Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.


:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan of strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.


Slave of Dragons
Potter "Year Two"

Prologue

By: Water Mage

Harry's breathing came out in slow, even breaths as he stared down at the scene below. Where was he, well he was watching the proceedings from inside the air vent above his father's meeting room. Killian McKnight sat in his high backed, leather chair staring at the woman across the table. The woman herself was quite a sight. Her hair was dark brown with light blond streaks running through the long tresses. Expertly done makeup adorned her face, matching perfectly with her dark blue blouse and knee high business skirt. Harry stared at her face. Her blue eyes were friendly, and the smile on her face was used with purpose. She smiled as if she knew the effect it had on people. The way her entire demeanor lit up with that smile was incredible. That smile had probably gotten her a lot of things in life. Harry took a glance at his father and grinned. Instead of quivering or even blushing like other males would have done, Killian merely raised an eyebrow and gave her a long glance.

"Ms. Oliver," began Killian.

"Allison," she said, interrupting him, still smiling her bright smile. "Please, call me Allison, Killian."

"It's Mr. McKnight," he replied back. "What can I do for you, Ms. Oliver? I have no idea as to why you want to meet with me."

Ms. Oliver's smile wilted a bit at the edges at the use of her last name. An emotion flashed across her eyes before it vanished and her smile was back full force. "Mr. McKnight, I work at the Prophet. A wizarding newspaper devoted to delivering hard hitting and pivotal stories to the magical community."

Killian shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ms. Oliver, but if you came for an interview then you have wasted your time."

"I don't want an interview with you."

Expressions of confusion crossed over Killian and Harry's, from where he had been hiding, face's. Where as Harry's mouth had dropped open and his eyes had widened in pure bafflement, looking like a fool, his father merely raised both his eyebrows. That was as far as his confusion showed on his face. Harry feeling silly, even though no one could see him, fixed his face so that it mirrored his father's mask of calm and composure.

"Excuse me, but if not me, then who do you attend to interview?" asked Killian, his face showing nothing.

Ms. Oliver smiled again, that same bright smile, the one that was so sweet that it could cause cavities. Harry matter of fact had to turn his head to resist groaning out loud. It was so damn annoying how she thought she was fooling someone with this act she was putting on.

"I want an interview with your son, Harry Potter," she replied simply.

"No."

Harry recoiled so fast at what she said that he barely registered hearing his father's response. He stared down at the scene below, brow creased and mouth formed into a frown. What the hell did this woman want with him? It made no sense for her to interview him. He wasn't anyone important in the wizard realm. There was that whole thing where he defeated the Dark Lord as a baby. That didn't make him anyone important or even special. Well, maybe it did. Also, he did after all have an encounter with Voldemort just last term at Hogwarts. No one knew details but no doubt the rumor mill had chugged up. The circumstances of the incident probably even reached the Ministry by now. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. This wasn't the time. Focusing, he looked through the vent again.

The smile that Ms. Oliver had worn previously had worn out. Her eyes, bright and shining, had dimmed so that they looked no longer friendly. They looked determined. A real woman on a mission. Her back straightened and she regarded Killian critically.

"Mr. McKnight," she said, friendly voice gone. She was all butch now. "I don't think you understand. You haven't heard the rest yet. I'm pursuing a story on your son's uniqueness. All I need is a sample of Harry's blood and the warlocks the Prophet has on retainer will conduct experiments to see how he did it. Block the Killing Curse I mean. This story will be huge."

"I don't think you heard me when I said no," said Killian, voice freezing with coldness. "Harry will not be made to be some lab specimen and asked questions about something that he barely remembers. So, I'm going to tell you this once. Leave."

Ms. Oliver rose to her feet, looking elegant as a debutant and face chillier than a snowstorm. She glared down at Killian with so much contempt that it was slightly disturbing. Killian for the most part didn't even blink at the glare leveled at him. In fact his eyes seemed to warm up and his lips quirked a bit. The colder the glare got the brighter his eyes got and the bigger his smile got. He was more amused than anything. Harry was surprised he just didn't outright laugh in her face.

"I'm sorry for taking up your time then," Ms. Oliver said curtly. "I bid you good day, muggle."

