8 The Story of the Dragon Knight

AUTHOR'S NOTES; Yooooo. Just finished my exam and now I'm applying to more post secondary education…..yay💀

Since I'm not doing double updates anymore, expect more frequent updates for a hot minute. As always though, I do update in cycles based on order of series, so if your ever wondering where the hell I am, just check the notes of my most recently updated fic. 

I'm soooooo thankful for the crazy support on this work, and of the series in general. I can't thank you guys enough! As always, check out the rest of the series if it pleases you, but it can be read in combination or as independent fics so don't feel like you must.

I hope y'all like it and I'll see ya soon!

Discord!

https://discord.gg/eTbWC3ByZWm

XXXXXXXXXX

"IT'S GAMEDAY, PEOPLE!" I roar at breakfast, slapping my palms on the table, shaking the glassware. "TODAY, OUR REIGN BEGINS!"

I cackle gleefully, Kilgharrah making a gravely, rumbling noise that means he's doing the same. Currently, the dragon is a shimmering lavender and cat sized, perched on the arm of my chair so that Dora and I can feed him bacon.

My dad snorts into his coffee, but Andi just anxiously rubs her temples. "Kamaria, dear, please don't yell."

"That's not a yell, Mum, that's a roar. A dragon roar," Dora giggles, offering the ancient dragon a sausage that Kilgharrah, or Kila for short, carefully pulls out of her hand.

"Can't argue against that," Ted murmurs, nervously watching the dangerously short distance between the dragon's sharp teeth and his daughter's defenseless fingers. Papa is the only adult who doesn't really seem to have any trepidation about an all powerful dragon hanging around, but I'm pretty sure that's because Papa is an Emrys. Although he is a squib for all intents and purposes, it's become abundantly clear that Papa does have a few drops of magic himself since he can hear Kila's words. I suspect that he subconsciously feels that Kila is family simply through the bonds of Family Magic, which, according to the books I'd gotten my hands on, is a lot less theoretical than I thought.

Family Magic is a sacred, metaphysical bond between souls. Often considered one of the most ancient and mysterious forms of magic, no one quite knows the limits of what Family Magic entails. It's likely the basis of how Lily Potter's love and sacrifice resulted in Harry's protection from Voldemort. It's also how I, as the head of my Houses, can feel my House members to some extent. I thought that it was my empathy, but that ability requires proximity and doesn't explain how I could vaguely feel my dad and Kila from across the castle, something I couldn't feel or do with any of the Weasleys or Tonks hanging about. Rather, Family Magic is a sensation somewhere deep in my chest where my magic rests, completely separate from my soothsayer abilities, which came from around me rather than inside myself. Thinking back on it, it was also why when Papa had emancipated me, for the brief moments we weren't family before he was accepted into my House again, I'd felt oddly empty and bereft.

"You don't need to be so worried, Aunt Andi," I tell the older woman, bemused at the emotions coming off of such a typically unflappable person. "It's going to be fine."

Andi gives me a skeptical look. "Kamaria, dear, we are bringing back two of the most powerful Houses of all time, one of which is the Royal House. And we are doing it by having the disgraced daughter of House Black appear and take over as proxy, something that will send an entirely ambiguous message about House Emrys Le Fey's politics. This is going to entirely turn our world on its head, even on an international scale!"

"You are not the disgraced daughter of Black any longer," a deep voice corrects from the door way.

"Grandfather Arty!" Dora cries out, much to Andromeda and Ted's horror as the stoic Lord Black enters the dining room. Dora rushes for the elderly man who, to the shock of her parents, uses his… pimp cane? to kneel down and embrace the ten year old.

I also skip over and the Lord is plesantly surprised at the offering of my own hug, but it is gratefully accepted. He smells like expensive cologne, something clean and crisp, with a hint of tobacco, not cigarettes, but the boogie herbal shit that belongs in pipes, and the fabric of his robes are pleasantly silky under my cheek. With a weathered gentle hand carefully rubbing my back, and his lonely, grief stricken aura easing, I make a note to myself to get more of these nice hugs because Arcturus Black, from everything I'd Seen, didn't seem unworthy of positive human interaction.

