Summary: After the war ended, Harry finds out he is only a Potter by adoption. Years after the dust has settled, and discontented with Magical Britain, Harry journeys to his homeworld with Luna, when he stumbles across a forlorn Crossbreed, and vows to free her. Thus begins a journey that will shake the foundations of Lordran, and prove Harry can live up to his birth parents' legacy...
Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13928367/2/
Word count:55k
Chapters:17
CHAPTER 1:
A NEW WORLD
Reproduction of a letter reprinted in The Daily Prophet, August 1, 2002.
To the citizens of Magical Britain,
By the time you read this, I will be gone. Where I have gone to, in the company of Luna Lovegood, only a trusted few know. This is not an elopement, but a voyage of self-discovery, which Miss Lovegood has agreed to accompany me on. No doubt the rumour mill will be painting us both in the most salacious way. But that's par for the course.
It's been three years now, since the Battle of Hogwarts, since the fall of Voldemort. But even with a new Minister in charge, even with a number of Death Eaters dead or in Azkaban…very little has changed, for the better at least. A few things here and there have, but I fought not only to stop Voldemort from slaughtering anyone who roused his ire, but to try and to get change for the better. But you don't want to. It's like that Muggle joke about how many psychiatrists it takes to change a light bulb. Only one, but the lightbulb has to want to change.
And it's worse than that. I was named godfather of Theodore Lupin, son of two people dear to me, but his grandmother Andromeda Tonks refuses to let me see him, citing the fact that his parents were murdered trying to help me, to say nothing of her husband, the namesake of my godson. And while I can make allowances for grief, it seems that Andromeda is not so unlike the Black family she was disowned from: insular, self-centred, and unstable.
And lately, there have been attacks on my character and those of my parents, after revelations made by Miss Skeeter who exposed private and confidential information from Gringotts. It was a massive shock to me personally that James Potter and Lily Evans were not my biological parents, save through Blood Adoption, and yet, people make sport of the fact that my parents sacrificed themselves to save my life. If anything, it's more impressive that they sacrificed their lives for a child that wasn't their own by blood.
Where I am going is to see if I can find any trace of my real parents. In this, I have to thank the Unspeakables for their help in devising the correct ritual. I will not divulge where I am going, not just for privacy's sake, but also because I have literally no idea. But Britain has palled for me. I've done all I can for others. Now, perhaps it's time for me to be selfish. Perhaps I may come back. But that's a big 'if'.
Goodbye.
Regards,
Harry Potter.
"Who art the pair of thee? Thou doth not rank amongst our number. If thine missteps brought thee into this world, then plunge down from yonder plank, and return whence thou came. If I am what thou doth seek, then thine desires shalt not be fulfilled. This demesne is peaceful, its denizens kind, but thou doth not belong here."
Harry Potter got to his feet off the snowy ground. Faceplanting in a snow-strewn ruin was not his idea of a good entrance, though no doubt Luna was taking it in her stride. Few things discombobulated her. And they were having someone lecture them, no doubt because they had trespassed. "I'm sorry," he said, brushing snow off his clothes. "I think the Portkey didn't quite get us where we wanted…to…go…"
The reason why he trailed off was because of the woman standing in front of them, peering at them curiously. It wasn't fear, despite her massive size, and the equally massive scythe she held in her hands. Her attitude was far from hostile, as far as he could tell. Wary, yes, but there was also curiosity and bemusement in her features.
He could also tell she was not human, at least not wholly.
The size was a bit of a giveaway, as she was at least as tall as Hagrid, if not taller. From beneath her furry robes, a tail, covered in fine hair, gently wagged. Her emerald eyes had slitted pupils, seemingly reptilian, while her eyebrows were absent, strange scale or horn-like growths in their place. Scales too adorned her neck, where it was exposed by her robes.
And yet, she was beautiful, in a serene way. Her feathery white hair framed beautiful features. She was like a goddess of ice and snow that had walked out of the wintry landscape surrounding them.
"Wow," Luna said. "What did they feed you to get you so big? I'd suggest Dirigible Plums, but I've had them for years, and I haven't grown as big as you."
The woman blinked in bemusement. "…I beg thy pardon?"
"And you're speaking like you've had your lines written by Shakespeare. He must travel to other worlds a lot," Luna said, the dotty blonde smiling broadly.
As the woman just stared blankly, her mouth working up and down, Harry cleared his throat. "Sorry about that. Luna has…a unique way of looking at the world. She doesn't quite have a filter either. Anyway, I am Harry Potter…well, that's the name my adoptive parents gave me. This is Luna Lovegood. What's your name?"