She walked toward the door with quick deliberate steps. The door opened and one of the Archangels stationed at the door escorted her down the hall. Harry couldn't contain it any longer. He busted out laughing, clapping so loud that it echoed through the room below.

"Bravo, bitch," he cheered loudly, clapping. "Bellissimo!"

Killian's head snapped up and eyes moved over the ceiling till they landed on the vent. Shaking his head, he got up and wheeled his recliner to the grate covering the air duct. Standing on the chair, he reached up and opened the grate. Once Harry was on the ground, still laughing, Killian gave him a stern look.

"She was cold as ice, Dad," smiled Harry, chuckling. "That look she sent you could have frozen London."

Killian gave him a look that quickly stilled his chuckling, making him quiet and suddenly guilty. "Care to tell me why you were in the air duct listening in?"

"I got lost," replied Harry clueless, as if he hadn't the faintest idea of how he got there. He was hoping that he could make his father laugh and hopefully get out of a punishment…

"You're grounded. No television. No laptop. No leaving the grounds."

No such luck…


Harry thumped his head to the beat pumping from the speakers in the ceiling. His body danced in the training circle, mostly used for sparring, located in the gym's center. The gym had a high vaulted ceiling with benches that lined the walls to the left and right. To the right were the uneven bars, balance beam, and other equipment. Lining the wall to one side of the room was various weapons like swords, daggers, axes, nun chucks, and staffs. Harry's shortsword, shined in the light as its master used the rhythm of the music to counter, parry, and slash at invisible opponents. Sweat dribbled down his forehead, but he cared not. All his thoughts were focused on completing this kata. He had only practiced with his sword sparingly, since its weight was too much for his small hands. But over the course of the past year, he had grown a couple of inches and his body mass had increased, along with his strength. While the weight and balance still felt slightly off in his small hands, it felt much lighter than when he had first wielded the blade the previous year. Finally, after about an hour Harry tiredly brought his routine to a halt. His movements having become stiff and less fluid, as sore muscles screamed in protest at being overused.

"Good job, Harry."

He snapped his head around. Grinning tiredly, he said hello to his teachers. Well, his part time teachers. Most of the time they acted as his father's bodyguards, the Angels of Death, as they were called by some. They were the highest skilled and deadliest Archangels his father employed in his services. Their most astounding feature was that they were completely loyal to Killian McKnight, a fact that many bribes and bids for their services had attested to.

Todd picked up the swordfrom the ground. Flicking his wrist, the blade practically sung as it cut through air. Harry watched with wide eyes as Todd did a few moves that made him feel like an amateur. Dylan rolled his eyes, and mouthed 'show off' to Harry, who quirked his lips up grinning.

"A fine blade," said Todd appreciatively, handing the sword back to Harry. "It handles very well."

Dylan looked at the blue hand guard of the blade, watching entranced as it winked in the light. "Almost makes me wish there were more like it."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean, Dylan? Couldn't you just go to the shop you bought it from and find one just like this one?"

Todd shook his head. His eyes looked inward as if recalling a memory. "I remember the day we got that sword. It was in a little shop in London. I would have noticed it except that it was raining that day and we ran inside so we wouldn't get struck by lightning."

Dylan nodded, he too looking thoughtful. "I remember that! You were screaming like a schoolgirl."

Todd sent him a pointed look. "Ha ha," he said sarcastically. "You know that didn't happen." Looking back to Harry, he continued. "The shop was filled with old relics and statues and the like. It wasn't till I saw that sword that I knew that it was the special something we should give you."

"There was that short, old man, too. The shopkeeper," muttered Dylan, looking rarely serious. "He had that cockney accent. Once we told him we wanted to buy the sword, he went in a fit, wanting to know who we were buying it for and asking if we knew how priceless it was. Something about, he wanted the sword to go to someone worthy enough. Anyway, he was off his rocker and we bought it."

Todd sighed and muttered something that sounded like idiot. "Anyway, Harry, to make a long story short, the shopkeeper explained to us that he found that sword during a dig in southern China. He said it was priceless because no one knows why a Roman shortsword would be buried in Greece. He said the time graphs they did on it plays havoc with the history books, since it was buried there long before anyone from Italy even visited that side of the world."