"My apologies, Lord Black-" Andi hastily remarks, climbing to her feet, but the Lord just cuts her off with a wave of his hand, his joints cracking loudly as he gets back to his feet.

"Peace, Meda. I have never minded children, as you should know. And as I said, you are no longer disgraced," Arcturus reaches into a pocket, pulling out a roll of parchment. Andi takes it, a spark of hope in her aura that turns into a painful kind of happiness as she gasps, hand coming to cover her mouth. "Should you and your family be willing, I would like to accept you all into my House. As soon as you sign that document with witnesses, your disownment will be revoked."

"Lord Black," Andi says tearfully.

"Come now, Child, I wish you would call me as you did so long ago," Arcturus murmurs quietly.

"Grandfather," Andi replies tearfully throwing herself into Arcturus arms and I have to fight back my own tears at the overflow of emotions in the room, feeling a new found light in the two Blacks. For such stubbornly stoic individuals, they sure felt deeply.

Arcturus wasn't actually Andromeda's grandfather, but rather Andi's grandfather, Pollux, was Arcturus's cousin, and he took that role in her life since Pollux died early. According to Andi, they had been quite close before Arcturus gave up his lordship to his son, Orion, Sirius's father, and went into self exile due to grief after his wife's death. Both she and Narcissa had spent much of their childhood with him, although Bellatrix had preferred the company of their parents and Walburga, Sirius's mother, all of whom were known for their extremist views, even among the conservatives, and having more than a touch of the Black Madness. It wasn't really a surprise to anyone when Bellatrix followed in their footsteps.

"I am sorry to interrupt," my father speaks up quietly, still causing the Black's to jerk apart in embarrassment at the show of emotion just like last time, something that makes me want to sigh in exasperation. "But, you lot will need to hurry if you plan to make the Wizengamot Session on time."

"Oh! Yes, I nearly forgot. Come, let us finish breakfast so that we can go over final preparations!" Andi says in surprise. "Please join us, Granfather."

"If the princess doesn't mind?" Arcturus asks, turning towards me, and I resist the urge to snort at the ridiculousness of asking a toddler for permission, but alas, Arcturus 

Black won't be neglecting his noble etiquette anytime soon. This is not only my home, but, as the highest ranked person in the room, it is my permission he needed. 

Well, let's see if we can loosen the old man up.

"Join us, Grandfather Arty," I reply with a grin, making my dad sigh because he knows damn well that I'm being manipulative, but he seems more amused and exasperated than upset. For his part, Arcturus just seems deeply pleased, which makes Ted and Andi's befuddlement about the situation insignificant to me. They're just going to have to deal with the fact that their image of the old man was entirely off. However, my easy acceptance of Arcturus is because he reminds me of myself. Not of the me now, Kamaria, but rather the me from my last life as Shirina.

My father had died and left me to a junkie mother who resented my existence. I was the burden that kept her from getting a "real man", nevermind that every man she brought home was a bigger scumbag than the one before. I did my best to live like I was dead, but there was always something that was my fault, something to punish or hate me for. My disability was just more proof of my uselessness, proof I was defective and a curse to her. Even now, I don't understand how someone who didn't give a shit if I ate sometime in the last week could care so much if my grades were less than A's or if our shithole house wasn't pristine. Any percieved slight could mean I was tossed out into the snow for the night while she and whatever sleezeball she was fucking at the time got high. I'd wander the streets, either because I couldn't get back in or because whoever was at my house was potentially more dangerous than what lurked the dark alleys. In that time, I survived only because I'd gotten extremely lucky and found a single, real friend, one who took me into her family, who helped keep me fed and clothed simply out of kindness, one who kept me safe and warm on nights where I had no place to go, one who taught me what friendship and love and family could really mean. But, that doesn't mean I forgot what it was like before them. The endless loneliness, the feeling of purposelessness, the grief, pain, regret, self loathing, and the desire to simply disappear, to die if this is what living felt like. 

