The IDEK Creature!Fic
Prologue/Background
000
Gaia was lost.
Her beloved planet, Her creation, was slowly being torn apart. The Earth was at war, war between those of Humankind, Her brother's creations. Light and Dark forever dueling and tearing Her planet apart with their constant feuding. It seemed it would be that way forever...
The pain tore at Her, for she was one with Her planet and the planet was one with Her. She was Earth and Earth was She.
Then it dawned on Her. There was Light and there was Dark... But where was the Shadow? The Shadow, which was born from the Light but lived in the Dark... That was the key.
She focused her will and power and love of Her world. She would give Life to the Shadow, a form and their own powers, to which to quell the feud between Light and Dark. To ensure they become and stay forever equal.
Thus was the Kizra'kyn. The Shadow Keepers.
They did their purpose. Dark and Light were quelled and the Earth, and She, was at peace.
But the Kizra'kyn were dying. Their power was too great and was killing them from within.
Thus Gaia created the Stabilizers. The humans destined to become the Mate of their Kizra'kyn counterparts. But even then the power of the Kizra'kyn shone through. The children were never half blood but always full blooded Kizra'kyn.
Earth continued to age. Peace reigned, with only the random Dark Age.
The Kizra'kyn were becoming obsolete.
They died quickly, for they were being hunted by Humankind.
But one was always sure to live, for without their presence balancing the Earth, there would be chaos. However, their powers stayed dormant, their true forms kept from sometimes even themselves as they slipped among Humankind, masquerading as one of the species.
But the Last would be awakened.
For Chaos was coming, and it would not be deterred.
000
Chapter One
000
It was a very nice day outside. Not too hot, considering it was summer, and certainly not as scorching as it had been the year before.
Harry desperately wished to go outside. Unfortunately, he was stuck inside doing schoolwork and (to Hermione's insistent prodding) making actual lesson plans for the Defense Association. And she wasn't going to let him out of it with the threat that if she didn't see a lesson plan out of him within the week she would make one herself.
Harry dreaded what Hermione would come up with. She'd probably assign homework.
Added to his busy schedule was a constant stream of mail, either from those in the D.A or from either Remus, Tonks, or Mad-Eye, following a routine check-up every other day. Although, however annoying, Harry supposed he was grateful for the work. Harry knew that without it he would certainly have done nothing else but brood himself into a pit of depression over Sirius's death.
Harry shoved the thought away forcefully before he could dwell on it.
He stretched in his chair, flexing his fingers. He supposed a short break wouldn't do much harm. He stood from his desk and looked out of the window into the perfectly normal garden of number four. With a sigh, he turned from it and left the room.
Vernon was at work, Dudley was out who-knows-where beating up who-knows-who, and Petunia was in the kitchen fixing lunch. She fixed him with a fierce glare, which he ignored, and he slipped out the front door.
He mused, idly, on where to go. Dudley and his gang of troublemakers would be either out smoking somewhere or beating up some unfortunate kid. Meaning they were at the park. Harry made a quick decision and headed up Privet Drive to Magnolia Crescent.
As he passed number six a sound like a loud whip sounded from behind him. He turned half-heartedly, knowing he wouldn't see anyone. Sure enough, no one was there. But Harry knew they were still watching him; Dumbledore still had members of the Order following him in case there was trouble.
He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and looked up at the sky while he thought. Remus? No, Remus had written to say he wouldn't be in contact for at least a week. Harry suspected a mission. Tonks? No, she was a bit too clumsy to be subtle enough. It couldn't be Mad-Eye, otherwise Harry knew he would be hearing more than just the sound of Alastor Moody Apparating. So it must be Mundungus. Anyone else, Harry knew, was either busy at work or on a mission or something else. Harry checked to see if he was right.
"Hey, Mundungus."
"S'up, 'arry." The invisible Mundungus replied automatically, before cursing himself. The back-alley thief took off the invisibility cloak, still cussing, and cast a doleful eye at the grinning Potter.
He and Harry had built a quick friendship over the summer. Mundungus was the only one who wouldn't keep anything from him. And even if he tried, it was dead easy to wrangle it out of him. It stemmed from Mundungus' true sorrow over last summer's incident and Harry's tightlipped assurance of keeping Mundungus' 'accidents' out of Order ears. Harry kept quiet (because, truly, he couldn't really care) and Mundungus trusted him.
"You're too fast for your own good, y'know," Mundungus griped. "Dunno why Dumbledore don't put you in the Order, 'gardless of age." Harry's grin was brought down to a frown and he shrugged.
"I don't pretend to understand it either, Dung. But you know how Dumbledore is." Mundungus grinned.
"Aye, a sly old codger, 'e is. Er... y'mind not mentioning this, now?" Mundungus looked around anxiously. "Y'wasn't supposed to know I was 'ere, and all." Harry shook his head.