Harry looked at his sword in awe. "I never thought it was so…"

"Expensive?" butted in Dylan.

"One of a kind," Todd hinted.

Harry continued staring at the shortsword. "Old."


Harry stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as he made his way to the sink. He picked up his glasses off the sink and slipped them onto his face. He loved contacts, and there advantages, but from to time to time he just had to let his eyes rest. Hence the reason that he was wearing his glasses. Harry looked into the mirror and took in his appearance. His wet hair, which had grown longer the past year, hung down an inch past his shoulder blades. His skin had taken on a summer tan from being outside. A tan that would surely fade come winter time, leaving him as pale as the moon. Running a comb through the wet tangles, he mentally debated whether to cut it or not. Not chop it all off but just a few inches. Harry shrugged. He wore it tied back anyway, so cutting would be just a waste of time. He ran some hair goop through his hair, brushed it out, and then tied it back with a rubber band.

He opened the door and walked into his bedroom. "Hey, Thor," he greeted his cat. The white cat had grown into a handsome fully grown cat in the year that Harry had him. "How's it going buddy?"

Serenity, who sat perched in her caged, hooted indignant at the attention that was not being given to her. Harry rolling his eyes smiled at his owl and gave her a treat. She gave him a nip on the finger as a thank you. Harry ran a finger down her back, her gray feathers feeling soft and smooth between his fingers. Thor hissed at Serenity, jumped from Harry's hand, and ran from the room as if his tail was on fire. Harry snorted at the look of utmost superiority that Serenity threw the cat as he left the room.

"You two drama queens will be the death of me," Harry told Serenity.

It was not like his two familiars hated each other. In fact they got along with each other considering they were different species. But each was an 'Attention Junkie' as Terry had labeled them while at school. When it came to Harry's affection they each felt that they were number one. And if Harry ignored one for the other, there would be a bitch fit like none other.

Harry slipped on a pair of boxers then put on a worn pair of blue jeans. He picked out a red polo and a pair of all white Nike's with red threading. He looked at the calendar as he slipped on the shirt. It was the first of July and so far his summer had been an uninteresting one. He had seen Riley a few times, but his two best friends were absent. Kevin was vacationing with his father in Transylvania. No joke. How stereotypical was that, vampires in Transylvania. According to the few letters he did get from his vampire friend, they were visiting something called the Foundation. He was extremely vague in his letters so he had no idea what the Foundation was or what they did. All he knew was that it was a group of some kind. Terry on the other hand was spending his summer mediating and looking into pools of water. Fun, fun, fun. Sarcasm aplenty in that sentence. His mother had sent him to Tokyo to study with a group of temple priests. They were helping him hone and develop his powers. So far, Harry had gotten only one letter from Terry. Seems, the priest were old men with a torture kick. Terry spent his days waking up with the sun, and trained till he passed out when the stars came out at night. Oh yes, fun.

Harry plopped down onto his bed sprawled on his back. His father had taken his television and computer. Sighing, he picked himself up. The sky was clear and the sun was out. An overall beautiful day. Harry picked up one of the books he got from Flourish and Blotts last year in Diagon Alley.

"Hey, Todd," he said, waving at the man as walked past him on his way downstairs.

Harry left the house through the doors that led into the back grounds. A reflecting pool stretched on before him, its blue waters glinting in the shining sun. The grass was that dark green that came from good maintenance. He walked around the building to its other side and smiled. The garden was something to behold. Beautiful flowers of red, yellow, and gold grew on the bushes spread throughout the area. In the midst of this sight were tall hedges pruned and shaped perfectly. The hedges together formed into the shape of a square. Some people went their whole lives without seeing an honest to goodness maze but Harry had one in his own backyard. It was his favorite place on the grounds. The hedge maze of yews looked simple in nature but inside, the maze was complicated as any other puzzle. The spaces were narrow and the ground inside was gravel so you couldn't see footprints. You could very well wind up in the same place twice. Something that he used to do all the time as a child. Time passed and Harry had long ago solved the puzzle to the maze. With sure steps he walked around corners, turning left, right, right, left, all the while singing a song in his head. At the mazes center was a grassy area with a stone bench. A small pond was off to the side and in the center of the space was a small rose bush, pruned to perfection. Its flowering red roses were in full bloom. The place was a quiet sanctuary. A kind of home away from home.

