer to achieve results.

"Umm..." I hesitated as we turned a corner. "If you want, I can make a few, uh, potions that can help you out, and stuff."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah."

"Won't that get you in trouble? I thought you weren't allowed to use _it_ out of school." Dudley argued.

"Oh, I don't need to use _it_ for those particular potions. It's more like a mix of cooking and chemistry, honestly. You probably could do it if you had the ingredients." I answered easily. "Though, it's usually much easier to buy them off an apothecary. I'll look into it for you, if you like."

"That'd be nice. Thanks."

"No probl-"

I stopped suddenly, feeling a shift in the air around me. We were _definitely_ not alone. Dudley kept walking ahead of me, oblivious of the danger. He stopped, noticing that I was not walking alongside him any longer.

"Harry?" He called out, before walking to me. The feeling of an imminent threat was getting closer and closer.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Dudley snapped his fingers in front of me, getting my attention. "Why are you just standing here? Let's go."

"Something's wrong." I said, looking around. "We're in danger."

It was starting to get cold now. The streetlamps around us began to flicker, before shutting off altogether. The air around us grew colder and colder, as frost began to accumulate on the metal streetlamps. I only knew one being capable of this.

"Shit. Shit!" I swore loudly. "Dudley, whatever you do, stay with me."

"W-What's going on? Why's everything dark and cold?"

What the hell are dementors doing here? Weren't they supposed to be guarding the Azkaban prison? Dudley and I were shivering now, the cold becoming incredibly intense.

"Whatever you do, Dudley, keep your mouth shut." I said quickly. "The monsters we are about to face are called dementors. They're like black wraiths, like the ones from Lord of the Rings. If they catch you, don't open your mouth, all right?"

"All- All right." Dudley's teeth clattered together as he stuttered out a response. I lifted my hand in the air, and channeled electricity to it. Lightning surged and danced in my hand, bathing the immediate area around us with a bluish-white light. I looked around, not seeing any dementors near us.

"You see anything?" Dudley asked. I answered in the negative, before hearing long, hoarse rattling breaths. I felt a jolt of dread at the sound of my mother's screaming. I also heard Voldemort's taunts ring in my head.

"H-Harry." Dudley said slowly, bringing me back to reality. "Did you hear that? Something breathing."

"I did." But how did Dudley hear it? Muggles weren't supposed to be capable of detecting the presence of dementors!

The sound grew stronger and stronger. I heard Dudley gasp, and turned to face the same direction he was. There were two of them at the end of a nearby alley, coming straight for us. They glided smoothly along the ground, not making any noise aside from their breathing. I grabbed onto Dudley's arm, pulling him roughly with me. We began running in the direction of Number Four, my electricity lighting the way.

We took shortcuts, evading the dementors as long as we could. My increased stamina and physique was a lifesaver, as I managed to keep up with Dudley's sprint and we were able to avoid the dementors for quite a while. But, we began to tire out.

Both of us had to stop.

"Can't go on..." I wheezed out, the lightning fading from my hand, and submerging us in complete darkness once more.

"Same... We've been in a full sprint..." Dudley took a long, shuddering breath. "For five minutes."

"How much further?" I asked, even though I knew exactly how much ground we needed to cover to get to the house.

"Couple more minutes... We can make it. Just need to rest for a bit."

Unfortunately, it was not to be. We felt the presence of the demon spawns as they glided closer and closer to us. Didn't dementors get tired, too? What the hell were they made of? What energy did they use?

"Fuck..." Dudley breathed hard. Was this how it was going to end?

"Agreed." I answered tiredly, pulling out my wand. "_Lumos."_

"I'm probably going to get in trouble for this."

I pointed my wand at the dementors, ignoring the bad memories their presence dredged up. I thought about Sirius, instead. I thought about the happy life we were going to have together. I thought about my recent friendship with my cousin. _I refused to let us die!_

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

Prongs erupted from the tip of my wand, charging at the two dementors with great fury. It slammed into both spectral beings, sending them flying away from us, into the night sky, which began to clear up due to the absence of the monsters I had to drive off.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and turned to Dudley, who was shaking from the stress.

"Dudley." I called out to my cousin. He didn't answer. "Dudley, you still there? Dudley."

"Huh?" Dudley looked confused, as if he didn't know where he was for a second, before his expression cleared up. "Sorry. I'm- I'm-"

"It's all right." I soothed. "You did better than I did the first time I came across these things."

"The first time?" Dudley shivered. "Why would you even want to come close these?"

"Wasn't by choice!" I laughed hollowly, as we picked ourselves off the ground. "They were always attracted to me."

We hurriedly made our way back to Number Four, looking around every few moments to make sure we weren't being followed by the dementors, or anything else. It was almost as grueling as actually facing off against the demon spawns, since our minds played tricks on us constantly. Thankfully, me managed to reach my aunt and uncle's house without further incident. Petunia was already waiting for us, looking slightly worried.

"About time! Do you both realize how long you were... taking...?" She stopped when she saw our pale, sweat covered skin. We looked like we'd been through a five day marathon.

"Wh-what's the matter?" She asked, moving closer to Dudley, who didn't protest his mother's fussing, for once. She jerked her hand away.

"Your skin's so _cold! _Come on, get in the house!" She led him in, and I followed with an annoyed grumble. I didn't expect any concern towards me, but it still kind of hurt. Whatever.

"Vernon? VERNON!" Aunt Petunia called out. The man in question, came out of the living room, his mustache blowing hither and tither, showing that he was agitated. He hurried over to Dudley, checking him over.

"He's ill, Vernon!"

"What is it, son? What's happened?" Vernon took in the sweat covered boy, wondering what could have occurred. "You haven't been mugged, have you, son?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

"Then—"

"That thing that was following us... It's like I could never be happy again. It was horrible..." Dudley shuddered and took a deep breath.

Vernon turned to me, anger in his gaze.

"What did you do, boy?" Vernon walked threateningly towards me.

"Nothing, I swear! We got attacked by dementors!" I protested.

"Dementors? What in blazes are you talking about! Make sense, will you!" Vernon looked confused and angry.

"Demons." Dudley cut in. "Demons. They were demons."

Vernon whipped his head so quickly towards Dudley it wasn't even funny.

"I saw them, dad. Harry drove them away. He saved my life, mum, dad."

Vernon froze at that, and gave me a long, appraising look. I glared back, daring him to challenge what was said. It was a long moment, before Vernon actually _gave me a nod_, and turned to Dudley worriedly.

"Come on, son, let's get you to bed." The man maneuvered his son up the stairs.

"Chocolate helps a lot." I called out to the duo, while Petunia looked on worriedly_. _She looked at me for a moment, before disappearing into the living room. She came out shortly afterwards with a box of chocolates, giving me a handful, before going up the stairs to follow her husband and son.

I gaped as I watched her leave.

First Uncle Vernon gave me a thankful nod, and just now, Aunt Petunia gave me chocolates to help me! Hell had frozen over. There was no other explanation. I'd been finally acknowledged by my family. It was a juvenile dream that I'd forsaken long ago, but now, it came true. I didn't believe it.

Yet it happened.

I began to munch on the chocolates, feeling better and better as the chocolate did its work to counter the effects of the dementors. A hoot brought my attention to the owl that swooped in through the kitchen window and dropped a letter in my hands. I had a feeling what this letter would say.

I ripped open the envelope, and perused its contents. I read it. Then I re-read it. Rage ensued.

"Expulsion...!" I sputtered angrily. "For defending myself!? Should I just roll over and die?" I spat out. So _ministry representatives_ were coming to take my wand? Let them come. Every single one will go back to the Ministry empty handed— because they'd be lacking arms!

A few tense minutes later, another owl showed up. This time, it was a message from Arthur Weasley telling me that Dumbledore was running interference, and that I mustn't give them my wand. Like I planned to give it to them, anyway. Hah! Thus began a series of owls coming, with letters telling me to "NOT LEAVE PETUNIA'S HOUSE!" and that I shouldn't hand over my wand.

Vernon came downstairs, to complain about the noise, when he saw the stack of letters next to me.

"What's all this, boy?"

"Oh, nothing important. I've apparently been suspended from school for saving Dudley."

"Expelled for-" The man's face looked like a mix of glee and outrage. Someone's having trouble reconciling their feelings, I see.

"_Suspended_." I corrected.

"Why would you be suspended for saving my boy?" Vernon truly looked confused now.

"Cause I used magic to drive off the dementors." I said as if I were discussing the weather. "I've got a hearing with the ministry to sort this out, but it was a clear cut case of self defense. I'm not too worried."

"I see..." Vernon hedged, before giving a pained grimace. "Your sort has its own _government_?" He looked positively horrified at that revelation.

"Oh yeah." I grinned, showing elongated canines. "They control your government too. It's all a secret, of course. Most people get their memories wiped if they tried to blab about it. Have to keep it a secret, you know?" I had a fierce grin on my face. Uncle Vernon looked pasty white at my words.

I have to keep myself amused somehow, right?

**ooooooooooooooo**

Done with that. I was thinking of having Dudley tag along with Harry to Grimmauld Place. I threw a bunch of hints that Dudley isn't a Muggle, but a Squib. I've already put the groundwork for it, making him interested in the magical world, if slightly wary of it. Completely ignored Mrs. Figg's appearance, in case you were wondering if I was forgetful or something.

The trial is going to be a sure shitstorm. Harry won't just let them walk over him. The question is, how should I go about it. Will he demonstrate brute force tactics, or use cunning? I'm thinking cunning, but would like your advice on it.


	4. Chapter 4

Oh, thanks for the reviews and the follows, everyone! I'm glad people like this story, so far.

**NaruHarem4ever:** I highly suggest watching Fairy Tail. I used to shy away from it because of the name. Looked more like an anime for cutesy girls or something. But it's pure bad-ass. The show's about a guild called Fairy Tail, and all the members use magic of all kinds. Starts off a bit slow, then picks up. It's a MUST watch.

**lolol1991:** He will definitely use cunning in the trial, though the trial's not in this chapter, surprisingly enough. I don't really know about the whole "lineage of Squibs" thing. I'm sure Squibs can be born to Muggle families. Harry will definitely exhibit cunning in this story. It is a simple byproduct of lurking on the internet for months on end. I go to the cinema all the time, and I notice huge plotholes, and solutions. For example, how did Madara not beat Naruto and Sasuke? Same goes for Obito. They made it such a huge deal that Naruto was using Sage Mode, but back in the Pain arc, Pain could absorb the Natural Energy because he had the Rinnegan. It was also shown that Madara could control Natural Energy. That fight should've been in the bag, and yet, it wasn't. Stuff like that. Now, Harry will be the same.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 4: Arctic Fury  
><strong>

Four days had passed since Dudley and I had an encounter with the servants of anti-happiness, the dementors. I stayed inside the house, as ordered by the many messages that made me feel like I was some kid that got his hand caught in the cookie jar. It was infuriating. I fight for my life and that of my cousin, and all I get is a stern scolding? I fought to regain control of my emotions. I sent Hedwig three days ago, with orders to peck her recipients until they gave an answer, but haven't heard from her since. I ignored any thoughts of her being dead in a ditch somewhere.

The Dursley family had been kinder to me these past few days. And to think, all it took for that to happen was saving Dudley's life. Wish I had thought of that sooner! I heaved a great sigh, deciding that all of this didn't matter, for now. Being angry about recent events was not currently useful. If I learned something from the summer holiday, it was to exert great self control, and quick, strategic thinking. Often times, anger got in the way, though it did have its uses. So let's use that head of mine to figure out where to go from here.

Dudley and I were attacked by dementors, who are supposed to be guarding the wizard prison. This could have several meanings. One: the Ministry doesn't have control over them. Two: I was so tasty in my Third Year at Hogwarts that they _just had _to eat me— I chuckled hollowly at that. Three: Voldemort controls them now and sent them to kill me. Four: the Ministry sent them to kill me. The second option was probably not likely, since dementors had a constant source of food from the prisoners. The first and third options seemed highly plausible, while the fourth one... Well, it had merit. I remembered all of Fudge's blunders; he tried sending Hagrid to Azkaban. He said I was Confounded when I told him Sirius was innocent. Moreover, he refused to believe that Voldemort had come back, last June. The words had come straight out of Dumbledore's mouth, and he refused to believe them.

Maybe they're in league with Voldemort? Maybe they just want to shut me up. Old Fudge was rather eager to shut Barty Crouch Jr. up, wasn't he?

So how do I go from here? I've got a disciplinary hearing to attend soon. I need a strong defense for my case, which means I need witnesses. Dudley was there. He'd seen the dementors. But the letter sent to me said that he was a Muggle. Though, if he was a Muggle, how did he see the dementors? The next logical step to my train of thought was that Dudley was probably a Squib. Why would the Ministry of Magic care about those that can't do magic? Squibs were as good as Muggles, no? The only visible ones, are the ones that come from pureblood families. If a Squib is born into a Muggle family, how would anyone know?

They wouldn't.

It was a long-shot, but it could work. I had to ask Dudley to attend this hearing with me, as a witness to the defense. There didn't seem to be any other way.

I heard the doorbell ring. It was Eight in the evening, who could be visiting right now? I pulled my wand out almost immediately, my left hand ready to channel electricity. I silently opened the door to my room, and made my way to the top of the stairs, hearing the front door open.

"Yes, can I help you?" I heard Aunt Petunia say.

"We're here to pick up Potter." A gruff, low growling voice said. A voice I recognized. Mad-Eye Moody was here? Or was it a fake— again? I slowly backed away into my room, and closed the door with an almost inaudible click. I waited. I heard Vernon and Petunia protesting, but their protests were ignored as I heard footsteps thumping on the stairs. Just how many people were here? I swallowed thickly, at the thought of having to fight them off. I might be able to kill off a few, before I finally succumbed to injuries.

There was no knock, Moody just opened my door, and stepped inside, seeing me pointing my wand at him. He had an approving, if a little bit annoyed look.

"At least you're not stupid." The grizzled Auror growled out. I gave a nasty smirk in response, not lowering my wand in the least. Several people were outside in the hallway, but I couldn't make any of them out. They were all excitedly peeking at me. How annoying.

"How do I know you're the real Moody? You've been caught by Death Eaters before. What's to stop it from happening again?" I bit out harshly. "Answer quickly, or face the consequences."

"Harry," A familiar voice called out, pushing people aside. "It's us. We've come to take you away."

"Professor Lupin?" My heart soared at the sight of my former teacher. He looked worse than I'd ever seen him before. His robes looked horrible, his skin was clammy and white, but he had a broad smile on his face. I lowered my wand slightly, but my grip on it was still strong. I composed myself, before pointing the wand at him, now. "What was my boggart's form, and what did you say about it?"

The man looked surprised for a moment, before answering. "It was a dementor, and I told you that you were very wise, because what you feared was fear itself."

I nodded, completely relaxing at that. "Good answer."

"What about you, then?" Moody growled out. "How do we know you're not just some Death Eater we brought to Headquarters?"

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Lupin asked.

"A stag." I answered.

"That's Harry, all right." Lupin confirmed, before giving me a hug. I stiffened against the contact, but relaxed slightly.

"Good to see you too, old man." I smirked, giving the older man a few pats on the back. Lupin and I made our way past the group of wizards staring at me as they stood in the hallway. We descended the stairs, seeing the Dursleys sitting in the living room. Vernon made to stand.

"So, you're leaving, boy?" Vernon asked with a strange look on his face. Petunia wasn't even looking at me; it seemed like she was deep in thought.

"Yeah, I have to prepare for that hearing soon." I noticed Dudley standing off to the side, and walked to him. "Dudley."

"Yeah?"

"You want to be a witness to my defense?" I asked immediately, not bothering to beat around the bush. Now was not the time to screw around. "Would be much easier for me to do this if I had a witness."

"A-All right, Harry." Dudley agreed hesitantly, wary of what could happen.

"It's on the 12th of August. I'll see you then?" I held out my hand.

"Yeah. Count on it." Dudley shook my hand, before giving me a look. He was about to say something, but hesitated.

"What's up?"

"Ah- Well- Nevermind. It's nothing." Dudley looked away from me. What was that about?

"O-kay, then." I drawled, before moving to the stairs. A witch with violet, spiky hair, a heart-shaped face, and dark eyes blocked my path. She was kind of hot.

"Could you move aside, please? I have to get my stuff from my room." I asked nicely. I'd already fully packed in case of an attack, or an ambush of some kind. All I needed was to haul the stupid trunk downstairs. The woman giggled, stuffed her hand into one of her pockets, before handing me a miniature trunk, and broom. My trunk. MY FIREBOLT! Why is it a midget now?! Inconceivable!

"Oh. Thanks, I guess. Could you turn the Firebolt back to normal?"

"No problem, Harry!" She smiled brightly and did so, before wincing. "Oh, right. Where are my manners? My name's Tonks."

"Harry Potter." I said, not questioning—nor caring— why she gave only part of her name. The internet taught me that anonymity was a blessing. "Care to introduce me to everyone?"

"My pleasure!" She winked at me, before pointing towards Moody. "This is Alastor Moody, also known as Mad-Eye Moody."

"Yeah, I know."

"Of course you know Remus Lupin." She then waved at the tall black wizard, who gave a bow and a smile. "That's Kingsley Shacklebolt".

"Elphias Doge." Much Elphias, Such Doge. I bit back a snicker at the reference, as the wizard in question gave a nod. Tonks kept going.

"That's Dedalus Diggle—" Tonks said but was interrupted by the excitable man.

"We've met before." Diggle squeaked out, dropping his hat.

"Emmeline Vance," Tonks pointed towards a witch in an emerald green shawl who inclined her head.

"Sturgis Podmore, and finally, Hestia Jones." Tonks finished, pointing towards a square-jawed wizard with straw-colored hair, and a pink-cheeked, black haired witch, who waved at me.

"Nice to meet you all," I began. "But why is everybody and their mother here to meet me?"

The group had the decency to look sheepish at the question. Thankfully, Professor Lupin came to their rescue.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you." He fought from snickering at their expression.

"The more the better." Moody said ominously. "We're your guard, Potter."

"That's nice." I said offhandedly, already knowing this. "So, when do we leave?"

"A minute or so, I reckon." Lupin checked a nearby clock.

"All right then, let's get outside." I said agreeably, and everyone shuffled their way to the front door. I turned to my relatives, giving them a nod.

"See you all next summer."

"Good luck, boy."

I did a double take. Did he just-

I shook my head, disbelievingly, and walked out of the house.

Not five steps were taken, before the front door opened, revealing Dudley.

"Harry." It seemed as if the boy was making a great effort to just talk to me.

"Yes? Spit it out."

"I-I..." Dudley stuttered, before swearing loudly. "Fuck it! I'm coming with you."

"Sure- Wait, what?"

**oooooooo**

It took some begging, but Dudley managed to convince his parents to tag along with me. He promised that he'd be back after the hearing. He made a quick call to his girlfriend— I gleefully teased him about that— to tell her that he was going to be out of the country until the twelfth of August, and like that, we were ready to depart.

The trip itself was not really noteworthy, as we flew around, in formation, avoiding Muggles, and freezing our collective asses off because we were high in the sky. Tonks managed to convince Moody not to _drag us in the fucking clouds_. Paranoia is a great friend of that man. Dudley was astonished at all the flying, but seemed to be enjoying himself.

Eventually we landed in the middle of a small square. Moody busied himself by taking out the lights using what looked to be a lighter. Oh the beauty of contradiction.

"That should take care of the Muggles who might be looking outside their windows." Moody growled out, before motioning for everyone to follow. "Come on, quick."

We all followed, wands out, except Dudley of course. I could hear the muffled pounding of a stereo in the nearest house. There was some smelly garbage somewhere, as well.

Headquarters was in this slimy neighborhood? Dudley and I shared looks of bewilderment.

"Here," Moody walked between us, thrusting a piece of parchment to my hand. "Read it quickly, and memorize it. The both of you."

"_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_."

Order of the Phoenix, huh? Sounds like Dumbledore's been on the move. I gave the note to Dudley, who read it as well, and nodded at everyone. Moody snatched the piece of parchment, before setting it on fire. The grizzled Auror turned to the houses in front of us. I saw that there was a number eleven, and thirteen, side by side.

"Where's number-"

"Shh!" Moody shushed us urgently.

"Think about what you've just memorized." Lupin supplied helpfully. So we did.

Instantly, a house began to appear between number eleven and thirteen, pushing them aside. Dudley gaped at the display, while I nodded thoughtfully at the display of magic.

"Strange, wouldn't the Muggles feel the vibrations from that?" I asked curiously, as we all walked up the worn stone steps.

"No, the Muggles aren't magically sensitive like we are, Harry." Professor Lupin explained in a low voice, before tapping the door once with his wand. The door made many loud clicks, and even the clatter of a chain. Talk about excessive locks. "Try not to be too loud, and don't go far inside. Don't touch anything."

"Am I allowed to breathe?" I mocked his words, and entered the house without a care in the world, Dudley following. The hallway was dark for a few moments, before Moody lighted all the gas lamps up with a wave of his wand, revealing the most horrible looking house I'd ever been in.

"Mate, this place looks like it hasn't been used in decades." Dudley whispered next to me. I gave a nod.

"Looks like one of those houses in reality TV shows. You know, the ones that need fixing. It's a wonder it's still standing." I commented with a smirk.

Our voice seemed to attract footsteps from the far end of the hall. The door at the end opened, and out of it emerged Mrs. Weasley. She gave a bit of a confused look at Dudley, but beamed at me in welcome. She hurried towards us.

"Oh, Harry! It's lovely to see you!" She whispered, pulling me into one of her patented hugs. She gave me a critical look. "You're looking very healthy, Harry!"

I blushed, and gave a noncommittal shrug. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." I nudged Dudley forward. "This is my cousin, Dudley Dursley."

She eyed the formerly fat boy with distaste, before noticing my frown. Her expression softened immediately, before holding out her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dudley."

Dudley shook her hand. "Nice to meet you too."

"I would invite you both for dinner, but you're going to have to wait a bit, I'm afraid..." Molly turned to the gang of wizards behind us and said, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started."

They all began filing past us towards door in which Mrs. Weasley came out of. I made to follow, but Molly held me back.

"No, Harry." She refused me entry. "The meeting is for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait for them until the meeting is over and then we'll have dinner."

"But-"

"And keep your voice down in the hall." She added before I could say anything.

"Wait, why?"

"I don't want to wake anything up."

"Wake anything up? What are you-" Dudley tried to say, but was interrupted by Molly ushering us past a pair of long curtains, and an umbrella stand that looked like it was made out of a troll's leg. We went up a dark staircase in silence, until...

"Holy shit." Dudley mouthed out looking to the side. I followed his line of sight, seeing a row of shrunken heads, mounted on plaques on the wall. House elf heads.

"Language!" Molly Weasley scolded.

"House elf heads, Dudley. Mrs. Weasley, why-"

"Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear," I began to tune her out, only listening to where Ron and Hermione were supposed to be. She was not being helpful at all right now. My anger rose, bubbling to the surface, but I bottled it for now. Dudley and I reached the bedroom door, and opened it. Almost immediately, I was tackled by a mass of bushy hair, nearly knocking me over. Sheesh, will that girl ever learn?

"HARRY! I was so worried! Ron, Harry's here!" She called out. "We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how _are_ you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless — but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got to tell us — the dementors! When we heard — and that Ministry hearing — it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's a provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations —" Hermione rambled, as usual, before noticing Dudley behind me, smirking.

"Let him breathe, Hermione." Ron's voice was heard from the side. Hermione just looked at Dudley, as I gently pushed her off of me.

"Hi, Hermione, Ron. This is my cousin Dudley, standing behind me." I explained before any questions arose.

"Hello." Dudley quipped, still amused at what he just saw. "Didn't know you were popular with the girls, Harry."

"Don't get any ideas." I warned, before shaking hands with Ron. Dudley went through the hassle of introducing himself, as Hedwig landed on my shoulder, rubbing her head against mine affectionately, while I stroked her feathers, glad that she wasn't found and killed. It took the edge off of my rage, but I was still furious. I sat on a nearby bed.

"She's been in a right state." Ron said. "Pecked us half to death when we she brought your last letters. Look at this." He showed me the deep cut on his right index finger.

"Sorry." I said insincerely, a nasty smile on my face.

"We tried to give you answers, but Dumbledore wouldn't allow us to give any specific information." Ron tried to explain. It always came back to Dumbledore, huh. That man was infuriating, sometimes. Couldn't he send Fawkes over with messages, or something? I felt cold, anger rise within me at that. Why was I being kept in the dark? My eyes narrowed menacingly as I thought about how to deal with this.

"We are sorry about what happened, mate." Ron said morosely, mistaking my glare as me blaming them. But why would I blame them? They couldn't even use magic if they wanted to, and the adults could just force them to do nothing.

"He seemed to think it was best," Hermione backed up her red haired friend. "Dumbledore, I mean."

I said nothing, slightly amused at the growing panicked expressions on their faces, but too angry to smile right now.

"Why would Dumbledore keep me in the dark?" I wondered aloud. "Does he not trust me?"

"Don't be thick, Harry-" Ron tried to say.

"Maybe he thinks I'm too weak to be allowed any information of any kind..." I mused with an angry, calculating gaze. He clearly had no idea of my abilities with Lightning Dragon Slayer magic. Dudley stood off to the side, silently processing what he was hearing. He was probably trying to figure out how I was weak, considering I'd driven off those two dementors with a couple of words. Not to mention the lightning he'd seen appearing in my hand. If I was weak, then _what the hell was he_? They were sobering thoughts.

"Of course he doesn't think that, Harry!" Hermione protested in defense of the old man. I turned my harsh glare at her. She wilted.

"Indeed? Can you read his mind? Looks to me as if you're not allowed to these meetings either!" I gave a cold grin.

"Please, Harry!" She said desperately, "We're sorry! We really tried to send you messages, to tell you what was going on, but they wouldn't let us!"

A very long, silent time, passed, with Hermione's sniffles only being heard. Ron lowered his head to the ground, while Dudley merely looked uncomfortable.

"I... believe you." I finally said, still angry. I turned to Dudley. "What do you think I should do?"

"Uh..." My cousin looked slightly surprised at my question, as if he didn't expect me to value his opinion or something. "I say fuck it. Barge in there, and demand answers. If someone tries to stop you, beat the shit out of them."

I pointedly ignored Hermione's gasp at the crude language, and gave a savage smirk, having expected an answer like that. My cousin has always brute forced his way through most situations. This one was no different, it seemed.

"Good enough as any solution." I agreed, before getting up and making my way to the door. Hermione stopped me with a hug.

"Harry, you can't!" She protested vehemently.

"Oh, I definitely _can_." I retorted. "There is nothing I _can't_ do. The only reason I _don't_ do certain things is because I don't wish to _deal with the consequences_, not because I _can't_. There's a huge difference, Hermione."

That seemed to shock her into silence, as I pushed her off of me. I glanced at both Ron and Dudley. "You guys can stay here if you don't wish to deal with the consequences of what I'm about to do." And I meant it. If they didn't follow me down there, I would completely understand, and I would not blame them for it.

"Worry not, I won't hold this against any of you, if you choose stay here." I continued, leaving out the door. All three of them followed. I smiled in response.

Half a minute later, we all stood in front of the closed door. Beyond it, a meeting was being held. The subject? Probably Voldemort and I. I tried opening the door, but it was firmly locked in place. Great. I loudly knocked twice.

"What are you doing?!" Hermione whispered worriedly, a part of her still not wanting to get into trouble. I gave no answer, as the door opened, revealing Mrs. Weasley. Behind her, I could see a large group of wizards sitting around a table, all looking at us. I spotted Dumbledore at the end, and Sirius— I had to bite back a smile— off to the side, next to Lupin. I also saw Moody, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and the rest of my personal guard. Professor McGonagall was there as well, sending me a stern looking, probably knowing exactly what I wanted. Hell, even Snape was here!

"What's wrong, dearies?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking a little annoyed at the interruption.

"I want in." I went straight to the point.

"Harry, I've already said that you're not allowed to attend these meetings! You're too young." She tried to close the door, but I stopped her.

"I need to know, Mrs. Weasley."

"No, Harry. Go back to your room, all of you!" She closed the door in my face. My body shook angrily at the casual dismissal.

"Well, that's that." Ron said after a short silence.

"They think they can keep this from me...?" I said slowly, something of an intense look on my face. I began to channel my power, electricity sparking off of me. Ron and Hermione looked shocked at the display, while Dudley ushered them backwards, having seen this before.

I gave a grateful nod to Dudley.

"Oh, no... They will allow me entry. I tried asking nicely, but it just can't be helped, I guess." I smirked, before beginning to concentrate.

"Harry, what is-" Hermione tried to say, but I shushed her.

"You might want to stand back." Bluish-white lightning began to run through the entirety of my body, a chirping noise filling the hallway. I slapped my right fist against my hand, saturating it with magical power. They dared deny me what I had a right to know? I concentrated my energy, further and further, until my fist glowed almost white in color.

"Let's see them close the door now! **Lightning Dragon's Breakdown** **Fist!**" With a mighty yell, I slammed my overcharged fist into the thick, wooden door. It didn't stand a sliver of a chance.

Almost immediately, the door flew off its hinges, before being almost completely atomized by the energy I'd just released. Thick, wooden chunks of what remained flew everywhere, lightly pelting the shocked occupants of the room. I stalked menacingly inside, my fist still glowing, and my body still charged with jagged sparks of electricity. Dudley, Hermione, and Ron, were still outside, gawking at the display of pure, unadulterated power. Dudley had seen a hint of my powers, before, but he had never expected _that_.

And to think, I still had a _long _way to go before I properly mastered the Breakdown Fist... At full power, I could probably break through steel.

Dumbledore was standing, too shocked to say anything, while everyone else openly gaped. I gazed at my fist pretending to be curious, ignoring the shock— no pun intended— of the room's occupants. I turned back to them, glaring harshly, the power fading from my body, except around my eyes, giving them a frightening green glow. My fist slightly crackled with residual power. It all made for an impressive sight.

"Now, care to tell me what's going on?"

The mad female yelling about half-breeds and freaks from behind me ruined the moment. I swore loudly.

So much for an impressive entrance.

**ooooooooooooooo**

I didn't expect the trip to the order to take this long! I'm well over four thousand words, so I decided to stop. I don't like huge updates.

Dudley's going to be a witness, for the defense!

Harry's decision to barge in was one that any angry teenager with a penchant for ignoring authority would make. What would you do if you could use incredible destructive power, and people held you back using a simple door? I'm sure that if Harry could use his wand and not get into trouble, he would have done so in a heartbeat. His state of mind during OotP was widely regarded as unstable. However, Harry does show maturity, insofar as he didn't blow up at Hermione and Ron, realizing that they were powerless to stop the adults from blocking their mail.

Make sense?

What kind of pairings do you think I should do? I was thinking Harry/Daphne.

As always, I appreciate any input you might have.


	5. Chapter 5

Wow. The length of the reviews I got in the past few days was incredibly staggering. I am truly grateful, for your input, and will endeavor to apply these ideas to my story. I'm sure many of you face-palmed when Harry ate the electricity. I'm aware that it came off as a convenient power-up, and to be honest, I really bungled my way through that one. I won't change it, though.

Still, the points made about the trial were great. I definitely don't want Harry to come off as a ranting child, but would rather have him set the tone, and maneuver his way through every single issue that arises in the Ministry. With that said, the Harry in my story has learned to be quite emotionless if he wants to be. I'm sure many of people lurking on the internet know what I'm talking about when you hear your close friends and family whine about you having a robotic personality. That was why I named the previous chapter "Arctic Fury", because there's a difference between a hothead, and someone who manages to keep their cool in bad situations.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 5: The Farce  
><strong>

I had planned on making an impressive entrance, to set the tone for how the meeting was going to progress. I had enough of being kept in the dark, and felt I deserved to know what's going on. After all, the gaping people in front of me would have never known Voldemort had come back if it weren't for me.

I certainly did impress, but would that shrieking hag _shut the fuck up_ already?

"One moment." I turned, walked outside, past my friends. I stood in front of the shrieking portrait that used to be covered by the curtains I passed by earlier. So that's what it was hiding. Ugly bitch, with an ugly mouth.

"-How dare you befoul the house of my fathers, half-breed scum! Begone from this g-"

"Are you _quite_ done?" I said loudly, gaining the portrait's attention. The woman in the portrait gave me a cold, appraising gaze, before snarling at me.

"Who are you, boy?" She asked, though from my wild mop of hair, she probably had an idea.

"Harry Potter." I smirked at the portrait.

"Blood-traitor!" She accused, and it looked as if another rant was going to begin.

"That may very well be, but I don't believe in such idiotic concepts such as the existence 'purebloods', 'half-bloods', and 'mudbloods'. I have more power in my snot than most 'purebloods' have in their entire bodies; or corpses after I'm through with them. I suggest you behave yourself, worm, before I obliterate you, just like I did the door behind me." I threatened and boasted at the same time. The witch in the portrait actually looked cowed, to the surprise of those attending the meeting.

"Will wonders never cease...?" I heard Sirius not-so-quietly say to Remus, who still looked completely gobsmacked.

"Thank you." I gave a polite nod, before heading back into the room. They were all staring at me with a mix of fear, astonishment and wariness. All except for Sirius, who had made his way toward me, giving me a hug, which I returned wholeheartedly. I missed my godfather. It was good to be in his presence again.

"Pull up a few chairs for us, will you?" I asked Sirius, who nodded and began to wave his wand.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to shake off her stupor at that moment.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Most of us had to cover our ears. That woman sure could yell! "How dare you barge into this meeting! You're not of age! You're too young-"

But she stopped at the utterly baleful look I gave her.

"Too young, am I?" I calmly repeated her words, malice dripping like venom off of my tongue, making her flinch. "Was I too young last June, when my wrist was sliced open and I was subjected to a few Cruciatus curses thanks to our dear Lord Voldemort?" Most of the room flinched at the name, and grimaced painfully at the mention of what happened to me during the Third Task.

"No answer?" I smiled, as Sirius finished conjuring the last of the needed chairs for my friends— who were already inside. Dumbledore gave Sirius a disapproving look, but did not protest my presence. Molly was so shocked that she didn't even tell Ron to leave, either.

Ignoring all the stares, I sat down, my friends following suit. The table was littered with many rolls of parchment, various scrolls, and the like. Looks like Dumbledore's fighting an information war here.

"By all means, continue with the meeting." I said without a care in the world. Snape seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it.

"...As you wish, Harry." Dumbledore acknowledged my request with a nod. That was the first thing he'd said since I entered the room. Maybe he wasn't as much of a manipulative bastard as I'd led myself to believe. Just goes to show that the best of us— me, of course— could be wrong.

"You can't be serious, Dumbledore!" Molly pleaded with the venerable old wizard, who gave her a kind smile.

"You are right, Molly. In fact, Sirius is right over there." He pointed towards my godfather, who grimaced. Some chuckled at the humor, while the rest face-palmed.

"This is no laughing matter!" Molly insisted, not glancing my way at all. Her attitude needed to change, because this dismissal of my worth as a member of this group was beginning to get on my nerves.

"Indeed it is not, Molly. However," Dumbledore began gravely. "If I ask Harry to leave this meeting, I have no doubt as to what comes next." The old wizard gave me a pointed look, as if knowing exactly what I was going to do.

"And what is the Gryffindor golden boy going to do exactly? Go cry to his friends? Throw a tantrum?" Snape asked, his typical sneer plastered on this place. Perhaps he did not quite understand the implications what I just did.

"Oh, it's very simple." I laughed, and sent a cruel smile in Snape's direction. "I would leave this cozy little building you have going here, and proceed to systematically maim or brutally cripple every single Death Eater that I manage to find." The fact that I uttered that sentence so nonchalantly made the occupants of the room feel a chill creeping up their spines. Even Snape looked slightly green at the admission. Dumbledore had an understanding, yet reproachful look— somehow with no twinkly eyes this time— on his face. Dumbledore was not acting like I thought he would. I had fully expected him to throw me out of the meeting, to be honest. Then I'd have to fight the war alone, which involved indiscriminate murder. I _was_ prepared to follow through with it, but would've much preferred to be part of this Order thing instead. Less work to be done, and all.

"Not quite exactly what I had in mind, but yes." Dumbledore answered politely, giving me a look that said 'words will be exchanged, later'. I nodded curtly.

"Let us get back to the contents of the meeting." Professor Dumbledore's eyes began to twinkle in full blast again. "For those of you who have not started the meeting with us—" the headmaster motioned to my friends and I, "Arthur has informed us that he has found some slight success in getting a few members of the Ministry to join our cause, and Remus has met with failure in his task to sway the werewolves to our side." He ignored the annoyed look Lupin sent him before turning to Bill Weasley.

"What of the goblins at Gringotts?" Dumbledore asked genially.

"They're not giving anything away yet." Bill answered shortly. "I still can't work out whether they believe he's back or not. Of course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it."

"I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who." Mr. Weasley shook his head. "They've suffered losses too. Remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?" That got a few whispers going around.

"I think it depends on what they're offered." Lupin interjected. "And I'm not talking about gold; if they're offered freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?"

Bill grimaced in response. "He's feeling pretty anti-wizard right now, thanks to Bagman not paying them back, and the Ministry covering it all up. They won't be flocking to our side anytime soon, but I believe that they will at most, be neutral."

"It is better than the alternative." Dumbledore concluded, and many other wizards and witches nodded in agreement. He then turned to Severus.

"What news do you bring of Lord Voldemort-" cue flinches, "-Severus?"

Snape huffed as he gave me another one of his patented Death Glares™, before dutifully reporting.

"The Dark Lord has been lying low, attempting to avoid the watchful eyes of the law. I do not believe that any attacks have been sanctioned as of yet-" I snorted loudly at that, making him stop.

"Anything to share, Potter?" Snape challenged.

"Yeah." I answered. "The Muggles have already been attacked by Death Eaters; some of them have even retaliated."

Worried whispers were now being exchanged.

"And how would you know of such information?" Snape asked accusingly.

"Ever hear of the internet?" I scoffed at his disbelief, and the baseless accusation. Almost no one seemed to recognize the term, unfortunately. Wizards were truly ignorant of the coming of the new age, weren't they?

"What is this 'inter net' you speak of?" Dumbledore interjected before things degenerated any further.

"It's... Well... Give me a second, I need to figure out a good definition." I stalled a bit, thinking of the best way to describe what the internet is to technophobic people. "It's made by Muggles, of course. They've placed many series of satellites that fly in orbit around the planet, transmitting information to each other. With the help of computers, which is a machine that functions like a library—among other things, they can access this network of satellites, and post anything they like, be it the written word, images, or videos. This is all incredibly fast, as the information is transmitted at the speed of light, which is around three hundred _million_ meters per second." I purposefully gave the speed in meters per second to stress how inconceivable such a speed is. "That's enough speed to run across the perimeter of the Earth in _less than an eighth of a second_."

I took a deep breath, before continuing.

"Videos are what we wizards like to call moving pictures, only they have the added benefit of sound. It's more reminiscent of a Pensieve memory, actually." I explained to alleviate some of the confusion, giving a nod to Dumbledore. "And lately, many videos have been posted, about people in masks and robes waving sticks, making houses and streets explode in great bursts of fire. One bloke from Bulgaria actually kept a gun— a miniature cannon, if you don't know what a gun is— on him at all times, and recorded himself killing a Death Eater, before taking his wand and his potions. I believe he was arrested by the local Muggle police force shortly afterwards, for first-degree murder."

"4chan?" Dudley whispered next to me.

"Yeah. Googled the scientific info, as well."

"Knew it."

"Heh."

Our exchange was ignored by the wizards around us, whose whispers were growing louder and louder. Ron looked completely out of his element, while Hermione looked impressed at the knowledge I'd spewed out. Mr. Weasley looked quite excited at the impromptu lesson. I resolved to show him a few gadgets later.

I turned to Snape, giving him an insincere smile. "My apologies for the rudeness of my interruption. Please continue with your report, Professor Snape."

The greasy haired man gave me another glare, before resuming. "I amend my previous statement by saying that I am not privy to all the plans that the Dark Lord deigns to share with me. With that said, these attacks could simply be the result of our new foreign recruits foolishly making attempts at impressing the Dark Lord. It is, of course, a futile gesture."

I nodded, having figured the same thing.

"As for the object that he is seeking..." Snape paused dramatically. Sheesh. "It seems as if he prefers the anonymity given to him by the Ministry's refusal to acknowledge his existence. Thus, he chooses not to step foot inside of the Ministry, or any public place for that matter, instead focusing his efforts on recruiting any and all who follow his cause from outside of the country."

"So it is safe." Dumbledore seemed to sag slightly in relief. I wanted to ask what _it_ was, but I figured Dumbledore would tell me after this meeting during our talk.

"For now, yes." Snape confirmed, before sitting back down. He gave me a heated glare, which I ignored.