"Same as always, Dung." Mundungus gave him a grateful smile and disappeared under the cloak once more.
Harry continued on to the park.
He arrived to a scene much like he was expecting: Dudley, along with his smaller-sized but just as stupid gang of lackeys, Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon, had ganged up on a boy who looked no older than eight. Harry scowled as the dishonorable act of ganging up on a kid half your age and a third your size.
They hadn't seen Harry yet, so the bespectacled boy took advantage of the fact, shooting a warning look to where Mundungus had released a choice set of curses, and snuck closer to hear what Dudley was saying, emphasizing every other word with a punch. Piers was, of course, the one holding the bruised boy's arms back while the other three watched with jeering faces, Dennis holding a cigarette in his hand.
"This," punch, "ought to," punch, "teach you," punch, "to mess with," punch, "me!" Dudley rammed a meaty fist into the boy's stomach. The eight-year-old moaned.
"Please, let me go! I promise I won't never call ya a right old gorilla again! Me mum's gonna be so worried, she is!" Dudley and his gang snickered heartlessly.
"Aw, poor mama's boy, gonna run home to mommy and cry?" mocked Malcolm, a sneer on his usual disgusting face. The boy, whose eyes and cheeks were red from crying, sniffled.
"Please!" the boy whimpered as Dudley aimed another punch. Harry had had enough.
"Let him go, Dudley," Harry said dryly from behind the group. "If you break another kid's ribs like last time the police aren't going to believe it was in self defense again." Dudley whirled around in surprise, before his face settled in disgruntlement.
"Oh, it's you. Go away Potter, can't you see I'm busy?" Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Yes," Harry said sarcastically. "Real busy man you are, beating up on an eight-year-old. Now let him go." He glared at Piers, who let go of the boy's arms and backed away in fright. Malcolm, Dennis, and Gordon were looking nervously between their gang leader and the "hardened hooligan" from St. Brutus's. Dudley looked torn for a moment before looking away from Harry's glare and turning to his friends.
"C'mon," Dudley said gruffly. "I bet Mum's done with lunch." The four gratefully followed their leader up Magnolia Road. Harry turned to the kid, who was shivering and looking at him with frightened eyes.
"Y-you're not gonna hurt me, are ya?" the kid asked in a small voice as Harry kneeled in front of him.
"No," Harry said, giving him a small smile. "You're safe with me." The fright faded slowly from the kid's eyes, replaced by curiosity. He opened his mouth to say something then hesitated, before blurting out a sentence and blushing.
"Is it true that you once beat up four kids 'cause they called you somethin' not nice?" Harry raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"Where'd you hear that?" The kid shuffled nervously.
"From a kid in the park," he answered shyly. Harry laughed lightly.
"No, that's not true. What else did you hear?" The kid was beginning to look excited as he listed everything that he had heard.
"I heard that you once beat up a teacher at St. Brutus's and now all of 'em are 'fraid of you. And that you're the toughest kid in your school and you stuff other kids heads down the toilets when they don't do what ya want. And that you once cussed out a cop 'cause the he took a knife away from ya." Harry shook his head in amusement, glancing at an empty spot where a snort sounded.
"You shouldn't believe everything that you hear," Harry said, standing up. "Now, where do you live? You won't be able to make it back on your own with you like this." The kid told him his address, now looking at Harry with awed and adoration-filled eyes. Harry took his hand and began to walk with him home, picking him up when the kid whimpered in pain and limped.
"Me name's Michael Davis," the boy stated proudly a few moments after Harry had picked him up. "I already know who you are. You're Harry Potter. All the kids talk about ya, but I'll tell 'em right! I'll tell 'em you saved me from Dudley's gang they won't talk bad about you no more." Harry smiled softly, though it was tinged with a slight bitterness. Harry sighed when the boy jumped at the sound of Mundungus Apparating.
They soon arrived at Michael's house. His mother, a blond woman with bright, blue eyes opened the door and descended on her son with a flurry of "I was so worried about you!" and "don't ever scare me so again, young man!". Michael all but flung himself into his mother's arms, talking animatedly about what had happened.
"And then Harry came and told Dudley to stop and Dudley stopped and he and his goons left, Ma!" The woman stared at her son with mixed horror and worry before rounding on Harry, who stood uncomfortably a few feet away with his hands in his back pocket. She eyed him warily for a moment.
"Thank you, young man," she said a bit stiffly. "I'm afraid I can't repay you at the moment, but my boy's so dear to me..." Harry smiled nervously and held up his hands.
"No problem, ma'am. Dudley shouldn't be picking on kids like Michael anyway." Harry smiled down sincerely at Michael, who was still looking at him with worshipful eyes. "If Dudley picks on you or your friends again, just tell me, alright? I'll make sure he won't bother you." Michael nodded while avidly while his mother frowned with disapproval. Harry smiled nervously.
"See you later, Michael, Mrs. Davis." Harry turned and hightailed it out of there.