Harry sat down on the bench, the book lying beside him. He looked up into the air and blinked. The sky was doing that shimmering thing. A translucent silver sheen shone in the sky, forming a dome around the entire compound. He had noticed it first thing when he came home for the summer. His father hadn't seen it but he could. The only conclusion he could come up with was he was Seeing the Unseen. He could sense that the dome wasn't harmful in the least. It felt right. The signature of power radiated that same warmth he had attributed to the Song of the Green. His theory was maybe Dagda had placed it there to keep those carrying magic who would do him harm, out. Since no wizard had ever attack him, he guessed that it had been there his whole life. It didn't feel new in a sense. The power felt rooted, anchored to the grounds.

As long as he didn't have any psycho wizards with tattoos come shooting spells at him, while he was sleeping, then he was encouraged by his theory. Hmmm… he tasted that thought again and considered maybe he was just being a little paranoid. Yeah, right, more like being realistic.

Harry opened the book at his side. Immediately the smiling faces of Hogwarts alumni greeted him. The book was a comprehensive "year book". Year book being used in a loose sense. The book went through each year of Hogwarts, detailing important events, miscellaneous scenes, and photographs of day to day life. The book he had went from 1950 to 1990. He flipped to section on the eighties, the time his parents went to Hogwarts. By chance, Harry had flipped to a page that had a blown up photo of Lily Evans and James Potter. James, with his wind blown hair that fell all over his head, gazed at Lily with a look of utter adoration. With long, red hair cascading down her back, Lily Evans was a gorgeous young woman. Eyes so identical to Harry, she glared at James then rolled her eyes. James would merely pout at her attitude then go back to staring with love filled eyes.

"Hi, Mum and Dad," Harry said softy, finger tracing the edge of the picture.

It was in the quiet serenity like this, being surrounded by nature, that Harry felt most in tune with the Song of the Green. Ever since that day he went against Voldemort and tapped into his full power, he hadn't been able to do it again. The Song of the Green, its glorious music ever playing the serenade of life, could only faintly be heard by his ears. If he tried hard enough, when he was surrounded by nature and feeling content, could hear the faintest of notes. It was never as intense as that day in the chamber. The day that he felt whole, as if something inside of him had been clicked into place. He wondered idly, for what had to be the hundredth time, how in the hell did he have a link to such power. Dagda had hinted that his mother had the power, which stands to mean that she wasn't human. She had to have been a sort of Faerie creature of some kind. But the research he did into the Fey said that the Tuatha Dé Danann were above their kin, the Daoine Sidhe, the High Faerie's. The Tuatha Dé Danann were gods. So how his mother could be tied to such power, he had no forking clue.

A glimmer of light appeared in the corner of his eye. Harry turned his head toward the light and frowned when it disappeared. It appeared again at the edge of his vision and as he snapped his head around it vanished. What kind of shit was going on here? He knew he was not going insane. He knew he saw something. He taped into his power. Immediately his vision took on another quality as he began to See. His power swept out, like a quiet wind, searching out for that which was hidden. It found his target and the power swept over it, bringing it from the in-between and into the seen. There in front of him, sitting on a petal of the rose bush was it.

Harry dropped his book and stood up, gaping. Moving closer, mouth open wide, and eyes the size of saucers Harry could only stare. A ball of light hovered, but it definitely wasn't a glowbug that was for sure. It was a tiny person. It obviously hadn't seen Harry for it was entranced by one of the roses. Harry snuck around to the opposite side of the bush to look at it closer. He plucked a rose from its place so he could see through the bush and watch the person covertly. Not noticing he had pricked his finger on a thorn from the rose, blood dribbled down his finger landing on the soft grass. Slowly, Harry circled the bush, watching the little person, all the while dripping blood. He swallowed involuntarily as he got a good look at the tiny light person. It was a he, approximately six inches tall. His little body, surrounded by a silver nimbus of light, was covered with a white tunic, and dragonfly wings adorned his back. His face was one that would inspire artists all over the world. A perfect face was framed by shaggy, white locks. With a shock Harry realized what he was looking at, a fairy. A real fairy. Somebody pinch him. Was it just him or was his life turning into a Brothers Grimm story.