The rest of the meeting seemed to go by smoothly. The members of the Order who were Aurors said that they'd got a couple of people to listen to them, but most of the Department refused to talk to them, being immensely loyal to Director Amelia Bones, who was Susan's aunt, if I remembered correctly.

Dumbledore stood to address everyone.

"I believe we have reached the end of our weekly meeting. If any of you would like to stay behind and have dinner, you are— of course— welcome to do so." Dumbledore announced the end of the meeting, before motioning for me to follow as he left the room.

"I'll see you guys in a bit, I'm sure this conversation will have to be private." I said to Hermione, Dudley and Ron, who gave nods of acknowledgement, before leisurely making my way outside.

"So, when did you lose all that weight?" I heard Ron ask as I left the room, and suppressed a snicker. Typical Ron, putting his foot in his mouth. The two would likely grill Dudley on what's been going on with me the past summer. I waved at Fred, George and Ginny, who were looking at me like I was some amazing hero. Likely, they had overheard the entire meeting due to the fact that I pulverized the door. I was surprised a new one wasn't conjured.

Hell, I was surprised I wasn't attacked by everyone. I shook these feelings of confusion off, and entered through another door in the hallway. It was a living room, from what I could tell. A few couches here and there, some dark-themed tapestry— hell, the whole house was dark-themed. I actually preferred the colors, having spent many nights with the lights off, in front of my computer screen. Didn't want to hurt my head too badly.

Dumbledore had already taken one of the couches, and was enjoying a nice lemon drop.

"Ah, hello Harry." Professor Dumbledore greeted me with a smile. He held out a few wrapped candies. "Lemon drop?"

"That would be nice, thanks." I took the proffered candy, unwrapping it and sliding it in my mouth. Would've preferred the taste of oranges, or maybe the taste of cola, like those gummies, but you can't have everything in life, sadly. I took a seat across from the old wizard, wondering what he was going to say.

"I find myself not quite sure how to start this conversation, dear boy." Dumbledore admitted, giving me a rueful look.

"Eh?" I gave the man a surprised look. "I honestly thought we were going to have a huge argument about how I should be more forgiving and less cruel. Maybe compare me to Voldemort or something, in some last ditch attempt to veer me off of the dark side or something." That seemed to make Dumbledore grimace in pain.

"I would never presume to tell you how you should feel or act, Harry." The man waved off my thoughts. "Worry not, you are not the only wizard who had the thought of taking up arms and hunting down the Death Eaters."

"I'm not?" I repeated. "Who else thought about it? Sirius? Moody probably?"

"Among a few others, yes. Myself included." Wait, did he just say that? "I am fully aware of my capabilities with a wand, my boy. Even with the powers you have shown me today, I would still beat you with ease. Moreover, I am most certainly capable of laying waste to all of the Death Eaters. Perhaps not all at once, of course..."

"Well, why don't we?" I tried not to be intimidated by that casual admission of him being stronger than me, and got the conversation back on track.

"You already know the answer to that, don't you, Harry?" Dumbledore urged, and it all came to me in one impassioned speech I'd read about a few weeks ago.

"The cycle of hatred, huh?" I just couldn't stay angry at the old man. The words came to me, having memorized them. "War brings death... and wounds, and pain to both sides. There's nothing harder to accept than the-the deaths of those we love...," I stuttered slightly, and swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. "Because we believe they could never die. We try to find meaning in death, but there is only pain, and never-ending hatred."

"Cedric-" I stopped to compose myself. "Cedric pretty much died instantly. It was like- like he was considered as trash to Voldemort, not even worth the effort to acknowledge. Voldemort called him the _spare_. And now Cedric's parents are in great pain, because of Riddle. It made me angry, restless. Many time, I searched the depths of my soul, and found I was capable of terrible, indescribable things; and I'm not talking about the lightning."

I stopped for a moment, turning to the headmaster, who was giving me a mixed look of sadness and pride.

"I am sorry, my boy."

"Sorry for what?" I was genuinely curious.

"I should have protected you, all these years. I did not want you to suffer. I thought I was doing what was best, to keep you away from the fame." The man buried his face in his hands, looking every bit the age that he is. It made me squirm uncomfortably. Leaders shouldn't show weakness like this. Damn it to hell, Dumbledore wasn't supposed to be so human! I wanted to be angry at him so badly, but I found myself soothing the man instead.

"It's all right."

"It is not." Dumbledore disagreed vehemently. "I was not capable of guaranteeing your safety last year. The Tournament's binding contract had completely forbidden any help I could have given you. For that, I can never apologize enough."

"Stop beating yourself up over it, old man." I said gruffly, not wanting to deal with that terrible year just yet. The whole thing was a huge blur of successive life-threatening experiences. "I'm alive, you're alive, we can deal with it."

"In fact," I continued, gaining the man's attention. "I had a couple of ideas I wanted to bounce off of you for the trial I have to go to soon. Care to help me?"

"I would be glad to." Dumbledore's smile was almost radiant, his eyes slightly misty, still refusing to meet my own.

"And I hope you'll let me know why you've been avoiding my eyes ever since I stepped foot in this place."

Dumbledore had a slightly sheepish expression on his face. It was so out of place, I had to laugh.

**oooooo**

The days passed quite quickly, as I immersed myself in legal books and the like. Ron was as useful as a sack of potatoes in that regard, but Hermione was a boon. Dudley was helping clean out the house in place of Sirius, who decided to study the books alongside me.

"I would've never thought I would attempt to bond with you by _studying books_." Here, Sirius faked a cringe. "But I'd say it was well worth it."

"Fuck yeah, it was. There is no way they can expel me from Hogwarts now." I had said confidently, though I still felt slightly nervous on the inside. Professor Dumbledore— or Albus, as he'd insisted on me calling him— seemed to agree with the idea that I shared. Of course, the first line of defense would be the fact that I was defending myself, as Hermione had explained; there was a provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery put in place to allow underage students to defend themselves against whatever threat they face.

However, I was going to push for my idea even if I'm cleared of all charges. Since they'd essentially forced me to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, which was supposed to be held for adults, I could make the sound argument that I was to be declared an adult. After all, my participation was acknowledged by the British, French and Bulgarian ministries, so there is a legal groundwork to build from.

The trip to the Ministry was something of a blur, as I'd repeated my ideas over and over in my head, not willing to make any mistakes. We signed in at the Ministry, going through all the stupid procedure, and I was finally sporting a badge that said "_Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing_". As per the usual course, people stared like I was some kind of circus sideshow, as we went past the many departments to finally reach courtroom ten. Dudley and I entered through the large, grimy door without any hesitation, noting that the dungeon I found myself in was the very same one I'd seen in Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve.

"You're late." I heard a cold, male voice say.

"My apologies, I was under the impression that the hearing was to take place at 9:00 AM?" I asked politely, yet coldly as well.

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," the voice retorted. "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."

"Indeed?" Dudley and I nonchalantly walked to the mentioned seat, staring up at the body of Wizards before us. "Knowing that an owl traverses the skies at an average speed of forty miles per hour, and considering that the Ministry itself opens at around 7:00 AM, it would've taken the owl to reach my home in around... five hours, give or take ten minutes. Food for thought, perhaps?" I gave a nasty grin, and the Minister had the decency to look slightly cowed. The Wizengamot began to whisper as I took my seat, gazing at the assembly of wizards. Dudley stood next to me.

There were about fifty of them, all wearing dark red robes with an elaborate silver W on the left hand side of the chest. Most were staring at me in curiosity, while some did so with anger. I could care less, and stared at the Minister as he began speaking.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," Fudge began, and I noticed Percy Weasley taking notes off to the side. Huh, the little bitch was here? Fudge continued, "Into offenses committed under the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Interrogators, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley —"

"— Witness for the defense, Dudley Vernon Dursley." I interrupted the dictation.

"And Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." Another voice said from behind me. I turned to see Dumbledore pleasantly striding across the room in his midnight-blue robes, looking like he had not a care in the world. He stared up at the assembly, daring them to say anything.

"Ah," Fudge looked disconcerted. "Dumbledore. Yes. You — er — got our — er — message that the time and — er — place of the hearing had been changed, then?"

"I must have missed it," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done. Although it bears to mention that I would have not received the owl until tomorrow, since I reside at Hogwarts Castle itself."

Good. He had heard my argument, and applied it to himself. If a teenager like me said it, they wouldn't even care. If Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, a respectable wizard with a long line of accomplishments said it, it would be taken quite seriously. We succeeded in setting the tone, but the battle was far from over.

"But alas, it is not time for such inquiries just yet." Albus said, interrupting whatever Fudge was going to say, and conjured two chairs right next to mine. With a muttered thanks, Dudley gratefully took his seat.

"Indeed," Fudge shuffled his notes, pulling out a piece of parchment. "The charges against the accused are as follows: that he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar char-"

"Objection!" I called out immediately.

"What?" Fudge lost his momentum.

"The said warning was sent to my house because Dobby the house-elf performed a Hover Charm. I was told by the Ministry workers that the warning would be removed from my record. Was it not done?"

"It is true, Minister." The witch with the monocle said. What's wrong with glasses? "That warning should have been removed from our records a few years ago."

"I see... There must have been an error in our filing." Fudge looked like he ate something sour. "But it still does not excuse the fact that you knowingly conjured the Patronus on the night of the second of August, in the presence of a Muggle, while you are underage!"

"What Muggle?" I asked easily, having rehearsed that part in my head.

"Why, the boy sitting next to you of course. Mr. Dudley Vernon Dursley."

"I see. Mr. Dudley Dursley," I said loudly, not letting them interrupt me. "Is my cousin, first of all. So while I might have violated the Decree for using underage magic, the International Statute of Secrecy has not been violated."

"B-but... Director Bones?" He turned to Amelia.

"His logic is quite sound, though he has admitted to conjuring a Patronus." Amelia answered fairly, giving me an interested, if a little bit annoyed, gaze. Must be because I keep interrupting the fucker in charge. Oh well, no skin off my nose.

"Yes, yes." Fudge tried to get his prosecution rolling again. "So you have conjured a Patronus, knowing that it is illegal to use magic outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"What is the Patronus Charm used for?" I answered with a question of my own.

"Wha- This is no time for lessons, Mr. Potter!"

"Perhaps the boy ought to be restrained..." A witch with a face that made toads look amazing said, while others around her shook their heads in the negative at such a suggestion. They were already in deep, considering that one of them changed the meeting time, knowing full well that the defendants would be late— even some of the Wizengamot members had arrived around twenty minutes before Harry did— and then followed by attempting to tie in the crime to a previous crime that was supposed to be stricken from the records.

"The Patronus Charm," I continued as if I didn't hear Fudge or the toad bitch. "Is an immensely complicated, very difficult spell that evokes a partially-tangible positive energy force known as a **Patronus** or **spirit guardian**. It is the primary protection against Dementors and Lethifolds, to which there is no other protection."

"The point that I'm trying to make here, my fellow wizards," I said before someone could yell at me to get to the point. "Is that I was forced to use the Patronus Charm to ward off a duo of Dementors that had attacked my cousin and I."

The silence was deafening. I looked to Dumbledore, who gave me a nod. So far so good.

"Dementors?" Madam Bones repeated after a moment. "In Little Whinging?"

"I thought we'd be hearing something like this." Fudge quipped gleefully, no doubt thinking the slandering words of the Daily Prophet would back him up.

"I don't understand—" Amelia began.

"Don't you, Amelia?" Fudge asked with a smirk. "Allow me to explain. He's been thinking it through and decided dementors would make a very nice little cover story, _very_ nice indeed. Muggles can't see dementors, can they, boy?" He asked condescendingly.

"I _did_ see them." Dudley said loudly, and clearly. "They were the most horrifying things I'd seen in my entire life. Everything became so cold, and it felt like I would never be happy again."

"You- What? Muggles can't see dementors! So how could you have seen it?" He sputtered in rage.

"Maybe because he's not a Muggle." I pointed out. "You have no interest in seeking out Squibs born to Muggle families, so you had no way of knowing if he was Squib or Muggle. I believe there is a spell to identify if a person is a Squib or a Muggle?"

"Indeed, Mr. Potter." Madame Bones confirmed, before motioning to one of the nearby Aurors to cast the spell. The man waved his wand in an intricate pattern over Dudley, before nodding and turning to the Wizengamot.

"Mr. Dudley Dursley is a Squib." He announced loudly, before walking back to his position, ignoring the whispers of the Wizengamot.

Feeling that I was getting control, I decided to nip the whole situation in the bud.

"Seeing as we have confirmed that my cousin, Mr. Dursley is a Squib, I repeat the fact that we encountered two dementors on our way home. I was quite aware of the restriction against underage magic, and ordered Mr. Dursley to run to the safety of our home with me. We ran at full sprint, afraid we would die the entire time, for over five minutes. We reached the half-point to the house, when we collapsed in exhaustion. The dementors were not tired in the least. I was forced to defend our lives by casting the Patronus Charm. I believe there is a provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, allowing for self-defense. Is that correct?" I said breathlessly, looking at Amelia Bones. Seemed as if she was the only one interested in upholding the law here.

"That is true, Mr. Potter. We have that provision in place for emergencies such as this. Do you confirm what Mr. Potter has said, Mr. Dursley?"

"I do."

"Anything to add, Mr. Potter?" Fudge seethed angrily. Looks like this wasn't going his way at all.

"Only that I am willing to testify under Veritaserum, and provide Pensieve Memories if you are not already convinced that I was defending myself."

"That will not be needed." Fudge was red with anger, but didn't say anything further. "We shall begin the ruling."

"Those in favor of conviction?" Amelia Bones' voice boomed across the dungeon.

Around a dozen of them raised their hands, Fudge and Umbridge included. And what a surprise, Lucius Malfoy was here. I wonder why his mouth stayed shut? I glanced at Dumbledore next to me, who winked mischievously.

"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?"

The rest of the room, an overwhelming majority, raised their hands. I sighed in relief, but steeled myself; it was time to push my idea forward.

"Excellent." Dumbledore said quickly, springing to his feet, addressing the Wizengamot before they could leave. "However, there is something else Mr. Harry Potter would like bring up."

"Ah- What would that be, Mr. Potter?" Fudge asked, looking at me with badly disguised malice.

"A few things, really." I said nonchalantly, and waved for everyone to sit down. Surprisingly, they complied.

"To begin, I would like for this hearing to be publicized— word, for word, mind you— in the Daily Prophet, with no lies whatsoever. No strange angle. I've been reading that newspaper, and I do _not_ appreciate being called a liar. Nor do I appreciate the fact that I've been tried in front of the entire body of the Wizengamot— I believe that is what happens to _adults_ in the Wizarding World." I stressed the word 'adult.'

"We do not control what the Daily Prophet says." Fudge answered quickly.

"Sure you don't." I gave a smirk in response. "Aside from the article I wish for you to publish, I would like to be declared as an emancipated minor immediately."

THAT got the whispers going.

"On what grounds?" Said a member from the right.

"Yes, we don't exactly give our own children free rein to use their magic, so why should you be allowed?" Another said. There were murmurs of agreement.

"I'm afraid that the law requires you to do so, unfortunately." I said gravely, getting expressions of confusion in return.

"Explain." Madam Bones ordered, not appreciative of my dramatic tone.

"As I've mentioned, I have _just_ been tried as an adult." I repeated, before continuing over Fudge's protest. "And I'm sure you remember the Triwizard Tournament that I won last June?" I got nods of confirmation from the wizards. "The same tournament that required applicants to be _of age_ for the chance to participate. As you know, my name was entered illegally in the hopes that I'd get killed during one of the three tasks we champions had to beat. I was forced to participate thanks to a magically binding agreement that the ministries of Britain, France _and_ Bulgaria acknowledged. In the eyes of the laws of _three different countries_, I have legally been an adult for over a year. Another point as to why this trial was such a _farce_." I spat out the last word, not caring whether this hurt their sensibilities or not.

I relished in the uncomfortable looks I got from the decrepit old wizards and witches who ruled our population.

Who said stomping on politics wasn't fun?

**ooooooooooooooo**

Well, that's that. I enjoyed writing this. If you're confused about Harry's flip flop personality, don't be. At the moment, he is trying to reconcile what his mind's telling him ("Kill Voldemort and all of his followers") and what his heart's telling him ("Stop Voldemort, but don't hurt the blameless.")

The Death Eater children were only what their environment made them, and Harry understands that.

What do you think?


	6. Chapter 6

I'd like to thank everyone who's been reviewing my story. I really enjoy reading what you have to tell me, even if you don't agree with my decisions. I think I've been realistic— or as realistic as a fantasy story can get— in how things have been progressing.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 6: Emotional Interlude  
><strong>

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione's voice woke me up. Hadn't I told her to clear out, five minutes ago?

Groan. "What is it, woman? Can't you let a man sleep?"

"No! Not after you did what you did!"

"For God's sake." I flung a pillow at her face, before getting up— again. "What the _fuck_ do you want?"

"Language! Why did you give the prefect badge to _Ron_?" She looked peeved at me.

"Wait, wait." I said with a mischievous grin. "You don't think Ron can handle the responsibility? You think he's untrustworthy?"

She grimaced, before backtracking— baited right into that one! "Well, of course he can handle it... But why would you not want the position, for yourself? It's an important role to have; you would ensure that the rules are followed, and you can set an example to the younger students!"

I had to shake my head at the feeble arguments. Around an hour ago, I received mail from Hogwarts informing me that I made prefect. Yeah, me. You know, the Boy-Who-Gets-In-Trouble-As-Frequently-As-He-Breathes. I came up with that one. Anyway, I got one of those badges, and just gave it to Ron. No hesitation whatsoever. McGonagall had actually delivered the letters personally, so I left immediately after seeing the disappointed and sour look on her face. As if I cared what she thought about me! All she ever did was call me a liar or not take me seriously when I needed her most. Some Gryffindor Head of House!

Ron, on the other hand, was all too glad to accept such a position. I heard Fred and George moaning about it as I was going to my room. It brought a grin to my face when I heard them call me a great hero, for following in their non-prefect footsteps.

"Yes, because I'm a _total_ rule-follower, Hermione." I answered sarcastically, making references to the past years we've been at Hogwarts. "Also, you think I want to babysit some snot nosed brats in my free time? Hell no! Now can I have some peace and quiet?"

"Absolutely not! I can't believe you would—"

All right, this was getting old. I grabbed my wand off of the nightstand and waved it in Hermione's direction.

"_Silencio_."

_That_ surely did the trick. Hermione was still ranting, but no sound was coming out. It was absolutely hilarious! Am I glad to have pressured the Ministry into lifting the underage magic restrictions on me through a declaration of my emancipation. I could do magic whenever I wanted now; no one could stop me! Unless, you know, I was committing crimes and such. I got off the bed, and walked right past Hermione like she wasn't even there; totally ghosted her. She, of course, stomped right behind me, probably angry beyond words— not that she could utter any at the moment.

Heh.

I ascended the stairs leading out of the basement— rather, my new room— greeting the house-elf who was currently cursing at me. Well, who could blame him, having spent over a decade in the presence of that painting of Sirius' mother? Half a minute with her made me want to obliterate the entire wall she was affixed on. Luckily, she's been nicer as of late, likely due to my frightening presence. After that joke I refer to as a trial, I had Mr. Weasley escort Dudley and I to Number Four, with the promise that I'd show him a computer. Luckily, he had a car— his good old enchanted Ford Anglia had miraculously made its way back to the Burrow, something which amused me immensely...

**ooooooooooooooo**  
>Scene shift - Flash back<br>**ooooooooooooooo**

Anyway, we got to Number Four, where Petunia excessively fussed over Dudley, trying to make sure those nasty, bad, evil, conniving, unnatural freaks didn't hurt him. Dudley grinned in response and told her of how I utterly humiliated them in court, using logical deduction and almost scientific arguments of all things. Petunia actually smiled at me, and gave me a quick hug, while _Vernon gave me a pat on the back_. If I wasn't already getting used to the idea of the Dursleys being nice to me, my mind would have shut down, there and then. Would've probably died from a brain aneurysm.

It was a bit later, when I was packing up my desktop computer in cardboard boxes, that Petunia came in the room, alone.

I gave her a nod, and went back to unhooking the various plugs attached to the computer case, and the screen.

"I'm sorry."

I jerked up, my head smashing against the the wooden desk. I bit back a wince, before turning to Aunt Petunia with astonished eyes. I stood, and intensely gazed at her fidgeting form for a very long moment. Feelings of resentment, ferocious anger, and hate welled up in my being, threatening to overtake me. But as soon as they came, they washed away with the tears streaming down Petunia's face. I realized I'd been harshly glaring at her the whole time. I sighed tiredly, sat next to her, and put an arm around her, not really knowing how to deal with this. She buried her face in my shoulder, sobbing.

I wasn't expecting this.

"I'm sorry! I didn't want to lose you, too... I already lost Lily to that horrible world of racist hypocrites! I thought that if you didn't have any of that magic, you wouldn't be in danger from that world! I'm sorry!" She kept apologizing over and over.

My heart beat faster, and there was a sudden lump in my throat.

"You- I- I-" I tried to speak, but found that I couldn't form any coherent words. She looked into my eyes searchingly.

"Those eyes— they are all I have to remember of Lily, and my father." Her father? My grandfather? I'd always wondered why we didn't have grandparents on Petunia's side of the family. What happened to them?

"They died in a fire caused by an accident in their house. At least, that's what the local police force said. Lily told me they were locked in their house by bad wizards and burned to death when they set the house on fire." Petunia said, as if reading my mind. "The police didn't investigate the occurrence, believing it to be a freak accident. The _wizard _police didn't care that a _Mug_g_le_ couple died. Why should they? We're nothing but trash to them. Just trash..." She continued in an almost robotic tone of voice, spitting the words 'wizard' and 'muggle' out like it's venom.

It reminded me of how Mr. Filch was always bitter and resentful towards the students. It seemed that if you weren't a wizard, you were essentially dirt; and, even if you were a wizard, 'blood status' was a very big thing. The so called 'mudbloods' and 'halfbloods' ranked the same as non magical folk. The way the 'purebloods' acted reminded me of Nazism. Instead of white supremacists, they were pureblood supremacists.

So my grandparents from both sides were killed by Death Eaters, huh? Tears threatened to spill, but I scrunched my eyes closed. Sadness quickly gave way to righteous anger.

"Then Lily and James died, and you were dumped on our doorstep without any explanation, except a letter which raised more questions than answers." Petunia continued, gazing at me regretfully. "I knew you were going to be like her. I didn't want you to die like my sister, like my parents."

And I understood. I was angry, but I _understood._ If that shit happened to me, I would probably act like she did. Petunia was completely powerless to stop the deaths of her family. She was trying to save me this entire time...

So I gave her a long hug, and stood over her shaking form, looking like a beacon of strength.

"Don't worry, Aunt Petunia." I gave her a forced smile. "They won't get me. I promise."

That just made her cry even harder.

**ooooooooooooooo**  
>Scene Shift - Flash back end<br>**ooooooooooooooo**

After that little emotional scene, I bid goodbye to the Dursleys, before going back to Grimmauld Place with Mr. Weasley. I hauled the boxes to my new room, which was rendered magic-free; it was a trick that Arthur had figured out a few years back, when enchanting his car to fly and become invisible. Most of his explanation went over my head, honestly. Essentially, it's some kind of rune meant to disallow any interference caused by the ambient magic of the house. The shape and size of the field around it depended on the shape and size of the rune itself. For my room, we used a rune the size of a cubic meter, placing it in the center. It was a slight annoyance to skirt around it, but if it let me run my computer, then I'm all for it.

Figuring out how to feed electricity and internet connection to my room was a bit daunting, but less annoying than you might think. You see, I chose the basement as my room. After ridding it of its various implements of torture— 'what the hell was the Black family doing in here?'— I had the wall colors modified to a calming dark blue, with black carpet covering every inch of the room. Then, to the displeasure of the Order, I hired an electrician and an internet service provider company feed electricity an internet connection to the basement only— confounding the two so they wouldn't ask questions like "why isn't this house on the grid?"

I felt bad about using the Confundus charm on them, but I wanted to conserve our anonymity as much as possible. Maybe I'd worry about such problems after I got rid of Voldemort.

Like I said earlier, the Order— with exceptions like Arthur, Tonks, Remus, and Sirius— wouldn't stop crying about how I was endangering everyone by bringing in these dubious Muggles in. However, I only said two things to the idiots:

1) This isn't your house. So shut the fuck up before I get Sirius to kick you out.

2) I'm paying for this with my own money, so keep your fucking fat nose out of my business.

I took great pleasure in relaying these thoughts to the hapless victims that dared to attempt to overrule my decisions. The only person who had power to tell me what to do was Sirius, and that man didn't judge me, or force me to do something I didn't want to. Honestly, he was like the cool uncle I never got to grow up with. Rather, he _was_ the cool uncle I never got to grow up with.

All in all, the results were greatly satisfying. In the week that followed, I got to catch up on all the Manga I'd been closely following, and managed to torrent a number of movies I've been wanting to watch for a while now. Watched some good old porn. Played some games. Listened to music. More porn...

The loud stomps behind me brought me back to reality. I realized I'd been quietly thinking for a while now, judging by Hermione's angry and confused face. What did I want to do again? Oh, right. Of course. I waved my wand in front of Hermione's face.

"_Finite_. Will you calm down, now?" I asked my friend calmly. She nodded, still looking angry. I almost felt bad. Almost.

"HEY SIRIUS!" I yelled in the large hallway of Grimmauld Place.

"YEAH?" I heard Sirius' shout from the kitchen, and walked over there, Hermione in tow. I walked in to see the man cooking something. Or at least attempting to. The entire kitchen looked like a war zone. Hermione gasped. I grinned.

"What the hell have you been doing, Sirius?"

"I was trying to make pasta." The older man gave me a sheepish look.

"It looks a tsunami made entirely out of tomato sauce came through here." I retorted incredulously, trying to figure out Sirius could screw up making pasta, easily one of the easiest dishes to concoct. Hermione snorted in amusement, eyes twinkling à la Dumbledore.

"Well, I was trying to make the sauce for the pasta, and then everything caught on fire, so I conjured water, but that made everything even worse..." Sirius motioned to the disaster area in front of him, looking quite flustered. "Molly's definitely going to kill me."

"Oh, Sirius." Hermione giggled at his totally lost look, before grabbing a mop and beginning to clean up, with me following suit. With a lot of hard work, and generous use of drying charms, we had the kitchen in working order once more. Wiping the sweat off my brow, I stood next to Sirius and Hermione, feeling slightly parched. I filled a cup with some water, and took a long gulp, enjoying the refreshing feeling it gave.

"So, no cooking from you." I quipped lightly. Sirius tensed, as if wanting to protest, but gave up, slouching.

"Sorry, I just wanted to be slightly useful to you guys. All I could do was let Dumbledore use this place as Headquarters. Other than that, I'm totally useless." Sirius said sullenly. I suddenly felt bad for teasing him. Was I really being that inconsiderate?

"Don't say that, Sirius!" Hermione protested, biting her lip. "You most certainly are not useless!"

I set the mop against the wall, before turning to my Godfather. I placed a hand on his shoulders, making him look at me.

"Come on. Let's get out of this dreary house for a while." I said with a smile, and led him out of the room. Hermione looked like she wanted to protest, but one look from me shut her up. We made our way out of the kitchen, and through the hallway, taking a detour to my basement. I began sifting through random clothes that I bought this summer.

"What are we doing here, Harry?" Sirius asked curiously, glancing curiously at the computer to the side. I found the items I needed. I threw a short sleeve hoodie, some jeans and a sports cap to Sirius.

"Wear these, and you'll be unrecognizable to anyone." I said, as I began to wear mine. He did the same. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he stared in confusion, not understanding how such a simple disguise would work.

"I know what you're thinking: 'how could this disguise possibly work?' The answer is pretty simple, yet complex at the same time." I gained Sirius' attention. He nodded to me, silently prompting me to continue. "I'll start with examples. What would you expect someone like Lucius Malfoy to wear?"

"Luxurious robes made of fine silk, probably carrying a cane tipped with some manner of jewelry."

"And what would you expect, uh, Ollivander to wear?"

"Old robes."

"Dumbledore?" I pressed on.

"Some weird colorful robes."

"What would Professor McGonagall be wearing?"

"...Robes." Sirius seemed to be catching on, I think.

"I see you're finally understanding what it is I'm trying to tell you." I smiled widely. "The beauty of this disguise is that it works on people's misconceptions. So, what would people from the wizarding world expect the pureblood Death Eater, Sirius Black to wear?"

Sirius winced at the description of him, but answered my question nonetheless. "They'd expect me to be wearing robes, because no Death Eater would ever stoop to the level of wearing Muggle clothing."

"Exactly. People see what they want to see." I grinned. We made our way to the hallway, again. Hermione was there, looking a little worried.

"Hermione, if someone asks where we are, tell them we're taking a stroll outside, will you? Thanks." I said, and left the house, Sirius following suit, after telling her not to worry.

I could tell Sirius was beyond nervous, as we crossed out of the Fidelius threshold, and onto the public sidewalk. We stood there for a few seconds. Sirius' relief became palpable.

"See? No Aurors, no Death Eaters." I laughed, considerably easing the man's worries. He took a deep breath, smelling the free air, and smiled. I hadn't seen him smile so widely since he rode off into the night on Buckbeak. I walked alongside my Godfather for a while, letting him savor the moment.

A jingling sound caught my attention. I turned my head to the side, noticing a small pizza place.

"Come on." I nudged the dog animagus, moving to cross the road. "Let's get some pizza."

"Pizza!" Sirius looked excited.

We entered the shop, and ordered a large pepperoni with extra cheese. No one seemed to recognize either of us. Why would they? Muggles have never heard of Harry Potter, and the only picture they have of Sirius Black was one in which he wore his prison rags; a picture which already faded into distant memory. The general public would not remember the picture of some random killer— London was full of them. Wizards wouldn't look twice at what appeared to be a Muggle. Hell, most wouldn't even look once.

The meal was pretty damn good. Sirius looked like he was in heaven, as he happily devoured most of the pizza, burning the roof of his mouth in the process. We chatted about random, inane things. Everyday stuff. It was very pleasant. Sirius told me some amusing stories about his time in Hogwarts.

"And that's how Remus' date went."

"I can't believe you did _that_ to him. You guys are beyond hilarious." I chortled, and took a sip of pepsi.

"What about you, Mr. Potter? Find yourself a nice girl, yet?" Sirius winked suggestively as he took a bite out of a slice of pepperoni pizza.

"Nah." I answered easily. "There was this girl that I fancied last year, but I've seen some things to make me want to stay away from her."

"Oh?" Sirius leaned in, slightly interested. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing's wrong with her." I answered. "She's just not my type, you know?"

"I _don't_ know." Sirius teased, with a smile.

"Not curvy enough, I guess." I thought about my answer as I spoke. "Plus, she seemed kind of bitchy, now that I think about it. Very needy." I did remember Cedric often looking quite annoyed with Cho...

Sirius grimaced, before nodding solemnly. "People like that exist, unfortunately."

"So what do you want in a girl, then?" Sirius continued.

"Well..." I started. "You've seen Fleur?"

Sirius gave a mischievous smile.

"Fleur's pretty hot, and smart to boot. She was a Triwizard Champion, remember?" I explained quickly. "I wouldn't mind someone like Tonks, either. I guess, my idea of a perfect woman is someone that is smart, pretty, and independent. I don't want someone who's high maintenance. I also don't want someone who just wants the Boy-Who-Lived. That's not me."

"Any girl you know that fits that criteria?"

A few came to mind.

"Eh.. Ginny, I guess?" Sirius gave me an amused smirk. "I haven't... really socialized outside of my house much. Cho is a cute face, but that's about it. I guess Susan Bones from Hufflepuff is pretty cute, but she believed I was the Heir of Slytherin during my Second Year, so she's out..." I mused. "In Gryffindor... Well, Parvati and Lavender are too giggly for me. Hermione, well... she'd basically nag me to death, then bring me back as a ghost and nag me some more. You should've seen her earlier, when I gave my prefect badge to Ron.. Had to silence her with a spell."

Sirius barked out a laugh.

"Anything else? What about Slytherin?"

"Slytherin?" I looked at my Godfather incredulously. "Why should I even consider them?"

"Come now, Harry. Not all Slytherin is made of gits like Snivellus and Malfoy." Sirius admonished, before grinning. "There were many Slytherin girls I've had the opportunity to.. get intimate with. They're just what you're looking for, as well! Smart, cunning, independent, and pretty!"

A flash of a Slytherin girl with honey golden hair and blue eyes appeared to the forefront of my mind. I shook my head. No way in hell that was going to happen.

**ooooooooooooooo**

A bit of a relaxing chapter. I'll start working on the next one, soon.

It goes without saying that Harry has been training his powers, of course.

Any thoughts?


	7. Chapter 7

Woah, 13 reviews in less than 12 hours after I uploaded the latest chapter. I'm beyond surprised, right now.

**Ddragon21**: No one's perfect. Like I said in my first chapter, he's a good guy who made mistakes. What's that old phrase? "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

**Remzal Von Enili**: Probably not. If Harry learned another element, he'd be overpowered.

**xp3r1a:** Decent point on the attack announcing. It is quite a mouthful. I had actually thought about cutting the "lightning dragon" part out. Or even say "Rairyu no Hoken" instead of "Lightning Dragon's Breakdown Fist". Saying only "Breakdown Fist" works fine, though.

**Ceti H. Black**: Astoria's twelve. Harry's fifteen.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 7: All Aboard The Fun Train!  
><strong>

September 1st, 7 AM.

I sped around my practice room— formerly an unused room— lightning covering every inch of my body. I punched and kicked, as if fighting an enemy only I could see. I quickly jumped to the left, before deciding to run laps around the room. I pushed myself to my very limits, zooming from corner to corner with incredible speed. Granted, it didn't hold a candle to my Firebolt's speed, but what _could_ compare to that? I jumped, and practiced propelling myself in to the right; and then to the left; I'd learned that little trick a week ago, and have been practicing it almost nonstop. The idea behind it was that the expelled energy functioned like a rocket. If I blasted the lightning to the left, I would be propelled to the right, and vice versa. With enough power, I could probably fly under my own power! How cool was that?

I landed steadily in front of the wall.

"**Breakdown Fist****!**" Lightning danced along the length of my arm, quickly coalescing into my closed fist. I looked at my fist briefly, scrutinizing it, before smashing it into the wall, easily causing a small crater to form. Cracks began spreading over the entire wall as it slightly shook from the sudden pressure.

"_Reparo_." I quickly repaired the wall, before frowning in thought. I thought I could break right through the wall with that kind of energy. Stone is definitely stronger than wood, that's for sure! Still, the amount of strength needed to actually dent a solid stone wall had to be quite staggering. I even greatly shortened the time required to charge up the attack. Progress was definitely being made, even though it wasn't going as fast I would've liked.

I extended my fingers, and channeled the lightning once more. I hesitated to try this again. A few days ago, I attempted to pierce through the wall by extending my fingers, and thrusting towards the wall, as if I was thrusting a knife to pierce it. It actually did slightly pierce the wall, but hurt like hell. I supposed, that punching the wall hurt less because the damage— which was considerably dampened to the energy surrounding my fist— was distributed evenly along the frontal area of my fist. With the tip of my fingers being a much smaller area to cover, I supposed it made sense that it hurt that much more.

I took a deep breath, and thrust my fingers into the wall again, this time refining the energy so that it imitated a piercing blade. The attacked buried my hand, up to its knuckles into the wall. A sharp stab of pain shot through my hand. I'd pierced the wall, but it still managed to hurt me.

Wall: 2, Harry Potter: 0.

"SHIT! FUCK!" I grit my teeth, pulling my hand out of the wall. I tried to move my fingers, only to wince as that little attempt failed. The bruises hurt quite a bit. I quickly made my way to my room, and grabbed an ice pack out of my fridge— quite a necessary addition, if I do say so myself— applying it to my bruised fingers. The pain receded, thankfully. That was the end of this practice session, it seemed. Perhaps next time, I should try on weaker materials. I would work on piercing wooden objects, and slowly move up. Actually, from that point of view, I'd actually done pretty well for my second try.

When it's complete. I'll call it **Edge**, after an attack used by a character in the Naruto manga.

I grabbed a coke from of the fridge, and sat in front of the computer. I opened up my browser, and found the bookmark I was looking for. Salty Bet; a website that streamed unlikely fights between characters from different games/books/comics/anime, and made people bet on who was going to win. It wasn't _actual_ money being exchanged here, but it was still a very fun activity.

"Come on, get those bets in!" I heard the stream prompt, as inappropriate music played in the background of the fighting simulator I was watching. Why would anyone put Beethoven in the background of a fight between Son Goku and Super Mario? That was beyond surreal. I sat there for half an hour, watching the ridiculous fights, and reading the hilarious comments that the twitch community posted every other second. Wait a minute.. Did I just see what I think I saw?

In bold letters, "**Ronald McDonald vs Colonel Sanders**" was on the screen. The epic fight of the day, most likely. The stream chat erupted in celebration, everyone claiming to bet all their in game money on either Ronald or Sanders. The fight that ensued was one of the most devastating, ridiculous fights I'd ever watched in my time on this site. Ronald's main weapon of choice was a tsunami of cheeseburgers, while Colonel Sanders seemed to throw cardboard boxes of chicken nuggets all over the place. In a matter of seconds, the area was flooded with burgers and nuggets, in one of the most epic struggles witnessed by basement-dweller-kind. The fact that the background music was "I'm a Barbie Girl, In a Barbie world" did not detract from the sheer epic-ness of it. Not one bit.

Well, okay. Maybe a little. I ended up losing all the money I had. Ronald had won the battle, putting me into back what was affectionately referred to as "The Salt Mines". I sighed, and got off the computer. My hand was beginning to feel better. The swelling was considerably reduced, which was a good thing. I could actually move my fingers now!

I went to the kitchen, intent on getting some breakfast. I saw everyone hustling and bustling, all stressed out over the trip we were going to make to the Hogwarts Express. I slipped into the kitchen, unnoticed by all except Sirius, who seemed to be starving. I gave him a pitying look.

"There's some leftover pizza in the fridge in my room." I revealed, and he bolted. Half a minute later, he came back with a box of a half eaten pizza. He cast a warming charm on it, and we began to eat in a companionable silence, enjoying the last few moments we were going to have together.

"Harry, dear?" Molly Weasley's voice came from the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley." I politely answered. Ever since I barged into that meeting, the older woman was cross with me, until the moment I witnessed her face a boggart. It showed everyone she knew and loved dead— including me. I told her that wouldn't happen, that I would destroy an entire army with my bare hands before ever letting something like that happen. She seemed to warm up to me after that. I gestured at the pizza in front of me. "Want some pizza?"

"No, thank you, dear." She refused, before getting to the point. "I was just seeing if you were all packed for school. Everyone else seems completely lost."

"Oh, yes. I preemptively did all my packing last night to avoid all the confusion!" I grinned, motioning to the totally lost Ron, who was looking for his toothbrush— which the twins had hid away for shits and giggles.

"Oh, all right, then. Best get back to preparing!" And with that, Molly went to make sure her children were all set. Sirius snorted, and we shared an amused grin.

"Sure going to miss having you around, kid." Sirius said sadly.

"Yeah, I'm going to miss you too, old man." I answered back cheekily, making him frown.

"I'm not _that_ old."

"True." I smiled. "Don't forget, if you ever start feeling all cooped up, just take a walk outside."

Sirius smiled back. "Yeah. Honestly, I still can't believe how no one recognized me." He mused.

"And if you get bored, well... I've shown you how to use my computer." I continued. "Plenty of games on there, and then there's the internet itself. Feel free to experiment. I've left a couple of notes that give you a basic list of websites to visit. And if you see some advertisements promising to make your life easier by finding you a russian/black/chinese/whatever wife, try not to click it, will you? The same goes for promises of penis enlargement, fake girls trying to communicate with you, etc." I waved dismissively, not wanting to go too much into detail. "You'll figure out what's good or bad. If you need any advice, just call me in that mirror you gave me. All right? Though, above all—"

"Yes, _mom_. Never use any kind of magic near your machines." Sirius rolled his eyes at me. "Lighten up, will you?"

"Fine." I huffed, before grinning. "I guess I was starting to sound like Mrs. Weasley, with all the rules and stuff."

"Yes." Sirius answered, with a— dare I say— serious look on his face. "Try not to do that again. It was creepy."

"Yes, well..." I sighed. "Ah, fuck it. Go nuts. Have fun."

"I could say the same to you, Harry!" Sirius retorted. "You better hook up with a girl this year, all right?"

"I'll do my best, sir!" I gave a mock salute, before giving him a long manly hug and leaving for Hogwarts.