Dudley was waiting for him, alone, in the ally on Magnolia Crescent. He was glaring furiously, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
"Who do you think you are, Potter?" he spat, searching his pockets for a lighter. He found one but Harry grabbed both the lighter and the cigarette before he lit it. Instead, Harry lit it himself and inhaled, staring at him evenly with cold eyes.
"I think, Dud, it's about time you and me had a little chat," he said, his voice like ice. Dudley shivered but didn't bother taking the cigarette back, nor the lighter which was put away in Harry's back pocket.
"Talk quickly Potter, I don't want to have to listen to you any longer than I have to," Dudley said, eyeing the cigarette with greedy eyes. Harry exhaled slowly, releasing a fume of smoke.
"I want you to stop picking on kids who are barely learning their times tables. Stick to your own age group, understand?" Dudley grated his teeth together in agitation, beady eyes narrowed in anger.
"Why should I listen to you?" Harry inhaled another lung-full, smirking.
"You owe me a life debt," he said smugly. "And you know it." Dudley clenched his hands.
"Fine," Dudley snarled. "I'll leave the brats alone." Harry eyed him with emotionless eyes.
"Especially Michael Davis," where Harry's final words before he exhaled and threw the cigarette onto the ground, crushing it with his heel. Dudley glared and stalked onto Privet Drive. Harry watched him go with a feeling of smugness.
"Oh, and Dung?" he said casually as his overweight cousin rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. "I'd appreciate if this wasn't mentioned."
"Right-o, 'arry."
000
July thirtieth came upon Harry so suddenly he couldn't believe it. Vernon, who had every second and fourth Tuesday off, had kept Harry busy all day doing work. Harry was made to wash the cars (their new company station wagon and the minivan Dudley demanded for now that he could 'drive'), paint the sun-faded fence with a new coat of paint and whitewash, polish the brass number four, and clean the garage. Along with his regular chores: tend the garden, wash the windows, clean Dudley's room, dust the living room, clean the bathrooms, wash the dishes, and clean the oven.
Harry could have sworn he was developing a sunburn in the now over-a-hundred heat. It was so hot he had taken of his shirt and donned a nearly see-through undershirt, which clung to his sweat-slicked body like a second skin. He had to endure not only Dudley's smugness as the fat oaf watched him from either porch eating from a large bowl of ice cream but also the neighborhood girls as they repeatedly walked past the house, staring and giggling like crazy but scattering when Dudley tried to hit on them.
Harry understood why they acted like that around him; his once scrawny physique had toned out some from exercise and Quidditch, and his wild hair had developed a natural wind-swept look his father had once had to work to get. But it still annoyed him as they giggled behind their hands and whispered not so discreetly about how "utterly delectable" he looked in the actually fitting Muggle clothes he had bought earlier that summer, the instant tattoo of a ring of fire he had had Mundungus charm to be permanent for him on his arm as well as a different tattoo on his back, and the two gold hoops he had gotten at a Muggle parlor the same day Dudley begged his mum to get his own ears pierced.
But it was absolutely bloody annoying.
Harry fetched the hose to water off the minivan, blatantly ignoring the giggling brainless dolts leaning on the recently dried fence. That done, he slipped inside for a quick shower and change of clothes before gathering his uncle.
In the beginning of summer, Vernon had enrolled Dudley into a driver's training program. After realizing Harry lived with them also, the instructor demanded that Harry learn too. Dudley, who was only learning to drive cars, had just barely passed the exam the week before. But Harry had requested extra lessons to learn how to control other cars, especially motorcycles after learning that Sirius had left his flying motorcycle, lent to Hagrid all those years ago, to Harry. It's name was the Black Beauty and it was currently under Harry's invisibility cloak in the backyard.
Vernon grumbled the whole way to Harry's lesson, not liking one bit that Harry had to learn nor that Vernon himself had to take him.
"You're bloody well learning how to drive a bloody car, why couldn't you take yourself?" Harry looked at his uncle with non-amused eyes.
"To drive myself there I would have to borrow the car. You've forbidden me the keys. So, pray tell, how am I supposed to drive myself?" Harry said sarcastically.
"Don't you take that tone with me, boy," Vernon growled as they pulled up. "Now get out, and don't you think I'm picking you up!" Harry got out of the car.
The last lesson of his training was over with quicker than normal. Mr. Smith, his instructor, commented on his skill and gave Harry a gift: a helmet and gloves for the motorcycle he knew Harry had, as Harry had told him about it. Harry thanked him and hailed a taxi back to Privet Drive.
It was dinner time when he got back. The Dursleys glared at him as he joined them, but as usual, he ignored them. He retired to his room directly after the meal.