It echoes how Arcturus felt when he first arrived at Emrys Castle.

The day I turned 18, I fucking ran. My mother had already been squeezing me for every penny she could get, but I managed to save just enough by hiding it with my friend to survive during college with the added scholarships. My friend stayed by my side, and I went on to do for others what they had done for me. I dedicated my life to protecting children who no one else would, those lost and desperate for love. 

Even though my friend would soon be torn from me, killed by some slow, tortuous sickness no one could do anything about, and I was in agony once more with my ray of sunshine gone, I lived by honoring the lessons they helped me learn. And yeah, okay, that desire to reach out to others and help them is ultimately what got me violently murdered, but I can't really say I was too mad about it. A serial killer, of all fucking things, came after some street kids under my protection, a psycho that went after the vulnerable and innocent, and I happily got in the way. I might have been stabbed to death, but that fucker would not have been able to survive me either, and those kids were safe, so it's all good.

And now I'm here, much happier than I ever was with a second chance I don't particularly deserve, but I am gratefully accepting. Arcturus Black could use some happiness and second chances, himself, I think. Besides, what's the harm? I could always use more family. 

XXXXXKILGHARRAXXXXX

Kamaria grumbles in that strange, modern language of hers. When she detects my confusion, she translates, having forgotten that I have not yet learned modern English to such a level. "I loathe this."

"You knew you would not witness to the Wizengamot session," I remind the hatchling. "It is still too dangerous so soon after the war. Your father's muggle weapons would be fair protection against ignorant magicals, but he would not be allowed into the ministry without announcing his non magical status, and even then, he might not be accepted in. Even with me at your side and wearing a disguise, your attendance would be most unwise."

"A child would draw attention, even in the public gallery. It's too many risks, I know, but I still hate it. It has just finally set in that I cannot watch my own House be reinstated. And I was so excited just an hour ago."

The girl pouts and I growl a laugh at her childishness. It only occurs to her now, just as Andromeda, Ted, Lord Black and I are to leave? Impossibility clever and with a reincarnated soul, but a child still, one who still cannot think everything through when she is half lost in visions of the future. 

But, alas, that wasn't entirely unusual for children of Emrys.

"Fear not, Little One. You can use your Sight to watch from the castle," I remind her, and she brightens, eyes glowing with excitement, before she slumps in disappointment once more. 

"Kila, I don't know how to yet," she says with a hint of self deprivation, and I hiss at it, knowing such a trait is a remnant from her last life.

"I will teach you, silly child," I chide, enlarging myself to the size of a large dog, and guiding her to the bay window seat of the study, where we retired after breakfast to wait for the older mortals to finish all their preparations before we left for the ministry. I elaborate at Kamaria's inquisitive look. "You should be old enough to try this now."

I note Balinor leaving his painting hanging on the door that leads to the vaults and approaching another that hangs closer to the young Head of House, the ancient mage's eyes gentle on his descendent. As Kamaria hefts herself onto the seat, I use my snout to carefully support chubby hanging legs as she struggles a bit to climb into the seat, still so tiny. Balinor merely watches, shooting a besotted look at the adorable girl. Finally settled, I met her eyes, not minding the way they couldn't quite focus on mine."Child, I want you to clear your mind and calm yourself." She frowns skeptically, but begins to slow her breath. "Yes, good. It need not be perfect, but try nonetheless. Now focus on what you wish to see. Concentrate inwardly on what you desire to achieve."

Climbing up next to her, careful of my claws, I growl, pleased, as she reaches to scratch absentmindedly behind my wings. "I want to see today's Wizengamot meeting," she murmurs under her breath.

When I notice a change in the flow of her magic, I lean forward to touch her forehead with my snout, using the gift given to me by Mother Magic herself. Just as I once guided Merlin, and many of his lineage after, so too did I guide this child of prophecy. "Observe my actions, dear one."