Hours after I left, when Sirius made his way to my computer, he saw the a message that made him roar in laughter:

"_Thought that this would loosen you up a little bit.  
>You seem really stressed out all the time, so I compiled<br>an extensive amount of pictures and movies of the, ahem,  
>adult kind. Essentially, PORNOGRAPHY. Enjoy! Also, you never<br>read this particular message, okay?  
><em>

_-Your evil Godson, Harry._"

**ooooooooooooooo**

The trip to the train station was not really noteworthy. We made the trip in semi-uncomfortable silence. The adults seemed to think that Death Eaters were going to pop right out of the woodwork to kill us. Considering that Voldemort wanted to keep his anonymity intact, the appearance of Death Eaters was highly unlikely. It seemed, however, that logical thinking was out of our guards' capabilities. Either that, or Moody forced them to be on guard for this. That guy really needed to lighten up. He took things way too seriously, in my opinion. Oh, he was definitely a very powerful wizard, to be sure, but still a total loon.

After bidding goodbye to the Weasley family, and our guard— Tonks had insisted on an inordinately long hug, followed by inappropriate suggestive lewd comments— we boarded the train. I didn't bother waiting for Ron and Hermione, already knowing that they had to go to meet with the other prefects and the Head Boy/Girl. I remember Percy yammering about it in Third Year. Ginny, it seemed, was off doing her own thing.

At least she's no longer trying to follow me around. I walked through the carriages, uncaring of the suspicious looks I seemed to be getting. Trash, the lot of them. I saw Neville, trying to lug his trunk around, while holding his frog Trevor at the same time. He looked like he was going through a marathon.

"Yo, Neville." I said from right behind him. The boy jumped, almost dropping the frog.

"Hi, Harry." Neville panted, giving me a disapproving look. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry." I said with a smile, taking the trunk from his hands. "Let me help you with that. Trevor looks like he's putting up a pretty decent fight."

"You don't have to..." Neville began weakly.

"True. But I want to." And like that, we began a great search for an empty compartment.

"...Where's your trunk, anyway?" Neville asked, as we passed by some students.

"In my pocket." I grinned widely. "It's nice, being able to use magic outside of school."

"I read about that in the paper." Neville hedged carefully, as we stopped a half empty compartment. "I didn't know whether it was a lie or not, since the Prophet's been posting tons of lies about you all summer long. So it's true?"

"Which part? Hold that thought, Neville." I said, as I entered the compartment, seeing a girl. She had waist length, dirty blond hair. She looked very weird, what with her necklace made out of butterbeer caps, the wand tucked behind her ear, and the upside down magazine she was currently reading.

"Mind if we sit with you? Everywhere else is full." I started amiably. The girl nodded, watching me stow Neville's trunk away. Nevile and I sat next to each other, facing the other two girls.

"Thank you." I smiled at the blonde, before turning to Neville once more.

"You're Harry Potter." The dirty-blond haired girl said in a dreamy voice.

"Sure am! What's your name, blonde stranger who's currently reading a magazine upside down?" I answered back without missing a beat. Neville gave me an almost amused look.

"Oh, thank you for noticing that! I'm Luna." She said with a smile. "Luna Lovegood. I'm a year behind you, in Ravenclaw." She turned to Neville. "I don't know who you are, though. Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just a nobody." Neville said quickly.

"Yeah, right!" I retorted, before looking at Luna. "This guy here is the smartest Herbology student I've ever met in my life, and had the guts to stand up to me, Ron and Hermione combined. Neville Longbottom, don't you ever forget that name."

Neville blushed at the reference, but did not make an attempt to refute whatever I said. Good! I turned back to Neville.

"So, which part?" I asked again.

"Well, did you really attend a trial for using the Patronus charm on dementors?" Neville asked.

I nodded.

"And can you really use magic outside of school now?"

"Yep."

"What about—"

"Yeah. I owned those decrepit old fucks, using basic logic, and their own laws against them." I nodded, and Neville visibly restrained himself from gaping, as I explained how it was possible for me to become emancipated. Since three different ministries acknowledged the fact I was competing in a tournament strictly for adults, I was automatically an adult.

"I goes both ways, you know?" I finished with a smirk.

"I can't believe you were tried for defending yourself." Neville shook his head. "Gran was saying it was a complete travesty of justice, and a grave insult to the Potter Family."

"I suppose." I gave a noncommittal answer. "I guess they did go overboard when they tried me as an adult."

Neville just shook his head in response.

"Harry, the Potters have always been a family with a lot of political clout." Neville informed me, as if he was talking about the weather. "The fact that the Prophet has been having a go at you would've been met with an excessively harsh response twenty years ago."

"Yeah, well." I drawled lazily. "I dealt with it. If people don't want to believe me, they can go fuck themselves, for all I care."

I got up at the sound of the food trolley.

"You guys want snacks? I think I hear the trolley lady passing by."

"I'll pass."

"Perhaps some liquorice wands?" Luna asked eagerly. I gave a nod, and left the compartment. A few students were gathered around the old trolley lady, picking out various candies. I got in line, and waited for my turn, ignoring the stares I always seemed to get for merely existing. I peeked into different compartments, as I waited for the few blokes in front of me to finish their business. One compartment was filled with first years, judging by the lack of color on their robes. The other one...

I saw the girl I'd been thinking about for a while, thanks to Sirius' constant reminders of me needing a girlfriend. She had golden, shoulder length hair, and blue eyes. She'd been looking at me, before I glanced in her direction. She was in her Hogwarts' uniform, the insignia and colors of Slytherin House proudly displayed for the world to see. Her tie was quite loosened up, and my eyes darted momentarily to her lips and chest, my mind going a mile a minute. She seemed to be scrutinizing me, as well. I felt distinctly self conscious, all of a sudden.

"Anything off the trolley, dear?" The old lady got my attention, a shadow of a smirk on her face. She'd noticed my staring, huh.

I grabbed a liquorice wand, and a few chocolate frogs, before paying the old woman. I turned to face the compartment that the girl— Daphne Greengrass— was in, and hesitated. Was this really a good choice? Malfoy had colored my perceptions of the Slytherin House. But that was it, right? It was _Malfoy_ that was a complete douche bag, not _Slytherin_ itself. I shouldn't judge an entire house because of one person. Besides, Slytherin wasn't the only House that produced evil wizards; Pettigrew came to mind. Percy was turning out to be a pretty shitty person, as well.

My mind made up, I walked to the compartment entrance. There were only two girls. One was Daphne, and the other was a girl with auburn hair that reached the middle of her back. I seemed to have interrupted their conversation.

"To what do we owe the honor, Potter?" The auburn haired girl said guardedly, though she glanced at Daphne for a moment. What was that about?

"Sorry for interrupting." I said politely, feeling incredibly nervous. My palms were sweating, and my heart was beating like there was no tomorrow. What the hell was wrong with me? "I just wanted to say— er— hello." I ran my hand through my hair. "I'll just go, then. Bye.."

And I practically bolted out of there. I just booked it. Fuck!

Nice one, Potter! You totally showed them your overflowing confidence! The trip back to my compartment felt more like a walk of shame, really. I entered my compartment, closing the door behind me, gave Luna the candy she'd requested, and sat down next to Neville, munching on my chocolate frog, trying to forget about that event ever taking place. What if the two girls talked about it? I could become the laughing stock of the school in no ti— wait, wasn't I _already_ the laughing stock of the school?

Damn it all to hell. My once chance to make a good first impression, down the drain...

I did not even notice the extra person in the compartment. When I finally came to my senses, I saw that it was Ginny who was sitting in front of me; and looking at me, too.

"Something on my face?" I asked self consciously, rubbing my cheeks. "Maybe some chocolate?"

"N-No..." Ginny answered with a blush. "It's nothing."

Before I could say anything, the compartment door slid open, revealing...

"Well, well, well, Potter. I see you haven't made prefect." The drawling voice of Draco Malfoy made itself known to us. As usual, his two bodyguards stood behind him threateningly. "How does it feel to know you're second best to Weasley?" The blonde ponce asked tauntingly.

Ah, a little distraction from the royal screw-up with Daphne. Now, this I could work with.

"Shows how much you know, genius." I retorted, a smirk automatically on my face. "I gave my prefect badge to Ron, when McGonagall herself delivered it to me. Who in their right mind would _want_ to spend their time taking care of some fucking snot nosed brats? I guess you are more foolish than I originally thought."

Malfoy sputtered, not having expected that quick retort. As if any of these kids could trash talk me! I'm a denizen of the motherfucking internet, bitch! No one can out-trash talk me, except perhaps another fellow basement dweller. Even then, I could just default to rule number 27: "Always question a person's sexual preferences without any real reason."

"You better watch yourself, Potter. Or I'll put you in detention." Did he really just say that? That was so ridiculous, I had to laugh. Quite uproariously, in fact. Watching his face go red with impotent anger made me laugh even harder.

"Think that's funny, do you?" Draco was seething. "You'll get yours, soon enough. You, the weasel and that filthy mudblood!"

I abruptly stopped laughing, giving the self proclaimed prince of Slytherin a stone cold look. The sudden change seemed to unnerve those around me.

"You know, Draco." I started conversationally, as I stood up calmly. "We both know about your new _house guest_ for this summer." I referenced to Voldemort without a single care in the world, taking his silence as a clear sign for me to continue. "Let me tell you a little secret. Just between us."

I approached the boy, who forced himself to stay put. Refusing to show weakness, perhaps? I couldn't care less, right now.

"Earlier this summer, I told Dumbledore that I was going to cripple and maim every single Death Eater that got in the way between Voldemort and I." I said with a smile, as if I was talking about the weather. Everyone flinched at the mention of Voldemort's name, and looked slightly green at my admission.

Draco didn't answer, but his gradually paling skin seemed to be answer enough.

"So I'll give you this one warning." He began to back off as I advanced further and further. "Mess with me, and I'll destroy you, and your pureblood pride. I'll make you beg for death, and then I would leave you alive, to prolong whatever suffering I choose to inflict upon your pathetic self. You think your father can stop me? He's a joke compared to me! You think Voldemort will save you from me? He cares for nothing but his own life. You have no true allies, no notable power to speak of, and not a sliver of a chance against me. Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth, you snot nosed wimp?" I whispered threateningly in his ears.

No answer. He was completely frozen in fear.

"_I said_..." I roughly grabbed him by the neck, making him jump. "Do. You. Understand. Me?"

Draco nodded quickly. I looked into his frightened eyes for a few moments.

"Good!" I let go, and sat back down. I began to munch on my chocolate frogs, as if I didn't threaten him just now. My fingers were stinging in pain again, not having fully healed from my attempt at using **Edge**. I silently promised myself I'd get better.

"You may go." I waved dismissively at his form. He bolted out of the room like hell itself was on his heels. A really small part of me felt bad about doing that to him, but he needed a wake up call. He needed to realize his side of the war was the wrong one. Hugs, and flowery words of love weren't going to get to him. Overwhelming force, however...

"Harry..." Neville said after a while. I realized the compartment had been silent for a minute.

"Wicked!" Ginny said with a grin. I shook my head.

"It needed to be done." I said simply, feeling drained. "There was no other way to make him understand that I'm not dicking around any more. War is coming."

And with that last, cryptic statement, I stared out of the window, tuning everything out. Could do with some nice music right about now... Maybe fifty minutes of Fairy Tail battle music. Erza's theme! Perhaps some good old Dragon Force...

**oooooooooo**

"The fuck is this thing?" I blurted out, as Ginny, Neville, Luna and I were boarding the carriage. Ron and Hermione had taken another carriage ahead of us. "Looks like an Abraxan.. but almost starved to death. An undead Abraxan, maybe? Is that even a thing?"

"There's nothing there, Harry."

"What the hell do you mean 'there's nothing there'? Use your eyes!" I pointed right at the beast, which gave me a curious gaze.

"Um.. Harry, I don't see anything there." Ginny was looking a little worried now.

"Don't worry, Harry." Luna said dreamily. "I see them too."

I didn't really feel reassured by that.

"Me too, Harry." Neville added in. "That's a thestral. You can only see them if you've seen death."

"I... see." I said slowly, giving the weird horse thing— thestral, I reminded myself— a final glance, before boarding the carriage as well. The thestral began taking us to the castle, as I settled in. So watching Cedric die gave me the power to see these things?

"Wait..." I started, Neville's last statement not really computing. "They're only visible if you've seen death?"

"Yes." Neville confirmed in a grave tone of voice.

"I've killed plenty of ants before. And I watched my cousin flush his still living fish down a toilet, too." I said, remembering the good old childhood days of killing ants for kicks; you know, before running away from Dudley who wanted to beat me up. And poor Bob the Fish, too. "Why couldn't I see them before now?"

"...I don't really know." Neville answered in confusion.

"I mean." I continued, undaunted. "A death is a death, right?"

"That's true, I guess." Neville said unsure. "It has to be the death of a person, though."

The death of a person made a little more sense... Wait, no. I shook my head.

"But Quirrell died in front of me at the end of First Year." I refuted that theory using delicious logic.

Neville paled a little at that. "You've seen Quirrell die?"

I gave him a look. "I thought everyone knew about that. He had Voldemort sticking out the back of his head. Plus, apparently, he was highly allergic to my touch, seeing as it, you know, burnt him to ashes."

"Right..."

"It could be because the loss of Cedric was much more important to you than Quirrell?" Ginny asked, before grimacing at her lack of tact. "I'm sorry. I should just shut up, huh?"

"Nah, it's all right." I waved it off. "You don't have to walk on eggshells around me, Ginny." She smiled at that. "You might actually be right, though. It might be related to a sense of loss, more than simply witnessing death."

So it had to be the death of someone you had attachments to. Made sense. Still, that was some strange way to be invisible. Then again, this could be some form of micro-evolution. Invisibility was most certainly a good trait to propagate among the species. Prey won't notice something invisible, would it? The demiguises did something pretty similar, with their own brand of invisibility, didn't they?

The topic changed, when Neville decided to talk about his new plant that his uncle got him. Mimbulus something. Sounded pretty fascinating, really. I'd been watching documentaries here and there, curious about the creatures that live on our planet. The plant that Neville was describing reminded me of skunks. They stinked up whatever was attacking them, too.

Hogwarts was getting bigger and bigger as we approached the castle even further.

I briefly wondered what kind of life-threatening experience I was going to go through _this time_, and suddenly grinned, to the confusion of the three around me.

"Voldemort riding a Nundu, for sure." I thought out loud, nodding confidently. They gaped at me.

"Where did _that_ come from?" Ginny blurted out.

**ooooooooooooooo**

Well, that's that. I'm going to sleep, now.


	8. Chapter 8

**FwooshEye**: Well, think about this. In Second Year, Harry saw Fawkes die. He also saw the Basilisk die. And Voldemort's diary kind of died, right? I didn't even bother mentioning those in the previous chapter.

**xp3r1a**: Well, he's not just limited to lightning. Don't forget, he still has his wand. Using electricity to disrupt his opponent's nervous system sounds like a valid combat tactic. But then again, so does cutting an enemy wizard's wand arm off. Another point I chose electricity is that Harry can augment his reflexes by channeling lightning to his nervous system, raising his reaction, and movement speed. So far, Harry has figured out that he can drastically increase his movement speed, and has begun to understand that it's also affecting his nervous system. He might decide to funnel even more power to said nervous system, just to see what happens. You get the idea.

**Remzal Von Enili: **...Maybe in a generic hopeless situation? As I said above, I already feel I gave Harry too much power.

Quick note. I don't use the name "Dumbles". It sounds too silly.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

_**"It's too late to regret. Reality is just cruelly moving forward."**_** - Uchiha Obito (Naruto, Chapter 597)**

****ooooooooooooooo****

**Chapter 8: Power Plays  
><strong>

"GRYFFINDOR!" Cheers arose.

"Can we get this over with...?" I grumbled in annoyance, watching yet another kid get sorted. "For god's sake, it's taking centuries. And I'm getting hungry."

"I hear ya, mate." Ron quipped, looking as bored as I currently felt. Couldn't the kids get sorted an hour earlier, or something? Maybe a day earlier. Inefficiency like this was simply unconscionable.

"The Sorting Hat's song was pretty damn strange, though."

"It's rarely given out warnings before..." Hermione added in her two cents. "Only a few, I've read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

"Perhaps it's a sign?" Neville wondered. "A sign for all the houses to unite."

"House Unity? You won't find me making friends with the snakes, anytime soon, mate." Ron immediately said, grimacing. Our fellow Gryffindors around us nodded in agreement.

I glanced in the direction of the Slytherin table, and searched for a certain girl I wouldn't mind 'uniting' with, if you know what I mean. There she was, sitting right next to her endlessly chattering friend, staring at the enchanted ceiling, with her golden hair, and pretty blue eyes, and that delicious creamy skin... I looked away when it seemed she was about to turn her head in my direction. I felt self conscious. Was she looking at me, right now? My face felt hot. I turned to my friends, and saw Hermione giving me the most peculiar look. Had she caught me ogling Daphne? Crap!

Commence operation: damage control!

"Hermione." I said in faux-surprise, pointing at the top of her head. "What's that on your head? It looks really weird."

"SLYTHERIN!" The Sorting Hat announced as Hermione began fiddling with her bushy hair, self consciously.

I grinned, watching her screwing with her hair for at least ten seconds, before saying, "Oh, my mistake, Hermione. That's just hair. Sorry."

The glare she gave me could melt cold steel. Crisis averted! She leveled the full force of her glare to a snickering Ron, who paled immediately as he attempted to apologize, stuttering à la Quirrell the whole while. It was so hilarious, Hermione giggled.

"Zeller, Rose." McGonagall called out. My ears perked up. The letter Z meant that this was close to being over!

"HUFFLEPUFF!" And the girl in question trotted off to the Hufflepuff table. McGonagall grabbed the Sorting Hat, along with the stool it sat upon, before moving away. Dumbledore stood up, extending his arms in a wide gesture of welcome.

"To our newcomers," The old man smiled. "Welcome! To our old hands— welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

And just like that, the tables were filled with various foods of all kinds. Ron immediately began to pile chops on his plate, while stuffing his mouth with some bread. Hermione gave him a disgusted look, before beginning to eat as well, easily tuning him out; a feat made possible through much experience. I grabbed some steak, mashed potatoes, and gravy. No pepsi, though. What was the world coming to, when you couldn't get a can of pepsi whenever you wanted? Curse the wizards for not knowing about soda!

I moodily began to eat the steak, stabbing at the meat with great satisfaction. It was delicious as ever, of course, and that lifted my spirits a tad. That was until I automatically grabbed at nothing with my left hand. I was so used to grabbing a can while pulling all nighters in front of my computer.

"This sucks." I frowned and gave a long suffering sigh.

"What is it, mate?" Ron asked curiously, between mouthfuls.

"There's no pepsi, damn it!" I pointed out, upset. "I'm addicted, I need my fix!"

Ron, having tried the cool, fizzy beverage, nodded sadly.

Dean Thomas laughed a ways away, having heard my outburst. "Don't worry, Harry! You can ask the elves for it in the kitchens!"

"Really?" I immediately perked up. "For real?"

"Yeah." The boy confirmed.

"Awesome! Thanks, Dean!"

"No problem, mate." And Dean went back to eating. Maybe the world wasn't as horrible as I thought it was. Wonder what elves would look like if they were hopped up on caffeine? They're _already_ hyperactive little shits, as it is. What does that make them, _Super_ Hyperactive Little Shits?

"They'd need a power level of at least one hundred and fifty million to even qualify, though." I muttered to myself, thinking about the online arguments in Dragon Ball Z about how Son Goku's Super Saiyan power level is actually 150,000,000 and not 15,000,000 as some claim. Of course, using basic mathematics, knowing Goku had a PL of 3,000,000 to begin with, and _also_ knowing that employed the use of Kaioken x20, which put his power level at 60,000,000... There was no way that 15,000,000 was his Super Saiyan level. And yet, there STILL were people claiming that it's 15,000,000. Stubborn idiots just needed to crawl back into their holes and stop trying to sound smart.

"What's that, Harry?" Neville said, perplexed. "I didn't quite understand what you've just said."

"Nothing, just talking to myself, that's all." I smiled at the boy, who dropped it with a shrug. The noise level of the Great Hall was rising, as students and faculty finished, or were in the process of finishing their meals. Dumbledore stood up again. Speech time!

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices." Dumbly-door said. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students— and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." Ron and Hermione smirked in my direction. I returned it with equal fervor.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time." Does he keep track? Sheesh. "To remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."

Dumbledore took a quick breath, and began speaking in his jovial tone once more. "We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also _delighted_—" Was that a shift in the tone I detected? "—to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

I clapped halfheartedly, and glanced at Umbridge, remembering that she was the one who tried to have me restrained during my trial. Bitch.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—"

"_hem, hem_." Umbridge stood up, though she was not that much taller than the chair she sat on. Dumbledore looked at her for a moment, taken aback, before sitting back down in his chair and looked expectantly at Umbridge. I bit back a laugh at Dumbledore's amusing antics. The old fuck gave no shits about the Ministry's interference, whatsoever. He was just messing with her, and she didn't even know it! The other Professors looked shocked and a little miffed at her current course of action.

The witch in the pink cardigan opened her mouth to speak.

"And _that_, kiddies." I said a little bit too loudly, before she could say anything. "Is the _clumsiest_ power play I've ever seen in my entire life."

Everyone was looking at me now. I gave everyone a charming, innocent smile, and looked at the teachers. Dumbledore gave me a cautionary, and amused look in response. Snape was currently giving me his Death Glare patch 3.21™, or was it 3.22? I can't keep track of the versions anymore. Minerva's lips were pursed, and she stared at me sternly. Probably still sore about me not wanting to be prefect, I guess. The other professors all looked a mix of disapproving and annoyed. Umbridge glared with ill concealed malice.

"What?" I said in mock confusion, motioning to Umbridge. "I thought we were allowed to _interrupt the Headmaster while he was speaking_. My mistake! Carry on then, esteemed Professor. Just forget I said anything." I settled back down, and stared at a slightly embarrassed Umbridge, the same way Dumbledore was doing before— and was back to doing now. The other students were sharing half bewildered, half amused looks.

"Ahhh— hem, hem." Umbridge said after collecting her thoughts. "Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome."

And she began to drone. She sounded like jail bait, with a sugary sweet voice that reminded me of cute little girls. It did not fit with her image at all. The fat bitch kept on talking in the dreaded language of the lawyer, which is, essentially taking one sentence, and expanding it into seven different sentences which basically said the exact same thing; that the Ministry considered the education of young witches and wizards important. Then she went on saying that progress for progress' sake should be discouraged, and then— paradoxically— went to talking about how we should move forward to an era of 'openness, effectiveness'; and then, talked about how some practices were ought to be prohibited. No specifics whatsoever. Wouldn't want to incriminate ourselves, would we?

She sat back down. Dumbledore clapped, as well as the other teachers— though it was like, twice. Honestly, after hearing that speech, I was surprised they didn't disembowel her where she stood. Picking her statement apart made anger rise in me. They wanted to limit us. If they knew about my Lightning Dragon Slayer magic, they'd probably abduct me to either extract my secrets, or kill me outright for using dark magic or something. The stagnation and ill will of the Wizarding world had coalesced and was finally rearing its ugly head. This was only the beginning of something truly despicable. Freedom of thought was in danger and, as much of an aloof jerk I pretended to be sometimes, I would never endanger freedom of thought.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating." Dumbledore gave a small bow to Umbridge. "Now— as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held—"

I tuned him out, turning to Hermione. We shared a knowing, grim look.

"It certainly was illuminating." Hermione said.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said, giving Hermione an incredulous look. "That was the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with _Percy_."

"Nice one." I chuckled, bumping fists with the soulless ginge- I mean, redheaded friend.

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable." Hermione said irritably. "It explained a lot."

"It did?" Ron asked dumbly. "I didn't really pay attention to what she was saying. She was almost as boring as Binns."

"She tried to feed a load of horse shit down our throats, mate." I said immediately, ignoring my year mates' gasps around me.

"First she starts sucking up to the teachers and students by saying: 'Oh, we at the Ministry _just love _the children's education'. Where's that love been before, eh?" I looked around to my fellow students.

"They couldn't give two shits about us three years ago, when students were being petrified left and right; or two years ago, when dementors were our unofficial truancy officers, traumatizing a good bit of us. Am I right, or not?" I got nods of agreement, and some shivers. I was not the only one affected by the presence of those spectral wraiths, after all.

"And _then_ she goes on to say how progress for progress' sake should be discouraged, and 'pruning whatever practices that ought to be prohibited'." Hermione cut in smartly.

"So?" Ron said, trying to understand. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'll give you a simple example." I began, ignoring Hermione's annoyed look directed at Ron. "You know how you hate spiders?" Ron shuddered, remembering our rather grand time with those dear acromantulas.

"Well, suppose you wanted to use a spell that repels them from your house. Suppose that spell doesn't exist, though. So, what do you do?"

"Create one." Fred— or was it George?— answered from a bit away. It seemed a few people were listening in.

"Exactly. That's what is called progress. Discovering something new to solve a current problem. You see where I'm going with this?" I asked Ron. The cogs in his mind were turning slowly.

"I think I do." Ron said unsure. "You're saying she wants to keep us stupid?" Hermione frowned at the oversimplified statement.

"She wants to _pretend there's no problem_." I corrected in a grave tone. Ron just shrugged in response. He didn't quite get it, I suppose. It was better than nothing, though.

Dumbledore's speech finally died down, as he dismissed everyone to bed. I said bye to Hermione and Ron, who were ushering the First Years to the Gryffindor dormitories. I chuckled at Ron's callous way of handling them. Midgets, indeed.

I walked alongside Dean, Neville, and Seamus; the last of which was looking everywhere but me. Was he avoiding me? Huh.

"How was your holiday, Harry?" Dean piped up, as we ascended the stairs leading up to the Gryffindor common room.

"Not bad at all." I replied, trying to reach an itchy part on my back with no luck. "My cousin got me a PC last summer; naturally, I was quite busy."

"Yeah? What kind of games you got on there?" Dean asked interestedly.

"Oh, you know. League, Diablo, a bunch of MMORPGs..." I listed off a few games. "And of course, let's not forget pirated games too."

Dean's eyes gleamed in familiarity. "Indeed. I heard Grand Theft Auto Five is going to be released in January this year, for the PC of course."

"When did you hear about that?" I asked curiously.

"Can't remember off the top of my head." Dean shrugged.

"Oh, so it—"

"Should definitely be available on pirate bay when we go home for the summer, yes." Dean and I exchanged excited grins, while Neville tried to make sense of what we were talking about. The grammar was correct, but he couldn't understand anything we just said. Seamus was having a hard time not being interested in what we were talking about, being a half-blood who lived in a non magical household with his witch mum and muggle dad.

"Muggle stuff, Neville." I explained to the round faced boy, who just nodded in understanding. "I'll show you some day. It's really awesome stuff."

"If you're sure..."

"You'll love it. I promise. You'll get to savagely kill a staggering amount of innocent people, fuck any sexy prostitute that catches your eye; and _then_ kill her and take her money! Also you can steal people's cars, bikes, etc. It's essentially a game glorifying overly violent behavior. One of the most amazing games on the planet, I assure you." Neville looked like he wanted nothing more than to avoid whatever I just proposed to him. He did not look assured at all. Pity.

We made it to the common room— Neville had surprisingly remembered the password, this time— and made our way to our dormitories. I walked up the familiar passage, chatting with Dean about Diablo III builds.

"Patch 2.1 went back to the roots for Monks, mate." I was explaining. "They're back to using Sweeping Wind and Fists of Fury. Their damage now comes from the gems they put in their accessories, and a certain set that spawns a clone which explodes for a ton of damage when you use Spirit."

"For real? I hadn't really played that class all that much, to be honest." Dean said curiously. "I'm more inclined to play Demon Hunter."

"Yeah? That Sentry build though." I said knowingly.

"Tell me about it." Dean chuckled, eyes gleaming. "All I do is press a single button over and over, and things just drop dead."

"With, like, what? Less than ten million toughness? I bet they kill you in one hit." I sniped good-naturedly. "My monk can easily pull twenty five million, unbuffed."

"Yeah, but he probably hits like a little girl, doesn't he?"

"How'd you kno— I mean, no he doesn't!"

"Right." Dean laughed, and so did I.

I took off my school robe, and sat on my bed, looking at the walls of this room fondly. I caught Seamus' eye, who looked away quickly.

"All right, I've kept quiet for most of the walk cause I didn't want to cause a scene." I said loudly, taking my shoes, and socks off, making my sore feet feel much better. "What's wrong, Seamus?"

"It's nothing, Harry." He waved me off, but I was undeterred.

"Come on, mate. Did something bad happen this summer?" I asked, concerned.

"You could say that." He answered vaguely. It seemed Dean had an idea, as he was glancing at me nervously.

"What happened?" I asked again, pulling my pajamas out of my trunk.

"Me mam didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts." Seamus admitted, in a slightly shaky voice, as he finished buttoning his own pajamas. "Because of you."

"Because of me? What do you mean?" I asked, though I probably knew the answer.

"Uh... It's not just you. Dumbledore too."

"She believes what the Daily Prophet has been saying about me being an attention seeking liar?" I inquired. "Is that it?"

"Yeah." He confirmed.

"I see. What about you, Seamus? Do you think that, too?"

"Uh— I— That is—." That's my answer right there. I was starting to get angry; angry at the Prophet, angry at Seamus' mom, angry at the Ministry, angry at Voldemort. But, as soon as it came, I squashed it down mercilessly. Anger was almost always useless. Anger led to clumsiness and inefficiency. It led to bad decisions, and endless regrets.

"So you do." I said calmly, gazing at Seamus with an unreadable look.

"Harry, I—"

"Seamus." He quieted down. "We've all known each other here since we were eleven years old. We've eaten together, laughed together, went through detentions together, fought together, and shared stories together. We've seen your terrifying displays of pyrotechnics." At that, Seamus got a little red in the face, while Dean and Neville chuckled. "We've had to endure Dean's football mania." Here Dean looked a bit embarrassed. "We've had old Neville here keeping us all out of trouble, all the while showing us the various plants he knows about— which are awesome, by the way." Neville smiled, and ducked his head. "And finally, we had to suffer through Ron's _horrible snoring for years_." I loudly whispered the last part, referring to a night in which we tried to shut Ron up, a few years back. We all shared a laugh.

"Don't forget about yourself, Harry." Dean piped up. "Mr. Youngest-Seeker-In-A-Century, Snake Charmer, Dementor Magnet, Triwizard Champion. Honestly, the amount of situations you find yourself dragged into is insane."

"Agreed." I wryly said. "But this brings me to my next point. Seamus." I caught his attention again. He was starting to look guilty for doubting me.

"The Prophet said I was 'dark', last year." I made quotation marks as I spoke. "For being capable of speaking to snakes. In Second Year, people thought I was the Heir of Slytherin, even though _I was great friends with Hermione_." I stressed that last part out. "So, I realized something."

"What was that?" Seamus felt compelled to ask.

"People will find any reason they like to try and bring me down." I told the Irish boy. "Second Year, they said I was going dark. Fourth Year, I was the cheater who illegally entered himself into the tournament. This year, I'm an attention seeking, unhinged liar. You seeing where I'm going with this?"

"I—" Seamus looked to be at a loss for words.

"It's all right, mate. I'm not going to make you believe me. Just think about it, all right?" I gave a small smile, before frowning. "Though, I'm upset your mum thinks I'm a liar. I thought she was really nice when Ron and I met her at the World Cup."

The hidden insult to Seamus' mother was lost on the boy, since I worded it in a way that complimented her. This way was more insidious in that it makes Seamus look at his mother differently. I was working under the assumption that she had been badmouthing me all summer long, and then here I was, saying I liked her. I didn't like manipulating my dorm mate like this, but I didn't need any enemies from inside my dorm. I had enough of those outside of it, as it is.

"And don't worry so much about it." I said lightly, sitting on my bed and making a wide motion. "I'm sure that more than half the castle also think I'm lying about Voldemort's"— cue winces—"return."

"I believe you." Neville supplied, smiling.

"So do I." Dean said. "You've never been proven wrong, before."

"Who believes what?" Ron said, entering the room and taking off his robe. "What did I miss?"

"Dean and Neville believe that I'm telling the truth about what happened in June." I answered with a smile, glad I had support. Ron gave them a thankful nod.

"What about Seamus?" He pointed at the boy in question, who just stared at everyone.

"...You definitely don't look or sound like a crazed liar." It wasn't quite what I was hoping for, but Rome wasn't built in a day. Good enough.

"Don't know about the crazy part, mate!" Ron exclaimed, while grinning. "Remember when he tried to out fly a dragon using a broom?"

"It worked, didn't it?" I said indignantly.

"Doesn't make you any less crazy, now does it?" Dean quipped, much to the amusement of everyone, including me now.

"Damn straight." I smirked. We chatted the whole night away.

****ooooooooooooooo****

The next day saw me annoyed right from the get go. As soon as I left the dorm room, I saw Ron and Hermione arguing with each other over Fred and George's notice in the common room notice board. I found it quite amusing.

"This is the limit!" She said as she removed the notice. "Ron, we're going to have to talk to them."

"Huh? Why?" Do I detect a hint of fear there, Ron? I smirked.

"Because we're prefects!" She almost yelled out. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing?"

"And what's wrong with it?" I interjected. She turned her ire on me. I stared back unflinchingly, until she broke the gaze.

"It's just wrong, Harry!"

"That's not a valid reason." I retorted. "What's so wrong about paying them? They even specify that it's at the volunteer's own risk!"

"That doesn't make it right! They're taking advantage of the students."

"You just don't get it, do you?" I gave her a pitying look— which she did not appreciate, nor understand— and left to the Great Hall. She didn't understand, at all. She lived in her own world of rules and regulations; that's why she didn't understand my blossoming capabilities with Lightning Dragon Slayer magic, thinking that it was impossible, even as I showed it to her.

When all was said and done, you were who you limited yourself to be.

People gave me a wide berth as I crossed the halls of the castle. I found it amusing that they were scared of me; even going as far as shouting 'BOO' to unsuspecting students. In the edge of my vision, I saw Daphne staring at me with thinly veiled amusement. Feeling somehow emboldened by this, I grinned and waved in her direction, before continuing on my way to the Great Hall, after seeing her wave back hesitantly. Progress! Maybe soon, I'll work the nerve to actually talk to her.

As I entered the aforementioned hall, I noticed most of the professors were at the table, with the exception of Hagrid, who was probably still trying to get the Giants to side with us in the war. Though the chance of that happening was about as likely as Erza Scarlet materializing in front of me, wearing her nurse outfit and asking if I have a booboo that needed kissing somewhere. I grinned, and made my way to the Headmaster.

"Ah, Harry, my boy. How are you doing?" Professor Dumbledore asked genially. Professor Umbridge was eyeing the both of us like a hawk.

"Keeping well. You?" I answered politely.

"I am as fit as can be at my age, dear boy." He smiled benignly. "I'm sure you are not here to exchange simple pleasantries?"

"No, that's exactly what I'm here for." I denied with a smile, giving the much older man a mischievous look. "For without pleasantries, we would all be disgusting, fat _toads _of people. Would you not agree, Professor?"

McGonagall looked like she wanted to reprimand me for the not-so-subtle insult I threw Umbridge's way, but merely shook her head in exasperation.

"Like James all over again." She muttered loud enough for me to hear. I beamed at her.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Don't forget to eat your breakfast, my boy. Breakfast is an important part of a growing young man's diet, after all."

"Too right you are, sir. Have a nice day!" I gave a respectful nod, before walking back to the Gryffindor table.

****ooooooooooooooo****

Potter's messing with Umbridge's head! I'm not really sure how to go about the Harry/Daphne pairing, since I'm shit at describing romantic interactions. I'll do my best, of course. Just don't be surprised if I fail miserably, all right?

I know that in the books, Seamus never had explosive accidents with his spellcasting, but I'm taking elements from the movie world for that. I'm sure you'll forgive me.

Also, should I do a scene from Daphne's point of view?


	9. Chapter 9

Just a quick note. I'm going to let the story gradually elevate to the global scale, perhaps even further if needed. Right now it's basically Britain, with a little bit of France and Bulgaria thrown in. In the books, JKR never really mentions the magic outside of Europe. I doubt the Japanese use Latin incantations; same for the Arabs, Chinese, Indians, etc. They may not even use wands; maybe staves, or rings, or just hand-signs.

The Chinese used a Dao. The Japanese Samurai used a Katana. The Spanish used a rapier. The typical Medieval weapon was a double edged sword. The list goes on.

Realistically, with the magic communities keeping to themselves, it's not unreasonable to propose that each society has different ways of doing things. I read a Korean Comic called The Breaker; essentially about a 'secret community' of martial artists in modern day Seoul, having contacts in the government and everything. Sound a little familiar?

**Ddragon21**: I wouldn't refer to the Unforgivables as 'common', bud.

**Remzal Von Enili**: Harry has learned a type of Occlumency that he's not even aware of, yet. That's all I'll say on the matter.

**xp3r1a**: I've thought about it a bit. I'm not really sure on what to do. I could have Harry put his head down. Or, I could have him use the Imperius Curse on her during detention; ordering her to not cause trouble, or to kill herself. There are plenty of options.

**GL**: Just... No.

**GinnyLover14:** It's actually **Lightning Dragon's Breakdown Fist, **an attack by Laxus Dreyar in the manga/anime Fairy Tail. I shortened it cause it's a mouthful.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

_**"The time will come when you will have to rise,  
>Above the best and prove yourself,<br>Your spirit never dies."**_**Imagine Dragons - Warriors**

**Chapter 9: Potions, Chemistry, and Plans  
><strong>

_**Daphne's POV (Great Hall)  
><strong>_

"Someone's in a good mood, today." A familiar voice got my attention.

"Hmm?" I lazily piled some eggs, and bacon on my plate.

"You're all chipper, Daph." Tracey said, taking a seat next to me.

"So?" I raised an eyebrow at the auburn haired girl.

"So?" Tracey parroted. "It's not like you at all. You're _never_ happy at the beginning of the year!"

I gave a sheepish look to that. I've never liked the start of any year at Hogwarts. It just meant homework, homework, and— care to guess?— more homework. Then came the fact that I had to deal with Draco and his band of idiots all year long. He was, in simple words, a narcissistic prick. Sometimes, I thought he should've been named after his mother instead of after dragons. Narcissus Malfoy was entirely more accurate.

"Oh." I answered lamely. "I guess there's something else on my mind."

"Yeah? Like a certain Mr. Potter?" Tracey waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

I somehow didn't choke on the food I was swallowing, and gave Tracey what I thought was an impassive look. She was not fooled. Damn.

"You know." She started conversationally. "He was stealing looks at you for a good while yesterday, during the feast."

"Yes, yes— so you keep reminding me." I answered back, wryly. I was honestly surprised when she had first mentioned that to me. Harry Potter, the Gryffindor golden boy, interested in a Slytherin girl? I thought that was about as likely as hell freezing over. But he _had_ been staring at me. He had quickly looked away, and froze in place when I turned my gaze to him. It was funny, seeing him squirm, probably not wanting to look silly. Of course, he ended up failing dismally.

"So... Are you interested?" Tracey dug for information.

"Well," I hesitated, toying with the bacon with my fork. "I don't really know him. He usually avoids Slytherin students like the plague. Though, with Malfoy constantly antagonizing him, it's not really a surprise as to why he does it."

"Don't know him? He's the Boy-Who-Lived, a hero; _everyone_ knows who he is." Tracey retorted incredulously. I rolled my eyes. How could she be so dumb, sometimes?

"That's what everyone knows _about_ him. Not about _who_ he is." I corrected, pointing a finger at Tracey. "It doesn't say anything about his likes, dislikes, hobbies. It doesn't tell me anything about his personality." I watched him walk up to the teacher's table and converse with the Headmaster, who was smiling back at the boy. Professor Umbridge was watching them intently, but then her face contorted in anger, and her nostrils flared.

I saw McGonagall shake her head and mutter something which made Harry beam at her, before being shooed away by Professor Dumbledore. He glanced in my direction, catching my eye for a moment, before looking away really quickly, cheeks tinted red. Cute.

'He's definitely gone through a growth spurt.' I thought to myself, remembering the thin, much shorter boy from last year. 'And he's got some pretty eyes, too.'

The Daily Prophet had been saying he was lying about Voldemort's return, and that he was merely making it up in an attempt to gain attention, but my father said that the paper was going downhill. I had to agree on that one. Badmouthing a fifteen year old boy, when he couldn't even contest those claims, was despicable. I know that, if the paper was talking about me like that, my parents would've brought hell on their doorstep.

"So, what _do_ we know about him?" Tracey said mischievously, drawing my attention.

"We know he's quiet, and keeps to himself most of the time, though he seems to be coming out of his shell from what we've seen today and yesterday." I started slowly. "He's friends with Granger, so he doesn't care about blood status. This is further corroborated by his intense dislike for Draco— something we have in common." I motioned to the blonde ponce in question, who was currently boasting about his skills in Quidditch.

"He _is _pretty quiet, and doesn't really talk to anyone aside from his Gryffindor friends; though that could be because people talk about him constantly. You'd have to be deaf not to hear the whispers." Tracey agreed, frowning thoughtfully. "Anything else?"

