So, shapeshifting, huh?
1 Dragon- Harry Pooter, all around halp vives
Danny barely knew how he ended up like this, but that was better than normal, so he’d take it.
He was a dragon. An actual, honest-to-god dragon. He was sleek and actually fairly small for what one might expect, a white-tinted-blue color to his scales, wicked sharp talons and even a spike on the end of a slender tale. The (his?) wings were obviously built for a mixture of speed and endurance, a cocktail of subtle lines, deliberate silhouettes and powerful muscles.
He kinda knew how things ended up like this; Shulker had fled into a portal that had been nearby (they occasionally popped in and out of existence, usually at the worst possible moments) and made a run for it in the Ghost Zone, and of course he gave chase.
Then there was a lot of yelling, something about a magical amulet. Having met a guy who could turn into a dragon capable of smashing kingdoms to bits, he ducked.
And things kind of got a bit fuzzy from there; something golden flashed into his vision before the calmer green of his own aura kinda took over his vision. A faint pressure around his neck, then a blinding pain all over.
He snuffed in annoyance, apparently the dragon equivalent of a sigh, and pawed carefully at the necklace-thing. It had grown as he had, apparently, and was now a series of thick pieces of gold created a chain linked to a subtly glowing black gem in the center.
But he still had his ice powers, as shown by when he coughed while waking up and turned a tree into a popsicle. Maybe it was supposed to be fire-breath, and his ice-core had tainted it? Whatever, not the question that needed answering right now.
He was in a grassy knoll somewhere, a smattering of trees dusting the area before melting into general forest. It was warmish, but judging from how pleasant the ice felt and how slow it seemed to be melting, his temperature gauge might be a bit skewed.
He was actually pretty thankful he was in the middle of nowhere; things would be much more chaotic if he had landed in the middle of a city. When had he even left the ghost zone? Had his scrambling while in that fit of pain opened a portal? If so, he could be just about anywhere. The Ghost Zone and real world had differing distances values. H*ll, he could have left the continent.
A flash of movement in the trees, a peek of maroon. His eyes narrowed. Were tropical birds here or something?
Oh shoot, what if campers were nearby!?
He started to get up, plans for escape forming in his head, before a bright beam of light came out of nowhere, his muscles suddenly stopped obeying him. He collapsed in a heap by the frozen tree, endlessly confused and more than a little confused. A muffled roar escaped his throat, the giant lizard version of a surprised yell.
A head of red hair sprinted out of the forest and in his direction, reaching his side relatively quickly. He was dressed weirdly; a robe like he imagined Gandalf wearing in a deep green speckled pattern.
“Gee, there. What are you doin’ this far south?” The ginger asked curiously, panting a bit. “An Artic Fleetfoot, wow. I’ve never seen one outside of books!”
Had he somehow managed to pop into another universe? Because like, if so, confirming the multiverse theory would be pretty rad, but also really bad news.
“But the farthest south you guys are supposed to be is upper Ireland, and that’s iffy. How’d you get to good ol’ Romania, huh?” A gentle hand to his stomach, searching. A bit of fat was pushed out of the way, and Danny was suddenly aware just how naked he definitely was.
“A boy, huh. Nice to meet you, I guess. I’m Charlie Weasley, and I guess I’ll be taking care of you.” A gentle humm, and the footsteps came closer to his head. The guy came into view, and a low growl started in his chest instinctually.
He looked pretty normal, outside of his wardrobe choices. Freckles, uncontrolled mop of hair, pretty in shape.
“What’s that?” A gentle click as a stick he produced from his sleeve (???) tapped against the amulet’s chain. The man, Charlie, shivered a bit.
“Wooh, who put a cursed artifact like that on ‘ya?” His eyebrows scrunched up some, and he bit his lip, thinking.
Danny tested if his legs were responding yet. Nope, dang it.
“Well, I can owl Bill. He’d known what to do better than me. Lucky you’re in the reserve, huh? Even if just on the edge. How’d you get through the wards though…?” Danny let the man ponder, and tried at least getting a twitch out of his unresponsive body. A slight jerk from his left foot, so progress.