He was planning on staying up until midnight, like he usually did on his birthday. He watched the time tick nearer and nearer until midnight, silently counting down in his head and absently smoking a cigarette out of the pack he stole from Dudley's room. (The good thing about that was Dudley couldn't complain or his parents would know that he smoked.) He never registered the Dursleys settling in for the night, nor Dudley sneaking past his room to the kitchen for the nightly pig-out session. His eyes stayed on the clock.
As the red digital numbers grew closer and closer to twelve, Harry began to feel a weird sensation. It grew stronger as each minute passed, like he had swallowed a bucket of live flobberworms and they were crawling around inside him, from his toes to his fingertips.
Eleven fifty.
The feeling grew stronger, as though the flobberworms had sprouted wings.
Eleven fifty-five.
Now they were pulsing inside of him in tune with his heart beat, growing louder and louder in his ears.
Fifty-nine.
They stood suddenly still. And as the clock struck midnight and the clock downstairs chimed, they exploded in a wave of dizziness and a pain worse, Harry imagined, than the Cruciatus curse. Harry didn't know if he screamed. His throat was sore as though he had but no one was screaming at him through the door for waking them (and possibly the neighbors) up.
The pain was all he knew for what seemed like an eternity. It spread throughout his entire body, shredding him and putting him back together to be shredded once more. It pulsed in his back, as though there was something beneath his skin that wanted to be free from it's captivity, trapped for far, far too long. It burned in his hands, like his fingers were stretching to a length human fingers shouldn't be. The tips were like fire and ice at once underneath his nails, as though something cool and soothing were trying to break free and burning their way through. And oh, how his head was in agony; burning in his eyes, his scalp. It seemed as though every bit of him was debating between fire and ice, burning in one then plunging into the other.
And then it was gone. The pain receded, leaving an unnatural calmness in it's wake. Nothing could faze him, nothing could surprise him, absolutely nothing would destroy his calmness... unless one went against him for then he would be deadly. A sense of utter uncaring prevailed, of total neutrality, of complete and absolute freedom... from emotion.
He opened his eyes, slowly, for the artificial light hurt his stinging orbs. He felt burdened for some reason, off-balanced. He was lying on his stomach on the floor. What was he doing there? What a strange place to be. Slowly, his muscles aching, he lifted himself up. Now on his knees, he frowned at his hands. Were his fingers supposed to be that long? Where his nails supposed to look like metal claws? He tried to stand.
And promptly fell back down, his head spinning.
His sense of balance had abruptly shifted. He didn't understand. It was as though something was weighing him down. He looked behind him as something shifted and froze.
A great pair of dark, grey-purple wings were attached to his back. He frowned. Were they supposed to be there? He supposed so, for they felt right where they were. He flexed them to get a feel for his new appendages. Slowly, he tried to stand up again, positioning his wings to work for him and not against him. Eventually they settled on something and he stood.
He noticed he was a little taller than he should have been, and guessed, correctly, that he was now somewhere in the vicinity of six feet, maybe a couple inches taller at most. He turned around and caught his reflection in the mirror. Again, he froze.
His complexion was much tanner than he remembered it being earlier that day. His face was more pointed, delicately so, with long pointed ears that curved slightly backwards with a second point about a forth of the way from the top pointing out of deep, rich black hair with crimson and navy highlights now down to the small of his back and rather spiked and naturally messy. His eyes were more square, almost rectangular, with soft edges; his pupils were nonexistent, his whites now a crimson grey and the bright, captivating green now even brighter with hints of violet in their drowning depths. They were filled with what looked like a turning, seething mist of multi colors, like an opal that had dissolved and come to rest in his eyes. And as the light hit them, it was as if his eyes were covered with mirror-plated glass how they were hidden from view in an obsidian sheen.
And they ached, his vision blurry and painful. He took off his glasses and the pain dispersed. He could see everything perfect, even thrice as better. Every detail sharp, every little fiber and color jumped out at him. It was as though his senses had tripled: not only his sight, but his smell, his hearing. He could hear someone in the kitchen, chomping away, the sloshing noises as they chewed and gulped. He could smell the food from the feast, twisting about him making him stomach churn as the once delicious food now smelt revolting to his sensitive nostrils. And twined about it was the sour, sweaty scent of his cousin, making him want to retch his dinner on the floor before him. He attempted to block out the sound and smell and succeeded.
He looked at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the pain began, heralding a change that was horribly painful to go through.
He heard a rustle behind him and turned to face nearly a dozen owls and an eagle. Six were standing on a particularly large box and bowed deeply to him once they had his attention, taking off out of the window into the night, as did another who had dropped from it's beak two rather thick Hogwarts envelopes. There was also Pig, with another rather large box, Hedwig also with a package, and Tonks's purple owl Spy with another one. The large, golden eagle stood atop a small, brown paper-wrapped box with a red stamp intoning Delayed Delivery.