"Don't think so."

"Well, with just that, he seems like a pretty decent guy." Tracey winked. I just groaned at the not-so-subtle-hint.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE QUITTING THE TEAM?" A loud, female voice rang out. The whole of the Great Hall went silent.

"Woah, could you be any louder?" Tracey said irritably, turning to the source of the dreadful noise. I followed suit.

"That's one of the Gryffindor Chasers." I said, staring at the scene. Angelina Johnson, a tall black girl with braided hair, Chaser for Gryffindor House, was currently glaring at Harry's back with a mixture of confusion and anger. Harry stopped his eating with a sigh, and turned to face her. For a moment, he looked truly tired, but schooled his face into an impassive mask.

"Exactly that, Angelina." Harry answered her calmly. "I don't have the time for it, anymore."

"What do you mean?" She sputtered, growing angrier by the second. "Is it because of your OWLs? You know you can do those and be part of the team with no issues, right?"

The moment she said that, Harry just looked at her disbelievingly. He didn't say anything for a while, his expression darkening with suppressed anger.

"My OWLs? You know nothing." The green eyed boy snarled, before picking up his book bag and leaving. I caught a glimpse of his face; he looked a mix of incredulous and angry. A few moments of silence passed, before noise flooded the Great Hall once more, now with whispers pertaining to the Quidditch season.

"And now we know he quit the Quidditch team. See? You're practically best friends now!"

I palmed my face, wishing Tracey would just _shut up_ already...

****ooooooooooooooo****

_**Harry's**** POV (Corridors of Hogwarts)  
><strong>_

They just didn't get it. Why should they? They're just a bunch of pathetic children. All they worry about is Quidditch, grades, and friendships, while I'm in constant danger. I didn't have time for any of this shit! Sure, I wish I did, but I don't. No sense in crying about it, and there's _definitely_ no sense in cutting into my preparation time. The more time I had to prepare, the better chance I had of surviving. It was as simple as that.

If I needed to unwind, I would just bring out my broom and fly for a little bit, or relax by the lake.

"_Bow to death, Harry_..." Voldemort's taunt rang in my ears, reminding me of what was truly important.

Last June, I got my ass handed to me by Voldemort, who _wasn't even_ _trying_ hard at the time, and was probably still getting used to his new body. I escaped thanks to luck, and luck alone. There was no denying it. If that little convenient reverse spell effect hadn't occurred, I'd be dead right now. I needed to get stronger, and quickly.

Quidditch was fun, but it wasn't worth losing my life over. Performing a Wronski Feint, and knowing my Seeker drills wasn't going to save me from that well-aimed Entrails-Expelling Curse that one of the Death Eaters was more than likely going to use on me. Or, you know; the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse. Or a Bone-Breaker. Or a jet of acid...

Though beating a bludger around would most likely build my arm strength... Hah. Could probably do the same by wanking; at least I feel better afterwards.

I checked my schedule for the day, and scowled. History of Magic, Potions, Divination, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Just well and dandy; the ghost, Snape, the nut job, and the slimy toad in the same day. At least I could get a nice, quiet nap in, before dealing with Snape.

I took my time on the way to History class, not really caring if I was going to be late or not. I could always bust out the 'I felt dizzy so I walked slowly to class so as not to pass out or vomit' excuse. I doubted Binns would call bullshit, if he even noticed me in the first place.

As it turned out, I got there five minutes early. Hermione and Ron waved me over— well, just Hermione. Ron had already begun his nap. I took up my spot next to the two, before promptly dozing off, much to the disapproval of Hermione. Not that I cared much.

The nap ended all too soon, as Hermione nudged us awake and threatened to not give us her notes; Ron, in a bout of genius, began flattering the resident Gryffindor bookworm. It seemed it was working, but, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

On our way to Potions class, she proceeded to rant about us not taking History seriously; to which I said: "Well, I just prefer Muggle History to Wizard History. Two successive bloody world wars, Hermione. It satisfies my need to learn of other people's pain and suffering. And the mutations caused by the aftermath of the nuclear strikes on Hiroshima and Nagasaki... Uranium is great, wouldn't you agree, Hermione?"

Needless to say, Hermione's mortified expression cheered me up a little bit. I entered the Potions classroom with a spring in my step, immediately taking my table at the back. I looked around the class. It seemed as if Professor Snape wasn't here, yet. After a summer filled watching random documentaries, and reading up on whatever I stumbled upon, I was sort of looking forward to this class; out of all the subjects, Potions seemed to be the most scientific in nature.

An onslaught of students entered the class at the same time, hurriedly taking their seats before Snape tore their throats open for daring to be late. I saw a glimpse of Daphne, sitting somewhere in the middle, next to her auburn haired friend, Tracey. Even looking at the girl from behind was just a treat.

I heard Snape's dungeon door creak open. The hook-nosed, greasy haired man swept in the room, his billowing robes giving the room an aura of doom and gloom. He certainly had a flair for the dramatics, huh?

"Settle down." Severus said coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no need, however, since everyone was already dead silent. He then went on making a speech about how it was our OWL year, and that he expected each and every one of us to at least get an 'Acceptable' on our exams. He tried to bait me a few times, but I've grown past such attempts, having dealt with the scum of the internet on a daily basis. I'm the master baiter, baby (Get it!? Masterbaiter? No?). Anyway, I gave him points for making the effort; his subtle insults were ruffling Ron's jimmies, that's for sure.

"And to make sure you are taking this a little more seriously," Snape continued in a silky tone. "I will have you brew the Draught of Peace: a potion that often comes up in the examinations. It is used to calm anxiety, and soothe— Weasley!" He barked out at the end, there. Everyone looked in our direction.

Ron was busy picking his nose, it seemed. I resisted the urge to swear profusely at the redhead. Couldn't he see that I was trying to avoid Snape's ire? Damn it.

"Five points from Gryffindor for that horrific display, Weasley." Snape sneered, before motioning for him to come. "You will change your seat today, Mr. Weasley, as it seems you're _incapable __of paying attention_." Ron glared at the Potions Master, who glared right back. It didn't take long for the boy to begin grabbing his stuff in resignation.

"Let's see... Ah." Snape turned to Daphne. "Weasley, you will take Ms. Greengrass' place for today. Ms. Greengrass, if you will—"

"Of course, Professor." The girl said softly, before packing up her stuff and heading to me. I fought off a nervous grin, as the girl took her place between Hermione and I, giving me a small nod, which I returned with a smile. Ron was still loudly setting up shop, much to the amusement of the Slytherins surrounding him.

"Hi." I took a moment to greet the girl. Hermione looked at me oddly.

"Hello to yourself, Potter." Her whisper was low, and soft. I didn't get to say anything further, though, because Snape took control of the class again.

"As I was saying." Snape glared at Ron one more time, for good measure. "This potion can soothe agitation. The reason I've chosen this particular potion is due to its difficulty; you will need to follow the instructions on the board—" He waved his wand and a set of steps detailing the making of the potion appeared on the blackboard. "—and you will find the needed ingredients in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half. Begin."

I went to get the needed ingredients, and walked back to my post with purpose. I wanted to ace this class. Despite Snape's warnings, I found that the potion was incredibly easy to make. The instructions were clear, and the potion was progressing the way it should, with a light silver vapor rising from it— just like Snape said.

The overgrown bat swept around the class, criticizing some student's work. He took great pleasure in vanishing Ron's potion, and giving him zero. He sneered at Neville, who somehow made an acceptable draught, before finally coming to inspect my work. He looked at it, then at me, then back at it again.

"Potter." The man said softly.

"Yes, Professor?"

"What is this?"

"Uh... What do you mean? This is the Draught of Peace." I looked at him for a moment. "Did I make a mistake, somewhere? I know I followed the directions to the letter."

"...No, Mr. Potter. The potion is..." Here, Snape looked like he swallowed something sour. "Very well made."

Was that a compliment just now?

"I am... curious, Mr. Potter." Severus quickly checked Hermione and Daphne's cauldrons, noting that— while good— their potions were not as good as mine. "How did you manage to accomplish this without Granger's help? Your previous work has never had this level of quality."

Hermione glowered at him. How cute!

"I don't really know how to answer that, sir." I began, not wanting to talk about my summer in front of everyone. "I just understood exactly what I needed to do, that's all."

"Fair enough, Potter. Perhaps you are not as moronic as I first believed." Ah, backhanded compliments. "From this point on, I shall expect this level of brewing from you. Is that understood, Potter?"

"Sure." I said easily. If this was supposed to be one of the more difficult potions for the OWLs, then I had this class in the bag.

With that, the Potions Master left to criticize other students, giving me the opportunity to look around. Draco was looking at me with an expression of utter displeasure; it was similar to my expression when my favorite manga didn't update at the regular time. Ron was too busy with his own potion; the same went for Neville and Seamus, the former having to endure Snape's onslaught.

Hermione just gave me a self-satisfied smile, probably thinking all that harping about taking studies seriously is beginning to pay off. Daphne was curiously looking at me.

"What?" I whispered, and she looked away in embarrassment.

"Nothing, Potter." She said quickly. "I've just never seen Professor Snape give you a compliment before."

"That makes two of us, Daphne." I grinned at the girl, before frowning. "I can call you Daphne, right?"

"That's fine, but do I have to stop calling you Potter?"

"Nah, you're good."

Snape's throat cleared behind me. I turned to see him glowering at me. It was the Glower of Frustration 1.0! He must be really grasping at straws here.

"Anything to share, Mr. Potter?"

"Nothing important; I simply answered Mrs. Greengrass' question about the potion."

"I see." His lips curled, before he turned to the class in general. "For those of you who have completed their work _correctly_—" he sneered at Neville and Ron. "Fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, and bring it to my desk for grading." He took a breath. "As for homework; twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its use in potion making."

I took my time filling up the flagon with a sample and turning it in to the Professor. Then I went back to my post to clear my things. The bell rang, and students began to hurriedly leave the class for a well deserved lunch. I hung back, wanting to have a word with the Professor.

"You coming, Harry?" I heard Ron say from behind me, and turned to the boy.

"I'll see you there, all right? There's something I need to do."

"All right, mate." Ron said uncertainly, before shaking his head and leaving for lunch, falling in behind Hermione. Was he looking at her butt? That sly sonovabitch...

As the last of the students left the classroom, Snape turned to me, an unpleasant look upon his face.

"Something you need, Potter?" The greasy haired wonder drawled lazily.

"A couple of questions."

"Is that so... Well then, let's hear them."

"Right, uh..." I started, not really knowing how to go about this. "Do you know chemistry, by any chance?"

Snape looked stricken for a split second, before switching his face to an impassive look. What the hell was that? Did I just imagine it?

"Many years ago, I studied the subject, at the request of a..." He hesitated. "A friend of mine."

"A friend? Who?" I asked curiously. He looked at me for a very long moment.

"As it happens, it was your mother, Potter." He had an unreadable look on his face.

Wait, wait, wait.

"You- My mom—" I didn't even know how to form words right now.

"Don't look so surprised, Potter." He gave me an annoyed/amused look. "I knew Lily even before we attended Hogwarts. And that whiny sister of hers as well. Anyway, what did you want to know about chemistry?"

It seemed like my mother was a subject he didn't want to talk about. I didn't press the issue, partly because I hadn't expected it, and partly because I'm not exactly close friends with Snape. I remember it took Remus months to open up, back in my Third Year. Snape was on a whole other level of closed up, if it took him over four years to tell me he knew my mother _since his childhood_.

"Right, right." I shook my head of these thoughts. "Well, just what is the difference between Potions and Chemistry? Both seem to serve the same purpose, though Muggles have never gotten to the level where they could re-grow bones..."

"That is an interesting question." He went into lecture mode. "The answer that a regular Wizard would give to it is simple; Muggles can't brew potions."

And here I thought they could. Oh. Then came my next question.

"Why?" The man gave me a reluctantly pleased look, as if I passed some test of his.

"The answer to that," Snape began dramatically. "Is a bit more complex. Though I have told every single class that there was to be no wand-waving in Potions, I did not specifically state that you have not been using magic this whole time."

"Using magic? What, does the potion absorb our magic?" I asked, wondering about his statement.

"In a way, but not quite." Snape answered wryly. "It is not the potion itself that draws out the student's magic, but it is the student who infuses the potion with their magic, at the critical moments of the brewing process."

"That's why Muggles can't do it?" I said in realization.

"And why Squibs can." Snape continued. "Because it does not require the use of a wand, and does not need great amounts of magic, with a few exceptions, of course."

"Why don't you teach that to students?" I asked curiously. "Seems like a pretty interesting thing to know."

"That is something I teach to students who have passed their OWL examinations, Potter." He said.

"How come?"

"I shall explain through an example." He looked at me. "Mr. Potter, try not to focus on your own breathing."

I was suddenly acutely aware of the rising and falling of my chest. I tried to stop focusing on it, only to find myself deprived of air. I had to consciously will myself to breathe again. A few more tries to stop focusing met with equal failure.

"You understand, now, why I do not teach this to students below the NEWT level." He said, looking amused at my attempts at breathing normally. "If they knew about it, they would infuse the potion with magic at the wrong times, or perhaps not at all, leading to undeserved zeroes."

"So, why tell me this?" Did he want me to fail?

"It is nothing as insidious as what you are currently thinking, Potter." He looked annoyed. "Do not think that because of your association with _them_, I would jeopardize a student's future. No matter whose son he is." He muttered the last part to himself, though I heard it clearly.

"So—"

"You are ready for the next level, Mr. Potter." Snape simply stated. "Do not expect praise for your work during class, however. Appearances must be maintained, for obvious reasons." He said, hinting at his spy status.

"Speaking of..." I trailed off, giving him a significant look. "How deep in are you?"

"_That_ is none of your concern, Potter." He said in slight exasperation. "Do you not have a lunch period, right now?"

"Yeah, I do." I confirmed, before making a split second decision. "But I'll skip my Divination class for that."

He raised an eyebrow, wondering if I had gone insane, telling a professor I was going to skip class.

"Come off it." I almost growled. "We both know that class is worth nothing. Reading tea leaves, and analyzing dreams is not going to help me fight the snake bastard. I somehow doubt he'll make me sit in front of him and have me kill him by reading his palm."

It was the same reasoning I used for quitting the Quidditch team. So I'll lose an OWL; who cares? I sure didn't.

"Indeed, Potter." Snape agreed, still giving me a look of disapproval. "I shall simply let your Head of House take responsibility for this situation."

"That's fine." I gave a nasty smile. "She'll have to get used to constant disappointments from me. I'll worry about it when my life is not in danger."

"Anyway," I continued. "I know you told Professor Dumbledore about Voldemort's plans, and the safety of the Prophecy."

Here, the Potions Master goggled at me.

"So, he told you..."

"Yeah. I don't know what it says, just that it's about me and the Dark Lord." I explained. "I don't really care what it says, either. I plan to obliterate the piece of trash, regardless of the Prophecy's contents."

"So what questions do you have then, Potter?" Snape asked me, skeptically. "It seems you know everything, already."

"I know everything you told the Headmaster." I corrected. "The answers to the _questions the Headmaster asked_."

"And?"

"I have my own questions." I said. He didn't answer, but silently prompted me to continue.

"I want to know how accessible the old bastard is." I said carefully. "Maybe I can have him killed from the inside."

I had the gold for it, I could just hire someone to sneak in, kill the bastard, and get out.

"Impossible." Snape answered. "The wards of his safe houses are ancient, and strong. None can enter without the owner's permission. Furthermore, the Dark Lord is always alert, fully aware of his surroundings in case of an attack."

So Voldemort does not even trust his own followers?

"Safe houses, huh?" I repeated, a calculating look in my eyes. "I'm assuming Death Eater houses. Any children in these houses?"

"Not until the holidays. Where are you going with this, Mr. Potter?" The Potions Master asked wearily.

"Just thinking about the practical applications of Chemistry, Professor." I said cheekily, before leaving the class for lunch, and possibly some training if time allowed.

"Like his father." Snape said to himself, as he watched me exit the classroom. "But like his mother, too..."

**ooooooooooooooo**

Wee~

Anyway, like I said to xp3r1a, I'm not quite sure how to deal with Umbridge.

I have a list of options.

1) Put her under the Imperius and have her not harm anyone. (fifth book rehash alert)

2) Put her under the Imperius and make her commit suicide. (Won't really solve anything, since the Ministry will put someone else)

3) Declaring open war on Umbridge, by extension, the Ministry. (Attracted to this one)

4) Keep his head down. (I don't really want to rehash the book)

5) Forcing a situation in which Umbridge attacks Harry, and he kills her in 'self defense'. (Unlikely)

So far, I've thought having him keep his head down until she begins overstepping her bounds as a teacher; then have Harry declare war?

Would like to hear your thoughts on this. And about the Daphne/Harry interactions? And did you like Snape's attitude?


	10. Chapter 10

Quick note, I decided to have Harry troll the shit out of Umbridge until Dumbledore is going to be forced out of the castle.

**The Keeper Of Worlds: **While I have thought about doing that, I figured the Ministry will more likely begin open warfare.

**xp3r1a:** I've toyed with the idea of Harry having a pet snake, or him spawning a basilisk; you only need to have a frog sit on a chicken egg. I won't have him learn parselmagic, though. In any case, Harry's focus will be his Lightning Dragon Slayer magic. Anyway, I wouldn't consider the Unforgivable Curses standard; you only think they are because we've read so many fanfictions saying that.

**qwe123: **Influence from Batman? What do you mean?

**sertry**: I wouldn't say Snape's change was sudden. Harry showcased his power over Lightning over the summer. It is not a stretch that Snape was impressed by it. It is also not unreasonable that Dumbledore was getting through to him. And when Harry asked about chemistry, in the exact same way his mother did years ago, Snape had an epiphany; that maybe Harry was more like his mother. You'll find that a lot of the emotional changes of people who aren't Harry will take place outside of Harry's POV. I won't write about them, and I fully expect you to wonder just _how_ it happened, without actually telling you. :P

After reading your many reviews, I've decided to go with option 4, until Umbridge has Dumbledore arrested. Then I'd switch to option 3. Open war on the Ministry.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

_**"Hashirama's country was a shameful contradiction... Man seeks peace, yet at the same time yearning for war. Those are the two realms belonging solely to man." **_**- Uchiha Madara (Naruto, Chapter 661)**

**Chapter 10: Threats  
><strong>

"**Edge!**" I shoved my hand through yet another unfortunate desk, shrapnel flying everywhere as my lightning coated hand jutted out the other side, unscathed. I shook my head. It needed to be much cleaner than this. My lightning needed to be sharper. I moved to another desk, and readied another attack.

"**Edge****!**" It was slightly cleaner this time, but still unsatisfactory.

That's what I've been doing for the past 30 minutes; just using **Edge**, over and over. After my talk with Professor Snape, I went to have a light lunch, avoiding curious questions from Ron and Hermione— who would probably try to kill me for skipping class, even it was Divination— before finding myself a nice, abandoned class room to practice in.

It looked like it hadn't been used in ages, judging from the thick layer of dust that I had to clean up. Let it be known that I could make a decent housewife— or is it househusband?

"**Edge!** Pierce properly, damn it!" I swore as another desk was subjected to my impaling strike.

This just wasn't working. I wasn't really cutting through the desk. My hand was only bursting through the flimsy thing because of the brute force given to me from the amount of energy channeled into said hand. I unceremoniously sat down on one of the chairs, and began to think.

Didn't I shape my hand in the form of a knife, and force my energy to shape itself accordingly as well? When I had stuck my hand into a wall yesterday morning, it was like I attempted to stab a sword into it. The experience was very jarring and painful.

Maybe I was doing this all wrong. I already had the brute force and the speed behind the strike. I just needed to figure out how to drill through the enemies.

Wait...

"Of course!" I blurted out, eyes widening in happy realization. "I need to _drill_ through them!"

I remembered Vernon using his power drill quite often, back in the day. The concept behind it was simple. Using his brute force, and a high speed spinning drill-bit, Vernon could pierce through the wall. Fuck, how did I not think of this before?

Like I said, I already had the brute force aspect down, so all I really needed to accomplish was the spinning aspect. I summoned my lightning to my hand, noting how easy it has become to do so, before gently placing it on a nearby desk. It made a small indent, but went no further. Where to go from here?

Spinning my hand was out of the question, since I could only twist it a hundred and eighty degrees back and forth. Trying it out made me wince in pain, my bicep not used to such erratic movement.

No, I needed to go about it another way. Perhaps if the lightning itself spun? I'd never done that before— spinning my lightning, that is. So far, I've mostly worked on calling it forth, and giving it a rough shape.

I lifted my hand so that it was right in front of my face, before concentrating. My electricity flared to life, as I channeled almost double the amount of power as before. I concentrated on the image of a drill bit, trying to will my lightning to assume that shape.

Surprisingly enough, the lightning obeyed, taking the form of long cone with many ridges adorning the side. Next, I made it spin. This was less easy, but I managed to get it done, though I felt the speed was lacking. I would have to work on that. For now, it would have to do. I'd already been shoving my hand through these desks without the spin motion, so there was no danger here.

I stood up, and went to an intact desk. The drill shaped lightning was spinning with a strange hum— alongside the regular crackling noise. It made for a strange tune.

"Please work... **Edge!**" I thrust my hand at the top of the desk, and it came out of the other side— with very little shrapnel! It was an almost clean, circular hole; light years better than my previous attempts. The lightning receded into my hand as I began cheering in success.

"Yes!" I celebrated, and removed my hand from the desk, wiping the sweat off my brow. I checked my watch— something Sirius had given me in the summer— and realized I had fifteen minutes until my Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I swore, before grabbing my book bag, and leaving.

"Let's recap." I murmured to myself, a habit I developed some time during this last summer. I finally figured out the trick to using **Edge**; I still needed to work on the spinning speed, though that would probably come with time and experience, to be honest.

The **Breakdown Fist** could definitely crack concrete right now, though I still had a way to go with that one; the problem was concentrating a fair amount of power into the exit point— my fist, in this instance. Again, a matter of experience.

I've also been capable of increasing my speed by infusing my muscles with my lightning. I'd say I was.. four times faster? Perhaps three. I didn't have any high tech equipment on hand to tell me the exact figures. I was forced to mentally count how many seconds it took me to cross from one side of the room to the other. It wasn't deadly accurate, but one had to work with what they had.

Anyway, this also had the added effect of increasing my reaction speeds. I could probably play professionally as a Seeker, or even a Keeper, if I wanted to. It's easy to block a Quaffle if time is slowed down considerably, wouldn't you agree?

So, what was left? I pondered this as I descended the stairs on the way to the Third Floor, where the Defense class was going to take place. I suppose I could work on my dodging skills... I could bewitch a few bludgers to make them target me. Add to that an obstacle course; that should help greatly improve my awareness in a battlefield.

I still had to work on my **Roar**, as well. I figured I'd save that particular spell up for last, because it was likely going to be the most energy intensive attack in my arsenal. It consisted of gathering all of my lightning into a single point— my mouth, before releasing it in one mighty roar, completely obliterating anything in its path. As much I wanted to try it right now, I did not believe I was ready for it. Not yet.

I ambled into the Defense classroom, noting that almost everyone was here, including Professor Umbridge, who was still wearing her disgusting fluffy pink cardigan, and a black velvet bow on top of her head. I took a seat next to Ron and Hermione, giving a small sigh in relief for not being late to this particular class. Who knew what kind of punishment Umbridge would try to force on me? Being the Ministry's stooge, she was probably tasked with bringing me and Dumbledore down.

"You stink." Ron said tactlessly after sniffing the air a few times.

"Thanks, mate!" I answered cheerfully, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"I can't believe you skived off Divination, on the first day, too!" Ron grinned at me, before freezing, realizing his mistake. Behind him, Hermione looked shocked, before switching to an angry look. Was she gonna go all prefect on me, take points and assign detentions?

I shook my head at her, stopping whatever outburst was bound to happen.

"Now is not the time." I warned the girl in a dangerous tone of voice, giving her a significant look. She, possessing at least a modicum of common sense, nodded in resignation. More students began shuffling into the class, before the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the class.

"Well, good afternoon!" Professor Umbridge began, when students were all settled in.

She got a few halfhearted "Afternoon"s in reply.

"Tut, tut." Who does that? "That won't do. I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. One more time: good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge." I simply mouthed the words, glancing at my fellow students. Most of them looked exasperated, and with good reason. That was probably one of the worst ways to start a class I've ever seen; and I'd had classes with Quirrell and Lockhart!

"There, now. That wasn't too difficult, was it?" Umbridge said in that condescending, sugary sweet voice of hers. "Wands away and quills out, please."

She went to the blackboard, with her ridiculously small wand— there was a joke in there, somewhere— and tapped the board with it.

On it, the words "_Defense Against the Dark Arts, A Return to Basic Principles_." appeared. Basic principles, huh?

She then went on to speak about the fragmented education that we had, due to the fact of having four different wizards teach the class in the past four years. She then went on to say that we were far below the standard of the OWLs— I suppressed a laugh, at that.

"—We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved—" Ah, _t__here_ was the key word: Ministry-approved. Big Brother is watching you, children. You have to obey the Ministry's every word, or you could find yourself in dire straits, you slaves

I kept my face impassive, as Umbridge continued to drone on about how this was all carefully made by experts at the Ministry. More of that pointless legal talk she liked to spew at everything that had a pulse.

A few minutes later, we had our books out, reading the first chapter of _Defensive Magical Theory_. I'd already tried to read this book, before deciding it was utter garbage, filled with submission/negotiation tactics and the like; in other words, letting the enemy win without putting up a fight. There was no way in hell that I would even consider doing such a thing.

It was a horribly boring experience. I wished I could take a nap, like I did during old Binns' class. Instead, I simply focused on the first sentence, reading it over and over, pretending I was understanding it.

I began to stroke my non-existent beard, and to 'hmm' in understanding and realization, pretending to be oblivious to the building snickers around me. I turned the page, and began 'hmm'-ing again.

"Mr. Potter?" Professor Umbridge's voice broke my 'concentration'.

"Hmm?" I slowly looked up from my book, seeing Umbridge with a look of annoyance on her face. I tried not to smirk in her face; that would give me away.

"Is something wrong, Professor Umbridge? You look a little flushed. Do you have a fever? I can take you to Madam Pomfrey, if you wish. She has some very effective cures against fevers." I said in false concern, giving her what I thought was an alarmed look. Ron was fighting back a laugh.

Hermione, who's had her hand up for the past five minutes, merely glowered at me.

"No, Mr. Potter. There will be no need for that." The woman automatically denied. "I am quite all right. I was going to ask you to lower your voice. This is supposed to be a silent reading period."

"Lower my voice? Whatever do you mean?" Play dumb, it always works! Her left eye twitched slightly. SUCCESS!

"You were humming the whole time you were reading." She informed me tersely.

"I— I was?" I pretended to give her a childish look of amazement at her revelation, kind of like when kids got to meet Santa.

"Are you sure, Professor?" I asked the woman, with a skeptic look on my face.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. I am _quite_ sure." She was beginning to look exasperated. Better stop screwing around for a while.

"My apologies, then, Professor Umbridge. I will endeavor to be as silent as the night." I promised, before stroking my chin as I continued to 'read', nodding every other line, to the amusement of the class.

Umbridge said nothing, this time. She couldn't give me detention for an odd quirk that didn't really disrupt the class.

I gave a quick glance to my left, seeing that Hermione's hand was still up, her book not even open— wait, what? Hermione not reading a book? Preposterous!

She really wanted her question answered, didn't she? Sheesh. More time passed by, with everyone beginning to openly look between Hermione and Umbridge, just to see who would crack first, in this silent battle of wills.

As it were, Umbridge lost. Against Hermione, was there any doubt?

"Did you want to ask me something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge pretended that she wasn't ignoring the girl up to this point.

"Not exactly, no." Hermione answered.

"Well, we're reading at the moment." Umbridge said sweetly, showing how inflexible her personality was. "If you have other questions, we can deal with them at the end of the class."

"I've got a question about your course aims." Hermione pressed on. Let it be known that she was one stubborn lady. With enough prodding, she could probably make Dumbledore— a man known for his unwavering patience— rip his hair out in frustration.

"And your name is...?" Umbridge prompted. I narrowed my eyes, having learned from a few Order members that people in the Wizarding world judged you by your last name. If it didn't sound like any 'pureblood' name they knew, that person would avoid you at all costs, in fear of dirtying his/her blood by simply being in your presence.

"Hermione Granger." Hermione answered. I wondered if she thought the same thing I did when that question was asked. For all her intelligence and book smarts, Hermione was sometimes very naive.

I noticed Umbridge's face darken in response; pureblood supremacist, detected!

"Well, Miss Granger, I believe that the course aims are perfectly clear if you read through them carefully." She said sweetly, motioning to the blackboard.

"Well, I don't." Hermione disagreeing with a teacher? I didn't think I could handle more surprises. "There's nothing written up there about _using_ defensive spells."

I glanced at the blackboard, reading the course aims for the first time. As usual, the bushy haired girl was right. The words 'defensive magic' appeared three times in the course aims, but the words I focused on were at the start of each line: 'Understanding the principles; Learning to recognize; Placing the use of defensive magic in context'. Essentially, it was all theory and no practice.

"_Using_ defensive spells?" Umbridge laughed. "I can't imagine a situation arising in this classroom that would require you to use defensive magic. Surely, you aren't expecting to be attacked during your class?"

A few outcries erupted at that statement, with Ron being the most vocal.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. —?" Umbridge was addressing Ron.

"Weasley." And the ginger raised his hand. She answered by ignoring him.

She went on to denounce Hermione's view on what Defense Against the Dark Arts was supposed to be like, seeing as she was not a 'Ministry-trained educational expert'. An expert at what? Hiding from the truth? The Ministry was a bunch of cowards. Garbage.

For a moment, I wanted to stun her, before kicking her out of the castle.

However, I reined myself in. There was no real gain in doing that. Sure, I would feel better, but that would only last for a short time, before the Ministry brought the Aurors down on me. I wasn't ready for them. Not yet.

Let her talk, and dig her own grave. When the time came, I would be happy to bury her myself.

Umbridge kept giving the students non-answers, until Parvati asked her own, worried about the practical part of the OWL examinations.

The professor kept assuring her that studying the theory will prepare everyone for the practical bit of the test. I had enough.

"It won't be enough." I said firmly. It was probably the first thing I'd said after screwing around during the reading period. "And besides, what good is the theory going to be in the real world?"

"This is school, Mr. Potter." She disagreed calmly. "_Not_ the real world."

"Are you saying we're supposed to do nothing to prepare for what's out there?"

"There is nothing out there, Mr. Potter." She said calmly, though I could see a hint of anticipation in her eyes. I saw it for what it was: she was trying to bait me into talk about Voldemort, so she could punish me.

Too bad I'm the mothafuckin masterbaiter! Silly toad, you're playing The Game, and you've already lost.

"Of course there is." I disagreed, faking an indignant angry look.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" She asked sweetly, lacing her question with an insult directed at my age. How unoriginal.

"Who?" I gave her an incredulous look. "Come now, Professor Umbridge. Dark wizards _do_ exist. If they didn't, we would not need the Aurors to defend us."

"If there were no dangers in our society, Knockturn Alley would be a very safe place to pass through." I said with a smile. "Sadly, as it turns out, it is _not_ safe." A few students laughed at that.

I cleared my throat. "As I'm sure you're well aware, two years ago, the infamous mass murderer Sirius Black escaped the Azkaban Prison." I ignored Hermione's gasp. Umbridge looked annoyed I was dangling the Ministry failure in front of her.

It sucked to use Sirius' example like this, but it was one of the few options I had. This way, I could stress the importance of learning defensive spells without getting a detention.

"He managed to infiltrate Hogwarts, and remain within its grounds for months on end." I said heavily. "Furthermore, the presence of the dementors increased the level of danger even more, since they did not care about who they attack. I think I recall many students in this very room visiting Madame Pomfrey after encounters with them."

At the mention of dementors, Umbridge's face switched to a panicked look, before going back to annoyed. Wonder what that's about?

"That's only one situation, Mr. Potter." Umbridge retorted, trying to take control again. "We have rectified the situation with the dementors, and Sirius Black will be caught by our elite Aurors sooner or later."

"With all due respect." I answered coolly, cutting off whatever tirade she was about to go on. "You have _not_ rectified the situation, or do you not remember the trial in August, in which I was forced to defend myself for using the Patronus Charm on two dementors in Little Whinging— a region far from Azkaban?"

She looked at me in mute anger. Suck on that, bitch!

"Anyway, as to not needing to use spells. Suppose you wanted to travel the world; one of your destinations is the jungles of South America." I took a breath. "As you may have heard, many of the Wizard villages there are lawless, filled with murderers and thieves."

"And why, Mr. Potter, would any of you travel there?" Umbridge asked.

"To see the sights, of course." I answered easily. "Nature has a way of creating beautiful sceneries that _must_ be seen in person."

"Of course." I continued in a loud voice, still not letting Umbridge speak.

"There is always another threat. A threat that would annihilate us in an instant if it wished to do so." I said gravely.

"What threat, Mr. Potter?" Professor Umbridge said as sweet as honey, incorrectly thinking I was about to announce Voldemort's return. She almost looked giddy.

"What threat?" I repeated with wide eyes. "Surely you know, Professor Umbridge? I believe the Minister interacts with them quite often, does he not?"

"Interacts with _who?_" Umbridge asked in confusion.

"Why, the Muggles, of course!" I answered with a smile. Hermione frowned, as did the other Muggleborns. Ron was looking at me skeptically.

There was a long silence, that lasted quite a while. Then Umbridge scoffed.

"_Muggles_?" She spat out disdainfully, all pretenses of sweetness dropped for a moment. "What can _they_ do against us?"

"Quite a bit, I'm afraid. I mean no offense to Muggles, of course." I told the woman. The Muggleborns were mollified by this.

"First, it bears to mention that they outnumber us _by far_." I started. "The current Muggle population of the world is estimated to be around seven billion— give or take a hundred million. The population of Wizarding Britain is estimated to be around ten thousand." I revealed, making people's eyes widen.

"If they ever decided to declare war on us, we would not stand a chance. The wizards of the past were wise in creating links to the Muggle government: their smart decisions have protected our community for centuries."

I swallowed, before continuing.

"Their weapons, can match— and in some cases easily outshine ours— in pure destructive power." I said. "Take a gun for example. It was a small device that launches metal projectiles at the enemy at great speeds."

"Wouldn't the Shield Charm stop those?" Some nameless 'pureblood' asked in a haughty tone.

"If you're fast enough, I suppose." I gave them the impression that I was relenting, luring them into my trap. "On the other hand, do you know how fast these projectiles are?"

No one answered. Not even Hermione— she probably knew it was fast, but not the exact number. Hermione never answered a question in class if she didn't know exactly what the answer was.

"No one?" Some shrugged at my question. "Well, I'll put it in a way you can understand." I said, before clapping once. The class looked at me in confusion, while Hermione and some others were realizing the implications.

"Y-You're saying it's as fast as sound?" A student dared to ask, causing others to gasp at the revelation.

"Oh, goodness no." Some of them, including Umbridge sighed in relief. Good. Time to deliver the blow.

"It's actually three times faster than that."

Utter silence met my words.

"Fret not. It gets much worse." I said with a smile. "These weapons are but walking sticks, when compared to the sheer destructive power of their explosive devices."

"I'm sure you are all aware of the Second World War?" I asked, and got wry looks in answer. "Good, have you heard about the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki?"

I got some nods.

"For those of you who don't know, the United States retaliated against Japan in 1945, by launching a single bomb for each city. The bombs had a yield of fifteen thousand tonnes of dynamite. It was enough to destroy the entire city—" Well, it had only destroyed around 65% or something, but they didn't know that.

"Since then, the Muggles have managed to increase the destructive power of these bombs, by over a thousand fold. I have no doubt that they could destroy entire countries, if they were inclined to do so." I informed the class, staring at each and every student, before turning to Umbridge, a polite smile on my face.

"My apologies for the impromptu speech, Professor Umbridge." I said sweetly. "May I proceed in the reading of Chapter One?"

"...You may."

I began to scratch my chin and nod at the book, once more, ignoring the stares I was getting from my classmates.

**ooooooooooooooo**

Well, that was fun.

You know, I realized, when I first began writing this story, I got two reviews on my first chapter. Now, I have over 120... Thanks a lot for your support guys!

I'm gonna take a breather for a little while. I've been updating almost nonstop, haha.


	11. Chapter 11

**UnlimitedFreeIceCream:** Dude, write your own story if you find so many faults in mine. Sheesh.

**JokingWyvren**: Yes, there will be. Some from surprising places, others I'll have to introduce from outside of the story.

**qwe123: **Sounds like a plot bunny. Never seen a Batman! Harry before. Could be nice.

**Ddragon21:** No parselmagic here, sorry. It's like if Harry learned incantations in Spanish. The only advantage would be that the foe does not understand the language. Unforgivables aren't common x-x stahp it.

**xp3r1a:** Yes, I've seen the "Using Diffindo on someone's throat is worse than using Avada Kedavra." argument used so many times. To me, it's all the same. Death is death, no matter what. Diffindo can cut an arm off; they might still live. If you use Avada Kedavra on someone's arm, they die, no questions asked. All that spell can do is kill. It is not as benign as people like to make it, since it _drives a soul out of a body_.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

_**"I breathe for you now,  
>Yet you seek to the dark infested,<br>Home of my kind,  
>Look inside,<br>Past the guarded walls of hope..." **_**- Maka & Waeck ft. Farisha - Breathe (Vexare Remix)**

**Chapter 11: Hermione's not a Seeker, She's a Snitch. Also, PLOT TWIST!  
><strong>

It's been a few days since my first Defense Against the Dark Arts class; and I use the term 'class' loosely in this situation.

If I had any say in it, I would not attend. I had already begun skipping both History and Divination, seeing as I slept in one, and had to endure predictions of my death in the other. Listening to Trelawney's speeches about the Inner Eye were dreadful.

Half of her lines involve her bragging about her Seer abilities. For example, the phrases "just like I Saw you would" or "you're doing as I predicted" were used quite liberally. She knew her subject, of course. I had to give her that much...

She might be a crackpot, but at least she tries to teach something. Unlike dear old Umbridge, who would simply tell us to read the book.

I, of course, kept up with my amusing shenanigans in that particular class. To avoid punishment, I was always excessively polite and eager to please when spoken to. During the reading period, I would look at the book and nod thoughtfully, as if I were learning the very secrets of the universe itself.

I supposed it was good practice at keeping my calm. There were times, in which I had to stop myself from laughing out loud, lest I get in trouble. All in all, a decent way to work on staying composed.

Potions class continued as usual. Snape kept up with appearances, looking like he was horribly displeased whenever I succeeded— all the time, basically. It was definitely a little trickier for me now, due to the fact that I was now aware of my magical energies seeping into the potions I was concocting. Professor Snape was surprisingly helpful in that regard, having directed me to a certain book in the Library.

It was a bitch to find, but I managed to get my hands on it. Apparently most NEWT level students ended up buying their own book, considering that everyone and their mother would fight for the few copies in the Library.

_Magical Infusion in Potion Making_ was a pretty interesting read. I figured, since Snape thought it was important enough to stealthily give me a slip of parchment containing the book title, that I should give it a try. It went into detail of how exactly infusion took place during the course of the brewing of a potion.

Apparently, low level potions didn't really require a lot of magical energy, if at all. It made sense, in a way. The amount of energy needed should increase with the difficulty of the potion, shouldn't it?

The book also went on to explain how you can figure out the potion's critical moments and act accordingly, giving a fair number of examples in which you should either infuse the potion with magic, or not at all; constant magic infusion, while not necessarily bad, would not yield a perfect potion.

It was like cooking, in that respect. Too much of a single ingredient would ruin a dish, after all. Dumping more salt than was needed would make your spaghetti sauce taste terrible! Terrible, I say! I know from experience.

Care of Magical Creatures was boring as shit, without Hagrid introducing dangerous/illegal creatures. We studied bowtruckles; it was some kind of tree-guardian that ate wood lice or some such. I lost twenty points from Gryffindor for joking about how they were protecting their wood— Get it!? Hermione was greatly displeased, seeing as the ten points she managed to scrounge up were taken away in an instant.

She glared at me for the rest of the period— not that I cared.

Transfiguration had McGonagall starting us with the Vanishing Spell, something I'd been wanting to learn for a while now. The Professor had us vanishing snails to start out with. Surprisingly, it was a very difficult spell , but I was one of the few that actually managed to get the snail to vanish. Hermione had done it in her third try, and then spent the rest of the class watching the others fail at completing their assignment. I shook my head at her behavior.

Currently, I was sitting in the Charms class, bored out of my mind. Flitwick wanted everyone to review the Summoning Charm, a spell I had a good grasp on due to last year's close encounter with a dragon. Felt like a lifetime ago, really. I wondered how I would fare against a dragon with my Lightning Dragon Slayer magic. Was my magic truly capable of slaying dragons? I supposed it didn't really matter, in the end. I've already shown I could crack concrete, and break through wood like it's not even there.