The woman, shaken out of her bemused state, said, "Oh! I beg thy pardon. Most who come here seek my demise, so I am not used to cordial greetings from the likes of thee. I am Priscilla." She gave a bow. "Doth thou know whither thou art?"
"…Sorry? What?"
"She's asking us if we know where we are," Luna said. "Really, Harry, I thought that Hermione crammed Shakespeare into your head."
Harry shot Luna a glare, before he said, "Sorry, we don't know. Where are we?"
"…Thou are both within the Painted World of Ariamis," Priscilla said. She then looked at her hand ruefully. "…Tis a prison, created to contain my person, amongst other things."
"A prison? Why did they imprison you?" Harry asked warily.
"…I was cursed from a young age. I am afflicted by the Lifehunt, a curse that causes those I touch to hath their very essence corroded away. I can control it now, but I remain a prisoner here. Though perhaps my true crime was being born, a Crossbreed, a bastard child between Seath the Scaleless, and Princess Gwynevere, Daughter of Sunlight. But hold…doth thou not come from Anor Londo, the city of the Lords?"
"…We come from London. Well, I grew up in Surrey, and Luna grew up in Devon," Harry said. "Though I don't think those names mean anything to you, do they?"
"No, they do not."
"That's because we come from another world," Luna said blithely.
"Truly?" Priscilla asked, before Harry could curse the blonde for being so upfront.
"Yes, and…well, I'm looking for someone. A couple of someones," Harry said. He didn't want to ask so soon, but, well, Luna's bluntness had scuppered any chance of doing things discreetly. He hoped that the Portkey hadn't malfunctioned too badly, that this Painted World was close to his intended destination.
He was still trying to get over the revelations that he had dumped on him so soon after the Battle of Hogwarts. Even now, four years after the fact, he was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he had been adopted by James and Lily Potter. Oh, they had treated him like he was their son, and not just a replacement for the miscarried child who had been killed by a curse inflicted on Lily.
In a perverse way, it seemed like the changeling fantasy that Harry had indulged in while at the Dursleys. At the time he learned he was a wizard, it seemed like that fantasy had been fulfilled. But now, he learned something more.
He was still torn about it. The fact that Dumbledore's so-called Blood Wards hadn't done anything, and he hadn't even bothered to check that Harry was adopted (only James and Lily knew at the time), ate at him. Dumbledore's idiocy robbed him of a childhood, and he hadn't been as safe as the old goat claimed. What was more, when Rita Skeeter learned, she promptly wrote about it. Once more, Harry found himself the subject of scrutiny, with many believing him to be living a lie, and that his inheritance, in spite of James and Lily's will, should go to more deserving recipients. Or that those who had fought and died during Voldemort's uprising had done so for a lie.
Andromeda Tonks had been one of those. While Harry could understand grief and resentment, it felt like yet another betrayal, though considering she was one of the Black family, well, he should have seen it coming. He wasn't allowed to see his godson, which made his decision to come here all the more easier.
He had little left in Magical Britain. The Weasleys, he was on good terms with, despite him and Ginny breaking off their relationship, and he gave them some of his money before he left. Molly was, ironically, the one who understood most. The mother of the Weasley brood could understand why Harry wanted to find his actual parents.
It was Hermione and Luna who came up with a solution, using both a ritual to try and pinpoint where Harry's parents originated, as well as developing a Portkey to take him there. The fact that they might be on another world didn't deter the two young Unspeakables, even if it took them years to work on it.
All of which came up to this moment. "…Do the names Artorias and Ciaran mean anything to you?"
Clearly they did, for Priscilla's eyes widened. "…Thou seekest the Abysswalker and the leader of the Lord's Blades?"
Now this was interesting. Harry didn't know that those names were famous in this world. "I suppose you could say that, yes. I mean, Artorias is not unlike the name of a famous king back in our world, but we didn't think it was the same, and…well, there were reasons why we thought they were from another world."
Priscilla peered at him, before she nodded. "Very well. But know that I hath met them seldomly, when I was but a child, and only know of the rest through hearsay. But they art famed throughout Lordran, and throughout the lands of all the world, especially Artorias. Now, whither to begin from?"
Priscilla then recited what she knew about Artorias and Ciaran. How they were two of the famed Four Knights of Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight. Ciaran was the leader of the Lord's Blades, Gwyn's assassins, striking from the shadows. But her fame was eclipsed by that of Artorias, the Wolf Knight, the Abysswalker.