He relieved Hedwig, Pig, Spy, and the eagle from their burdens. The owls flew to Hedwig's cage for water but the Eagle stayed put. Then he went to the largest box first and opened it with one of his new, steel-like fingernails, slicing cleanly through the thick tape. Inside was a mountain of sweets and a card signed by every member of the Defense Association; they put their gifts together as one package to save him the trouble of so many owls delivering gifts after midnight to his home.
Hedwig carried his gift from Hermione which came in two parts: a wand-polishing kit with a self-care manual and a book on advanced defense charms. Pig carried gifts from the Weasleys: mince pies and brownies from Molly; 1001 Ways to Prank Your Professor, by and from Fred and George Weasley; sweets from Ron, Bill, and Charlie; and an upgraded Sneakoscope, which would only shriek if there was personal mischief against it's owner from Ginny.
From Spy were his gifts from Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Mundungus. Remus sent him a flute made out of rare grey dragon bone; Tonks sent a deck of playing cards with famous Quidditch players on them, who winked or smiled at him. From Moody came a holster with an adjustable strap, to put his wand anywhere "but in your back pocket". Mundungus sent along a strange necklace on which hung a black crystal that he stole from a vampire in Africa which nobody seemed to want to buy from him.
After briefly glancing at the books, Sneakoscope, and flute, adjusting the wand holster, putting on the necklace, and eyeing the sweets with a sense of nausea, he turned to the eagle, watching him from his perch atop the smallest package. He took up the letter first, with his name written upon it in gently, curling letters. On the scroll was a seal in violet-crimson wax of a large bird with what looked like a metal body. He slit the seal easily and unrolled it.
Dear Harry,
If you are reading this, my son, then I did not survive to see you grow. It fills me with sorrow that this has come to pass like I feared, but had hoped, it would not.
By now you should have turned sixteen years old and come into your inheritance, like I was forced to on my sixteenth birthday. However, if you have not awoken it is because there is no need for you to have. But, as I again fear, the situation is dire enough to call for it. It would not shock you now to learn what you are, for your new sense does not call for it. I feared my awakening for I knew that it would come, but after I feared nothing. Nothing, that is, until you were born.
This power we share, that I have passed onto you with your birth, is our greatest secret. Not even Dumbledore knew, nor knows, what we are for we are the last of the great and powerful Shadow Keepers of Gaia. Your birthday has brought to you the powers of a Kizra'kyn.
The book I have enclosed has been passed down through our line for millennia, from Heir to Heir. In all of this time, you are only the fifth to have awoken to such a threat as the destruction of the world. The book holds everything you will need to know about your new being, everything about a Kizra'kyn. It is written in our language, but your awakening should give you the power to read it.
I know from experience that you are confused and disoriented. You are not human, so the emotions that come from being human no longer apply. You will still feel emotion, but it will be different and less powerful than what a human emanates. You will feel happiness, sorrow, love, and anger, but it will not be all-consuming. There will be times when the calmness of a Kizra'kyn will be shattered, and when that is so you will be a danger to the one who provoked you but not for long.
I must warn you, my child, that there comes a price with this power. You will be Immortal, untouchable by time and poison of the body. But to the poison of the soul you will be vulnerable. The power of a Shadow Keeper is too great, and it eats us from within.
Therefor you must find your Stabilizer, the one who will ground your power and restrain it from destroying you. A Stabilizer is the Kizra'kyn form of a 'soul-mate' and are always human. Every Kizra'kyn has one, and without them our line would have ended forever and brought chaos upon the world. Find your Stabilizer, your destined Mate; keep them close and safe, and never cause them harm of either body nor mind nor heart.
There is one last thing, my son. You must understand that our purpose is balance. In matters of Light and Dark we are the Grey, the Shadow. We hold no loyalties to anyone but ourselves and our Mates and Gaia, and when the time comes, our children as well. Anyone who attempts otherwise are fighting a futile battle.
Know that I love you, my Harrius, and that I am very proud. You have a hard future but you will prevail.
For you are the Last and with you shall Chaos be stopped.
James Charlus Potter
Harry stood silently for a moment, half expecting to cry or feel shocked, or at least be angry at never being able to be normal. But nothing came, only a calm acceptance.
He turned to the package and tore off the paper. There was a small, black leather-bound book with a single gold symbol on the cover: three inverted triangles, one inside the other; inside of the three triangles was a square, at the top, and beneath it a circle. Harry was almost surprised, as he had had that symbol tattooed on his right shoulder-blade earlier that summer, the other tattoo Mundungus charmed for him. He touched the symbol lightly and blinked slowly when another package came into existence on his bed, with a note attached that read, 'This is your birthday gift. His name is Zero, treat him well. - Father'.
He opened the box. Inside was what looked like a black, perfectly round thing the size of a dragon egg. He touched it and it felt warm. It shook at his touch and he withdrew his hand, frowning as the black sphere cracked and splintered into several pieces. A furry, black lump shook itself free from the broken shell pieces and uncurled.