How had this guy landed him from the treeline, though? There was that weird burst of light, so maybe ghostly sabotage? But most ghosts weren’t too strategic, more of the ‘just punch ‘em’ variety.
“Well, you don’t seem to be in pain. Ah, it’s probably pretty hot for ya, huh? Here you go.” He muttered something under his breath, and suddenly he felt a glorious cold wind wash over him. He shook himself, finally at the right temperature, before he realized nothing else was reacting to the wind. No tree branches waved, no grass flattening, nothing. He shivered a bit, and not because of the sudden chill.
What was going on here?
Charlie smiled at the reaction, and patted his neck delicately. He almost growled at him again, which was a shame, because he seemed like a decent guy, really. “I’ll have to haul everyone out for a check-up, of course. And get that artifact looked over.”
He nodded to himself, having apparently made up his mind. With a sharp crack, the guy was gone.
Danny stared at the impression in the grass where the stranger had stood for a long moment before getting his thoughts together and doubling his effort to get moving. He got a toe curl, which in dragon terms was actually pretty deadly, but was still endlessly frustrating.
And then in a series of cracks like something being snapped in half, a whole crowd of people were in front of him.
He freaked out a bit, hearing smalls huffs of fear/frustration take over as a strange instinctual breed of panic enveloped him. The redhead, Charlie, seemed a bit sad at the response, but still accepting, and told everyone to not touch him and to stay as far away as possible.
They solved this problem with more weird light beams. After a moment of omigod that’s so cool and hey it feels kinda good and woah they’re using sticks to do like superpower-stuff, he panicked harder.
He was floating several feet off the ground seemingly only because of a series of sticks pointed at his midsection, a muttered phrase, and a complete disrespect for physics.
He tried doing his usual routine to keep calm, but the problem with that was major part of that was being like okay, but I can do something about this, and he couldn’t, because he was immobile and floating midair.
A strange keening sound escaping him, a mix between a whine and a reptilian chirp.
Good lord, what was happening?
And then there was a sigh somewhere by his ear, and another burst of light, and all he knew was black.
He woke up in a cage. For a moment he was eerily calm, think Mr. I’ll-Stuff-You-And-Hand-You-Over-My-Mantle had commitment issues or something, before he fully took in the situation (metal bars, ice chunks, hay, a pile of fish fresh enough for him to smell blood, though the steel didn’t feel hard on his skin (scales?) and he felt weird, like his viewpoint was skewed…)
Of course. He was a dragon, and nothing made sense.
The cage was about the size of a small house, giving him plenty of room to stretch out and pace. He did so, cataloguing his surroundings past those shiny, somehow-squishy bars. A large clearing, more like a sudden patch of prairie, with tents in a rough circle at the edge, in different shades of brown and green. Fires, intention or not marked by the rings of stones, flared up everyone once in while, dusting the grass with a sooty grey. Another border or larger stone about ankle-high were between the larger grass space (and him) and the tents, where people scurried from place to place looking very busy. Owls, incredibly nervous to be anywhere near him, fluttered to and fro every few seconds.
He only snorted to get rid of the smell of smoke and ash from his nose, spooking a tawny one to hop farther away from him.
He snorted again, out of amusement now, and sat down somewhat mystified. The necklace was still on, he was still a dragon, and people with cloaks and magic sticks had taken him back to their camp.
I mean, it was a pretty cool camp, but still. Rude and all.
He considered going intagible (could he even use his ghost abilities like this?) before dismissing the thought. Maybe as a last-ditch strategy, but there were just too many people around to risk it. Plus, if they really did have someone who could get this thing off him, that would be nice; then he can just escape into the ground and book it.
That Charlie guy said they were in Romania, right? He would have furrowed his brow if he could, think back hard to geology class. Romania was basically Russia, right? Like, cold, not-europe, not-India, and definitely not China.
How helpful.
(I don't always write chapter endings for these deal with it)