I gather a drop of magic from her core by using one of my own, careful to pull just the barest amount in order to preserve her young and fragile magical core and body. Then I draw it along the natural flow of her body's energy until it reaches her eyes. The human body doesn't have set paths for magic, but each person does have a unique flow or rhythm that can't be forced or worked again without consequences. With a gentle pulse, Kamaria gasps, eyes going blank and distant despite a slight glow as her visions are activated, and I purr in pride. This is something that would only have worked so well because the girl trusted me so deeply. I doubt even Merlin or Cato could have adapted to my magical intrusion and conceded to me so well at such a young age. Balinor, the dating old fool, looks inordinately pleased. Knowing that the heir is lost in her Sight, a puff smoke at the portrait, snickering at his scowl.

Balinor, the Great Dragon Knight, was my oldest friend. A powerful warrior who wandered the land protecting innocents, non magical and magical alike. While seeking the secrets of Mother Magic, he came upon my nest in the mountains. I considered eating him, even if his enchanted armor would likely need to be thrown up afterwards, but when I sensed no malice or intent to bring me harm, I allowed him to lurk. 

One day, after years of Balinor coming and going, effulgence silver eyes wide in wonder and curiosity, I caught the scent of the mage's blood in the wind. Out of sheer boredom, I found myself taking flight and tracking the odd mortal down only to come upon him slaughtering a group of bandits who had attacked a caravan of druids with an intriguing level of viciousness, wielding magic with an expertise I'd never seen from a mortal, all swirling fire and trembling earth as he decimated his enemies, his teeth bared in something that really could not be considered to mean the same thing as a human smile. Bathed in blood and magic, I watched amused as he limped over to some children, using his great sword as a walking stick. And then he kneeled, gently speaking to them, healing their scrapes and scratches and ignoring his own flowing lifeblood turning his gleaming armor crimson, going so far to grow flowers in his hands as he soothed them while speaking with their thankful parents.

The druids were a peaceful people, blessed by Magic and preferring non-violence and the worship of nature and my glorious mother, and while they never brazenly approached me like Balinor, I would occasionally find offerings at the entrances to my laires. For that reason, I allowed them to live near my caves, reaping the benefits of inhabiting the land of a Child of Magic, a protection and honor few would ever receive. In my proximity, rarely did nature turn on them, their harvest always plentiful and their spells stronger, their magic enhanced by my mere presence.

Balinor, however, was far from a Druid. He did not balk at bloodshed although he was not particularly cruel, and he used his magic to save those he saw fit, wandering from land to land uninhibited. And despite not being directly Blessed by Magic like the druids, Balinor was strong, immensely so. Even many High Elves were no match before him. He wielded his magic as easily as breathing, just as he did his sword.

Like myself.

And so, for the first time in centuries, I found myself intrigued.

Our friendship grew, and with nothing to do, I joined the fool on endless adventures, gaining him the title of Dragon Knight. And years later, when Balinor, seeking my advice and aid, would bring me his troubled young son, another child of prophecy who had the gift of foresight and was beloved by Mother Magic, Merlin would do what not even Balinor had thought to: Merlin would make me family, their bloodline forever blessed by and tied to me.

The blessing of the Emrys line was not the ability to understand the dragon's language. Rather, it was the ability to understand Magic. Emrys can read, hear, and feel the intent and emotions of magic and so they know what others can not. It's why the descendants of Merlin developed far beyond typical soothsayers after I tied myself to their house as kin. In fact, both Cato and Kamaria seem to be stronger Soothsayers than Merlin himself, who only gained my blessing later in life. After all, who better to See through Fate and Time than one who understood Magic?

It is also why when Kamaria first met me, she could not simply understand me like parseltongue speakers could understand snakes. Parseltongues had the innate ability to translate the thoughts of a snake into intelligent speech that can be understood. the more magical the snake, the more intelligent, and since not all communcation is verbal, the parseltongue may even see the snake making distinctly human actions or taking on human characteristics that the parseltongue will recognize as conveying a certain meaning.

The Emrys family gift however, is entirely different. Kamaria couldn't understand me because I didn't speak modern English, but I was speaking a human language. I am no mere snake. I am the great son of Magic, and all of my children are far more intelligent than those trivial pests who can only squirm across the ground. However, any mortal would simply not hear me speaking words. I am a creature of ancient magic, something beyond mortals. Just as a fish cannot hear the things a wolf can, most mortals would only hear a growl when I speak, unless some form of magic is employed. Pathetic mortal brains are simply incapable of more.