With a lot of dedication and practice, why _shouldn't _I be eventually capable of such feats?

The diminutive Charms teacher ended up giving us so much homework it made Ron gape in disbelief. He grumbled about how he was never going to get some free time, what with his Prefect duties and other classes. I merely smirked in response, and said that I didn't get it. It made Hermione glare furiously at me. When the class ended, she angrily stomped out, with Ron following her, giving me an apologetic grin.

I didn't understand why she was being such a bitch about it. It's not like I was lounging around in the common room when I skived off those classes! I trained, trained, and then— guess what?— I trained some more. With every session, I could see the progress being made. Fine tuning my **Edge** was the ultimate proof of my hard work so far.

I shook my head warily, before heading to the Great Hall for dinner. I sat alone this time, not wanting to deal with Hermione's attitude, and helped myself to some chicken breast.

"Well, well," I heard a mischievous voice say from behind me. I turned to see—

"Look at what we've got here, brother mine." Fred said as he sat to my left.

"The infamous skiver himself, is it?" George sat to my right. He shook my hand with excessive eagerness. "Pleasure to meet you, good sir."

"To what do I owe the pleasure, gentlemen?" I stifled a grin, pretending to be annoyed by their presence.

"Just checking up on our dear friend." Fred waved the question off.

"We heard from Alicia—"

"Who heard from Katie—"

"Who was told by Angelina that—"

"— Yes. I told Angelina quit the Quidditch team." I gave them a wary look. "Are you here to try to convince me to rejoin? The answer's 'no', by the way."

"Nothing of the sort!" They chorused, before Fred continued. "While it is truly regrettable that our star Seeker is no longer with us—"

"— Bless his soul! He was one of a kind, that one! I'll miss him." George pretended to weep loudly.

"We understand." Fred said, giving me a knowing look. "To be honest, we could've chosen to not attend Hogwarts for our Seventh year."

"Really?" That was news to me. "How does that work?"

"Does ickle Potter not know how the system works?" George lightly taunted, a smirk plastered on his face.

"You only really need your OWLs to be ready for what's out there, mate." Fred informed me. "While it won't get you a high paying job, you can still find work."

"So I'm guessing it's your NEWTs that let you get the really good jobs?" I wondered out loud. Fred gave an affirmative nod.

"Indeed. Though you can still do well for yourself with just the OWLs, _partner_." George smiled, hinting at the joke shop.

"That.. sounds like a nice plan." I said, a little touched at the offer. "Thanks, you two. I might just take you up on it."

"No problem... Who are you again?" Fred said, giving me a faux-confused look.

"Just a nameless stranger." I grinned.

"Well nameless stranger, it was nice meeting you— but we must be off!" And with that, the two devils left the Great Hall. I shook my head in amusement at their antics.

At least _something_ was good about this day.

"Mr. Potter." The stern voice of Professor McGonagall reached my ears. I turned to see her glaring at me.

Spoke too soon. This day was going to be shitty.

"Follow me." She didn't even ask if I was finished eating, and made to leave the Great Hall, expecting me to follow her, no doubt. I glanced in Hermione's direction, seeing her look at me guiltily. Tattled, did she?

"I don't have time for this shit." I grumbled, before complying. The trip to Professor McGonagall's office was eerily silent, and tense. I already knew what she was going to tell me. We walked through the halls at a brisk pace, passing students who were— as usual— whispering amongst themselves.

She opened the door, and I followed her inside, stiffly taking my seat. She sat behind her desk, heavily frowning at me. I returned the gaze with a fair measure of contempt.

"Is something the matter, Professor?" I asked her outright.

Her lips pursed in response. "Mr. Potter. I've had some disquieting news pertaining to you from Ms. Granger."

"What kind of news?" I played dumb, though inside I was angry at the confirmation of Hermione's betrayal.

"Ms. Granger has told me that you have not been attending your History and Divination classes since the beginning of the school year." Professor McGonagall began. "I have checked with the corresponding professors, and they have confirmed this. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Well," I said. "Yes. I skipped them. Why shouldn't I? They're a waste of my time."

"Waste of your time or not," The old witch retorted almost angrily. "You must attend your classes, Potter. This is non-negotiable."

"That's nice."

"Five points for cheek." She said sternly, before continuing. "You will have detention for the next two weeks, and another fifty points taken from Gryffindor for your appalling actions."

"Detention?" I gave her an annoyed look. That would cut into my training time.

"Yes, Mr. Potter." She confirmed gravely. "Misbehavior is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

"That's all well and good." I said in return. "But I'm not going."

"...What?"

"You heard me, loud and clear, Professor." I stood up, and made to leave. "I'm not going to waste any more time than I have to on this crap."

"Mr. Potter!" I ignored her indignant shout.

I reached the door, but it abruptly shut in my face, locking itself with a clicking noise. I turned to see McGonagall with her wand out, giving me an exasperated look.

"You will attend your detentions, Mr. Potter, even if I have to escort you there, myself!" She snapped, staring me down like a hawk, but I was past such pathetic stares. I faced Voldemort himself; McGonagall was nothing in comparison.

"You think you can force me to go?" I challenged, anger seeping in my tone. Didn't she understand that I had bigger things to concern myself with?

"If I must, yes." McGonagall said, standing up.

"I'd like to see you try." I said, and called my lightning forth, shaping it just like I practiced in the days before. The lightning quickly formed into a furiously spinning drill, filling the room with the hum of its power. I knew I wasn't thinking straight, but I couldn't care at the moment. She was getting in my way, and I didn't like those that impeded my progress. Not. One. Bit.

The air grew thick with a strange pressure. McGonagall was beginning to look at me warily.

We stared each other down for the longest time, before she finally relented with a resigned sigh. She waved her wand and the lock clicked open. I reined myself in, the lightning fading from my hand with a small shock wave as as I clenched my fist. The strange pressure disappeared.

"Don't get in my way, ever again." I threw in, before leaving.

I didn't even wait for her to say anything, choosing to run as fast as my feet could take me. I ran, I ran, and I ran some more.

Why didn't they understand? Angelina, Hermione, McGonagall. Why couldn't they just accept that this was necessary? I ran faster, ignoring all the looks I was getting from other students.

Did they think I wanted to live like this? Did they think I wanted to constantly train? Did they think that I enjoyed living my life in fear, always wondering if my skills would be enough for the next confrontation?

Hermione's idiotic ideas could go fuck themselves for all I cared right now. Maybe _she_ needs the OWLs to do well in the real world, but I've already got plenty of money; enough money to last me dozens of lifetimes!

And if that didn't work, I had the Weasley twins backing me up.

Quidditch could go and hang itself. Politeness and propriety in school were a waste of my time. Most of the classes were a waste of my time, as well.

I finally stopped running, and sank to my knees, taking deep breaths. I looked around, recognizing my surroundings.

Why did I come here, of all places?

A giggle grabbed my attention. I turned to see an all too familiar ghost.

"Hello, Myrtle. How are you?"

"You came to visit!" She looked ecstatic. "Just like you said you would."

I remembered some halfhearted promise I made last year, when I figured out the egg's clue for the Second Task. I _had_ promised to visit, hadn't I?

"Yeah, I always keep my promises." Even if accidentally, but she didn't need to know that, eh? I took a few more steadying breaths. How long did I run? I checked my watch. It'd been thirty minutes since I left the Great Hall with McGonagall. The confrontation we had was around two minutes at best.

So, I've been running for around twenty minutes...

I stared at my surroundings, once more. I remembered how we brewed Polyjuice Potion to spy on Malfoy. Hermione— I stopped my thoughts right there, not wanting to get angry again. I stared at a seemingly inconspicuous sink. The very same sink which opened up the Chamber of Secrets.

_§Open.§_ I hissed out in Parseltongue. The tap glowed white, as the sink sank— amusing— showing the entrance to the Chamber.

Ignoring Myrtle's mindless chatter, I jumped down the hole, feeling the adrenaline rush as I twisted and turned along the pipe's path, thoroughly enjoying the ride. My furious anger simmered down as I reached the bottom with a thud.

I got to my feet and marched forward, looking around, recognizing the small path in the giant rubble caused by old Lockhart's attempt at erasing our memories.

I pulled out my wand, and cast the Reductor Curse over and over, until the rubble turned to nothing but fine mist. Satisfied, I delved deeper and deeper into the Chamber, stopping for a moment to cover my face when the smell of rotten flesh wafted in my nose.

I forced myself not to retch as I got closer and closer to the source; the giant basilisk that I'd killed with nothing but a sword. It looked almost just like I remembered it, if a little bit holey. The dead basilisk was surrounding by other, much smaller, dead animals.

I could only assume they tried to feast on it, and died from food poisoning. Even the rotting process was bound to take quite some time, as the bacteria would have to overpower the basilisk's poisonous nature. I stared at the gigantic snake for a while longer, getting lost in memories.

I remembered how Riddle had set this thing on me, and the ensuing struggle to stay alive. Being injected with both basilisk venom and phoenix tears was very peculiar.

However, was that the only danger lurking around here?

This place was the Chamber of _Secrets_. The only secret here seemed to be a millennium old monster. That sounded very lackluster, though. Wasn't Salazar Slytherin supposed to be one of the most powerful and influential wizards of his time?

I found it hard to believe that he would simply put a basilisk as the only form of protection, especially since it had glaring weaknesses such as the crowing of a rooster.

Maybe he didn't get to add anything else before he died? Or did Voldemort already figure out what the other secrets of this place were?

Or maybe there was nothing else here, I mused wryly. Why did I even come down here?

~_The Orb..._~

What was that? I whirled around. There was no one. Was I imagining it? I turned to look at the basilisk, noticing that part of it was glowing.

~_Take the Orb, hatchling..._~

"That voice again.." I looked around, still seeing no one. Someone— or something— was here, watching me. Talking to me.

I glanced back at the basilisk, whose belly was glowing a bright silver. I cut through its thick hide with constant use of the Severing Charm. After I got all the annoying poisonous flesh out of the way, I noticed something quite peculiar.

A sphere, about the size of a marble, floated in midair, untouched by any of the flesh around it. I carefully reached in there to grab it, making sure to avoid touching the dead, rotting flesh with my bare skin. Who knew what could happen?

I held it gingerly in the palm of my hand. What was this doing in the stomach of a basilisk? The orb seemed to seep into my flesh, perfectly melding with it. I was too late to stop it.

Before I could chastise myself for being so _stupid_, images rushed to the forefront of my mind. Images of humans, demons and angels, locked in endless battle. Images of an ominous castle in a perpetually dark world. Images of a majestic fortress in the skies. Images of a dark, bottomless pit at the center of the world.

The images disappeared as soon as they came.

"What the hell...?"

~_I have done all I can..._~ The voice said again, before growing silent.

"Done what? Who are you?" I called out, hearing my voice echo.

No answer came.

"Who were those people?" I wondered out loud.

"What..." I backed away, trying to make sense of what I'd seen. The images were jarring, and unlike anything I'd ever seen or imagined before.

I felt like I'd stumbled into a entirely different world. Why was this in a basilisk's stomach? Did Slytherin put it there? What did Slytherin know about this? Where did he even get it? Were those really angels and demons? Who was talking to me, just now?

What had I gotten myself into _this _time?

"This was a mistake." I finally said, before hurriedly leaving the Chamber. The trip back out was fairly easy; I charmed my clothes to carry me up the pipe. It was slower than I was hoping, but I eventually made it to the Second Floor girls' bathroom, quickly closing the entrance.

Myrtle was not here, for once.

I figured I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, and promptly made my way to the Gryffindor common rooms. I ignored Hermione's attempt at approaching me, going straight to the boy's dormitories. Suppressing my anger at the bushy haired girl, I instead focused on what I'd learned down in the Chamber.

The images were starting to make a little more sense than before. They even seemed slightly familiar to me. I'd seen something like this before, but where?

I heard the door open, but didn't turn to see who it was.

"No, Ron." I said before the boy could say anything. "Hermione was behind all this trouble, and I don't feel in a very forgiving mood right now. Not after what she did."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore's voice made me shift in surprise. I turned to see the old wizard standing in the doorway, twinkling eyes gazing upon me. "I am sad to say that I am not Mr. Weasley."

I scratched the back of my head in embarrassment. I hadn't expected Dumbledore to intervene.

"Heh. Sorry about that. Hermione's attitude has been getting on my nerves, as of late."

"Indeed." The old man sat on a nearby bed. "I have been informed by Professor McGonagall that you have not been attending your classes. She seemed quite distressed, and— dare I say— worried about you."

"That's definitely true. I've been putting all my efforts in my training, instead." I explained curtly, ignoring the feeling of guilt seeping into me. McGonagall was worried about me? Why should she be?

"I am well aware of your training, Harry." The man said with a look of wry amusement. "Some of our resident portraits were disturbed at the loud noises of senseless destruction emanating from one of our unused classrooms."

I snorted at that. I did tend to go overboard on the furniture, didn't I? It made for good anger management, after all.

"So are you here to try to convince me to go back?"

"Goodness, no." The old man exclaimed, a flash of horror appearing on his face. Where did _that_ come from?

"I have been one of the few who have faced your mother's stubborn streak, as well as her wrath." Dumbledore explained, almost shuddering at the very mention of Lily Potter's wrath.

If she had one of the most powerful wizards in the world wincing in fear— much like how people feared Voldemort, actually— then her anger must have truly been legendary.

"I will not force you to attend your classes, Harry." The venerable wizard said patiently. "I have, perhaps rightfully so, assumed that you find your OWL scores meaningless due to your families' wealth and the growing influence of Lord Voldemort. Am I correct in doing so?"

"That's more or less it." I confirmed without a hint of shame. "My education can wait until after the war, as far as I'm concerned. I will dedicate my time to mastering any offensive and defensive magic I can get my hands on, instead."

"Ah, I see." The old man gave me a long, steady look.

"Perhaps I shall assign you a few detentions— which I will oversee." Professor Dumbledore interrupted whatever I was about to say. "To make sure you learn these _lessons_; you understand."

So, unless I was horribly wrong, Dumbledore just offered to teach me magic.

Neat.

I wondered if I should tell him about my foray into the Chamber of Secrets.

...I'll do it later.

You know what they say: 'procrastination makes perfect'.

**ooooooooooooooo**

A different turn, eh? The orb can be something important, or it can be nothing at all. Who knows...?

Don't worry, this will be much later, after Voldemort's defeat or close to it. Haven't decided, yet. Right now, Harry will try to play that event off as his imagination. For one, there's no more proof, except a few voices he heard when angered. The mind does play tricks on you.

And yes. Dumbledore is playing favorites.

Yes. I know I said Hermione wasn't blindly obedient, but she also is jealous of Harry, and thinks he's jeopardizing his future by not attending classes. She probably assumes he cares about wanting to be a useful member of society— have you ever met a basement-dweller that _wants_ to work? We only work for the money, so we can come home and enjoy some games.


	12. Chapter 12

**Call0013:** Never seen Highschool DxD. Looks too cutesy for my tastes.

**xp3r1a**: Unforgivables _are_ the pinnacle of curses, just like Fiendfyre is the pinnacle of fire curses. Possessing a killer's intent is easier than most think, but a little bit harder than what you're saying. Like the fake Moody said, if all of the Fourth Year class pointed their wands at him and used the killing curse, he wouldn't even get a nosebleed. It is meant to be a high level finishing move, except it can break through magic shields and kill instantly even at the beginning of the fight.

**speaker of babbel**: Harry's a teenager with a lot of power. Of course he'll explode at the people who are trying to hold him back! Even if he realizes it's the wrong thing to do. Anger is funny like that. This isn't some dreamworld lolz.

**sachin6291**: Thank you for the vote of confidence, but I think 188 reviews is a lot... I've never expected this story to blow up like it did.

**tolraisgrey:** Being brought up Muggle and not swearing seems rather difficult to achieve, unless you're the spawn of nobility :P

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

I'd like to thank you all for the support you've given me. I'm really enjoying writing this story.

Quick hint, reading the story in 1/2 width makes it a much better read.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

_It would be a long time before I wondered about the mysterious voice in the Chamber of Secrets. The events that have taken place were so unpredictable I still can't believe they happened. The feud between Voldemort and I was nothing in comparison to the arrival of global anarchy. Sometimes I wished things were simpler...  
><em>

**Chapter 12: Formation  
><strong>

A month had passed since my confrontation with Professor McGonagall. After my anger had simmered down, I apologized to the stern witch, and explained why I couldn't waste a single second on classes that would not help me survive the coming battles.

The old woman forgave me, saying that she understood, but was deeply worried about me, stirring feelings of guilt within me. I promised her I would study the books. It had her mollified.

As for my 'detentions' with Professor Dumbledore, well...

Where to begin? They were _bad-ass_. I remembered the first one quite vividly.

**ooooooooooooooo**  
>Scene shift - Flash back<br>**ooooooooooooooo**

I moved through the hallways of the school in silence. Professor Dumbledore had told me to come to the Fifth Floor corridor, while wearing my Invisibility Cloak.

Why the secrecy, you ask?

Well, as I'm sure you can remember, the Ministry of Magic placed Professor Umbridge in Hogwarts for a specific purpose; and that wasn't to take up the cursed post of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Oh, no. Instead, she was here to undermine the authority of the Headmaster, and make sure the new generation of students don't learn defensive or offensive spells— for their own good of course.

Of course, the next question is "Why?"

In short, the Ministry was afraid of us. It was afraid of Dumbledore, thinking he was recruiting the students. They actually thought that he was forming an army! Delusional much?

I only felt outrage and contempt at that. The Ministry was a den of corrupt politicians, controlled by whoever had the most gold. Currently, it was the Malfoy family running the Ministry.

The same Ministry that was denying us an education. The same Ministry that refused to acknowledge the return of Lord Voldemort. The same Ministry that was pressuring the Daily Prophet to print lies about the Headmaster and I in some effort to discredit us.

Speaking of the Headmaster, there he was, standing in the empty corridor, looking serene. I approached him, as silent as the shadows around us.

"Hello, Harry." He said when I got close, before entering a nearby classroom. I followed.

"...How do you do that? I'm supposed to be invisible." I asked, and closed the door, before taking off my Cloak of Invisibility, placing it on a nearby desk.

"A wizard does not reveal his secrets, Harry." Dumbledore said mysteriously. He waved his wand at the door, and it locked, before being enveloped in a shimmering field— most likely there to keep sound inside. "At least, not so easily."

"Good point, Professor— I mean, Albus." I corrected myself, looking around the unused classroom, wondering what exactly Dumbledore was going to teach me. The Headmaster waved his wand again, and all the desks flew to the side of the room into neat rows.

"I shall skip the pleasantries, as it were, Harry." He said, getting straight to the point.

"I am not quite sure how far along you are on the path of magic." Dumbledore started, walking to one side of the room, beckoning me to stand on the other side. "So, we shall duel. As I'm not fully aware of what sort of powers you possess, this is the best way of assessing your current battle power."

Me... Do battle with Dumbledore?

I stood warily on the other side of the room, calling on my lightning. It answered with a snarl, covering my body from head to toe. My perception of the world around me increased fivefold. It made for an impressive sight.

Dumbledore merely observed me calmly, not making a single move to attack. He hadn't even drawn his wand.

Not taking me seriously? He'd regret that.

I rushed the man, intent on ending this as quickly as I could. His eyes widened at my speed. I was almost onto him, when I slipped on something, and stumbled past the now amused Headmaster. He stepped aside, and shoved me with a concussive wave of force which emanated from his wand. I ended up on falling right on my face.

"Watch your surroundings, Harry." The old man admonished, looking a little disappointed.

I studied the spot I'd slipped on, noticing the melting frost. When the hell did he have the time to conjure ice? I didn't even see him do it! I gave the old man an impressed stare, before rushing him again, this time paying attention to anything he might throw at me.

I managed to avoid a few projectiles which were coming from the side, and had to dodge a few spells Dumbledore sent my way. The aim was dead on, but thanks to my increased perception, I managed to somehow avoid the well placed spells.

Judging from the colors of the beams, I assumed it was a series of stunners. The old man followed up by transfiguring some nearby desks to wolves, and commanding them to attack. The wolves circled my form, growling threateningly, before lunging at me.

Thanks to my greatly enhanced senses, I easily dodged the bites and claw swipes, retaliating by striking at the wolves' vital areas. As soon as the last wolf was down, I wasted no time and bum rushed the Headmaster, who looked surprised at the quick response.

I got within striking distance, and launched a kick at the old wizard. The kick connected to a hastily erected shield, which easily weathered the damage. I tried punching it a few times, to no avail. Well, if you can't brute force through it...

"**Edge**!" A loud screech was heard when I thrust my lightning covered hand at the barrier. It held under the immense strain of my spinning lightning drill for a few moments, before breaking like glass. I made to follow up, before freezing on the spot, from the Headmaster's _Petrificus Totalus_. That was the end of that fight.

Professor Dumbledore calmly regarded me as he released the spell.

"How did I do?" I asked curiously, shaking off the stiffness caused by that curse.

"It was an impressive show, my boy." Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "I can see why you have chosen to harness the element of lightning. It seems to increase your strength and speed and reduce your reaction time by incredible amounts."

He figured that out just by fighting me once? How?

As if reading my mind, Dumbledore answered.

"I simply observed your reactions against my transfigured wolves." The old wizard explained. "You were fully aware of the wolves' movements, and even managed to accurately strike their vital points. This shows an amazing sensory input. If I were to assess your level, I would say you were at the level of a fledgling Auror on your lightning magic alone."

"Really?" Well that was a bit of an ego boost, wasn't it?

"Of course, there was a glaring weakness." Dumbledore lightly commented. "However, I am sure you are already aware."

"Yeah. I've been mostly working on short range attacks." I admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of my head.

**ooooooooooooooo**  
>Shift Scene - Flash back end<br>**ooooooooooooooo**

For the remainder of that detention— and the following ones, too— Dumbledore had me blasting things from a distance with my Lightning Dragon Slayer magic. When he heard me referring to it as such, he got a thoughtful look on his face, as if he was remembering something from a long time ago.

When I asked him about it, he told me that there used to be different element type dragons in ancient history. Mentions of Ice Dragons in the Himalayas mountain range. Water dragons living in the ocean. Lightning dragons in the skies. And of course, the Fire Dragons that remained today.

I was frankly amazed at the revelation. I'd thought I learned something from an anime. Something that wasn't real. I wondered if that was the only reason I'd survived trying to eat electricity. What if I picked something that wasn't based from things in the real world? I wondered if I'd be dead if I tried something other than my Dragon Slayer magic. I realized I got lucky.

Funny how that worked sometimes.

So, like I said, a month passed, with me training in the use of my magic. Aside from shooting lightning bolts all over the place, I was also working on increasing the number of bolts I could cast at the same time. So far, I managed to shoot three targets simultaneously with one hand. I found that a lightning bolt per finger eased the process considerably.

Plus I thought it looked pretty cool. I could point my finger at someone and fry them! Come on, you know what I'm talking about!

Aside from that, the Headmaster had me go through an obstacle course of his creation. I had to jump through hoops, climb towers, crawl under some debris, all the while dodging projectiles which attacked me at random.

When I managed to finish that, I had to have mock battles with him. Most of the time with some kind of handicap. In one, he made me only use my wand. In another, he disallowed the use of external magic; I kept dodging his increasing spell chains as best as I could.

Needless to say, every training session was long and grueling. As soon as I got to the dorms, I would fall asleep on my bed almost immediately, due to the fatigue and the damage suffered.

But the results spoke for themselves. In that single month, I feel I've learned almost as much— if not more than— as my entire time spent studying magic for the past four years.

On Dumbledore's advice, I've learned to compress my lightning aura so that it stayed compacted within the confines of my body. Aside from the obvious stealth benefits, almost all of my skill effects doubled in response. My speed, reaction speed, strength— they all doubled in power.

The Headmaster was very surprised at the incredible progress being made, saying that it took wizards a few years to progress that much. When he'd informed me of that, I gave a noncommittal shrug. I've always known I was different from others; it used to bother me a lot in the fast. I'd always wanted to be normal, you know? To be another face in the crowd.

My mindset changed, since then. I realized that being normal was never going to happen. I was always going to be powerful. I was always going to be famous; Boy-Who-Lived, Heir of Slytherin, Triwizard Champion, Unstable Attention Seeking Liar, you name it. I wouldn't be surprised if they started calling me the Chosen One once Voldemort is out in the open.

The progress in my training was proof of it. I was fifteen years old, and was on the level of Aurors in terms of battle power, according to Dumbledore's assessment of my skills— which have only increased since then.

I was currently standing in the Owlery, reading Sirius' latest missive. It came with a medium sized package. I decided to read the letter before opening it.

"_Dear Dogson,_

_I thank you for the generous gift that I shall not mention but shall treasure in many obscene ways. I'm still feeling a little stir crazy, but going out for some pizza has been helping; not to mention all the countless hours I've been spending on this computer of yours. Marvelous invention, that there is!_

_It's too bad we haven't invented something like this. In any case, I'm doing well over here. I've taken the liberty of playing these games, and I have to admit, it's great fun, despite the loud, whiny children. Simply getting the chance to kill them made the whole experience worth it. One of them got spanked by his mother, as the session was playing out. We all heard every single sound. I felt bad for the kid, but honestly, he deserved what he got._

_Anyway, I'm sure you've been edgy without your gadgets—" _You don't know the half of it, Sirius. "—_So I called in a favor from Arthur. He outfitted your music player with the magic insulating rune, and I took the liberty of sending it to you._" I stopped reading at that moment, before excitedly opening the package, revealing my trusty mp3, as well as enough batteries to last me an entire year.

I went back to reading the letter, feeling amused at what he wrote.

_"I'm assuming you've went ahead and opened the box, like the curious mite that you are. We've already given it thorough testing in a magical environment. It works perfectly, though your taste in music is quite... strange.  
><em>

_Anyway, enjoy the music!_

_-PussyFucker69 (Am I doing this right?)"_

I stared at the last bit for a few moments, before bowling over in laughter. This was rich! I can't believe he used that as his name.

I penned a decent-length reply, thanking him for his amazing gift. I admitted that I've been feeling anxious because of my constant training and the disapproval of certain people around me. I made vague references to how I was getting much better at my training, before telling him of my progress with the fairer sex— which wasn't all that much. Once done, I tied the letter to Hedwig, who rubbed her head against mine affectionately before flying off.

Immediately, I stuffed a battery into the mp3 player, and put on my headphones. The familiar feeling seemed to take my tension right away. I pressed play, it started in the middle of a song I was quite familiar with.

"—_My army comes from deep within  
>Beneath my soul, beneath my skin<br>As you are ending, I'm about to begin  
>My strength is pain and I will never give in!—<em>" It was a song I'd ripped from somewhere. It emerged a few years ago, with no mention of the artist, and made for great battle music; after a few days of searching for the artist online with no leads, I decided it wasn't worth the effort, and simply enjoyed the song itself.

I closed the lid of the package, before making my way to the dorms, mouthing the lyrics along the way, as well as slightly dancing with the rhythm. It felt so very great, to have background music again.

I walked through the hallways of the school with a grin and a spring in my step. People were staring at me weirdly, like they'd never seen someone with headphones on— well, most of them hadn't, huh? Those poor, poor people.

I turned a corner, walking past Daphne, who also gave me a curious stare. I gave her a nice, saucy wink in return, ignoring the rising blush on my cheeks— and hers— before continuing my trek to the common room.

I quickly tried to ghost past a bickering Ron and Hermione, who were too busy yelling at each other to notice me. Over the past few weeks, Hermione had tried very hard to show that she was sorry about the way she was acting.

The first couple of days, I ignored her attempts out of sheer spite, but couldn't really find it in me to keep pushing her away. On the third day, I told her I'd forgive her if she did a few things for me; then I started listing off impossible tasks, one after the other. It was at the fifth task, she noticed the ill concealed grin on my face, and punched me in the shoulder, before hugging me right afterwards.

Things were back to normal, or as close as normal can get in my life.

I made it to the stairs leading up to my dorms, before being stopped. I turned to see Hermione.

"Harry, I— What's this?" She began, but stopped when she noticed my headphones. I grinned, before placing them on my neck, the music being heard to whoever was close enough. It was a dubstep rendition of a famous pirate song.

"_Bloody pirates! ~_" Came from the headphones, before the song dropped the bass.

"My dogfather sent them, just today! Mr. Weasley had them outfitted for me so they can function in magical environments." I answered her question with a smile. "God, it feels like heaven. I missed my babies." I showed her the package full of batteries. "I can do this all year, now! Isn't it great?"

"Yes..." She trailed off, probably thinking of all the theory behind making this work. I couldn't care less, and was happy to have my music back. It was such a good stress reliever.

Hermione shook off her curious thoughts. "Anyway, I was wondering... Um..." She bit her lip.

"What?" I asked. "Spit it out."

"Canyouteachusdefense?" She quickly said in one breath.

Wait, what?

"You want _me_," I began, gesturing at myself, and then her. "To teach_ you_ Defense? Did you finally go insane after all that studying?"

She looked a little annoyed at the dig, but firmly nodded to the former question in response.

"I've asked around," She explained. "And it seems that a lot of students would like to learn Defense from a proper teacher."

"And that proper teacher is me?" I asked almost incredulously.

"Well, yes." She admitted sheepishly. "You're the best at Defense, so you're the best at teaching us."

"While I do enjoy being called the best," I turned up my nose haughtily, making her shake her head in amusement. "There's a difference between being good at a subject, and being good at teaching it. Just look at Snape. Neville's almost always in tears."

All right, the insult to Snape's teaching methods was a bit of a dick move, considering that he'd been nicer to me lately; but hey, if it worked, why fix it?

"Nevertheless, you're the most capable person we know." Hermione countered. "You've faced the basilisk, the acromantulas, the creatures in the Black Lake, and more. Not to mention Voldemort himself. And your _shocking_ ability." She hinted at my Lightning Dragon Slayer magic.

And she didn't even know Dumbledore was training me during those detentions.

"Well, when you put it like that..." I trailed off. She took it as a sign of approval.

"All right. I'll tell everyone that you agreed to it!" Hermione looked giddy.

"Just how many people know about this?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, just a few..."

"So, a few like five or six?" I guessed. She winced, probably thinking I'd be upset.

"Not five or six, then." I laughed. "Not the whole school, though? I don't think I can teach hundreds, no matter how capable you think I am."

"Goodness, no." She said automatically, realizing I wasn't upset. "Around twenty-five or so."

"Did you ask Daphne yet?"

"Daphne? You mean Daphne Greengrass?" She looked a little confused.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not?" I countered. "I was also thinking of inviting Draco." I said nonchalantly.

"...You want to invite Draco? Really?" Hermione gave me a queer look.

"Not really, no." I denied with a grin.

"But you just—"

"Yeah, it was a joke. Sheesh." The look of exasperation on Hermione's face was well worth it.

"I still want to invite Daphne, though."

"That's fine, I suppose." Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. "She was always pretty quiet."

"Agreed. I suppose Malfoy spoke enough for the rest of them combined." I joked, and we shared a laugh, before I turned in to sleep.

**ooooooooooooo**

"Twelve inches of parchment to be handed in next week, on the various varieties of venom antidotes." Snape said at the end of our Double Potions class, hovering over Ron's terrible attempt at brewing a Strengthening Solution.

"I would prefer not to hand out detentions to the _dunces_ that are obviously not putting the effort in." He sneered at reddening Ron, who was yet again forced to sit down elsewhere. This time, however, it was Tracey Davis that was sitting next to me.

Ron seethed at the insult, while Snape merely looked amused at the redhead's humiliation.

"The various varieties of venom antidotes." I repeated, noting it down. "Heh. That alliterates. Various varieties of venom. Feels kinda snake-y, too."

"Indeed." Hermione looked worryingly at Ron, who looked like he wanted to beat Snape to a pulp.

"I bet he's gonna cry about this for the rest of the day." I said, noticing her gaze.

"Please." She gave me a condescending look. "Rest of the week, is more like it."

Tracey snorted at the humor, before trying to cover up the embarrassing sound, looking mortified.

"Nice one." I quipped, and gave the auburn haired girl an amused glance, before going to turn in a sample of my potion. Snape gave it a single look, before giving me a nod. I think that was his way of telling me: "good job."

I went back to my post, before packing everything up, putting my headset on my neck, and ignoring Tracey's death glare. It was as if I committed the ultimate sin or something. Then again, I suppose if someone made fun of something I was self conscious about, I'd probably be just as angry, if not more.

I gave her a halfhearted 'sorry', before grabbing my book bag and following Daphne, who had exited the class.

I found her outside, staring at a nearby wall for no particular reason. She was probably waiting for Tracey to finish up.

"Hey, Daphne." I got her attention. She turned, her hair spinning along with her. She looked really nice.

"Hello, Potter." She gave a friendly smile. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Ah, well..." I trailed off, not knowing how to start. "Hermione's been talking to a few people, and she's got them convinced to meet me during this next Hogsmeade weekend so we can talk about learning Defense."

"I see." She said, sounding a little disappointed. "And you're here to invite me to it?"

"Invite you to what?" Tracey had exited the class, and was looking at me suspiciously. Was she still that ruffled over her loud unladylike snort? Yeesh.

"Meeting next Hogsmeade weekend," I repeated, looking at Tracey. "To talk about learning proper Defense, and not the garbage that Umbridge has been feeding us."

I turned back to Daphne. "Interested?"

"I might be." She seemed to be thinking it over. "Is that all?"

"Not exactly." I said, and she gave me a curious look.

"Well, I was wondering; will you go to Hogsmeade— with me?" I tried to ignore the heat in my cheeks.

There you go, Potter. Show 'em how it's done!

"As a date?" She asked, while Tracey was trying not to gape.

"Yeah."

"..." She didn't answer for a while. I took that as a refusal. My spirits fell.

"Well, if you don't want to, that's okay, I—"

"No, no." She stopped me, looking flustered. "I do. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"So, that's a 'yes'?" I asked, trying to not sound hopeful but failing miserably. Damn you, feelings!

"Yes, Potter. I'll go with you." She flashed a brilliant smile, before walking away, her friend Tracey following in shocked silence.

Score!

**ooooooooooooooo**

Harry's got a date!

Anyway, are you liking the set up of the world? So far, it's going to be angels, demons, ancient dragons, wizards, and the world falling into anarchy. I'm essentially turning the entire planet into my playground.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Peace!


	13. Chapter 13

Broke 200 reviews! How cool is that?

**Note:**  
>The angels and demons bit is a wee bit after the fight against Voldemort. The world falling into anarchy will be something of a gradual process that occurs late during the war. So it's not exactly taking from the story, is it? Like I said, I'm <em><strong>setting it up<strong>_. It's not gonna happen in this chapter, nor the ten chapters after this one. This is for _much_ later. Though, perhaps I'll rethink the angel bit...  
>Also, some of you think that Harry forgave Hermione's "betrayal" way too easily. Well, first off, the level of betrayal was minor. Second off, she was looking out for his best interests; in her eyes, he was jeopardizing his future, and so she acted accordingly. Third off, it's been a full <em>month<em> since that event occurred. A month is a long time to hold a grudge over something so minor. Wouldn't you agree?

**SInfuL**: More like adventure/humor with a little of romance thrown in.

**xp3r1a:** I wasn't exactly bashing Ron, though. That's completely in character. I like Ron. About the fanfiction thing, my advice is utter shit. With that said, try for at least 4000 words per chapter. The best thing to do is to emulate human behavior as well as you can. If you want your character to have flip flopping personality changes in the span of 10 seconds then he/she has got to have a mental illness of some sort. Also, while you should have a basic idea of how the story's gonna go, it's not an issue if you're imagining it chapter by chapter. That's what I'm doing. When I sit down to write these things, I just let my mind wander and I write. If you want, I can check your story out, let you know what I think. :)

As always, thank you guys for the reviews. I seriously can't believe people like this. Hah.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

_"But you should know these colors that you're shining are  
>Surely not the best colors that you shine!" - <strong>Crossfade - Colors<strong>  
><em>

**Chapter 13: Longest Date Ever— First One, Too.  
><strong>

The next few days, Hermione was busy speaking with the various people she had sounded out previously, and convinced them to meet up at a shady pub called the Hog's Head to talk about learning Defense Against the Dark Arts through self study.

Admittedly, It was a better location than most, since no one actually goes there, preferring to head to The Three Broomsticks instead.

I sighed in great relief as the hot water ran over my sore body. It felt good to have a nice, relaxing shower after a glorious workout. This morning, I managed to shoot four lightning bolts instead of my usual three per hand. I was so stoked. Soon, I'd be able to shoot five bolts out of a single hand.

The lightning bolts themselves were not too well powered, but they can paralyze whatever they hit for a short while. In RPG terms, it's a Crowd Control skill, or CC for short. It would give me a lot of breathing room if I ever was outnumbered in a fight— and let's face it, with my track record, I'll never have the upper hand in a fight.

Or do I need to remind you of all the times I had the odds stacked against me? I've only survived due to lucky flukes that conveniently weakened the enemy— and even then, I would almost die every single time. It was pretty pathetic, come to think of it.

In any case, today was the day that meeting was supposed to happen. Oh, and my date with Daphne, too. The past few Potions classes had me filled with nervous anticipation. She would smile every time she looked at me; that was a good sign, right?

Or maybe she was going to rape me or hand me over to Voldemort, or both.

Nah, that can't be it. That's just my fucked up head coming up with increasingly strange situations. I wouldn't be raped though, because I'd probably enjoy it if she forced herself on me— however unlikely that event is.

After I told Sirius about it, he sent me a letter saying that I should just take her out to eat, and maybe a little shopping while I'm at it; he also said to treat her like I would treat a friend, except _much_ nicer. Made sense.

Was it really that simple? I thought romantic stuff was supposed to be all flowery and lovey-dovey. Whatever, Sirius usually knows what he's talking about. Usually.

I took my time toweling myself off, before putting my clothes on— a pair of dark blue jeans, and a red t-shirt that said "_Sometimes I pretend to be normal, but it gets boring. So I go back to being me._"

I ended up choosing that, instead of the one saying "_Life's too short, and so is your penis_", figuring that would probably be sending the wrong message. I checked myself in the mirror for one last time. I'd let my perpetually wild hair grow longer over the summer, reaching my lower neck. Not needing glasses sure helped my appearance out a lot.

"You are one fine son of a bitch." I said to the mirror. My reflection smirked in response.

After a few more moments of making sure I looked all right, I left the dorms. I gave Hermione and Ron a nod, telling them I'd meet them at the Hog's Head Inn. Leaving the Gryffindor common room, I set out to the Great Hall at a brisk pace, wanting to make a decent impression. Being late would probably be detrimental to that effort.

Daphne was already there, waiting. She was staring at some students that were passing by. She was wearing a dark red blouse, and a black knee-length skirt. She was facing away from me, not yet aware of my presence.

I admired the view for a bit, before she finally noticed me. She smiled and waved me over.

"You're early." She started the conversation lightly.

"Really?" I laughed and scratched the back of my head. "I actually thought I was running a bit late. You look great, by the way."

"You're not so bad yourself, Potter." She gave me a once-over, her eyes stopping at my shirt.

She smirked in amusement at what she read.

"Nice shirt."

"Thanks!" I beamed at her; it was nice having my efforts at being funny appreciated. "Anything you want to do before we head out?"

"No." She smiled. "Let's go."

In almost no time at all, we found ourselves in one of the carriages leading us to Hogsmeade. We shared the carriage with a couple of excited Third Years. They chattered on endlessly about how they were going to get some prank material or something. I wasn't really paying attention to them, preferring to speak with Daphne instead.

"So, what's the plan, then?" She asked abruptly. Straight to the point. I liked that.

"Oh. Well..." I rubbed at my chin in thought. "I figured we could check out the stores, stock up on anything we need, and then get a bite to eat."

"Hmm..."

"Other than that, there's the meeting at the Hog's Head." I supplied. I wanted to make a dig at Hermione's constant nagging, but realized that would be an unwise move in this situation. Mentioning another girl while on a date was bad form, according to Sirius.

The rest of the trip was spent in a comfortable silence, though I did notice Daphne sneaking several glances at the thestrals pulling the carriage.

We got to the village a minute later. I got off the carriage, and held out my hand for the lady. She rolled her eyes at the cheesy gesture, but took my hand anyway, smiling mirthfully as she did so.

"You can see them too, can't you?" I asked as we tread on the path to the village.

"See what?" She sounded a little confused.

"Those thestrals back there." I clarified, feeling a little stupid for assuming she could read my mind.

"Oh." She looked down for a moment. "Yes. I've been able to see them for a long time."

"Oh." Ah, crap. She was probably thinking of whoever died in front of her. Damage control!

"I first saw them this year." I said with a rueful smile. "I actually thought they were some kind of evil undead abraxans."

"Undead... Abraxans?" Daphne repeated incredulously. The buildings got bigger as we got closer and closer to Hogsmeade Village.