It looked like a miniature Sirius, with a crimson muzzle, stomach, three crimson stripes on it's back, two crimson stripes on each leg, three forked tails, and two horn stubs. When it blinked open it's eyes to look at him blearily, they were a pitch black that looked like true obsidian. It yawned cutely, blinked sleepily, licked his hand with an extremely dark mahogany colored tongue, and went to sleep. Harry stared at it for a moment, then picked it up and put it on his pillow.
He took the book and read for the rest of the night.
Even in his new state, he was interested by what he learned. As he read more and more until the book was finished and read it again thrice, he remembered with irony when he had argued with Dumbledore only a few months before on the subject of humanity. He had yelled that he did not want to be human so he would not feel the pain that came with it. Well, he got his wish. He almost found it amusing.
He learned that Kizra'kyn were nearly emotionless because there wasn't enough room inside of them to hold it. Their powers took it away. It was also because they were neither Dark nor Light and emotions and how you used those emotions helped determined what you were or would become. However, the emotions they did still feel centered and depended on their surroundings: they felt love and protectiveness and possessiveness for their Mates; protectiveness for children; loyalty to both and Gaia and their own kind; and anger at those who would harm either. They could feel amusement and annoyance, though they would not and could not express it save in rare instances.
He learned of his powers as a Kizra'kyn: control over fire, water, wind, and earth; the ability to read or leave thoughts in other's minds; to read another's soul. He could tell when another was lying even without using either of the latter powers and could see through illusions or fake forms, like invisibility spells or cloaks, Polyjuice Potions, or animagi forms. His physical power was strong as well. Endurance, strength, speed, all of it was enhanced along with natural senses.
He learned Kizra'kyn could not eat human-prepared food without getting sick because of the way it was prepared; his kind usually hunted their own food. They also did not need much sleep; another thing their powers took from them although they did not feel the weariness that would come from not sleeping. He learned how to retract his wings, a wingspan of sixteen feet with metal plates covering the back, and that he could, at will, change into a creature known as a Roc, a large grey-purple bird that could call forth metal armor to cover it's body and had a second set of wings used only for battle. He also learned how to use the wind to illusion his ears and hands, but decided to keep his new eyes for anyone to see.
He learned of his history and duty as a Shadow Keeper: to keep the balance of Dark and Light equal. He learned non-humans - Light or Dark, animal or otherwise - would obey him with no exceptions, although for the more independent of species he might have to prove himself. And he learned of the Stabilizers, and how he would know his own.
Stabilizers were always born around the same time, pinpointed to only a few days, as their Kizra'kyn counterparts. They were the opposites of a Shadow Keeper, empathic to anything living, with very little of their own personal magic to leave room for the power they would siphon off of their Kizra'kyn Mate, power which they could use themselves but generally kept and tamed to return when their Mate had need of it. Only a Stabilizer could calm an enraged Kizra'kyn.
He then read about his new 'pet', Zero. Zero was a true Grim, the familiars of Kizra'kyn. Grims were also Grey creatures, though they were considered Dark by the unknowing.
He suddenly realized he had not opened the other two letters. He retrieved the untouched parchment and first opened the one bearing the wax seal of the Ministry of Magic. Two pieces of parchment tumbled out; he picked up the more important-looking one.
Dear Mr. Potter, it read.
We are pleased to inform you that the results from your Ordinary Wizarding Exams have been tallied. Congratulations on your twelve O.W.L.s. You many find your complete results on the enclosed parchment.
Sincerely,
Griselda Marchbanks
Head Wizarding Examinations Authority
Harry blinked slowly and looked at the other sheet. It listed the classes he had taken currently. Next to each of the classes were three letters and a number, telling the result from the Demonstrative and Written Examinations, the overall grade, and how many O.W.L.s earned from it. He had an overall 'Outstanding' in Defense, Potions, and Charms; an 'Exceeds Expectation' in Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, and Herbology; an 'Acceptable' each for History and Astronomy; and a 'Poor' for Divination.
He guessed it wasn't too bad.
In the Hogwarts envelope, which he picked up next, there was the usual start of term letter, a list of the books and additional items he would need, and a personal congratulations from McGonagall for making her N.E.W.T.s class. Also enclosed the direct permission from Dumbledore to continue the Defense Association, so long he, the Headmaster, was kept up to speed on the progress of each student. He wanted to be informed if any particular student had an aptitude for it.
Harry frowned. He wasn't very sure at the moment whether he trusted Dumbledore. After all, had the machiavellian Headmaster not kept certain secrets from him, perhaps Sirius would still be alive...
Glancing at his reflection again briefly, he sat down and wrote thank you notes to everyone, enclosing a copy of the finished D.A. lesson plan in Hermione's.
Sunrise came all too quickly, dawning on another busy day.
000
Chapter Two
000
Harry left his motorcycle with a nearby conductor, who assured him it would be safe on the journey to Hogwarts.