"She is a marvel, old friend," Balinor calls out in Latin, now leaning against the frame of a landscape hanging above the quiet child lost in the future.

"Yes, she will make a most excellent queen," I agree.

Hearing voices enter the main floor of the study, I leave the girl under the watchful gaze of her ancestor, the stone dragons guarding the stairs bowing their heads in greeting as I pass. Darius had opened the door to usher the rest group in, their eyes wide with awe at the grandeur of the study and the enchantments on the door that keep anyone without Emrys blood from seeing anything but a broom closet.

"Kilgharrah? Where is Kamaria?" Darius asks, frowning as he crouches, hand curling around the spines of my head which I drop to rest on his shoulder. While Darius is still an Emrys, and therefore has the gift, his magic is so weak that I have to put more power behind my words when I speak. Otherwise, he finds it hard to hear me, as though I'm speaking from very far away with much ambient noise around, but he has the Family Gift nonetheless.

"The little queen dreams, but fear not," I inform him clearly, and as I note the alarmed spike in his aura, quickly go to sooth him, "it is nothing frightening. She wished to view the meeting since she realized she could not be there in person."

Darius snorts, relaxing. "She's terribly nosy for such a small child."

"And controlling," I add seriously. "Such is normal for Emrys'. They are rulers, and schemers. When one can See the future, they are naturally disinclined to things they cannot anticipate."

Darius makes an interesting face. "Her teenage years will be positively nightmarish."

I chuff in amusement.

"Darius?" Andromeda asks, obviously not privy to our conversation, her equally confused family around her. The proxy says something in their language, likely about leaving and Darius responds in kind.

"Are you prepared, Kilgharrah?" Darius asks, turning back to me.

I grin, fangs glinting as I shift, growing smaller and turning my scales from midnight to gold, matching Andromeda"s robes. "Yes. Tell them to fear not. No harm will come to the proxy as we take back what's ours."

I spring up onto the woman, now the size of a finger from snout to tail, and fix myself to her black and gold robes like a broach, amused by her terrified stillness and the suddenly higher pitch of her voice.

I snicker, feeling the way she twitches at the sound. It is good to know I can still terrify the mortals, even if the proxy would need to learn to get over it.

XXXXXKAMARIAXXXXX

I watch entranced as wizards and witches slowly enter a grand, circular chamber, gilded and gleaming. There are several levels filled with seats in boxed sections, each uniquely carved and with crests and motifs. I focus upwards to the highest level and find it empty beyond a single boxed section.

Unlike a pensive, I don't have a physical presence here, but I can still move about easily enough and between one moment and another, I find myself near the box of the Most Ancient and Royal House of Emrys, taking in the dragons and runes decorating the box, the large center chair decorated with jewels and precious metals and the slightly less ornate one on either side, for the consort and heir. I feel myself start to grin at the sight of my throne as I leave to float around the room trying to eavesdrop on bubbling conversations around the chamber.

"-Emrys-"

"-Dowager Lady Longbottom-"

"-it can't be! It's been nearly five centuries!-"

"-something in the Quibbler about it not only being House Emrys-"

"-any idea who the proxy-"

"-Lord Black has been seen out of seclusion as well-"

I resist the urge to cackle, especially when I catch sight of the Le Fey seat which is almost directly below the Emrys one, no doubt a position of honor in itself. It looks like the closer the House is to the floor, the lower it's position. All the Most Ancient and Noble Houses are on the highest levels, followed by the Noble ones and then the non hereditary positions like Hogwarts and ministry heads.