"It was a valid assumption! They look all skeletal, so why not?" I whined petulantly.

"Undead abraxans... Really, Potter?" She chuckled, the ice broken between us once more. We stopped by Scrivenshaft's to stock up on some school supplies, before browsing around afterwards.

Daphne insisted on stopping by Zonko's— to my pleasant surprise.

"What're you thinking of getting?" I asked her curiously as we entered the shop.

"Something to use on Draco." She gave a savage smirk, before looking around at the various joke products.

"Huh?" Well, that was eloquent. "Why?"

"Well, partly because of you." She absentmindedly said as she looked over a few dungbombs. She nodded in satisfaction and headed to the clerk to ring up her purchase.

Once outside, I decided to ask.

"Because of me? What did I do?" I looked a little amused.

"Well," she began. "He didn't quite like the idea of you and I..." She trailed off with a hint of pink on her cheeks.

"Ahhh." I said in understanding. So the blonde ponce was jealous? Or, perhaps he thought this was the only way he could antagonize me. After my 'talk' with him, he seemed to avoid me like the plague. He probably assumed that this course of action was safe.

"In fact, he made it into a huge issue in the common room." Daphne smiled wryly. "Saying that I was betraying the House of Slytherin by consorting with 'the likes of that Potter'. He seemed a little scared of say your name, really."

"I'm not surprised."

"How so?"

"I might have threatened him at the start of the year." I admitted shamelessly. "Might have to reinforce that fear a bit later. If you need help, you'll let me know, right?"

She gave me a strange look.

"I can take care of myself." Daphne said, in a somewhat standoffish manner.

"I'm sure you can." I smiled evilly. "But I want part of the action, too. Don't hog all the fun!"

"I suppose that's only fair, Potter." She conceded, and lightly ran her hand over her stomach.

"What will it take for you to call me Harry?" I asked in amusement.

"What's wrong with calling you Potter?"

"Well, nothing, I suppose." I gave her a sheepish look. "I guess I feel like I'm about to get detention or something." I gave a nervous laugh.

"It's fine, though. I don't mind if you do it." I said a little shyly at the end, there. Daphne smiled at that.

"Come on." She grabbed my hand and dragged me to the Three Broomsticks.

Her grip was surprisingly strong.

I let myself get dragged along, enjoying the feeling of her hand against mine, before falling into step with her.

The Three Broomsticks Inn was as crowded as usual, but it had a welcoming, cozy feel to it. We were lucky enough to find a nice, slightly secluded spot by the fireplace. I spent a few moments watching the people milling around, drinking, eating, and generally having a good time.

Madam Rosmerta greeted us as she bustled over, skillfully dodging some Sixth Years who weren't watching where they were going.

"What can I get for you two?"

We both ended up ordering some steak, a butterbeer for Daphne, and a soda for me.

"So, what's your story?" I asked lightly as we were waiting.

"Hmm? What do you mean?" Daphne shifted in her seat, leaning back.

"That is to say," I floundered for a bit. "Tell me about yourself, Daphne."

"Not much to tell, is there?" She smiled pleasantly. "Both my parents are magic, so I knew that my sister and I— she's a few years below me— were probably going to attend Hogwarts. My big brother is off traveling the world, somewhere. Last I heard, he was somewhere in Tibet."

I filed that information for future references.

"Oh, what do your parents do?"

"My dad's in the Wizengamot. He voted for your acquittal, by the way." Daphne said before I could ask. "From what I could tell, your trial seemed to greatly amuse him, though it. I take it the Prophet's rendition of the events was accurate?"

"Oh, yeah." I smirked. "The idiots dug their own grave on that one."

Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but Madam Rosmerta bustled in with our orders. I gave her a polite thanks, mirrored by Daphne, and we began to dig in.

"Anyway," She continued after a few bites. "My mom works at St. Mungo's as a Healer."

"I've never been there, myself." I admitted, pouring some gravy on the side dish of baked potatoes. "What's it like?"

"Very busy place." Daphne grinned. "Most people come in with broken bones and bruises from accidents, and leave soon afterwards."

"You go there, often?" I guessed.

"When I was little, yes." She confirmed. "My mother would make me sit in her examination room and show me what she did for work. I've been learning the spells and potions for it, ever since I started at Hogwarts."

"W-Wow." I said. "You must be really good."

"Well, maybe at the spells." She said with a blush. "My potions aren't that great. Madam Pomfrey gave me a book about channeling magic into my potions to make them better—"

"I know that book!" I blurted out, before blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

"So, Madam Pomfrey?" I prompted and sipped at my soda.

"Oh, yes." Daphne said happily. "My mother asked her for a favor. Madam Pomfrey's had me brewing potions for her, and practicing my spells on the other students."

"Even me?" I asked curiously. "I do end up there a lot."

"I've assisted in some of your recoveries." Daphne said vaguely, giving a mysterious smile. I felt oddly satisfied at that. A little creeped out, but satisfied nonetheless.

We spent the next few minutes finishing our meals in silence, before packing up, and paying Rosmerta. Daphne was going to pay for her share, but I insisted on doing it myself, seeing as I was taking her out, and not the other way around. She relented without much of a fight; hey, if someone insisted on paying for me, I'd be all for it, too!

We went on the beaten path leading up to the Hog's Head.

"This place looks terrible." She commented with a grimace as we entered the place. The pub was much smaller than The Three Broomsticks, and was dingy, dark and dirty; it also smelled like goats. The windows were grimy, giving the place an abandoned look. The pub's occupants looked even worse than the place itself.

"Tell me about it." I agreed, a look of distaste on my face. "Why is this place so badly kept? I thought household spells were easy."

I ignored the creepy duo chatting by the grimy window, and headed straight to Ron and Hermione, who looked to be somewhat nauseated at their surroundings. Hermione's eyes found mine, and then Daphne's. Hermione gave a look of pleasant surprise, but beckoned us over. Ron was one step away from gaping.

"Are you regretting the decision to come here?" I sat down next to the duo, with Daphne following suit.

"A little." Hermione admitted sheepishly, before giving Daphne a glance. "Care to introduce us?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." I apologized sheepishly. "Guys, meet Daphne. She's in our year."

"A Slytherin?" Ron said out loud, showing some disdain.

"Yes, Ron." I smirked. "I asked her out on a date. It's been going wonderfully so far." I gave Daphne a smile. "At least, I think it is."

"You might be right." She said with a sly smile. "Though our current whereabouts are quite... dubious."

"It was the best place I could think of!" Hermione argued. "No other student or teacher would willingly come here."

"Fair point. It's nice to meet you both, by the way." Daphne acknowledged, before the door to the bar opened, revealing a literal deluge of students. The barman gaped at the amount, probably having never seen that amount of customers in one go.

Let's see what we got here... Neville, Dean, Seamus (who looked a bit unsure), Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Cho Chang (who was alternating between leering at me and glaring at Daphne?) with one of her giggly bitches. Oh, there's that blonde Ravenclaw spaz who was reading a magazine upside down; what was her name again? Luna, I think. She's cool.

Who else? Sally-Anne Perks, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson (I was still a little angry at her, but I'd gotten over the Quidditch thing over the past month), Fred, George and Lee (of course), Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan (I remember him loudly stating the fact that he believed me a few weeks back), Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a bunch of Hufflepuffs I couldn't name off the top of my head, three Ravenclaw boys, Ginny, and even a few Slytherins! I recognized Tracey Davis and Adrian Pucey among them, and a little girl resembling Daphne (probably her little sister).

"Hey, Harry." Neville beamed at me. I waved him over, as everyone ordered drinks— though why they would want to touch those filthy bottles was beyond me.

As everyone got settled in, they looked at me to begin. I smirked and pointed to Hermione. They all shifted their attention on her.

"Well..." Hermione began. "You know why we're here. I've had the idea that it might be good if we formed a group to study Defense Against the Dark Arts— proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us."

"Hear, hear." Anthony Goldstein— _that's_ the name!— said. Hermione looked a little more confident after that.

"Well, I thought it would be good if we took... matters in our own hands."

She's terrible at public speaking, isn't she?

Hermione gave me a sideways glance. "By that, I mean more than just the theory, but the actual spells as well."

"For the Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL, no doubt?" A guy who was being cozy with Ginny said. Everyone shared an appreciative laugh at the friendly dig.

"Not just that." Hermione hesitated for a moment, before speaking. "But also because... Lord Voldemort's back."

Most of them winced, or shuddered at the name. The previously giggly bitch who was accompanying Cho shrieked. Really? I still don't understand how the children who've never experienced the war could react this way. The indoctrination must have been very deep.

There was an awkward silence, before Hermione continued.

"Well, that's the plan anyway." Hermione spoke. "If you want to join us, we need to decide—"

"Where's the proof?" One of the Hufflepuffs said aggressively. He was in the Hufflepuff Quidditch team if I remember right.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it—"

"You mean, Dumbledore believes _him_." The blond said, nodding in my direction.

"And you are?" I spoke up. I should've seen this one coming. Hermione got tricked, eh?

"Zacharias Smith." The blond boy said. "And I think we've got the right to know exactly what happened."

"Is that so?" I asked, gaining everyone's rapt attention. "And why should I tell you what happened? Dumbledore already told everyone what happened during Cedric's memorial."

"No he didn't." Smith waved dismissively. "All he said that Diggory was killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought his body back. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how—"

"What? Exactly how, what?" I challenged. "Exactly how he was killed? Why, you looking to kill people or something, you _sick_ fuck?"

Everyone was now looking at a now mortified Smith.

"N-No!" He denied, paling in fear from the gazes he was getting. "That's not what I want to know!"

"Look, man." I said, highly irritated. "I don't particularly care if you don't believe me. You know why?"

A few moments of silence passed, before Smith realized I was talking to him.

"No... Why?"

"Because soon, it'll be declared that I was right all along, and you all will feel horrible about not believing me in the first place." I answered with an uncaring wave of my hand.

I motioned towards Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Remember how you thought I was the _evil Heir of Slytherin__?_" I said to Justin, who put his head down in shame. "Remember how I turned out to be innocent? Same situation, really."

"For what it's worth, Harry." The boy in question said. "I believe you, this time."

"Thanks, I appreciate that." I said amiably, before turning to Zacharias Smith and the rest. "Anyway, we're here to form a study group for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hermione convinced me to teach you all how to fight." I said simply. "I don't care what your reasoning for joining this group is. Whether it's to pass your OWLs, impress that hot chick or guy you know—" I got some snorts for that. "—or to help in the fight against the snake bastard who calls himself Voldemort—" cue winces. "—it doesn't matter. Just know that what I can teach you will make the difference between being life and death. It will decide if you're bravely fighting alongside the good guys, or if you're just shitting yourself while hiding." I bit out harshly at the end.

"What makes you fit to teach us?" Ernie Macmillan asked, nodding politely at me.

"Well—"

"Is it true you can conjure a Patronus?" One of the Hufflepuff girls asked. Well, more like blurted out.

"Yeah."

"A corporeal Patronus?" She continued excitedly.

"...Corporeal?" I looked confused for a moment. "That means solid, right? Then yeah."

"Blimey, Harry!" Lee exclaimed, looking impressed. "I never knew that."

"It's no big deal, I learned it in my Third Year." I answered dismissively.

"Not a big deal, he says." Fred quipped.

"Yeah, right." George snorted. "And Firebolts are cheap."

"Well, yeah. I've done way better things, though." I said, thinking about my Lightning Dragon Slayer magic.

"Like that basilisk you killed with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" A boy I recognized as Terry Boot asked.

"How the hell did you know about that?" I asked, a little surprised.

"That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was there last year..." Terry answered.

I wondered what it was the Ravenclaw boy could've done to end up in Dumbledore's office, but shook off these curious thoughts in order to answer.

"Yeah, I did that." I confirmed, starting another round of whistles and awe-filled stares.

"And in our first year." Neville interjected. "He saved that Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who."

"Not to mention that dragon last year." Someone piped up.

"Right. As much as I'd like you guys to endlessly talk about how great I am," I got sheepish looks. "I think the question of whether I'm qualified or not is answered. Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I'll let you guys figure out when and where to meet, and all that crock." I stood up, and turned to Daphne. "You coming, Daphne? I think we can still squeeze in a nice walk."

"I'd like that." Daphne said, before we left together, garnering a few curious and jealous gazes from the students. Daphne's sister was looking at us a little bit too intently.

Once outside, I shivered a little. It was getting a bit chilly. I felt a little cheesy doing it, but I offered my arm to Daphne. She latched onto it with a smile, enjoying the heat off of my body. I blushed, feeling like I was way out of my element here.

We walked in pleasant silence, admiring our surroundings, as well as each other.

"Do you really think we stand a chance against him?" I heard her ask.

"Against Voldemort in person? Probably not anytime soon." I said honestly, feeling her tense. "You'll definitely beat his underlings, though."

"What about you? What will you be doing?" She pressed, looking a little worried at the dark look on my face.

I sighed tiredly.

"Let's not worry about that, yeah?" I gave her a forced smile. She stared at me for a few moments, before nodding.

"Sorry. It's not my place. I shouldn't have—"

"It's all right." I waved her off. There was nothing wrong with being curious, after all.

"Did you have fun, today?" I asked, changing the subject.

She gave me a haughty look. "It could've been worse."

"Any hints on how to make it better?"

"Hmm..." Daphne tightened her grip on my arm and moved even closer to me, giving me a peck on the cheek. "You seem to be doing just fine right now, _Potter_." She purred out my name.

She rolled her eyes at the slightly dazed grin on my face, as we walked back to the carriages leading us back to Hogwarts Castle.

**ooooooooooooooo**

Done! Pretty calm interlude. I hope you don't cringe at the corniness of the date, heh.


	14. Chapter 14

...Again. I'll state that the demons/ancient dragons/global anarchy part is for much later. Calling it out of place and stupid is a very silly thing to say. It won't be out of place because I'll simply set it up so that it won't be out of place. **_It's that__ simple._**

To a guest reviewer; I don't know where you got that idea, but most spells don't travel at the speed of light. Not even close. The fastest ones are on the level of a speeding arrow.

**casual reader**: I see no reason why I should explain Daphne's friendliness to Harry.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter**.**

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

_"You are a cancer  
>You are the dying<br>breed of the **old age**  
>The flames are rising<br>a burning empire  
>Grown on ignorance<br>The truth in our fire,  
>lit so passionate" - <strong>We Came As Romans - Present, Future and Past<strong>  
><em>

**Chapter 14: First Meeting  
><strong>

_BY ORDER OF  
>The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts<em>

_All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded._

_An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students._

_Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge)._

_No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

_Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

_Signed,  
>Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor.<br>_

"That's nice." I quipped in forced amusement, staring at the notice put in the Gryffindor common room. A few of the students I met up with at the Hog's Head were looking at the decree with disappointment. I gave them a sideways glance, and smirked. As if this was going to stop us!

"Though, talk about complete control and surveillance, eh?" I continued, a harsh glint forming in my eyes. I wanted to tear this woman apart, but I was still not combat ready. I wanted to be able to force Dumbledore to a standstill, at the very least. Right now, I could hold him back for a a minute or two before losing. Maybe I'd be ready after a month or two of practice.

These thoughts persisted until my Potions class started. We handed in the homework, before Snape began his lesson.

"You will notice." Professor Snape drawled. "That we have a _special_ guest with us today."

The greasy haired man gestured towards the back of the class, where Umbridge was sitting, with a clipboard on her knee, smiling sweetly. I resisted the urge to punch the woman in the face. I glanced off to the side; Neville looked more enraged than I'd ever seen him in my life.

"It was insane, mate." Ron whispered, noticing my glance. "Malfoy said something about people whose brains were addled by magic, and Neville just flew at him in a rage. Dean, Seamus and I had to hold him back."

So Malfoy did that, huh? I wondered if the blonde Slytherin knew about Frank and Alice Longbottom's permanent stay at St. Mungo's, or if he just managed to get lucky with his insult. Either way, revenge was going to be swift, and harsh.

Professor Snape continued as if he didn't hear us. "We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today; you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson." He sneered at Ron for a moment. "If correctly made, they should have matured well over the weekend."

He waved his wand at the board. "Your instructions are on the board. Carry on."

I followed the procedure, adding the salamander blood, followed by the pomegranate juice. Then, I infused the potion with my magic for exactly six seconds. That seemed to be a pretty good way to go about it. From past experience, five seconds of infusion was not quite enough, while seven seconds was a little too much. Six was pretty stable, all things considered— which was weird, considering Arithmancy enjoyed putting so much emphasis on the number seven, the supposed most powerful magical number.

Umbridge just stayed in her spot, scribbling away at the clipboard. What the hell could she possibly be writing? Probably something along the lines of "the kids are brewing dangerous potions. They're probably for the army that Dumbledore is raising." That's gotta be it. Actually, a Strengthening Solution seemed to be a pretty nice thing to have, come to think of it. Increasing my strength further than it already was, was definitely a smart move.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level." Umbridge got off her chair, gazing at everyone condescendingly. "Though I wonder if it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Wow, she pretty much reacted just as I'd predicted.

The request/order made sense, though. Why give us the chance of increasing our body strength in case we lost our wands? You know, because most of the students don't know shit about defense due to having terrible teachers— can't have them use potions to overthrow us, either. I shared a look with Hermione and Daphne. The two girls nodded back, having thought the same thing as me.

"If that is your wish." Professor Snape said a strange glint in his eyes.

"Now, how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" She questioned. I went back to adding the last ingredient of my potion, and stirring counter-clockwise.

"Fourteen years."

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" The disgusting woman gave him an appraising gaze.

"Yes." Snape confirmed.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

"Obviously." He sneered at her; and why shouldn't he? Fucking bureaucrats, man. Wasn't it evident that he _didn't_ succeed, considering he was teaching _Potions_ and not Defense Against the Dark Arts?

She kept questioning him about his following attempts to snag the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, and dared to ask why the Headmaster hadn't accepted his requests.

"I suggest you ask him." Snape said, looking a bit angry.

"Oh, I shall." The woman said threateningly with a smile, before walking to Parkinson and questioning her about the lesson.

Snape glanced at me. We shared a look. I beckoned him over with a nod.

"Something the matter, Potter? Can't even make your potion right?" Professor Snape sneered derisively, and walked over to us, his cloak billowing with every step.

"Oh, no, nothing like that." I answered politely, before whispering. "I was wondering, just how much strength does this Strengthening Solution give?"

"It depends on the quality of said solution." He pretended to look displeased at my obviously well made potion as he quietly answered. "I would say that yours would increase your strength fivefold. The duration of the increased strength depends on the amount of potion you drink. A small vial would guarantee around ten minutes."

Holy shit. Well, time to mass produce this stuff! Fivefold strength, on top of my lightning enhanced strength. Can you imagine how overpowered that was? More strength, also meant more speed, since speed was defined by how strong muscles were.

"Thank you for clearing that up, Professor." I said and pretended to glare back at the man.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" He barked out, before hovering over other people, waiting for them to slip up so he can publicly humiliate them. Call me crazy, but I think Snape was just making the best of a bad situation.

No, wait, hear me out for a second! He's been forced to teach Potions instead of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and to pretend he's a douche bag to any one who's not in Slytherin. Granted, that was pretty easy to pull off, considering the things that Sirius and Remus told me about during what they affectionately refer to as 'the old days'. So, basically, Snape was dealing with a bunch snot nosed brats on a daily basis, teaching them a subject he doesn't really want to teach, due to his goal of becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Who _wouldn't_ lash out in that kind of situation? To hell with professionalism, and propriety in class. It was a miracle the man hadn't gone postal yet; he had an iron will, that's for sure. I probably would've gone on a killing spree.

I felt like I understood Snape a little more.

I wasn't really sure if that was good or bad. Leaning on 'bad'.

Hermione and Ron looked a mix of appalled and amused. I silenced them with a stare, not wanting anyone else to pick up on it.

"Those who are finished with the potion, turn in your samples at my desk so that I may correct them." Professor Snape said clearly, sitting at his desk and glaring hatefully at everything in existence.

I put the bare minimum amount of Strengthening Solution in a flagon, before handing it to Snape. The rest, I placed in a large round flask for personal use. I couldn't wait to see how far I could go, using those.

The bell chimed, signaling the end of the class. Hermione, Ron and I exited the class, and went to the Great Hall for a well deserved lunch. As I was taking my usual seat, I noticed Daphne and her friend Tracey entering the Great Hall, and beckoned them over to sit with us— pushing Ron out of the way with a grunt.

The two attractive girls leisurely made their way to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the queer looks they seemed to be getting from Slytherins and the Gryffindors, and sat next to me. Ron looked dismayed when Tracey sat next to him, but I felt that reaction was halfhearted at best, judging from the way he was stealing looking at an oblivious Tracey, who seemed to be as messy of an eater as he is.

Heh, Ron was always a bit slow, wasn't he? He's a good guy, though. All the luck to him.

"Did you read the announcement?" Daphne asked lightly as we all scarfed down our lunches.

"They put one in each common room, then?" I mused, looking over at the other tables, and nodding at the members of our new study group. They all relaxed in their chairs, reassured that we were still going through with our own plans. It felt a little exciting, really. We were sticking it to the man.

"Yep, everyone was all annoyed about it, too." Tracey said, while loudly munching on some crackers. Hermione was looking aghast, not believing that there could be a female version of Ron.

"She's getting desperate." I noted, glancing at the teacher's table, and then back at my friends. "We're still going through with it, of course. No doubt about that."

"Just what I wanted to hear!" Fred popped in from behind me. And where there was Fred—

"Our dear ickle Harry's following in our footsteps!" George said, wiping at his eyes with my napkin. Dick! I wanted to wipe my mouth. I grumbled and grabbed Hermione's clean napkin and wiped my mouth with it, ignoring her protests. When in Rome...

"Look! He's even antagonizing the Evil Prefect! I'm so proud." Fred pretended to cry.

"Did you know that she's been called She-Who-Knits by the Hogwarts' elves?" George whispered conspiratorially.

"Really?" I looked amused.

"No." Fred said.

I frowned.

"But they're really scared of her!" George hastened to add.

I perked up, looking mollified.

"Speaking of house elves." I said, grabbed my book bag and got up. "I'm going to get a soda from the kitchens."

"You're addicted, mate!" Ron said between mouthfuls. Hermione looked reproachfully at me.

"You're one to talk! Remember the first week?" I reminded with a laugh. "You drank like ten cans in the span of a few minutes, and then asked for more."

"You're just jealous I could do it, and not you." Ron turned up his nose at me.

"...That's beside the point." I couldn't fight off a smile. "See you later, guys."

"Actually, I could do with one, too." Tracey got up as well, much to the hidden disappointment of Ron. As I walked away, I heard Hermione begin to grill Daphne on how she knew me. Tracey hurried after me.

"So, Potter." Tracey began awkwardly.

"Let me guess." I answered wryly. "You want to ask me what my intentions are towards Daphne."

"How did you kn— I mean, uh." The auburn haired girl stammered. "No I don't."

"Right." I said skeptically. "In any case, my intentions should be pretty easy to guess, no?"

Tracey said nothing, merely staring at me.

"What?" I looked at her askance. "I've had my eye on her for a while. She's never been a jerk to me. I remember, last year, she didn't wear those stupid badges that Malfoy handed out during the tournament."

Tracey shifted guiltily at the mention of that, probably having worn one herself.

"Plus, she's very interesting. I got to know her a little on our date, and I liked what I saw. Fair enough for you?" I continued.

"I suppose." The girl conceded with a shrug. "Just don't hurt her, okay? She's not had the best life."

How vague and mysterious. I knew better than to ask, of course.

"I'll keep that in mind." I promised. "Sheesh, it's like you're having us married off, already."

Tracey nervously laughed.

We got to the portrait leading to the kitchens. I let Tracey tickle the pear, since she seemed to enjoy doing that. The portrait swung open, revealing the hundreds of house elves working their collective butts off. Holy crap, if Muggle companies had access to these guys then their economy would be shot to hell.. Free labor. Simple as that.

"Harry Potter!" I heard a familiar elf squeak. I looked to the side to see Dobby jumping around excitedly as if Christmas has come early.

"Hello, Dobby." I smiled at the little elf. "How are you doing?"

"Dobby is doing fine, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby said.

"Glad to hear it." I said. "Can we have some sodas, please?"

"Dobby will fetch them at once!" The elf skipped off.

"Strange elf." Tracey lightly commented.

"He's great." I spoke. "Very loyal."

"So, have you thought about where we're going to meet?" The Slytherin girl asked curiously.

"Not sure. I was thinking about the Chamber of Secrets..."

"Woah!" Tracey looked a little excited. "Brilliant."

"Well, see, I'm not too sure about it, though." I disagreed. "It's not exactly the most accessible place. Plus it's as dirty as the Hog's Head, what with the still rotting basilisk down there. Dreadful stench, by the way. Plus, it would take way too long for over twenty-five students to get there."

"Dobby has brought Harry Potter's sodas." Dobby piped in, holding two cans of pepsi. I wondered where he got them from.

"Sweet!" I cheered, grabbing the cans and handing one to Tracey. "Thanks, Dobby!"

I took a sip, relishing the taste.

"If Dobby may, Harry Potter sir." the crazy house elf said.

"Go ahead."

"Dobby knows the perfect place for the Great Harry Potter, sir!" He squeaked out happily.

"Indeed? Do tell."

What followed was absolutely mind blowing. A room on the Seventh Floor that shifted itself to your exact needs? Now _that _is bad-ass. Tracey looked as astonished as I am. I could already imagine the training I could complete. Oh man. Were there limits to this? Could the room create enemies to fight? What kind of obstacles courses could it make for me? The possibilities were endless.

I wanted to go there right at that moment, but I had my Defense Against the Dark Arts class to deal with. If I skipped that like I was skipping my Divination and History classes, I would surely gain more of the Ministry's attention. While I was now confident in being able to take down an Auror or two, having an entire platoon of them going after me just because I skipped class was not what I wanted in life.

"All right." Tracey said after we left the kitchens. "So, we know where we're going to have the meetings."

"Definitely." I had to compose myself, my excitement had Tracey a little unnerved. "You tell Daphne, her little sister and Pucey about it. We're meeting there at seven."

"That sounds fine. What about you?" Tracey asked.

"Well, right now I have my Defense class. I'll tell Hermione to tell everyone else about it." I shrugged nonchalantly. "That's her job. She organizes these things, and I attempt to teach you guys stuff."

"Fair enough. Remember what I said about Daphne." The auburn haired girl warned.

"Yeah, yeah!" I hurried to my class.

As per usual, Umbridge had us reading from Slinkhard's useless book. I continued my antics of pretending to read and nodding every ten to twenty seconds. Even though the class was already used to this by now, some of them still sent me amused smirks.

"Mr. Potter." Professor Umbridge called out. I looked up from my book, looking surprised.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I have heard some disquieting rumors, Mr. Potter." She said. Now everyone was looking at us.

"Rumors, you say?" I repeated.

"Indeed."

"What have the students been saying about you, Professor?" I asked, faking a look of concern. She was probably going to ask me about the study group I formed.

"I— What—" Looks like that question got her off her game.

"Do not worry, Professor." I gave her a fake smile. "I wouldn't trust whatever comes out of the rumor mill. Last year, they said I was a liar who somehow cheated his way into the Triwizard Tournament— the one I won, if you recall." I said in what I thought was a soothing tone.

I continued before she could say anything. "There was also some strange rumor about Draco Malfoy, as well. It's probably nothing."

"Draco Malfoy, you say?" Umbridge's beady eyes rested on me. "Care to share, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh— well, it's not my place, Professor. I don't wish to disturb the class." I said, smiling politely at the woman I wanted to break in two.

"Fret not, Mr. Potter. I shall make an exception in this case." Umbridge said in what she thought was a soothing voice.

"All right, if you're sure, Professor." I seemed to hesitantly consent. "Well, I heard a few of the upper years that graduated last year that were talking about Draco, and they said that... Well... I mean, it just can't be true, right? There's no possible way."

"They said, what, Mr. Potter?" She pressed on.

"Well, they said he was part veela." I said with as much disbelief as I could muster, ignoring Lavender's shocked gasp. "But it can't be true, right? Do veela males even exist?"

"They do." Hermione blurted out before apologizing. I tried not to smirk.

"I see." I gave Professor Umbridge a winning smile. "It's very unlikely, of course. Wouldn't you agree, Professor?"

But Umbridge looked like she was sick. I'd known about her anti-creature crusade in the Ministry thanks to Remus. Apparently she had drafted quite a bit of legislation against werewolves. That was why it was very difficult for him to find a job.

In any case, the damage was done. Lavender and Parvati were likely to spread that rumor far and wide. That was just the beginning of my payback against Draco, really.

"Professor?" I tried again, when she didn't answer.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Are you all right? You seem somewhat distracted."

"I am fine, Mr. Potter. Return to your reading." She instructed before beginning to scribble furiously on some blank parchment. The rest of the class was spent in silence, though Ron was giving me a look of pure, unbridled awe.

As we left the class, I turned to my classmates.

"Seven O'clock, Seventh Floor. Tell the others." I informed them, before turning to Hermione. "Think you could figure out a way for everyone to communicate a bit more easily?"

"I might." Hermione supplied, biting her lip in thought.

"Get it done, then." I ordered, before briskly walking away, heading straight to the Come and Go Room.

I was exactly where Dobby had told me to go. I saw a painting with a wizard getting smacked by trolls while trying to teach them ballet.

"Barnabas the Barmy, indeed." I chuckled, before walking in front of the wall three times, thinking about a big training room with an obstacle course. Just as Dobby had said, the wall seemed to shimmer before a door formed. It was quite an unassuming door, all things considered. Something that others would simply pass by without suspecting a thing.

I entered the room, and was struck with shock. The room— it was way too big to be called that— was exactly like I imagined it. There was a large open area that could easily fit everyone, with a few bookshelves to the side, most likely filled with Defense textbooks. Next to that area, there was the obstacle course that Dumbledore had created for me a while back. Floating threateningly around it, were a few bludgers, likely to attack anyone who was crossing the obstacles.

I began to laugh maniacally. The things I could do with this place...

A few hours later, I wiped the sweat off my brow, feeling sore but beyond satisfied. The training session I just had was the best in a long while. Dumbledore had stopped the sessions once the detentions were over, so as to avoid scrutiny from Professor Umbridge; but he did leave me with a few ideas to work with to better my control over lightning. Ideas like creating various shapes with my lightning, as well as a few others.

"I could use a chair right now." I breathed a little hard. I felt a shift in the air, and a chair formed in front of me.

"Nice." I pulled it to the side, before grabbing a water out of my bag. I sat down and took a long swig, feeling refreshed. I stayed that way for a few minutes, staring at the room around me in silent contemplation.

There was a knock on the door. I willed the room to provide large number of chairs, as well as a large table to go with it. The room easily complied, providing with enough seating for thirty people.

"Come in!" I called out.

The door opened, and in gradually entered the members of the defense study group. They all stared at the room in wonder. Hermione automatically went for the bookshelves, while Ron was looking at the obstacle course with the wild bludgers, and then my slightly tired appearance. He moved to sit next to me.

"You ran that course, already." It wasn't a question.

"Heh, can't get anything past you, can I?" I winced and rubbed at my side. I lifted my shirt, showing Ron a large bruise. The redhead grimaced.

"Bludger to the ribs." I explained quietly, and covered myself back up. "It'll remind me to dodge, next time."

No one saw our exchange, being too busy checking out the room. After a while, Daphne came to sit next to me.

"You stink." Daphne said immediately.

"Thanks for noticing." I deadpanned.

She snorted.

"Harry, this is perfect!" Hermione exclaimed holding a stack of books and dumping them on the table, before beginning to read.

"Pretty sweet, isn't it?" I said, as more and more people entered.

Around ten minutes before seven, everyone was here. I willed the room to make the door disappear, and it did, to the wonder of the others.

I cleared my throat, gaining everyone's attention.

"I'm assuming you all found the place to your liking?"

"It's brilliant!" Lee piped up, and got a few murmurs of agreement.

"It's strange." Fred commented. "We once hid from Filch in here, but it was a broom cupboard..."

"You wouldn't be wrong." I answered. "This room takes the form of whatever you need."

"Wicked." Both twins chorused.

"Anyway, I figure we can start things off simple and—" I noticed Hermione's hand was up. "What is it, Hermione?"

"I think we ought to elect a leader." Hermione asked.

"That's pointless." I said automatically. "I'm the leader."

"Yes, but a vote would make it formal and give you authority." She argued.

I sighed. "Sure, whatever. All in favor of me being leader?" All hands rose. I gave Hermione an amused glance.

"Happy?" I asked.

"No." She said. "I also think we should have a name for this group, something to promote unity."

"...Fair enough." I agreed. "Any suggestions?"

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" Angelina asked hopefully.

"While I like the sentiment, I don't even like saying that bitch's name." I countered, and got a few nods of agreement.

"How about the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group." Fred suggested, making a few of us laugh.

"Harry's Hookers?" I suggested lightly, making a few students choke.

"I was thinking." Hermione said disapprovingly. "More of a name that didn't tell anyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it outside of meetings."

"The Defense Association?" Cho inserted helpfully. "The D.A. for short, that way no one can tell what it is."

"That's a good suggestion," Ginny said excitedly. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

There was a murmur of agreement and some appreciative laughter.

"I would've preferred to be your Hooker..." Daphne whispered in my ear mischievously. I blushed.

She knew just what to say to a guy, didn't she?

"All in favor of the DA?" Hermione asked, and most of the hands rose. "Motion passed!"

She took the contract out and wrote "Dumbledore's Army" across the top. She then pinned it on the wall.

"We ready?" I asked, and got nods in return.

"Good!" I smiled. "Let's start out with a simple spell. Since this is our first meeting, and Hermione hasn't yet made a proper plan—" The girl in question flushed. "I figured I'd start us off by a simple but very useful spell. The Disarming Charm, _Expelliarmus_."

"Oh, _please_." Zacharias Smith scoffed, looking highly skeptical. The boy in question folded his arms. "I don't think _Expelliarmus_ is going to help much in a fight."

"Is that so?" I challenged. "All right then. Guys, give us some room. First lesson will be a practical one. Ron, can you call the match?"

"Sure."

Everyone except Smith and I stood off in the side. He didn't look so sure anymore.

"So!" I cheerfully began. "Here's the deal. Use every spell you know on me. I'll only use _Expelliarmus. _Easy enough?"

"All right then." He drew his wand and slid into a stance. I decided to emulate Dumbledore during my first fight against him, and simply stared Zacharias down, channeling lightning into my muscles surreptitiously. He looked a little incredulous, if a bit insulted at not being taken seriously.

"Okay." Ron stood in the middle. "Ready... Go!" He backed off.

Zacharias waved his wand, sending out various schoolboy jinxes at me. I easily dodged every single one, making him up the speed of his spell casting.

"_Reducto__!_" Dodged. "_Langlock__!_" Badly aimed. _"Locomotor Mortis!_" Jumped over. "_Flipendo!_" Sidestepped. "_Depulso__!_" Dodged. "_Stupefy!_" Ducked. "_Confringo!_"

The wall behind me suffered an extensive amount of damage as I avoided every single spell the boy sent with ease. Smith kept up his assault for another thirty seconds, before stopping, all spent.

I finally pulled my wand out.

"_Expelliarmus._" His wand flew into my hand. There was a deafening silence, only broken by Smith's ragged breathing.

"So," I said conversationally, twirling the boy's wand without a care in the world. "What's this about _Expelliarmus_ being useless?"

**ooooooooooooooo**

Well, that's done.


	15. Chapter 15

Hm. Some of you didn't like the fact that I've stuck with Dumbledore's Army as the name of the defense group. One of you even said that "EVERYONE keeps using it". Harry didn't give the group a name because he doesn't give a rat's ass about it. He's gaining nothing from this endeavor; hell, he's stunting his own growth because his pesky conscience won't let him ignore the students who will need to defend themselves in the near future.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter**.**

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 15: Earth Release  
><strong>

_Neville Longbottom_.

I checked the Marauder's Map, and the said boy's empty bed for the tenth time tonight. The map said he was near the greenhouses, though I had no idea what he could possibly be doing over there. What was he doing that was so secret that he left after midnight?

"He's not _that_ into Herbology." I muttered to myself as Ron channeled the noise of a roaring engine into his snores. Dean and Seamus were somehow sound asleep through it all.

I thought back to when I first began looking at Neville in a new light, a few weeks ago.

It was during a meeting of the... Dumbledore's Army, was it? I wasn't really paying attention when they were coming up with the group's name. It could be called 'Dick Admirers' for all I knew. Anyway, it was after I pretty much humiliated Zacharias Smith so that he wouldn't challenge my authority again. I'm sure there were plenty of hard feelings, but he's not worth wasting time over.

The idiot had literally stood in place, shooting spells around. What if I was fighting back? Would he have dodged? I really doubted it.

So, there I was, instructing everyone on how to use _Expelliarmus_. Everyone was paired up except Neville. I figured we could practice on each other. I figured I'd see how fast he could react to sudden danger, and shot a quick _Expelliarmus _at the round faced boy. What followed was astounding.

The fellow Gryffindor was in the process of reacting to it, but stopped himself and _let himself get hit_. There was no other explanation. You didn't just go through the motion of dodging and stop yourself if you weren't aware of an attack coming. People who didn't see attacks coming usually ended up dead or injured.

Essentially, Neville somehow knew I was going to attack him, and let himself get hit in order to avoid suspicion. He didn't figure out that I'd noticed this deception, though.

I played it off as my attempt at testing him, and faked a look of slight disappointment at his 'failure', then had him practice disarming me for a few minutes. He pretty much fumbled his way through the spell, with it failing several times. When he finally managed to get it, I congratulated him, and set him up against a few others to practice.

After that particular night, I started stealthily watching the round faced boy during class and lunch times and came to a confusing realization.

He was holding himself back in every single subject except Herbology. I could tell by his facial expression shift. It was as if he didn't care about any of his subjects.

But why?

What was his angle? Was there even an angle?

Then I started noticing that he kept leaving the dorms every few nights. I figured it was no business of mine, but I was getting increasingly curious as time went on, and a little worried about the guy.

I pulled out some warm clothes, and my Cloak of Invisibility. I was going to confront Neville about it; if he wanted me to butt out, I would respect his wishes. Simple as that.

I put the Cloak on, and silently left the dorms, followed by the Common Room. The hallways of Hogwarts Castle were eerily silent. The moonlight gave the snowy backdrop an ethereal feel to it, like it came straight out of a fantasy novel or game. I admired the views as I made my way through the many corridors to get to the castle grounds. It took a little more time, but I finally reached the greenhouses. I checked my map again.

_Neville Longbottom._

Okay, he was still here. Time to figure out what he was doing at this time of ni—

The ground shook as slabs of rock rose from my sides and closed in on me, pinning me in between them. There was no time to react. I grunted and attempted to push the walls off of me, but it was a futile gesture. If anything, the walls constricted me even further.

"Who are you?" A familiar voice said from behind me. I couldn't turn my head, due to being locked in place between the walls. It was Neville's voice, though he sounded uncharacteristically hostile.

"Neville, it's me!" I answered back quickly, though it came out as a strangled choking noise instead. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Oh, right." Neville chuckled and the pressure decreased slightly. "Now you can talk. Who are you?"

I took a deep breath and gulped.

"It's me, Harry." I said with some effort. "Can you release me, now? It's really hard to breathe."

"H-Harry?" The boy sounded a little shocked at this. The walls immediately sank into the ground, releasing me from that quite painful predicament. I fell unceremoniously in the thickening snow, clutching at my squished arms, massaging the muscles for relief.

"How did you _not_ recognize me?" I bit out a little grumpily, water seeping into my shoes.

"...I can't even see you, Harry."

Can't even see me— oh! I realized I was still wearing the Cloak. Well, I felt stupid.

I got to my feet, before taking off the Cloak. I turned to see a slightly impressed, if mortified Neville gazing at me.

"An invisibility cloak? No wonder I didn't see you." Neville laughed in an attempt to dispel his discomfort.

"Fat lot of good that did." I scoffed, motioning to my sore arms and chest. "You got me anyway."

"Yes, well..." Neville looked uncomfortable. "I'm a little different from other people."

What a vague and mysterious statement!

"Different, huh?" I asked lightly. "Is that why you've been deliberately holding yourself back all the time?"

I saw the boy's face shift into shock, before he slowly backed away.

"How did you know..?" Neville demanded wearily.

"I paid attention." I answered honestly. "Remember the first DA meeting? You took my surprise _Expelliarmus_ on purpose. You could've dodged it, but you stopped yourself."

Neville said nothing.

"Then I took the time to watch you during classes, and meal times." I took his silence as a good sign. "It's like you're constantly suppressing yourself, pretending to be a timid coward of a boy. And it had me fooled for four years. Hell, it had _everyone _fooled!"

Neville winced when I said that.

"Oh, don't worry." I grinned. "I'm not going to hold it against you. Well, unless you're secretly evil?"

Neville gave me a deadpan look.

"No? Some plans for world domination perhaps?" I kept going.