Harry was glad to be rid of the Dursleys, though it wasn't the all-encompassing feeling of freedom like it usually was. After another month of putting up with his relatives, now trying to avoid him at all costs, and being forbidden to visit the Weasleys for even a little respite, Harry was feeling less than amiable towards the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry left the Dursleys that morning as early as he could without having to stand around on a platform waiting to be allowed on the train.
The platform was nearly empty as it was only eight in the morning with three hours still to board before the train left. From those that were there he received plenty of strange looks. He had worn a pair of dark black leather pants, a black sleeveless silk shirt, and a leather vest, ignoring his robes completely. He was stared at not only for the unfamiliar Muggle clothes but for his new appearance: the long hair, tanned skin, and tall, athletic frame.
Carrying his helmet in one gloved hand (both the helmet and gloves were charmed to accommodate his new hands and ears), a carry-on over the same shoulder, and an only slightly larger Zero (as Grims grew slowly) under the other, he made his way to a compartment to wait for Ron and Hermione. He chose randomly and stashed away his carry-on, putting the snoozing Grim atop it.
One by one students and families began to show up, the platform becoming busier and busier as the morning wore on. Harry was greeted by passing members of the D.A. as they arrived, occasionally chatting with them before they went off to find housemates. He noticed how some of them stared at his new appearance and especially his hair, which looked even messier than usual due to the bike ride, and his tattoo, exclaiming over his new look until he glared at them in slight annoyance and they backed off.
Seamus and Dean arrived early into ten o'clock and talked with him for nearly half an hour until they, too, left. Luna stopped by briefly and only blinked at him once before politely (or Luna-ly) ignoring the changes.
Neither the Weasleys, nor Hermione, had shown up yet.
At a quarter to eleven, Neville stopped by his compartment for a quick chat. Neville had matured considerably. He had lost the baby fat of youth and was now an admirable five-nine with a well-toned body. Harry almost didn't recognize him, save for the familiar sparkling blue eyes. Harry felt the unnatural calmness that had developed with his changing crumble slightly and something churn inside his belly, a strange, almost uncomfortable sensation. It was how he used to feel whenever Cho had praised him the year before, but stronger, more defined.
Neville acted strangely around him, glancing at his eyes and fidgeting as though nervous. There was a strange magic around him, but Neville made an excuse to leave before Harry could analyze it thoroughly. Harry thought back to what the book had said about Stabilizers, but before he had the chance to wonder if perhaps Neville was one, was his, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione showed up.
After a whole minute of staring in absolute shock, they greeted him enthusiastically.
"Harry, it's great to see you!" Hermione gushed, enveloping him in a hug. Harry offered a small smile in return. "Wow, you got tall!"
"Yes, it is nice to see you as well. Thank you." Hermione frowned slightly at nearly monotonous voice but smiled back anyway.
"Smashing, mate!" Ron said, thumping him on the back. "Hey, Hermione's right, you're taller than I am." Indeed, Harry surpassed Ron but only by less than an inch.
"Is that a tattoo?" Ginny asked, also enveloping him in a hug. "A pity you couldn't join us this summer," she added. The four sat down as the train began to move.
"I apologize," Harry said smoothly. "Dumbledore thought it wise to keep me where I was." He smiled softly, slightly forced. "And yes, it is a tattoo." This time all three frowned. Ginny paused, about to say something, then continued hesitantly.
"Harry? Is something... wrong? You seem a little... well, cold. Distant." Harry looked into her eyes expressionlessly and it was then she noticed their appearance. She gasped, her eyes flying wide. A hand flew up to cover her mouth.
"Oh, Harry! Your eyes!" Ron and Hermione looked confused before they looked at his eyes also. Ron recoiled and Hermione copied Ginny almost exactly.
"Harry?" Hermione reached out a hand and gently touched the thick, spiky strands of tri-colored hair; it felt downy under her fingertips and her shock melted away slightly for awe. She studied his face with narrow, scrutinizing eyes. "You've changed," she said softly, fastidiously avoiding staring in to his eyes. "You look a lot like your mother, now that I think about it." Harry blinked slowly at her.
"Yes. I do," he agreed. Ron stared at him.
"You look like a girl with that hair," he stated bluntly. Harry looked at him with hard eyes. Ron looked away.
"You seem almost inhuman with your new look. So pretty," Ginny said. She giggled. "Oh, you're going to get hell from the girls this year!" Harry smiled grimly. Ginny was right. Girls would be chasing him either for his looks or his money or his fame. At times all three. However, they would find themselves trying fruitlessly once he found his Stabilizer.
"So what's up, mate?" Ron asked, digging in a pocket for a chocolate frog. "What's with the new look?" Harry thought for a moment, wondering if he should tell them. Then he decided he didn't care what they thought, but perhaps revealing the truth would bring harm to his Stabilizer since they could not harm himself.