I zoom over at the sight of a long white beard, excitement thrumming in my veins… or maybe not since I don't currently have veins. Wait, how does that even work? Can I still feel my physical form?-

I tune out my own intrusive thoughts as a hush falls over the crowd as more people notice Dumbledore, his white beard just as majestic as I'd anticipated, but his hot pink robes beyond anything I could have imagined when reading the books. I watch, fascinated as the leader of the light works the crowd, greeting all by name, drawing eyes left and right, blue eyes sparkling as he smiles congenially, and I have the abrupt realization that yeah, Dumbledore is a master manipulator of awe inspiring skill.

Now the question is… to what end? In canon, Dumbledore, who was frankly unhinged as it was, did some seriously, morally dubious shit, something never addressed because of Harry's own bias for him. He wasn't the good guy he showed himself as, and he's an even bigger unknown in this alternate reality. Bloody hell, even if he really is only working towards the greater good, where is the line? When do the means stop justifying the ends? Something uncomfortable shifts in my being as the doubts rise up in my mind at the familiar line of questioning. I've resolved to fuck up Fate's plans, but what if I only made things worse? What if protecting Harry made him someone who wasn't strong enough to defeat Lord Ophidiophilia? At the same time, what if Dumbledore deciding to play god was really the issue? If prophecy is unavoidable, then technically speaking, Dumbledore could've sat back, and no matter what, Voldemort and Harry would have classed. So, did Henry really have to go through all that suffering in the first place? Why did Dumbledore think it was his job to orchestrate things in the first place? The prophecy didn't explicitly say that Harry would defeat the Dark Lord, just that he had something Voldemort didn't and that one would have to kill the other. Did Dumbledore intentionally allow Harry to suffer assuming it would be what would make him stronger?

The goddess had essentially said I was brought here to bring change, that they knew I, no matter what, would try, that I couldn't watch a child suffer, that I didn't believe the means always justify the ends. Right here and now, I was fucking terrified that something I do could lead to a worse ending then cannon with more people dead, but… all of this was real.

This wasn't a fucking book or movie, this was life and death.

I have to try and today is the first step. I glance at the gently smiling old man, deciding I'll need to watch him more than the session itself. I know that sacrifices are necessary, that lies and manipulation have their uses. Hell, I have full intention of doing such things myself. But this man, regardless of why, is going to be an obstacle to me because there were things I knew without a doubt that I couldn't overlook. One, he knows what Harry's homelife entails through Ms. Figg, but even if he can't be removed because of Lily and Petunia's blood protection through Family Magic, (which sounds like bullshit because there are millions of other ways to protect him in my opinion), he has done nothing to fix the situation. Two, he plans to allow Harry to suffer and grow his martyr tendencies, throwing him deliberately into situations no child should have been in. Three, he should have had the power to clear Sirius's name knowing he didn't have a trial, assuming he didn't know he was innocent all along. This was a man that no one dared defy and held way to many fucking votes in the Wizengamot, but he still did nothing. And maybe four, being his unwillingness to aid Nevile's parents, coincidentally the only other child who fit the prophecy. There were a million other things I could speculate on, things he might or might not have intentionally done, but these four things were facts both in this world and the one I read about.

The greater good can suck my-

Gasps rip the air and I feel my perspective radically shift, as though I whipped my head around, and there, through the double door of the chamber strides Lord Black, proudly next to the bloodtraitor, disowned, daughter of his house, a dragon broached on her black and gold robes and her muggleborn husband flanking them. I turn back to watch the way Dumbledore stills, his face tensing and the dawning realization that sharpens piercing blue eyes as they go wide for the barest moment before his smile resettles on his face, just a hint strained.

Something gleeful and vicious rears its head and I think that if I had a face right now, the look on it would surely spawn nightmares on someone who saw it. I drift closer to the old goat feeling a cackle build up in me.

Game, set, match, motherfucker. Let's play.

XXXXXXXXXX

AN; Damn, this was a harder chapter to write but we're finally getting into it! Next chapter is about to be ✨ politics✨.

Also, we got t hells backstory this chapter! Dunno how that happened, but let me know what y'all think.

Did we like Kilgharrah's POV? I was entertained. He's like, ew mortals, but my mortals are the BEST and I will eat all who dare say otherwise. Be afraid! Mwahahaha- Oh, bacon!

Lol anyways thx for reading!