"Nothing like that." Neville flicked his hand absentmindedly, and two large throne-like chairs jutted out of the ground, as well as a large igloo-like dome which encircled us, blocking out the wind, except from the exit, an oval shaped hole to the side. He took a seat and motioned for me to join him.

"Well, that's... new." I sat down. The earthen chair felt remarkably solid, yet it also felt very soft, warm and comforting. We sat for a while, neither of us knowing what to say.

"I'm surprised you're not freaking out about me finding out." I broke the silence.

"I doubt you'll go blabbing to people, Harry." Neville countered. "So I do not see a reason to 'freak out', as you say."

"True." I conceded.

"And, even if you were to blab, there's not much I could do, is there?" Neville said ruefully. "_Obliviate_ can't work since I'm not exactly skilled with a wand. They probably wouldn't believe your claim at all, actually, since they think I'm a complete weakling when holding a wand."

"The hell you are." I said immediately, motioning to the chairs we were sitting in.

"Well, note that I said '_when holding a wand_'." Neville pointed out. "I created these chairs without a wand."

"Yeah, I saw that." My mind went into overdrive. I thought I was the only one capable of this level of magic. Then again, Professor Dumbledore wasn't really surprised to see me channel the lightning, as if he'd come across people with these kinds of abilities in the past. I had honestly thought that he had a good poker face, and just didn't let it look like it surprised him.

It made sense, in a way. How else would Professor Dumbledore have known to give me precise advice on how to refine my control over lightning? Something to think about, I supposed.

"I'm thinking it's some kind of Earth Magic?" I tried.

"You're taking this whole 'I can do wandless magic' thing pretty well." Neville observed with a hint of amusement. "I thought I would have to calm you down and explain it to you."

"I'll admit." I said honestly, extending my hand, palm facing up. "I would've probably been freaking out if I couldn't already do _this_."

The lightning erupted from my palm. It crackled loudly and filled the rock igloo we sat in with a bright, bluish white light. I let this go on for a few more seconds, before closing my fist abruptly, making a small shock wave erupt. I liked it when that happened.

I looked at Neville. His mouth was slightly open, before he shook his head in exasperation.

"Of course." He laughed. "Should've known. You're a Potter, after all."

"Huh?" I said intelligently?

"Your affinity with lightning!" The boy pointed out, looking a little confused. "It's your family's magic."

"My family's magic?" I repeated, disbelieving. "They could do this too?"

"...You mean, you don't know?"

"No. How the hell should I know?" I responded a little defensively.

"Then how did you learn?" Neville looked impressed, and a little concerned.

"Taught myself." I answered, starting to feel a little queasy. So it was my family's magic? Were they Lightning Dragon Slayers, too?

"So wait, you're saying my dad could do this?" I asked faintly. If he could channel lightning, then how the hell did he lose against Voldemort? It didn't make sense.

"I doubt it." Neville denied with a shake of his head and began explaining. "You would have to reach a certain level of power to be capable of using this magic. Most people don't even get close to the requirements. Even then, you could only learn the element you were attuned to."

So, what he was saying is that, if I didn't possess this lightning affinity, I would've been lying dead in the smallest bedroom of Number Four, with copper wires in my mouth, which were hooked up to batteries. That was a very scary thought. I didn't dare voice it out. He looked alarmed enough!

I took a deep breath.

"I see." I said slowly. "In any case, I mostly taught myself how to channel the lightning last summer. What about you? When did you start?"

"I've had this power since I was very little." Neville admitted wryly. "See, I always seemed to know where people were, even if I didn't see or hear them. As long as they were standing on stone, sand or earth, I knew where they were. I figured that was a normal thing..."

How could he have considered that to be remotely normal?

"I lived in a magical house, full of magical people who could do all sorts of things with a simple wave of their wands. Being able to tell where someone was seemed so mundane I figured everyone could do it." Neville said a little defensively, having correctly read my incredulous facial expression.

"Fair enough."

"Right." Neville took a breath. "Of course, as the years went by, I figured out that it was a sign of the Longbottom magic. Remember during our first feast in the Great Hall, when I told you guys about the time my Great Uncle Algie dropped me from the second floor to see if I had magic?"

I nodded. "What about it? That guy's a dick, by the way."

"Well, I only bounced off of the ground because my magic forced the ground to become bouncy." Neville admitted. "Otherwise I'd have been dead or gravely injured."

"Like I said, that guy's an asshole." I repeated.

"I know. Believe me." Neville frowned angrily. "I know. When I'm head of the family, I'm striking him off of our tapestry. That should teach him an important lesson."

"Why not just break his arms?" I suggested.

"He's not worth that much effort. Besides, an injury like that can get healed very quickly." Neville countered logically. "Plus he's really old, there's not much I can do to him that he hasn't already experienced, except being cast out from the family. That ought to do the trick." He gave a savage grin. It was a little unnerving to see Neville jump so quickly between emotions.

"Okay, then. That works, I guess." I said, wondering if my friend was all right.

"Anyway, I didn't really try to figure out just how I survived, seeing as I was eight years old at the time." Neville continued with a hollow laugh. "Everyone was _happy_, of course. Gran got me Trevor as a pet for my First Year. I came to Hogwarts, figuring all my troubles were over."

I snorted loudly.

"Indeed." Neville acknowledged. "It seemed that magic was incredibly hard for me. Aside from being good at Herbology, which I later learned was because I was willing the ground to be as fertile as it could be, I was pants at Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, no matter how hard I tried to get my wand to respond."

"Why, though?" I cut in. "I can do magic with a wand just fine. I find it hard to believe that Ollivander couldn't find you a proper match. There are tons of them in his shop."

"Well, that's because I never went to Ollivander's." Neville clarified, pulling out his wand. "This was my father's wand."

"No wonder." I said in realization.

"What do you mean?" The boy looked a little confused.

"Well it's probably not a good match for you, now is it?" I questioned. "Ollivander took _ages_ to get me a good match. 'The wand chooses the wizard', he likes to say. Creepy guy, to be honest."

"If you say so." The boy shrugged.

"None of that." I stood up and pulled my holly and phoenix feather wand out. "I'll show you."

"_Accio_ _stone_." I pointed my wand at the snow; a stone flew out of the snow and into my hand. I threw the stone back into the snow, and turned to Neville.

"That's it?"

"No, now give me your wand." I held my hand out expectantly. Neville gave me a wary look.

"I don't know.."

"What? It's not like I'm going to break it." I argued.

He eventually handed it over.

"Okay, watch. _Accio_ _same stone_." The same stone wiggled in place for a few seconds before stopping.

"No doubt about it." I concluded, handing Neville his wand back and sat back down.

"What?" Neville asked, a little confused.

"I've essentially mastered the Summoning Charm last year." I explained. "My movements with your wand were beyond perfect, and yet it still failed. It's not a good match for me, and I doubt it's a good match for you, either."

I held out my wand to him. "Try with mine."

The moment Neville grabbed my wand— no homo— a few sparks came out of it.

"Wow, that was a pretty good reaction." I said, impressed. "Try using a spell you had trouble with in the past."

"_Accio that stone_." The said rock flew into his hand with ease. The boy looked beyond astonished at the ease with which he cast that spell.

"See?" I said, before taking back my wand. Neville was looking at his father's wand like it betrayed him, somehow. He started laughing hysterically, before stopping mid-laugh and sobbing instead. Shit, did I cause him to break down?

I put my hand on his shoulder, not really knowing how to deal with this.

"Aw, come on, man." I said and awkwardly gave his shoulder a squeeze. "It's not so bad."

"They all doubted me at every turn." The boy choked out, face stained with tears. "The failure! The loser. The squib student of Gryffindor! That's what they called me."

"You're no failure!" I said firmly. "You are no failure, Neville. You lasted over four years at Hogwarts with a wand that wasn't even a fucking match for you!"

"If that's a failure." I continued. "I'm scared to see what a genius looks like! You and I will go see McGonagall tomorrow, and we'll get you a new wand, all right?"

Neville looked at me for a while, before wiping at his face in embarrassment.

"I didn't want anyone to see me like this." His face was dry now, but he kept wiping at it.

"It's all right, Neville." I soothed. "I won't tell anyone. So, how about we talk about this earth magic of yours?"

It seemed to work, as the boy began to explain how his powers worked in great detail. We ended up talking well into the night, the biting cold not even affecting us.

The next day, as promised, I waited until after Transfiguration was done, before walking up to the teacher, with Neville trailing behind me.

"Can I help you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom?" Professor McGonagall eyed us.

"Well, I've been talking to Neville, and he told me that he never went to Ollivander's to get his wand; that he was using his father's wand instead." I simply stated.

"Indeed?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I have a feeling I know what you are going to say, but let's hear it, anyway. Mr. Longbottom?"

"I tried Harry's wand yesterday." Neville spoke up. "It worked really well. I'd like to get my own wand, please."

The teacher started muttering about idiotic old crones and their stubbornness, making our eyes widen in slight surprise.

"Come along, Longbottom." She sighed, getting up. "I was hoping to spend the rest of the day in peace, but it seems I must have a conversation with your grandmother Augusta. Five points to Gryffindor for bringing me the issue, Mr. Potter. I shudder to think what Mr. Longbottom's O.W.L. results would have been, had he been using an ineffectual wand."

I watched the old woman lead Neville away, a contented smile on my face. I left the classroom feeling great. I was joined by Ron and Hermione.

"What was that about, mate?" Ron asked curiously. "You look like Christmas came early."

"It's nothing. I just feel really happy, that's all." I said, still smiling; they both smiled back.

"So are you coming to see the match today? It's Gryffindor vs Slytherin." Ron asked hopefully.

"No, I've got some extra training to do." I said after pretending to think about it.

"All right, then." Ron deflated. Hermione looked a little uncomfortable.

"I'll see you guys later." I gave Ron a pat on the back and nodded to Hermione before walking away.

That conversation was a little awkward, wasn't it? I guess Ron was trying hard to keep our friendship going, but I honestly didn't care about Quidditch any more. I preferred nice flying trips over the Forest with my Firebolt. Now those were fun; I felt free, in the sky. I felt like I could do anything.

I sighed pulled the Map out of my book bag, checking the same spot I'd been checking since the start of term. My eyes widened.

_Rubeus Hagrid._

"He's back!" I blurted out, before taking off at a brisk pace. The afternoon sun shone on my back as Hagrid's Hut began appearing in the distance. Looks like he already had a fire going, judging from the smoke coming out of the chimney. I reached the door and knocked loudly. I heard Fang's frantic barking.

"Whozzair!" I heard Hagrid yell out, and I smiled.

"It's me!" I said loudly.

"Shoulda known!" I smirked at that.

I felt, more than heard, his footsteps as he walked to the door. The bolt drew back, and the door opened, revealing Hagrid. I stared at him in shock.

"All right, Harry?" The large man said, looking happy. Or was he in pain? I couldn't tell.

"...You look like shit, Hagrid." I finally said.

And indeed, he looked horrible. He was bruised, bloody and cut up all over. Hagrid looked like he went against meat grinder and lost horribly.

Hagrid's beard twitched at the crude statement.

"Get in, then." He said amiably.

I squeezed past the man, into his home, and watched him sit down in his chair with a difficulty, a sign of possible broken bones. Fang danced around me, happy to see me. I also sat down, and absentmindedly petted the cowardly dog, as Hagrid slapped a gigantic piece of green-tinged meat on the left side of his face. He sighed in relief.

"That's much better." Hagrid said, relaxing a little.

"That's.. Dragon meat, right?" I asked for confirmation. I'd read a ton of books about dragons, after I had my conversation with Dumbledore during one of my many 'detentions'. As the Headmaster had said, there were mentions of the ancient dragons that inhabited the world. They were all thought to be extinct, ever since a catastrophic event occurred in the third century. The book was vague on the details, stating that the 'Ancient Ones' simply disappeared off the face of the planet, leaving their weaker fire counterparts behind.

Hagrid tried to beam at me, but it came out as a wince instead. "Yer right, Harry."

"The giants really did a number on you, didn't they? You look like you couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag, right now." I said lightly. Hagrid merely stared at me in alarm with his visible eye, before shaking his head in exasperation, the slab of meat dripping everywhere.

"I'm not even gunna ask how yeh knew 'bout it." Hagrid grumbled good-naturedly.

"Oh, I guess you don't know yet." I said, a little surprised. "I'm part of the Order now."

Hagrid gaped.

"How'd you manage tha'?" The man asked incredulously.

"Well..." I explained exactly what happened, leaving nothing out.

I spoke of how I demanded to be allowed in the meetings, claiming that I would leave and proceed to maim and cripple every Death Eater that got in the way of my justice if I didn't get exactly what I wanted. I showed Hagrid a glimpse of my powers over the element of lightning, as well. Hagrid actually looked mightily impressed at the display.

"Always knew there was somethin' special about yeh, Harry." Hagrid said after witnessing my lightning. "Ever since I first laid eyes on yeh."

"I'm guessing you didn't know about all of this because you—"

"Didn' wan' owls followin' me all over the place, yeah." Hagrid confirmed.

"And I'm assuming from your injuries that the mission didn't pan out, huh?"

"Death Eaters were already there. We— Olympe an' me— tried givin' the Gurg— tha's the chief, see— offerings." Hagrid explained, enjoying the feeling of the cold meat on his bruised face for a moment, before continuing.

"Dumbledore had made a branch o' Gubraithian fire— everlasting fire, that is— as the first offering, which isn' somethin' any wizard could do. The Gurg— giant by the name of Karkus— seemed ter be really pleased by it. We ended up givin' him more offerings the next day— can't give them all at once, see, 'cause the giants'll just kill yeh." Hagrid went on to explaining how the giant's social system worked.

Hagrid took a breath. "That second night, a fight broke out. Olympe an' I saw it from the mouth of our cave. Went on fer hours, yeh wouldn' believe the noise. Next day, Karkus' head was lyin' at the bottom o' the lake, and there was a new Gurg— Golgomath, his name was— ter deal with. We later learned that Death Eaters were already allied with the new Gurg; so we tried ter reason with the giants that were against Golgomath. Most of 'em ended up dyin' 'cause of it."

Hagrid stared into the fire for a long moment.

"I see." I said, and looked at Hagrid. "I'm glad you're all right— well," I amended when I realized my wording was wrong. "Glad you're not dead, rather."

"Thanks, I s'pose." Hagrid didn't sound very thankful.

"Hey, Hagrid?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you bring with you?" I asked.

"How did you—"

"Your wounds are recent, and your mission barely lasted a few months, from the looks of it." I said logically, stopping whatever excuse he was going to come up with. "Makes sense, doesn't it?"

The half-giant looked like he was debating with himself for a moment, before nodding. "Yeh always know too much fer yer own good, Harry."

"So what is it?" I asked excitedly. "Another dragon?"

"Two things, actually." Hagrid began, and pointed off to a decent sized cage to the side of the hut. I got up and approached it.

"Careful now, don't get too close." Hagrid warned.

"What is it?" I asked, but when I got closer, I realized that I didn't need to. It was a black viper, curled up to the side of the cage which was closest to the fire. It raised up its head when it noticed my presence.

_§Who are you? You're not the large one§_ It hissed out at me curiously.

I was about to answer, before I heard continuous loud rapping on the door. I went and looked out the window.

Umbridge was here.

"Fucking bitch." I swore. Hagrid full out grinned, despite the pain it put him through.

**ooooooooooooooo**

**Omake: Lightning Dragon's Fart.**

It'd been a long day of training at Number Four Privet Drive. My lightning seemed to like to cause trouble every time I tried to channel it. I sighed while sitting on the toilet, thinking of why it was such a difficult task to channel such energy.

I felt a sudden pressure in my gut, and let it loose. The resulting lightning blast made me fly straight up, smashing my head against the ceiling.

I fell to the floor, dazed and confused as to what happened.

Ok, let's recap.

I was sitting on the toilet.

I was about to fart while thinking of my lightning.

I flew upwards.

...Lightning came out of my butt.

Right.

"WHAT THE FUCK? WHY?"

****ooooooooooooooo****

If you're wondering, I took a while to write this chapter because I've been playing loads of games like Shadow of Mordor, Mortal Kombat (2011), Borderlands (pre-sequel), League of Legends, etc. I got super immersed, hehe.

Let me know what you think. I plan to have the snake as Harry's pet. It should prove to be good fun.

Quick hint; there won't be some kind of magical bond, or parselmagic or whatever. The viper will simply be a pet.

Also, question: should I increase the rating to M?


	16. Chapter 16

**dreamjanus:** What's wrong with my Omake? I don't get it.

**xp3r1a**: I read your second chapter. That escalated pretty rapidly, eh? I'm gonna put you on follow. HEY GUYS, READ xp3r1a's STORY OR I'LL KICK YOU IN THE NUTS. Repeatedly. With a baseball. "But how can you kick someone in the nuts with a baseball?" One of you might say. Do you really want to find out? Anyway, read his story "The Architect of Fate".

**stardustpattern9**: Thanks for the vote of confidence. I was worried at first; didn't think people would like my story that much.

**Dark sword of vengance:** I don't believe in learning many techniques, but refining a small number of skills so that they become incredibly powerful.

I raised the rating to M, because it's not just sex and gore that raise the rating of a story. Plenty of M-rated stories out there that have neither smut nor gore. It's all about the story's themes, in my opinion. Themes that require a person with a full cognitive process to understand. It's not all just about the fight/sex scenes.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter**.**

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 16: I'll Snake Your Drain  
><strong>

"What's that fat bitch doing here?" I spat out venomously, backing away from the window.

"Who's tha'?" Hagrid asked curiously from his seat.

"Ministry representative." I answered grimly, ignoring the constant rapping. "She's been hired as Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. She's been gaining more and more power, though she hasn't really done much with it, aside from inspecting teachers. High _Inquisitor_, they call her."

It sounded so similar to the Spanish Inquisition, that I'd glossed over at some point in my life. Last year was Barty Crouch Sr. with his Hitler mustache, and now the Spanish Inquisition wanna-be. The Ministry was trying really hard to look like an oppressive tyrannical racist government, wasn't it? It was funny, in a way.

Or maybe that's my demented personality showing its face.

She was still knocking. Let it be known that she is one stubborn bitch.

"Ok, Hagrid. Just follow my lead. You were in Romania, handling dragons."

"Wha—"

"That's your cover story. Stay seated, pretend you're having trouble moving." I said simply, before moving to open the door. I pushed Fang out of the way, before pulling it open, revealing an irritated looking Dolores Umbridge. I carefully schooled my expression into that of pleasant surprise.

"Mr. Potter? What a... surprise." She simpered sweetly.

"Indeed it is, Professor!" I said jovially, motioning for the inside. "Please, come in! Come in!"

She complied without a word, instead choosing to observe her surroundings with a distasteful expression. I squashed down the urge to punch her. Her eyes fell on the beaten and battered Hagrid.

"You're Hagrid, then?" She asked, giving him a look of revulsion. I wasn't sure whether it was because he was half-giant, or because he looked truly horrible, with the injuries and the dragon steak on his face. Probably both, I reckon. What a bitch.

"Yeh'd be righ'." The man confirmed with a wince.

I grabbed a nearby chair, placing it behind Umbridge.

"Have a seat, Professor." I suggested amiably, gesturing at the dusty chair. "The trip here must have been very tiring for you." I wondered if she noticed the insult to her short and wide stature.

She regarded me for a moment, and then the chair, before sitting down uncomfortably.

I took my former seat.

"You're just in time, Professor." I said excitedly, breaking whatever question or boring speech she was about to hurl out at us. "Professor Hagrid was about to tell me about his trip to the Romanian Dragon Reserve."

"Er— You know Professor Hagrid then, Mr. Potter?" She asked with her grating voice.

What, didn't the fact that I was inside his hut before anyone else tell her the entire story?

"Oh, yes." I smiled benignly. "I've known him since my First Year at Hogwarts, Professor. Delivered my Hogwarts letter, see?"

"Oh, I understand."

I turned back to Hagrid.

"Anyway, tell me, Professor Hagrid." I continued with a formal, but excited tone of voice. "How is that Hungarian Horntail I battled during the First Task of the Triwizard tournament last year?"

"Righ' healthy, she is!" Hagrid said with a little wince. "Very energetic, protective of her children. Remember those eggs she was protectin'?"

"Yeah." I played along. "You're telling me they already hatched? Wow."

"Yeh're righ'." Hagrid's beard twitched. "Barmy little rascals. One tried ter bite my hand off!" He showed off his cut up right hand.

"Well, what about the rest of you?" I waved at his form, faking an incredulous, worried look. "I have a hard time believing a baby dragon could do all of _this_ to you."

"Yeh'd be righ' again, Mr. Potter." It felt weird to hear him call me that. "These injuries would be from the mother herself. Paid too much attention to the claws, got swiped by the tail. Righ' nasty tail, tha' is. Ter be hones', I should've expected it." Hagrid mused. "But tha' goes ter show tha' even the best of us make mistakes in the field."

You know, Hagrid was a pretty good liar if he stuck to his strengths. Being beaten around by a large dragon sounded quite believable for a man of Hagrid's reputation of loving dangerous beasts way too much.

"Wicked." I breathed out, sounding like I was latching on to every single word. "Well, what about the—"

"_hem, hem_." Umbridge cleared her throat, cutting off whatever I was about to say. We both turned to look at her, with slightly annoyed expressions. She looked a little intimidated by it.

"Oh, my apologies." My face cleared up, shifting into mock-embarrassment. "Professor Umbridge. I'd almost forgotten you were here. Is there anything you needed?"

"Nothing in particular from you, Mr. Potter." She seethed in barely repressed anger. It was so fun to rile her up like this. We ignored her presence, before actually acknowledging the fact that we ignored her presence with impunity. It was enough to drive anyone to blows; but she didn't have the luxury of expressing herself without betraying her foul intentions, did she?

She turned to Hagrid.

"I am simply here in an official capacity to inform you that, as High Inquisitor, it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers." Umbridge said in a tone that suggested she didn't find this unfortunate at all.

Oh, yes. Her inspections. Not much to say about those, is there? She got owned by every teacher in the school, with the exception of Trelawney. From what I heard, the superstitious teacher fell for every single one of Umbridge's ploys. If she was even slightly smart, she could've easily tricked Umbridge into giving her inspection a pass.

"Have a good evening, Professor Hagrid, Mr. Potter." She curtsied and left the hut, the door slamming from behind her. I checked out of the window. It looked like hell was on her heels.

"All right, she's gone." I breathed a sigh of relief, before turning to Hagrid, offering the man a smile. "Nice touch with the mother dragon beating the snot out of you with her tail."

Hagrid smirked. "Figured that would drive her off. Took one look at my finger, and was green. Squeamish, wasn' she?"

"You got that right." I agreed savagely. "She's all pink and clean and sugary sweet. It's enough to make me vomit."

I walked back to the cage holding the snake, and crouched. The viper gazed at me once more.

_§Oh, it's you, again.§_ The viper hissed. _§What do you want?§_

_§Bit rude, aren't you?§_ I asked, feeling a little miffed.

_§Look who's talking, jackass.§ _The snake spit out, surprising me. _§You couldn't be bothered to say hello, not five minutes ago. Then you ignored me! And now you call me rude? Stupid boy.§_

_§You're not surprised I can speak to you like this?§_ I ignored the insult, remembering a previous conversation I had with a snake that was incredibly eager to communicate with me. This one looked like it greatly disliked me.

_§Big deal, you can speak to snakes. You think you're special?§ _The viper gave off the impression it was sneering. _§I can read and write seven of your human languages.§_

_§I don't believe you.§_ I said after a while, before frowning thoughtfully. _§Well, maybe the reading part, but writing? Give me a break.§_

The snake bristled and hissed quite loudly in warning.

"What're yeh sayin' to him, Harry?" Hagrid asked wearily. I turned to look at the slightly anxious looking man.

"He's saying he can read and write in seven different languages." I answered, shrugging. "I said it's a load of shit. Not in those particular words, but yeah. You get my drift."

"Oh, he's tellin' the truth, then." Hagrid said, relaxing.

"Wait... Really? He can write in seven different languages?" I gaped in amazement.

"Saw it myself when I bought him!" Hagrid bragged. "His handler taught him how. He's a Parselmouth, too."

"Huh." I said, a little surprised at the revelation. "I thought I was the only Parselmouth out there."

"Course not!" Hagrid laughed me off. "Plenty of 'em all over the world."

That would make sense, wouldn't it? It was actually quite arrogant of me to think that only a select few among the British could talk to snakes. I remembered that Herpo the Foul— the wizard who bred the first basilisk, was from Ancient Greece.

I grabbed a pen and piece of paper out of my book bag, before turning back to the cage.

_§Show me.§_ I demanded.

The black viper's tail slithered out of the cage, wrapping around the pen, and began to write.

_You are an idiot._

_Tu es un idiot._

_Sei un idiota._

_Usted es un idiota._

_.أنت احمق  
><em>

_あなたは馬鹿です._

_你是白痴._

Well, that is one talented snake. Said viper let go of the pen, the tail pulling back into the cage. I grabbed the paper and showed it to Hagrid, who laughed at the insult.

It called me an idiot in seven different languages. Eight, considering it called me stupid in its native language before.

"All right." I said loudly. "Hagrid, how much for the snake?"

"How much?" The half-giant repeated.

"Yeah." I said. "I want this snake. How much money do you want for it?"

"No need for tha', Harry." Hagrid said, lifting his free hand up. "I was goin' ter give this to yeh. As a late birthday present."

"Really?" I said, a little surprised. Why would Hagrid give me a snake?

"I know." Hagrid said, having read my facial expression right. "Why would I give yeh a snake, considerin' my pas' history with them?"

I nodded. Hagrid had been expelled from Hogwarts because he was framed by Riddle, who had unleashed a basilisk in the school— the same basilisk I had killed three years ago, in fact. I kind of figured he hated snakes and what they represented because of his past experiences.

"I won' lie to yeh, Harry." Hagrid said. "I don't like snakes all tha' much, ter be hones'."

"Then why—?" I asked.

"Cause it's a part of you." Hagrid looked at me seriously. "Like I'm half-giant. Yeh got ter accept who yeh are, both the ligh' and the dark."

"I know that." I said automatically. "I just— I didn't expect—"

I shook my head, shooting the man an apologetic grin. "I'm sorry, Hagrid. I guess I underestimated you, there."

"It's all righ'." Hagrid waved it off. "Takes a great man to admit that. Yeh're just like Dumbledore."

Just like Dumbledore? Me? I pictured myself wearing strange robes, growing a gloriously long beard, while saying weird shit before feasts in front of children, and have them not so quietly question my sanity as they attempted to decipher whatever meaningless gibberish I just said.

Was it wrong that I found that highly amusing?

Probably was.

"If you say so." I said, before turning back to the snake.

_§You heard all of that, right?§_ I asked the black viper.

_§I did.§_ That was all it said.

_§You want to join me?§_ I asked. Was the snake playing hard to get? Sheesh, what a diva.

_§Why should I?§_

_§Well, I can get you tons of food—§_

_§The large one already gets me plenty of food.§ _The viper countered.

_§You'll have someone to talk to?§_ I tried.

_§I don't really like you that much, though.§_ He said.

_§You wouldn't have to be in a cage.§_ I suggested with a smile.

_§...§_ He seemed to be thinking it over.

_§Also, we can scare the crap out of people!§_ I said when he seemed like he was going to say no.

_§Scare others? How?§_ The viper asked me curiously.

Hook, line and sinker.

_§Simple.§_ I smirked. _§People are scared of snakes, see? If you unexpectedly pop out of my sleeve, they'll scream.§_

_§Well, I do enjoy the screams...§_ He said ominously, before looking up at me. _§All right. I accept!§  
><em>

_§Great! I'm going to open the cage.§_ I said, before unlocking the cage door.

It creaked open as the snake pushed the little metal door open. I held out my sleeve to him, and he slithered in, going from one sleeve, and out of the other. His leathery skin rubbed against mine, giving me goosebumps. I briefly wondered what it would feel like if his tail wrapped around my— NO. FUCK NO. DO NOT WANT.

Ugh.

I stood up, feeling the increased weight as I walked around Hagrid's hut, the man watching my every move.

I sat down again, getting used to this new feeling. Hagrid relaxed.

_§You're warm.§_ The snake popped out of my sleeve to say.

_§Thanks? I think.§_ I said. _§What's your name, anyway?§_

_§Balthazar. You're Harry, are you not?§_

_§Yes. Nice name, by the way.§_

_§Yes, well. Our handler had a penchant for the names of demons.§ _The snake— Balthazar, I corrected myself— said. _§He called one of us Zoma, after a former Demon King.§_

_§Demon... King?§ _I asked in confusion. _§Demons exist?§_

_§They haven't, for a long time.§_ Balthazar answered, wiggling around in my sleeve.

I heard some loud knocking on the door. Was it Umbridge, again? I felt very weary.

"Whozzair!" Hagrid called out from his seat.

"Hagrid, it's us!" Hermione's voice came from the other side of the door. The large man gingerly left his seat and went to open the door.

_§Ready to begin scaring people? Just pop out of my sleeve and say 'hello' as loud as you can, when I point my hand at my friends.§_ I quickly said to Balthazar, who nodded eagerly at the plan.

The door swung open, revealing Ron and Hermione, who blanched at the beat up appearance of Hagrid. Hermione even yelled out— it was loud and annoying.

"Blimey, Hagrid!" Ron said as Hagrid ushered them in. "You're in a right state!"

"What happened to you?" Hermione looked worried, before noticing me relaxing on one of the chairs.

She advanced on me with a glare. "You knew! Why didn't you tell us Hagrid was back?!"

"Well, you guys were at the Quidditch game, remember?" I answered quickly.

"More importantly." I said before she could retort, and pointed my hand at her. "LOOK AT THIS!"

_§HELLO THERE! MY NAME IS BALTHAZAR.§_ Balthazar popped out of my sleeve, hissing excitedly. Ron froze in fear. Hermione shrieked, before backing away and tripping over Fang, who yelped and ran to Hagrid's side. Hagrid looked amused.

I just laughed maniacally, joined by my new friend Balthazar. His laughing hisses were actually quite disturbing.

After I suffered a punch to the face courtesy of Hermione, Hagrid and I took turns explaining the events prior to their arrival.

"So, Hagrid got beat up by giants—" Hermione said.

"Yep." Hagrid confirmed.

"Umbridge came here—" She continued.

"Uh huh." I said.

"You played it off as a trip to the Romanian Dragon Reserve—" Ron said with a grin.

"—And then Hagrid gave me this snake that can read and write in seven different languages." I finished for them, nudging the viper in my sleeve. His head popped out, gazing at everything. "His name's Balthazar."

_§Balthazar, these are my two friends Ron and Hermione.§_ I hissed out.

_§And I should care... Why?§_

_§Just letting you know who they are, no need to be snippy.§ _I said coolly. I turned to see the disturbed faces of Ron and Hermione.

"What?"

"You can't be thinking of keeping it!" Ron blurted out.

"That's exactly what I plan on doing." I retorted. "It's a talking pet! Like that Meowth in Pokémon, except it's a talking Ekans, instead."

Ron looked even more confused. Hermione got the reference, though. What kind of kid didn't know about Pokémon, anyway?

The two seemed to grudgingly accept my decision— the fact that they couldn't force me to change my mind played a big part, I think— and we changed the subject, asking Hagrid about his summer. I didn't ask the large man about the second thing he brought with him. Judging by the way he was evading Hermione's questions, I figured that it was pretty personal.

Evening began to turn to night, so we bid Hagrid goodbye. I thanked him for the pet with a quick hug— don't call me soft, okay!?— and a pat on the back, before heading off with Ron and Hermione to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"You think you got to him?" Ron asked Hermione as we made our way up the stairs. She had been trying to get him to change his lesson plans so that Umbridge wouldn't fire him. However, it seemed as if Hagrid was unconcerned with the matter, undoubtedly planning on pitting us against the most dangerous monster he could find.

"I don't know..." Hermione sounded unsure, before her eyes got a determined glint. "But I'll go back again tomorrow if I need to."

"Don't bother." I scoffed. "It's not like Umbridge is going to stay here for long."

They were silent for a moment.

"What makes you say that, mate?" Ron asked. "I doubt she'll want to leave."

"Well, the Defense Against the Dark Arts post is cursed, isn't it? She'll be gone at the end of the year, like every other Professor before her." I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. "If she sacks Hagrid, he'll just get re-hired the next year."

"What if the Ministry takes over?" Hermione countered logically as we reached the Fat Lady. "They would kick him off the grounds."

"Then I'll just obliterate the Ministry." I said simply, before speaking the password.

"Obliterate... The Ministry of Magic?" Ron said dumbly as the portrait swung open, revealing the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Well, yeah. I don't need an _Army_ for that little endeavor." I said easily, referring to our little study group and my powers, before I entered the Common Room. It still had quite a few people in it. Ron bade me goodnight, wanting to get some sleep in. Hermione sat down one of the couches and began to read some book.

I walked over to Fred and George, who were busy testing something on a hapless Second Year. The poor girl recovered, and ran away before they could catch her.

"Hey guys." I gained their attention and nudged my right sleeve. "Look!"

Balthazar popped out of my sleeve, making excessively loud hissing noises. It made Fred and George jump in fright. The Common Room went silent at the sound. Hermione merely looked annoyed and buried her nose deeper into her book.

If anything, let it be known that I am easily amused.

The twins recovered first.

"Did ickle Harrykins just—" Fred started incredulously.

"Get one over us—" George continued, equally incredulous.

"The great Weasley Twins?" They said in tandem.

"Don't forget 'mighty', dear brother of mine." George frowned and corrected.

"Indeed. The great and mighty Weasley Twins?" Fred looked at his brother, who nodded approvingly.

They both turned to me.

"Nice one, Harry." They said together, grinning like loons. Their smiles faltered, when looking at the group of people behind me.

I turned to see a bunch of miffed Gryffindors, glaring at me and my viper.

"What?" I asked innocently, while Balthazar slid back into my sleeve.

"What're you playing at, Potter?" One of the upper years said aggressively.

"Yeah!" Said another. "Bringing that thing in here!"

"What, my new pet, Balthazar?" I asked, faking a look of confusion.

"Get rid of it!" Parvati almost screeched in fear. They all nodded in agreement.

I stared at the body of students for a while. Did they really hate Slytherins so much that they would react so violently and fearfully to owning a pet snake? Well, fuck them, then!

"I'm going to make this very simple and clear, so even the most retarded of you can understand my words perfectly." I glared balefully at them.

"If you touch my snake, I'll cut off your eyelids and force feed them to you." I said with a smile that promised indescribable pain.

"Understood?"

They said nothing. I took a threatening step forward. Some of them were so afraid, that they stepped back.

"I said... Am I understood?"

"Yes." They all murmured, before breaking up, leaving only a few Gryffindors in the Common Room.

_§You were channeling lightning.§_ Balthazar said, as it popped out of my sleeve. I sat on a large, empty couch near the fire, gently stroking the agitated viper's head.

_§Did it hurt you?§_ I asked in slight concern, not knowing I was unconsciously summoning my electricity.

_§I don't think so. I feel a little tingly, but that's it.§_ The viper stated, slithering out of my sleeve and curling up on my lap.

"H-Harry?" I heard a familiar, female voice speak from behind me.

I turned to see a frozen Ginny, who was staring at me and the snake hesitantly. She was probably the only person here I wouldn't judge harshly for her reaction to Balthazar, seeing as she was manipulated, and then later possessed by Voldemort in her First Year at Hogwarts.

"Hey, Ginny." I greeted the girl and waved her over. "You want to meet my new friend?"

"I— I don't know." Ginny said, neither taking a step forward nor backward, which was not a bad sign, at least.

"Come on. His name is Balthazar and he's very friendly. I promise." I reassured her with a smile.

_§Speak for yourself, human.§ _Balthazar interjected coldly. _§I hate you all.§_

_§Yeah, that doesn't sound very convincing with you all curled up in my lap.§_ I pointed out. The viper did not argue that point, recognizing a losing battle when he saw it. Ginny came closer, and sat right next to me.

Balthazar's head popped up, and he stared straight at Ginny, who stared back unflinchingly.

_§This one has quite the spirit.§_ Balthazar acknowledged. _§You should mate with her right now.§_

"What!?" Ginny blurted out in shock, blushing furiously at the suggestion. I froze for a moment, staring at Ginny. She understood what Balthazar said just now? My mind went into overdrive, thinking of the possibilities and the explanations for such an event taking place.

Hm. She retained the ability to speak with snakes, even after Voldemort was cast out of her body? Neat.

"Hm..." I budged closer to her. She stiffened nervously, realizing the implications of what just happened.

"I—" She tried to explain.

"No, it's fine, Ginny." I put my arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer. "I'm not mad you didn't tell me."

"It's just—" She choked back her sudden tears, probably not having expected to have her deception be forgiven so easily.

"It's fine." I insisted. "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone, especially me."

She looked at me for a long moment, before nodding slowly. I could guess why she never mentioned it, honestly. It wasn't that hard to figure out. After an entire year of feeling helpless and used, she would have probably tried to disassociate herself from Tom, and whatever abilities he had; this included Parseltongue. It was the language she used to make the basilisk attack all those students. The guilt alone would have driven most people into depressive states. Come to think of it, she was pretty well adjusted, considering what she went through.

"One more thing." I said, getting her attention. She gave me a quizzical, if scared look.

"You didn't deny the suggestion."

Ginny blushed and murmured something I couldn't quite hear. I asked her to repeat what she said.

"I said I wouldn't exactly mind..." Ginny said, blushing furiously at the admission. She was looking away from me as she said it, increasing her cute factor by five.

Well. Am I the only one who got super excited from her saying that? Oh wait, it looks like Balthazar is staring at the both of us expectantly.

Wait, wasn't Ginny with that Michael Corner guy or something?

Better question, did that little detail even matter to me right now?

I'll let you figure out what I was going to do that night.

I will say one thing, though. Sirius would be proud.

**ooooooooooooooo**

Hehe... Ehehehehe...

Right, to those of you who are going to undoubtedly rage at me for this: calm your tits.

Think logically, if a girl/guy came to you right now and said that they wanted to fuck you, would you really say no?

I know I'd say yes in a heartbeat. No, wait. FASTER THAN A HEARTBEAT.


	17. Chapter 17

**Q**uick note, some of you have been sending me messages ordering me around, telling me how to write my own story. One of you, even gave me a completely false analysis of _my own characters_, stating that I'm writing them all wrong because he _doesn't like the way they're interacting with each other_. I have repeatedly stated that Harry is always attempting to reconcile his loving, caring nature with his cold, impulsive yet paradoxically logical, internet-savvy, modern age personality that he's taken up.

So I'll spell it out for you. **My** story. **My** rules. **My** humor. **My** plot line. Don't agree with it? Don't let the figurative door hit you on the way out.

To those who've reviewed my story in a manner befitting of a respected user of this website, thank you for your helpful gesture. I've been taking many of your suggestions under advisement (such as shortening the attack names, incorporating a snake to the story, etc.)

**xp3r1a:** liking your story so far. It's got that original feel to it, plus the writing is very good.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter**.**

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

_"Why do you refuse to gain power? the power of our father Sparda?"_

_"Father...?" Laughter. "I don't have a father. I just don't like you, that's all."_

**Chapter 17: Amusingly Disturbing Revelations  
><strong>

"Pay attention, Harry!" Laughter.

SMACK! Pain erupted from my right shoulder and the side of my head.

"Shit!" I shouted out, nursing my shoulder as I dodged pellets of stone, courtesy of an amused Neville Longbottom. It was Saturday morning, and I'd pretty much hoodwinked Neville into training with me in the Room of Requirement. After he'd gotten his wand a few days before, his skill in all subjects greatly increased, much to the delight of the Professors, who had secretly believed the round faced boy would never amount to much.

The look on Professor McGonagall's face when he got a Transfiguration spell on the first try? She looked a mix of delighted, and sad. Sad about the four previous years wasted, due to his own grandmother's stubborn idiocy, I figured.

Back to the matter at hand. I rolled my shoulder around, in an attempt to alleviate the pain. It worked slightly, as some relief flooded my system before I had to dodge further stone pellets from Neville, who continued his onslaught without fanfare or cutting words.

I pushed my body and magical power to its limits, twisting, turning, ducking, jumping, bending in ways that made my muscles ache in great pain. I still got hit a _lot_. I might have gained great speed, strength, and reflexes— side effects from channeling my lightning— but I lacked something infinitely more important.

Coordination.

What does that mean, though? To explain it in more simple terms; suppose someone sent a flurry of projectiles my way, but I managed to notice a small, safe area which I could maneuver into so that I can avoid being torn to shreds. In my mind, I've already pictured the exact movements I needed to make to ensure my survival.

I also knew I had the strength and speed to get it done.

Herein lied the problem; just how much strength did I need to apply, exactly? Could I get the angle, and speed of the jump just right, so it could deposit me in the safe zone at the correct time? Could I bend myself in a way that would fit my body into the relatively small gap?