Artorias, it was said, had ventured deep into the Abyss, and made covenant with the more benign of the creatures lurking within the darkness. He used that covenant, in the form of a famed ring, to do battle with the Abyss and those that tried to spread its influence. For this, he became famed as the Abysswalker.
And yet, all legends came to an end. It was said that Artorias rescued Princess Dusk of Oolacile from an outbreak of the Abyss in her kingdom, but succumbed to his wounds soon thereafter. He was buried within the Royal Wood, in a place later known as Darkroot Garden. There, it is said that powerful guardians watch over his remains, not suffering any intruders and grave robbers with intentions towards defiling his grave.
As for Ciaran, who knew? Some claimed she died, pining away near Artorias' grave. Others state that she lives in obscurity in her grief, as did Hawkeye Gough, another of the Four Knights.
"…In truth, what little I know of him…I know of only in part. I had met him but a scant few times, along with Lady Ciaran, prior to mine exile," Priscilla said. "And what I know of what befell him during my exile came from the few tidings I receive from those who come here, as well as what is brought to me by the Lady Velka, my warden for want of a better term. My deepest apologies for being only able to recount vague tales, for I sense that thou desire more."
"…You got that right," Harry said quietly. "But…thanks anyway for helping. Still, how long ago was this?"
"I believe it hast been several centuries since Sir Artorias had fallen. Indeed, the only one of the Four Knights to remain in Anor Londo is Sir Ornstein, the Dragonslayer, at least the last I had heard tidings."
Harry nodded. So, their next step was to head to this Anor Londo place, it seemed. Still…he wasn't going to leave straight away. Despite her imposing size and her self-admitted curse, Priscilla had been nothing but courteous and kind to them. In addition, her plight, imprisoned in this Painted World, spoke to him. After all, he spent ten of the first eleven years of his life with a boot cupboard as a bedroom. This place may be more spacious, but it was a prison all the same. "Well…thanks, Priscilla. We won't leave just yet. I mean, you said all we have to do is take a plunge off that plank?"
"Indeed. Worry not, for at least one person who did so returned to speak to me. The fall shalt not kill thee."
"It's not the fall that kills you, it's the sudden stop at the bottom," Luna said blithely, before she wandered over to Priscilla. "It's so sad. You shouldn't have to be here. You can't escape yourself?"
"Lord Gwyn hath left standing orders, that should I emerge, I am to be promptly returned to the Painted World, or else face summary execution," Priscilla said.
"…That's not right," Harry said. "I mean, you can control your abilities, right?"
"Indeed. I hath had centuries to practise," Priscilla said, examining her hands ruefully. "But whether tis right or wrong matters little, for Lord Gwyn's word, even after he hast left Anor Londo, is law."
Harry felt a resolve kindle within him. "…Then who's in charge now?"
"That would be the Dark Sun Gwyndolin," Priscilla said. "But to persuade him would be dangerous to thee. Gwyndolin is beholden to the will of his sire, and…"
Luna sighed. "Yeah, but Harry has a 'saving people thing', so one of our friends called it, and she was pretty accurate. Plus, he knows what it's like to be blamed for something that's not really your fault, or living in confinement for much of your life. So, telling him not to do something like this isn't going to work."
Harry nodded, though he wondered why someone called Gwyndolin was a male. "Anyway…look, it might be that I'm able to persuade him anyway. I can't guarantee it, but it's not fair that you have to be imprisoned like this."
"Tis the fate of any Crossbreed," Priscilla said morosely. "I hath an aunt, Lady Yorshka, who was imprisoned, albeit in a tower on the outskirts of Lordran. Those with the blood of the dragon running through our veins are to be shunned as monsters."
"…I don't see a monster in front of me, Priscilla," Harry said quietly. "What I see at the moment is a nice woman who shouldn't be here because of that curse. If I can get Gwyndolin to rescind your imprisonment, then I will. You don't deserve this."
"…Thou would do this, for me?" Priscilla asked. "I thank thee for thy intent, but…I do not think thou shalt succeed. Still, should thou wish to seek audience with the Dark Sun, then step off yonder plank. Thou shalt arrive in Anor Londo."
"We'll talk for a bit more first before we go," Harry said. "You've been left here without company for ages, it's rude to go."
"I thank thee…but forgive my temerity, but I find myself curious…why doth thou seek tales of Sir Artorias and Lady Ciaran?"
Harry sighed quietly. "Because…apparently, I am their son."
Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13928367/2/