"I decided a... change was in order." He almost smirked at the irony. He feigned a hurt look, realizing he was going to have to act like he had emotions even if he did notfeel them. "Don't you like it?" Ginny giggled.
"Of course we do, Harry! It was just surprising, that's all." In an effort to change the subject, Hermione spoke up.
"So how did you do on your O.W.L.s, Harry?" She looked excited, but Ron turned suddenly sullen. "I got fourteen! Isn't that amazing? It's the highest score you can receive!"
"I got nine," Ron muttered, slumping in his seat, glaring out of the window. Hermione frowned.
"Oh, Ron, don't act like that. That's a perfectly respectable amount." She turned back to Harry. "How many did you get, Harry?" she asked him, ignoring Ron's glare. Harry glanced at Ron for a moment in slight confusion but shrugged it off.
"Twelve," he said casually. Ron's face grew darker and both Hermione and Ginny beamed.
"Congratulations, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, giving him a sideways hug.
"That's wonderful, Harry!" Ginny added, clapping. Ron scowled.
"Of course," the freckled boy spat, "the Great Harry Potter would get a high score. Don't you know he's perfect?" He stood up and stormed out of the compartment, the other three staring after him.
"That brat!" Ginny scowled, arms crossed. "I can't believe it! He's acting so rotten about his scores, when he knows he got one more point that the Twins did." Hermione sighed
"I was hoping he had gotten over his jealousy." She smiled at Harry in sympathy. "I guess not. Well, I guess I better get started on prefect duties. See you later, Harry, Ginny." She smiled once more and left.
Ginny looked at her watch. "Oh, darn! I was supposed to meet Dean ten minutes ago. Bye, Harry!" With a wave, she too was gone.
(Arrive at Hogwarts. Feast. Etc.)
Harry followed Neville out of the hall silently. Neville seemed to be in deep thought and didn't hear Harry approach him, but Harry doubted anyone would have unless he wanted them to. He spoke softly, making Neville start.
"You are a Stabilizer." Neville turned, panic in his eyes. He calmed almost at once.
"Harry! You scared me! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, you know, you could give someone a heart attack." Neville rubbed his chest, panic fading from his eyes. Nervousness replaced it as Harry repeated himself.
"You are a Stabilizer." Harry tilted his head in an almost childish manner. "Are you not?" Neville fidgeted slightly.
"Er... how did you...? Um, nevermind, I guess that would be a stupid question. Yes, I'm a Stabilizer." Harry's new strange colored eyes pierced his own, making Neville fidget even more.
"You are my Stabilizer." Neville swallowed. The Hufflepuff-like Gryffindor was hoping Harry wouldn't find out so soon. It was enough that Neville agonized over his year-mate's reaction to what it meant and keeping tabs on his raging crush on the raven-haired Adonis. Having Harry partnered with him during their D.A. meetings was bad enough.
But Neville doubted Harry would act irrationally. After all, Kizra'kyn weren't known for having emotional outbursts. At least, not often. Still, Neville grew even more nervous as Harry took a few steps closer, standing so close to him Neville could count the different swirls of color in Harry's eyes, eyes which were currently looking at him in contemplation.
"Good," the changed-Harry murmured. He grasped the surprised brown-haired boy's chin in a strong but gentle grip and tilted his head up for a chaste kiss.
Neville blinked slowly, staring up at him with surprised eyes and swallowed.
"You... you're not... upset about that?" he said nervously, absently aware that he was being backed up into a wall.
Harry's eyes were glowing faintly with rising lust and instead of answering, he bent his head and nipped lightly at Neville's exposed collarbone. Neville's breath hitched both in surprise and to suck in a delighted whimper. Harry's hands found Neville's waist, and the shorter boy soon found himself pinned between stone and flesh. Flesh that was both soft and hard while Harry suckled and nipped his skin with extremely pointed teeth. He couldn't help it and he moaned. Harry growled softly in response.
"Does it look like I am upset?"
Suddenly, the sounds of hundreds of footfalls began to near them as students left the Great Hall for bed.
"H-harry, I th-think maybe we should m-move this somewhere..." Neville didn't get to finish that sentence, for Harry had kissed him with bruising force to stifle Neville's gasp of shock as they melded with the shadows and were deposited in an empty room, one that reminded Neville faintly of the Room of Requirement.
Only now without the bookshelves, tables, and Dark Detectors and instead what looked like a very comfortable bed, a clothes cupboard, and another door.
"You need not bond with me if you are not ready," Harry murmured softly, guiding them to the bed. "But I need to have you with me or I fear it will destroy us both." Neville nodded; he understood as he had felt the growing need to be near his counterpart since his birthday. But he still blushed as he was picked up and gently set on the bed, Harry's warmth spooned against him quickly after that.
"But what about the others?" Neville murmured sleepily, snuggling under the covers.
"Do not worry of them." Neville nodded softly and swiftly fell into the deepest sleep he'd had since his birthday.