The quick answer to this was a resounding "no".

In that hypothetical situation I've just conjured up, many things could go wrong. I could apply too much strength and overshoot my mark. Or, the exact opposite could happen with not enough strength. My angle could be off, and the trajectory would lead me near the safe zone; but "near the safe zone" still wasn't _in_ the safe zone. It's also possible that, with the right speed, timing, and angle, I would reach the safe zone; but since I couldn't bend my body properly (close in on myself or something), I'd find myself short of an arm or a leg. Easy pickings.

It was blatantly obvious to me. Dumbledore would always catch me a lot during our mock duels. The bludgers of the obstacle course in the Room of Requirement did the same.

The only reason that idiot Zacharias didn't get me once was because he was so slow and predictable. It was like watching things approaching you in slow motion; it was so laughably easy to sidestep the boy's spell chains. Sure, at the end he began using more destructive curses, but they were so badly aimed that there was no effort made in dodging them. The foolish boy ended up tiring himself out, making it easy for me to disarm him with a simple _Expelliarmus_.

Zacharias would have learned his lesson if he wasn't so busy seething in anger at the humiliation he'd suffered at my hands. I found that I couldn't care less about reconciling with the boy. Why should I? I wasn't his mother, nor was I going to hold his hand through the sessions our little study group had. It was bad enough that I even had to do this in the first place! Couldn't they read books and practice spells on their own? Why did I have to be the one to supervise them?

_Because you simply are better equipped to teach them._ My own voice drawled coldly, echoing loudly in my head.

Not good enough to dodge Neville's onslaught, though!

Speaking of...

I ducked, and rolled to the side, avoiding Neville's latest salvo of ground bullets. He smirked triumphantly.

My eyes widened as I felt the ground below me rumble. I jumped with no hesitation, instants before pillars of rock jutted out of the floor, hitting nothing but air. I found purchase on the pillars, using them as a foothold. I held up a hand in the universal form of surrender.

"I think that's enough for now." I said with ragged breaths, looking to Neville. The boy in question nodded in agreement, and with a flick of his hand, the pillars I stood upon slowly receded to the ground, bringing me down with them.

"Your attacks." I breathed out, wiping sweat off the back of my neck as I walked laps around the training area to work off the pain and muscle cramps. "Are pretty impressive, Neville."

"They're all right."

"_All right__?_" I repeated incredulously. "They were perfectly aimed and incredibly well timed. And I mean _incredibly_ well timed. Without my lightning, I doubt that I could've lasted as long as I did."

"Heh, I guess you're right." The boy's round face broke into a smile.

At least he sort of acknowledges it. I'll take what I can get, after all.

Neville was really something else, though. Every single move he made was well thought out, and he could accurately predict my movements.

"How do you do that, anyway?" I asked out loud.

"Do what, Harry?" Here he looked confused.

"I know you can tell where I am." I said, remembering his explanation of his powers. "But you seemed to be able to predict my every move."

"I wouldn't say every move." Neville seemed a little amused. "Take a look around you, though. What do you see?"

I looked around, there was nothing in the room.

"Nothing." I answered.

"Er—" He fumbled a bit. "I mean, what's the room made of?"

"Stone." I answered easily.

"Right." Neville said. "I know I told you can sense others as long as they were standing on earth or stone or anything in between. Even applies to wood, come to think about it." He mused to himself, before shaking his head. "Anyway, what I didn't tell you is that I've had a lot of practice with it."

"I... see." I didn't really understand. Neville sighed, realizing he wasn't getting through to me.

"Think of it like in Quidditch." Neville supplied helpfully. "Ron can predict plenty of plays, maneuvers, and all sorts of moves that Quidditch players can make; that's because he knows the subject inside and out. He's seen them make the plays, perform feints, and the like. He's figured it out so much that it's easy for him to spot the weaknesses in the attacks and defense."

I nodded, knowing that much.

"Now," Neville continued. "Apply that to me. I've had these powers since I was a small boy. At first, I could only figure out where people were standing. Then, as I got better, I could figure out their movements through the feedback I got from the Earth. I got so good at it, that I could figure out what exactly they were doing."

Neville turned away from me. "I can show you. Pretend like you're about to attack me."

"Sure." I took a step forward and drew my arm back.

"Your right arm is cocked back, your left foot's forward. You're about to take another step forward." His words froze me in my tracks.

"Hot damn." Was all I said.

Neville's shoulders went up and down as he chuckled in mirth.

"Does that make sense?" He said as he turned back my way.

"Yeah. I think I understand. That's pretty unfair." I groused good-naturedly.

"So says the guy who can heighten his reaction speeds so much, it seems as if time itself slowed down." Neville retorted.

We shared a laugh, before starting to pack up.

_§Are you done beating the crap out of each other?§_ Balthazar's sibilant voice came from a hole in the wall that the Room had provided— for the snake's safety, if you were wondering. Couldn't have it die on me.

The black viper slithered out of the hole and onto me, choosing to wrap around my waist and rest its head on my left shoulder.

_§Yes.§ _I hissed back simply, following Neville out of the Room. We tiredly walked down the many staircases, on our way to the Great Hall for some well deserved breakfast. The students gave me a wide berth, quite intimidated by Balthazar's presence. They'll get used to it eventually. Neville was smirking at me.

_§These humans are very strange§ _The black viper hissed out, as amused as Neville probably was.

_§Agreed. They're a bunch of pussies.§ _ I hissed right back, causing a few of them to gasp in fright, proving my point.

_§Even that redheaded girl last night.§_ Balthazar mused. I flinched in remembrance. _§And I'd thought she was spirited, too.§_

_§Yeah... Let's not get into that.§_ I said with a little discomfort, and some anger.

_§What do you mean?§_ The snake said in confusion.

_§What do I mean?§ _I repeated incredulously, my hisses growing sharp. _§You stuck your tail up her—§_

_§How was I supposed to know she wouldn't like it?§ _Balthazar said indignantly.

_§Who in their right mind would?§ _I shot back. _§And didn't I tell you to stand watch outside of the broom cupboard?§_

_§And I_ _was.§ _Balthazar said triumphantly. _§I also slid my tail inside her, too. I can multitask, you know.§_

I face palmed. _§Why did you think that was a good idea the first place?§_

_§My old handler had a very interesting wife, you see?§_ I didn't like where this was going. _§You wouldn't believe how far my tail could go into her—§_

_§No. Stop.§ _I felt the bile rising up my throat, and swallowed it down harshly. _§Just... No. Never speak of that, ever. Ever.§_

_§But—§_

_§Never!§_

_§...You're no fun.§_

You know what the worst part was? If Balthazar hadn't interrupted, I could've probably gotten Ginny to do _anything_ for me. It didn't take us five minutes, and we were already deep into second base. I'd almost had her shirt off, when Balthazar had tried his little stunt with his tail. Ginny pretty much stiffened up, looked at the tail, looked at me, and got out of the broom cupboard, running faster than I'd ever seen her run.

Figures that my snake— not _that_ snake— was more perverted than I was. I'd seen many disturbing things while searching for good porn. Just how was pissing on someone considered erotic? Or using clips on their nipples? Or bestiality?

Come to think of it, if Remus married a regular human, was that bestiality? What about Fleur? Or Hagrid?

How was Hagrid even conceived, for that matter? Female Giants had really big genitalia, did they not? Did Hagrid's dad have to bodily enter her before— I hurriedly shook off these distracting and disturbing thoughts.

I sighed, realizing I was partly to blame for the mishap.

_§Look. I think I might need to set some rules just so that we won't have these misunderstandings.§ _I hissed out.

_§That sounds reasonable.§ _Balthazar agreed.

_§All right.§ _I began_. §Right now, I can pretty much give you the basics, and we can figure out the rest as we go along.§_

_§First rule: don't attack anyone unprovoked. If you're attacked, run away. If you can't run away, only then can you fight back.§ _I held up a finger. Balthazar nodded.

_§Second rule: don't stick your tail in any person's various holes. It's wrong.§ _I hissed with a hint of exasperation.

_§But—§_

_§No buts. This is non-negotiable. You have to apologize to Ginny, too.§_

_§Aw.§_ Balthazar's head went down.

_§If you really want to have that much fun, I can get you a female buddy later on.§ _I threw in. My pet viper perked up at that.

I went over the small list I'd made up on the spot: they were basic ideas, like "don't eat someone else's food", "go to the bathroom when you want to piss", etc.

That kind of thing. I knew Balthazar was probably smart enough to do most of that, but the implied slight on his capabilities of acting in a civilized manner would encourage him to try and impress me. At least, I hoped he would.

To his credit, Balthazar was cowed instead of furious. He hissed out an apology, with his head down. I petted his head and told him to cheer up, because we were about to have breakfast. When I passed through the door leading to the Great Hall, and the smell of delicious food reached us, the black viper jerked its head up, excited at the prospect of a meal.

Neville and I immediately headed to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the startled looks coming my way.

_The Boy-Who-Lived being friendly with a snake? He must be turning dark for sure. _I wryly thought to myself.

I caught Ginny's wide eyes, and approached her.

"Hey." I greeted.

"H-Hi, Harry." She eyed Balthazar in weary suspicion. It was an acceptable gesture, considering he tried to spear her poop hole with his tail the night before.

"I think Balthazar has something to say to you." I said simply, turning my head to the aforementioned snake.

_§I'm sorry.§ _Balthazar said quickly.

I nudged him to go further. He complied.

_§I didn't know that it was wrong. My handler made me do it all the time with his wife.§ _The snake explained morosely. Ginny grimaced at the information, but gave the snake a nod in understanding. He just didn't know better, after all.

"Anyway, I've gone over some basic rules so he knows how to behave; he shouldn't be causing any more uh... Incidents." I said.

Ginny blushed in embarrassment. And was that a little regret? Did... Did she like it?

Nope. Nope. Nopenopenopenopenope.

"Anyway, that's that. I'm going to eat now, okay? See you. Have a nice day." I said quickly, and headed to an empty seat next to Neville, causing the people around me to shift nervously in the presence of the snake. The students from the other tables were also glancing at me and whispering to each other in interest.

I hazarded a glance towards the Head table. I got a few curious, if concerned stares from most of the teachers. Umbridge gave me a particularly queer look that sent shudders through my system. Dumbledore merely gave me the barest of glances, before going back to his breakfast, not really deeming it a major event.

Which it wasn't. That was probably the way to go, eh? Just act like it's a normal thing, and people will get used to it. It's like those people that would raise wild animals and let them run free in their home. Or that guy that let so many snakes bite into him that he was more or less immune to most poisons.

I held up a sausage for Balthazar, who gobbled half of it up, with surprising speed. I, as well as people in my immediate vicinity, watched in fascination as the viper gulped down the meat with ease.

_§Good stuff.§ _The snake said, going quiet to digest its food in peace afterwards.

After that little display, I began eating in earnest, and the students in the Great Hall seemed to go back to their morning routine, forgetting about me entirely— for the moment, anyway. I helped myself to some eggs, and a few sausages for myself. The training with Neville made me work up quite the appetite, to be honest. I ate at a fast pace, not really savoring the taste of the food.

"Can I join you, Potter?" I heard a familiar voice say. I stopped chewing for a while, and turned to see Daphne behind me. She was wearing some jeans, and a plain black shirt.

"Sure." I smiled at the pretty Slytherin. "Always room for you, here. Tracey joining you?"

"Oh, no." Daphne smiled back, pointing in the direction of the Slytherin table. I followed it with my eyes, and promptly did a double take. Ronald Weasley sat with Tracey Davis on the Slytherin table, exchanging conversation. Ron actually looked pretty happy to be around the auburn haired girl, and she seemed to be reciprocating the feeling.

"Woah." I breathed. Ron and a Slytherin?

"I know." Daphne sat down, eying Balthazar with a little curiosity. When it looked like he wasn't going to move anytime soon, she looked back at me.

"Did he—"

"Yes."

"Are they—"

"Not quite there, I think." Daphne answered knowingly, looking amused. "I'm surprised you hadn't noticed."

A feeling of overwhelming guilt clawed at my conscience. I should've talked to Ron and Hermione more. I've been choosing to train instead of spending time with either him or Hermione. I rationalized it as a need to get stronger so I could live through a fight against Voldemort. However, I'd also been using it as an excuse to get out of doing things with others.

"I've been—"

"Busy, I know." Daphne looked a little miffed at that. "That's what everyone's been telling me. It's been hell to try and reach you."

"You wanted to reach me?" I repeatedly dumbly, feeling flattered.

"Well, yes." She admitted with a frown. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade today, but like I said: it was hell reaching you."

"I'm sorry." I apologized honestly, feeling pretty miserable for blowing everyone off. "Do you still want to go?" I asked hopefully.

She tried to look irritated, but the quirk in her lip told another story altogether.

"Yes." She huffed, and grabbed a nearby banana, peeling it. She began to eat, and immediately broke eye contact with me, blushing as she did so.

Cute. Wonder what she was thinking of, eh? I gave her a saucy wink, before going back to my own food.

The rest of the mealtime was spent in a comfortable silence. Neville bid me a quick goodbye, wanting to check out his plants in one of the Greenhouses. Apparently Sprout had given him his own working space.

"So, what have you been up to?" Daphne said as I watched Neville leave the Great Hall. I turned to see her face, alight with interest.

"Mostly training." I said, and winced when I tried to stretch.

"Are you all right?" She asked, noticing the reaction.

"Yeah, I'm just bruised up a bit." I said lightly, trying to get her mind off of it. "Training's not all about spell casting, after all."

I brought up my hand to rub the back of my head, but cringed as it roughly passed over the bruise on the side.

"Okay." I breathed out. "Maybe bruised up a lot. That one hurt."

"That's it." Daphne got up, grabbed me by the hand, and bodily dragged me out of the Great Hall. I glanced at the Head Table, seeing Dumbledore giving me a look that said 'whipped'.

Asshole!

At first, I didn't know where she was taking me, but then I recognized the familiar path leading up to Madam Pomfrey's Hospital Wing. Great. Dealing with Poppy was going to be a nightmare.

"She's not in today." She said, having accurately guessed my thoughts.

"Oh." I said, confused.

"Then who's going to... Oh. Right!" I finally understood. Daphne was something of an assistant here, from what I can remember her telling me.

We entered the Hospital Wing. The familiar surroundings were comforting and familiar to me— however disturbing the thought is.

_Something's definitely wrong when you begin to view the hospital wing as a familiar place._ My sarcastic thoughts snapped at me.

"You take your normal bed, while I get some bruise removal paste for you." Daphne instructed in a no-nonsense voice, before she disappeared for a bit.

I complied wordlessly, part of me getting irrationally excited as I gently unwound the sleeping Balthazar, who curled up on the hospital bed. Daphne the nurse. My personal nurse. My face split into a grin for a split second, before switching to an impassive expression. It was a futile gesture of course, since my muscles were now tense, and my eyes kept excitedly searching for the girl in question.

Daphne came back with a medium sized jar filled with thick, yellow paste.

I watched her approach me with a careful eye, not sure what to expect.

"This." She gestured at the jar with her free hand. "Is a paste that removes bruising. I made it myself. You just dab a little of it on, and the bruises should fade within half an hour."

"That's actually pretty damn impressive." I voiced out. "No disgusting potions or anything."

"Yes, well..." She blushed prettily. "I figured you wouldn't appreciate any more potions from this place."

"You'd be right." I confirmed with a smile.

"Anyway," She smiled back. "Take off your shirt."

"What?" I asked, wondering if she was teasing me or being serious.

"Your shirt. Take it off." Daphne repeated.

"Why?" I asked hesitantly, not sure where she was going with this.

"So I can apply the paste, Potter." She looked a little exasperated.

"Oh. _Oh._" I said, feeling a little stupid. I flushed with embarrassment. So much for that fantasy.

"What did you think I was going to do?" She asked with a smirk.

"Maybe you— uh, that is to say— there's no good answer to this, is there?"

"Not really." Daphne confirmed, still smirking at me. "Now take it off." She ordered again.

I followed her orders, feeling even more excited than I was before. She gave my body an appreciative stare, which did very little to sate my desire. If anything, it increased it. Her expression turned into that of concern as she spotted several large bruises on my chest and shoulder.

"What have you been _doing to yourself__?_" Daphne breathed out, lightly touching the bruises. I winced and recoiled from her touch.

"Training." I answered simply.

"You're hurting yourself in the name of training?" She said incredulously.

"I'm not exactly hurting myself on purpose, you know. I'm working on my dodging skills. As you can tell, they need a lot of work." I explained patiently, with a wry smile.

"Why would—" Daphne stopped for a moment. "I saw you avoid Smith's attack with ease. Why would you need to continue?"

Ah, so that's why she was wondering why I was still training my reflexes.

"It's an understandable point, I suppose." I acknowledged her concerns. "But, you have to keep it in mind that Zacharias Smith is a fool who thinks he knows magic. All of his spells had terrible aim. It was child's play to dodge his attacks."

"So, why, then?" Daphne began to rub the paste on my shoulder, immediately soothing the stinging pain into a very dull throb.

"It's simple." I smiled at the beautiful woman. "I will be fighting full fledged Death Eaters, as well as Voldemort—" no winces this time, surprisingly "—himself. Perhaps simultaneously. You know that obstacle course in the Room of Requirement?"

"Oh, that thing." Daphne looked a little intimidated at the idea of that obstacle course. "We've all been wondering if you were going to throw us in there for fun."

"Oh, hell no." I denied vehemently, wincing as Daphne put a little pressure on my chest. All the talking made this feel less awkward. "That part is volunteer only. That's if you want to get to the next level. I've been running it myself a lot. That's how I've been getting bruised up. Bludgers make for good projectiles, since they keep coming back for more." Not to mention the training I did with Neville today. I wasn't going to tell anyone about that, because it was Neville's secret, not mine.

"Discipline through pain, then?" Daphne guessed.

"Pretty much." I confirmed.

"Hold still." She began to smear some paste at the side of my head. I wanted to cringe at the painful contact, but crushed that urge down. Daphne's scrumptious lips were right in front of my eyes.

"I suppose it's as good a method as any to learn..." I watched her lips move tantalizingly as she spoke.

"You got that right..." I said absentmindedly while my head flooded with relief, the pounding headache greatly fading.

As she was about to pull away, I raised my face, and pushed my lips against hers. She was startled for a moment, before relaxing into it. I pulled her closer to me, deepening the kiss, and rubbing her back soothingly as she wrapped her arms around my neck. We stayed that way for a few more seconds, before having to pull away for some air.

"I—" She backed off and looked away for a moment.

"Let's not go to Hogsmeade." She said, and I felt devastated at the sudden rejection.

I put my head down.

"Let's just snog all day, instead."

False alarm! She wasn't rejecting me!

Okay, maybe _this time_ I could make Sirius proud? I glowered at the sleeping Balthazar, as if daring him to ruin this moment.

The black viper slept on, completely unaware of the world around it.

**ooooooooooooooo**

Well, I'm sleepy. Think you can guess where the quote right before the chapter title is from?


	18. Chapter 18

You know, I'm still surprised that the story's been such a hit with you guys. I remember when I was writing Chapter 13, I had 200 reviews; now it's over 350.. It's just mind boggling. Update: Broke 100,000 views! Like... Wow. Not even my YouTube videos have come this close. Thanks guys. :)

**showsomerespect: **I don't think I'll kill myself, thanks. How about you try to live up to your name and show some respect?

Quick note; this chapter will be quite different from the others, referencing some games that I've played in the past.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter**.**

**ooooooooooooooo  
>Lightning Dragon's Roar<br>A Harry Potter Fanfiction  
>By Zero Rewind<strong>  
><strong>© 2014<strong>  
><strong>ooooooooooooooo<strong>

**Chapter 18: Soul Struggle  
><strong>

**I was** having a perfectly good dream, minding my own business.

Then, everything changed.

I was back in the long, dark hallway. I felt annoyed at having to see this stupid useless place yet again. I never understood why I kept dreaming of it. It's not like there was anything special about it. Why couldn't I have a nice, wet dream, instead? Me, Daphne, some whip cream... Yum.

I silently slithered on my long belly, across the cold stone floor. Wait, that's a little different than usual. Normally, I would be walking along the hallway, and reach the door at the end. I would try to open it, but the dream would end there. This was different. I wondered what would happen.

Someone's there, this time. At the door I'd been seeing in my dreams. He was under some form of invisibility, but I could smell him. I could smell his breath, his sweat. He reeked of filthy human.

Reeked of human... But wasn't I human?

There was movement, and a silvery cloak slid off the figure. A flash of red hair, and a tightly gripped wand greeted me.

He noticed my presence! I must attack!

No, I know him. Stop! Stop it!

Strike! STRIKE! STRIKE! My body moved of its own accord.

The man dropped to the ground, poisoned and wounded. Strange, my attacks felt like a snake's...

But I'm not a snake... I'm a human being!

My scar was hurting as I began to realize that this probably wasn't a dream.

My eyes snapped open, to see Ron's worried face staring at me.

"Harry! Harry!" The boy called out, shaking me a little roughly.

"Ron—" I breathed out raggedly. "Your dad. Danger. Arthur. Tell Dumbledore. Tell—" I blacked out.

Yet I could still hear others around me.

"Quick, Neville!" Ron bellowed out. "Get Dumbledore!"

I heard hurried footsteps. I tried to move. Couldn't.

I tried to speak. Couldn't.

I tried to open my eyes. Couldn't.

What the hell was going on?

_§Harry?§_ I heard Balthazar call out to me. I couldn't answer. The viper was wrapped around my arm, giving me a soothing feeling. Strange, hadn't realized I was in such pain until I'd received this soothing relief.

_§I know you can hear me, Harry.§_ Balthazar began. _§Whatever this is, fight it.§_

It. What is... It?

I felt the darkness around me wash away into a bright, white light. Balthazar's hissing faded into the background, dissolving into complete and utter silence.

When the light dimmed, I found myself standing in a peculiar place. It was very peculiar because there was nothing there.

Absolutely nothing. I stared into the endless white expanse in bewilderment. What the hell was going on? A wave of dizziness began to hit me.

_~"What's wrong with him?"_

_"I do not know. I have never seen anything like this..."~_

I shook my head. Where did those voices come from, and why did they sound so familiar?

Bah, it didn't matter. I regained my bearings and gazed at my surroundings once more.

The same white expanse.

Wait. It was a little different than before. What was that in the distance? Something was definitely coming my way.

Whatever it was, it was small; really small. As it got closer, I began to notice its features.

Boy were they disturbing.

Its stature was similar to that of a child. Of course, that's where the similarities ended. The _abomination_ looked like it used to be a child at some point in its life, but was now a flayed, emaciated, bloody, gory mess of a humanoid creature. Blood trailed endlessly behind its walking corpse as it neared me further and further.

My heart rate increased, and irrational fear began building in my chest.

I'll be honest, the gory child's slow walk was beyond creepy, but I was more than four times its size. I felt a little bit of fear, and revulsion as my eyes roved over its form. I'd played a few horror games that featured evil spirits of dead children. This seemed right up their alley. I could only hope it wouldn't ask to play with me, before trying to eat me or something.

The gored child stopped a few meters in front of me, appraising me with its gaze. Its eyes were blood red, and menacing.

It kept staring at me for a long while.

I stared right back, irritation replacing my fear. Was it ever going to speak?

"So are we going to stand here, or what?" I finally said, my voice as sharp as a knife.

"Harry Potter." It said, yet its mouth was not moving. The sound came from everywhere. Its eyes took on a sinister quality.

"Who—" I was at a loss for words.

The demon child smiled, showing razor sharp teeth. I backed away from it, hands raising up in defense. It did not move further.

"Surely you know who I am, Harry Potter." I heard the voice echo. "After all, I've been with you, your entire life."

"With me?" I asked incredulously. "I've never seen you in my life before, friend."

"I am no friend of yours, Harry Potter." The thing got on all fours, snarling. It stayed that way for a few seconds, before composing itself and standing back up, its eyes unnaturally wide, as if it were watching my every move. If I made a single mistake, I had no doubt it would leap at me and tear me to shreds with its teeth.

On the 'Scary' level, this rated a solid 'I think I have to go walk the car— I mean, dog. I need to walk the dog. Bye.'

"Then what the fuck are you?" I blurted out. The being smiled, showing those terrible teeth again.

"Why, I'm part of you."

"Part of—" I repeated dumbly, before fixing it with a glare. "Enough! No more vague answers, or I'll—"

"You'll what? Kill me where I stand?" The evil entity challenged with a smirk. "Go ahead and try."

Well, let it be known that I tried to solve this with words.

"You asked for it." I said gravely, before concentrating.

I called my lightning forth, and directed my hand at the smirking child, hoping to send a bolt that would fry it out of existence, once and for all.

Nothing happened.

No lightning came out. I tried again. Nothing. What was going on? My lightning wasn't responding to my call!

"What the hell?" I mouthed out, staring at my hand as if it betrayed me somehow. The child smiled maliciously as it tilted its head in amusement.

"Can't use your lightning, can you?" It taunted with that disturbing smile. My head swiveled around to the bloody child, so quick that my neck made a loud crack.

"How do you know about—"

"Your Lightning 'Dragonslayer' magic?" The child sneered disdainfully.

"I'm a part of you, remember?" The child repeated, as if angered about having to repeat itself. "I have been with you since you were very young, Harry Potter."

Since I was very young... Red eyes. The last thing I remembered before ending up here was a dream in which I was a snake, attacking Mr. Weasley.

Red eyes. Snake.

But that didn't happen, did it? That was a just a dream. A flash of a short conversation with a worried looking Ron appeared to the forefront of my mind. I remembered telling him to save Mr. Weasley because he was... being attacked by... something? I remembered my scar was hurting. A lot.

Wait... My scar was hurting quite a bit right now, come to think of it.

Red eyes. Snake. Scar pain.

It came to me.

"Voldemort!" I pointed an accusing finger at the child.

"Very good." Voldemort smiled viciously. "I was wondering when your feeble mind would make the connection."

"But how?" I asked, sounding confused. "I don't understand. Why are you a little kid?"

"You seem to be having a hard time grasping the situation you are currently experiencing." The child seemed amused. "Allow me to clarify."

"You're just going to explain it to me?" I asked incredulously.

"Why, yes." Voldemort said easily. "We are currently within the depths of your mind. It is another plane of existence. Most wizards learn to protect this plane by employing Occlumency, but I digress. As the rules clearly state, if I am to take over your soul, I must greet you, and do battle with you within the very depths of your mind. Only then, can I begin to eradicate you."

He smiled evilly, giving me shivers.

What rules? I had no idea what the hell he was on about, but his words sounded somewhat familiar.

He would greet me, and then fight me for control over my body.

Voldemort's smile widened as I began to realize the reference. It was the same as when Naruto was about to fight the Ninetails in his mind scape! But how would that apply to me? How _could_ it? Also, how did _Voldemort_ know about the manga '_Naruto_', to begin with?

As if reading my mind, Voldemort began to speak.

"I have already stated that I've been a part of you for a very long time, Harry Potter." Voldemort rasped out.

"It applies to you because your 'mind scape', as you seem to be putting it," Voldemort sneered. "Is directly related to your personal experiences. As such, we shall enter a battle, following the rules of many combat systems you've encountered in your life."

"Combat systems?" I repeated, feeling bewildered, confused, and in pain.

"Indeed." Voldemort confirmed with malicious glee.

"Do you accept, Harry Potter?"

I took a long moment to examine the freaky looking entity. Was it telling the truth, or was it lying to me? I didn't know. _Could_ it lie in my own mind? Was I really in my own mind, as it was saying?

Wait... Yes, this was my own mind. I could feel it. I didn't know how to explain it, but I could clearly tell that this was my own mind.

Okay, so Voldemort wasn't lying to me. I still didn't trust him, though it's not like I had a choice in the matter.

"Fine. I accept." I finally said, sealing the deal. I looked around. "So, when do we begin—"

But the scene was already shifting.

"Right now." The voice, instead of being all encompassing, now came from the flayed child itself. Voldemort began to growl at me threateningly, his skin turning green, while his eyes assumed the shape of a snake's eyes. Lines began appearing on the boy's head, splitting it into five others, and his neck was greatly elongated.

Our surroundings morphed, grabbing my attention. They turned from the vast white expanse, into a quiet looking village. I looked beyond its borders, seeing only greenery, followed by the vast expanse of the sea. The buildings seemed to possess an architectural quality reminiscent of the Japanese people: they were wooden structures, elevated slightly off of the ground, with thatched roofs. The walls consisted almost entirely of sliding doors, allowing for great room customization.

The people, looking to be of Japanese descent, were milling around the town, minding their own business.

In fact, none of them were even paying attention to me, strangely enough. It was like I was a ghost.

I quickly turned to where I'd last seen Voldemort— or was it Kidmort? Maybe Voldekid?— cursing at myself for my carelessness. But he was nowhere to be found.

What the hell was he turning into? His skin turned green, and his head was splitting into many others. A hydra, perhaps? Sounded like a hydra.

Something about this whole situation seemed so familiar to me. Too familiar.

_"Many combat systems you've encountered in your life."_ Voldemort's words rang in my head.

It made sense. I remembered this place. I made my way to the city's entrance; the city's occupants seemed to be completely oblivious to my presence. I read the sign, and then I re-read it for good measure.

It said: "Island Nation of Zipangu."

Damn it.

"No fucking way." I breathed, and entered the town once more, searching for the main building. It was just as I remembered it was, from an old game I played on a gameboy emulator last summer. I entered the building, walking past the guards, and made my way to the throne room, except that it was completely bare— as expected.

A Japanese woman in an elaborate yukata, wearing an excessive amount of make up sat on the floor in a seiza position, regarding me with great disdain.

"What do you want?" She said, clearly unhappy with my presence. "I despise outlanders such as you. You better have a good reason for being here, and you better explain that reason quickly."

"Have you heard of the Archfiend Baramos?" The words came unbidden from my mouth, as if scripted.

Which they were. I remembered this conversation. I remembered this woman's— Himiko was her name— answer.

"Yes, I have." Lady Himiko spoke carefully. "But I have no interest in hearing any more fairy tales. You must be the one they call _Potter!_" She snarled, as expected.

"I have received information from the Kingdom of Aliahan, Romalia, and Isis of the Desert." She spat out the kingdom names as if they were garbage. "Be aware that I do not scare as easily as _others_ into some wild goose chase. Leave, now."

I nodded gravely, and left with no reply. The door slammed from behind me, the sound echoing through the large hallway. The guards didn't move— as expected.

I ended up exiting the city as fast as I could. Only this time, the citizens of the town were actually staring at me— quite intensely, in fact. It was very unnerving.

I made it out of town, and was greeted by the sight of a horse harnessed to a parked carriage. Probably mine, if I remembered correctly.

I took a deep breath, not believing I survived that encounter with the Lady Himiko. If we were really following the rules of _that_ particular game, then I'd just had a conversation not with Himiko, but with Voldemort, who was disguised as her. It made sense with how Lady Himiko spat out my name with enough revulsion that it would make a Malfoy proud. It fit the storyline of the game.

Was Voldemort truly bound by the rules, like he had said?

If so, then this was good news.

If he was bound by the rules of the game, then I knew where I could find him. I knew his move-set, and I knew how to kill him.

The question is, how could I beat him? I called my energy to my hand, and attempted to direct it outwards. Just like before, no lightning came out.

"Damn it!" I swore loudly, hands balled up into tight fists. How was I supposed to fight without my magic?

"Wait." I said out loud, adopting a thoughtful look. It wasn't that I lost my magic. It's that my magic didn't follow the rules of this game! I strained my mind to remember everything it could about the game mechanics, classes, and spell list. Yes, it made sense. Lightning Dragon Slayer magic wouldn't work here, after all.

Just to make sure, I performed a test. I pointed my hand outward, and concentrated my energy.

"_Blazemore!_" almost immediately, a powerful fireball erupted from my hand, quickly setting fire to a nearby tree. The fire itself was oddly intense, turning the tree to ash in a matter of seconds. Hm. A Mage class? I could be a Sage, though.

"_Upper."_ I waved my hand over myself. The area around my skin suddenly shimmered, forming translucent, form fitting shielding.

"All right then, I must be a Sage, if I can use the powers of both a Priest and a Mage." I said to myself, absently checking the parked carriage for anything useful. I found a gnarled staff and a red robe. There was nothing else.

The staff would increase the power of my attacks, but the real gem here would be the robe. It was supposed to halve the damage of fire-attacks— which would be Voldemort's main power, aside from his brute force. I quickly put the robe on over my regular clothes, and grabbed the staff, before setting off to the cave which was supposed to be south-east of here.

I screwed up with my directions, not really used to navigating. A few more tries later, and I had a decent grasp on where 'south-east' actually was. I made my way through the forest surrounding the city. Strangely, I encountered no monsters, which was a little unnerving.

In the game itself, the rate with which you encountered monsters was incredibly high. Sometimes you could go through a battle, then take two steps and end up in another battle. Right now? Nothing. No hint of any monsters whatsoever. Was I wrong about the rules? I just didn't know. I had no choice but to keep moving forward.

I reached the familiar dark red entrance to the cave, and made my way inside. It was just like I remembered it.

It was a good idea to wear that fire-resistant robe. The cave was filled with rivers of boiling magma. The atmosphere was of a suffocating quality. The air was incredibly hot, due to the magma, and there was a trace of sulfur in the air, filling the cave with a reddish haze. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought that this infernal place was Hell.

I made my way through the incredibly familiar passageways, easily avoiding all the dead ends and the various traps. The lack of monsters was beginning to bother me. Usually, at this point I would've been battling against Metal Slimes, as well as bears— though how bears could live in a magma filled environment with all that fur was beyond me.

"Chalk it up to a lack of imagination..." I muttered to myself, plowing through the tunnels. I finally reached a set of stairs leading down, and descended into a room filled with bones. These were the remains of the people who were sacrificed to the monster which was plaguing the nation of Zipangu; I would assume that the bones which were closest to the staircase were the humans who attempted to escape their fate. I licked my suddenly dry lips, and entered the sacrificial area. My heart was pounding wildly against my chest, as I readied myself up for battle.

This was the only tunnel which had no lava flows. I could see some unlit torches to the side, and assumed that this room had a good deal of them to provide decent lighting. However, since they were currently unlit, the room was shrouded in all-encompassing darkness. I sighed and ventured further inside the belly of the beast.

"So you came... So soon." I heard a growling voice say from the end of the dark tunnel, making me stiffen in shock. I had noticed another presence.

I weaved power into my hands, directing it at the torches of the room.

"_Firebal_."I incanted, and a small wave of fire was launched from my hand, striking most of the torches in the room, bathing everyone inside with a faint, yellowish light.

I took a weary step back. Even though I was aware of what I was about to fight, its appearance was so fearsome that it gave me pause. The Orochi was a green scaled dragon with five heads standing upon four legs. Each head had blue spines running up its length. The monster stood atop an altar, surrounded by the bones of fallen humans, most likely sacrificed to keep it from terrorizing the city of Zipangu.

I realized that the citizens of the nation of Zipangu were looking at me with hope, as I was exiting the city itself. They probably thought I was off to kill the frightening Orochi— which I was.

It glared at me with its crimson, snake eyes.

"You see, Potter?" One of the heads growled at me, as the others randomly spewed fire with great intensity, the heat wave forcing me to shield my face. "You have no chance against me. If you surrender right now, I'll make your death quick, and relatively painless."

"Yeah... I don't think I'll surrender." I answered back with confidence I didn't quite feel. "And besides, even if I do, I don't trust you to keep your word." I smiled wryly.

"You would be right." Orochimort— good name, right?— confirmed with a hiss. "If anything, your torture would have been prolonged, and a lot more intense, had you surrendered so easily."

"I thought as much." I said, and brandished my staff at the creature. "Are you ready to die, then?"

"Ready to kill!" Orochimort snarled, with one of its heads launching itself towards me with great speed. He planned on ending the battle as quickly as possible. I jumped back, avoiding the monster's jaws which closed with an audible snap, missing my body by mere inches.

"_Upper! Upper! Upper!_" I wasted no time, and cast the defensive spell as fast as I could in quick succession. A translucent white shielding swam over my form, greatly increasing my body's resistance to physical attacks. Granted, I was nowhere near impervious to such attacks, but this would buy me those precious few seconds I could use to escape.

"You believe you can protect yourself with such puny magic?" The green dragon laughed uproariously, before all the heads pointed in my direction, mouths open, preparing to—

"Shit!" I dived behind a nearby boulder, just in time for it to shield me from the most intense stream of flame shot I've ever been exposed to. This easily beat the Hungarian Horntail's fire breath, which made sense, since this powerful breath attack was simultaneously carried out by all of Orochimort's heads. The heat was incredibly intense; I felt like I was shoved into an oven. Even with my robe on, the flames felt like they were burning me alive.

"_Barrier_." I waved my hand over myself. A series of linked hexagons shimmered in front of me, forming a wall between me and the white hot flames. The previously debilitating flames became much more manageable, allowing me to enter the fight once more.

The stream of flames stopped, with Orochimort looking enraged at expending so much energy, and have so little to show for it.

"You didn't think this through, did you?" I couldn't resist the taunt, before I furiously slashed at the air in front of me, faintly noticing the 8-bit boss battle song in the background. Neat. "_Icebolt!_"

Large, sharpened blocks of ice formed around the many-headed dragon and converged on his form. There was a multitude of loud, stabbing noises. Orochimort shrieked painfully, the sound unintentionally causing me great discomfort, rendering me unbalanced for a few moments.

A few moments was all that Orochimort needed, as he swung his massive tail horizontally, catching me by the midsection. I was catapulted into the wall, smashing into it with enough force to crack the hard stone. I regained my bearings, just in time to avoid another stream of flames. The pain from that hit was not unbearable, but it was incredible nonetheless. A few more hits from that, and I'd be history.

Or... Wait.

"_Healmore!_" A green light covered my form, and I felt the pain fade into nothingness. As a Sage, I could both heal and attack.

Orochimort roared in anger. Strange, I hit him with an Icebolt just now. Where were the wounds? His form looked a little bloody, but it seemed as if the wounds had already completely healed. I didn't know the Orochi possessed regenerative capabilities! Was Voldemort breaking the rules? He couldn't be, or else he would have killed me in that room as Himiko, before.

"Let's shake things up a bit." I brandished my staff, and waved it in an arc in front of Orochimort, who snarled back, forming a dome of white energy around him. That particular barrier was capable of blocking any spell in existence. Worse yet, it reflected it back at the caster.

"_Explodet!_" The ceiling above the green dragon exploded, sending chunks of rock falling down towards the shield. Orochimort realized that he messed up a little too late, as the chunks of rock and the stalactites impaled the great monster. He wheezed painfully, as one of his heads proceeded to quickly yank out the stalactites from its wounded body, worsening his injuries in the process.

Orochimort's purple blood pooled on the ground as he attempted to heal himself with a spell.

"_Heal—_"

"_Stopspell!_" I quickly said, taking away the monster's ability to cast spells. I gazed at the bleeding wretch before me. Three of its heads were down for the count, while the other two looked as cut up as the rest of its body. Orochimort snarled at me, his crimson snake eyes defiant to the end.

"You can't beat me!" He tried to roar, but had to stop and vomit out more purple blood.

"Yeah, I think I can." I disagreed, holding my staff up high, ready to deliver the finishing blow. "_Thordai—_"

But Orochimort faded out of existence. And my surroundings began to shift once more.

The dark, stone walls turned into red, concrete ones. A line ran through these walls, forming a ball every few intervals. The hot stone floor, gave way to cold, blue tiles. Pillars resembling gigantic canines rose from the ground, forming a pathway leading into a faint light in the distance.

It was then that I noticed the man in front of me. He was wearing the strangest getup I'd seen in a while. He had a thin, angular face and spiky, red hair. He wore a medieval looking navy blue tunic, with orange trimming; a brown belt hung around his waist, and the man wore large black boots with orange two rings around the top of each boot. The cuffs of his long sleeves were black with orange zigzagging trim separating the cuff from the navy blue part of the sleeve. He sported a long, flowing cape around his neck which was black on the outside and crimson red on the inside.

"I still can't believe my dragons lost to you, Potter!" The spiky red haired man— who I recognized as Lance, the master of Dragon Pokémon— said, looking dismayed at losing.

"You're now the Pokémon League champion! …Or, you would have been, but you have one more challenge ahead. You have to face another trainer! His name is… Voldegary Oak! He beat the Elite Four before you. He is the real Pokémon League champion!"

Voldegary Oak. Really?

**ooooooooooooooo**

I figure I might have to clarify a few things before you go crazy on the review section.

Harry is in a coma right now, battling against the Horcrux in his scar. His soul is creating attempts to defend itself by turning the battle of wills into a battle of video games, instead. Sorry to burst your bubble, but there won't be a Pokémon crossover or whatever.

Anyway, think you can guess what the first game was? I threw in a whole slew of references for you, without actually stating the name of the game.


End file.

Harry Potter, Adventure, Humor