Harry hadn't even realized he walked a complete circle around the bush till he stood directly behind the fairy. Beyond the edge of his hearing, he heard a little snap. Immediately, the fairy screamed a shrill scream, sounding like a small kitten that hadn't learned to meow properly or a bitch in heat. In a glimmer of silver light and the buzz of wings, the fairy took to the air, silver motes leaving a glimmering trail behind him. It reached the perimeter of the circle that Harry had walked around the bush and hit an invisible wall of hair. With a thunk it collided with the air as if it were a wall and spiraled down to the earth, landing on his back. Ouch, that so had to hurt.

"Who dares trap a fairy in a circle of power!"

Harry blinked. The words were imposing but the voice didn't quite inspire any fear into him. In fact the voice sounded younger then his own. It was a little kid's voice. Okay, things were defiantly getting too Disney around here. Harry cleared his throat and his eyebrows raised in surprise, as a pair of silver eyes glared into him with a scorn that he didn't know what he did to deserve.

"Umm…hey," said Harry, waving.

The fairy fluttered up to Harry's height, all the while glaring. "Release me from this circle, boy wizard! I shall have you know that I am in high favor with the King of Light and Illusions! He's the King of the Seelie Court of the fairy. He will kill you mortal for imprisoning me."

Harry held up his hands in defense. "Hold up, shortstack. I didn't imprison you. I don't know why you can't leave. You keep going on about a circle of power, but I don't know what that is."

The fairy crossed his arms over his chest, glaring. "A circle of power is something used to keep immortal creatures in or out. I'm supposed to believe that you trapped me inside here by accident? Blood is power and the energy from blood is needed to close the circle…"

Harry held up his bleeding finger and grinned sheepishly. He shrugged. "Ooops."

The fairy narrowed his eyes. His little hands balled into a fist and he began to curse in an unknown language. It was a pretty language. The symbols rolled and the words sounded like notes of a melody. Harry rolled his eyes. This fairy creature was getting old and fast. He kept going on about things he didn't understand. It was like being in History of Magic all over again. Suddenly, the creature squeaked and pointed at Harry or more particularly the scar on Harry's face.

"You wear the mark of Dagda!" the fairy said in awe. "How is that…" His eyes widened as if something had slapped him in the face. "You have faerie blood in you. I can feel it running through you. Your heart, beating in time with the pulse of the Earth. How is it that you, a wizard, wear Dagda's mark?"

Harry shrugged. "I think my mother was a Faerie."

The fairy hovered as close to Harry's face as he could, taking in his green eyes and the mark on his brow. He bit his lip and whispered something unintelligible under his breath. Suddenly, the fairy's face took on a friendly expression.

"I will offer you a deal, mortal. I will use my magic to show you the story of your blood. Your blood is your mother's blood and blood is life. It knows where it came from and where it will be. Through your blood I can show you where your mother came from. How she came to be."

Harry's eyes lit up, but he refused to show how eager the offer made him. To know how his mother acquired her power and to see her true heritage would be something that would settle all his questions. He refused to jump and immediately made a pact with the being. He may as well be making a deal with the devil. He didn't know this fairy creature from a can of paint.

"Listen Tinkerbell, I don't even know your name. How do I trust your telling the truth?"

The fairy sneered. "You couldn't even hope to pronounce my true name. Lyrio is what I go by though." Lyrio stopped sneering and looked at Harry carefully. "As for the not trusting bit… If you are who I think you are then you have no reason to fear me... It's I who should fear you."

Harry didn't know what that was supposed to mean. He knew that he had the little guy trapped in a circle of power and all but it wasn't like he was going to step on him. That was just cruel and unusual punishment. So sighing, he agreed to the fairy's deal. He had a feeling deep within that he could trust the little fairy. Plus, he remembered reading that the word of a fairy was absolute truth. They couldn't turn their back on their word no matter how much they wanted to go against it. Lyrio explained how to break the circle. Harry followed his instructions and scuffed his foot along the edge of the perimeter, imagining a circle being broken. There was a hiss of energy and a snap as the energy holding together the circle was released back into the earth.

"Lyrio, you better keep your promise," said Harry in a warning tone.

Lryio nodded, smiling. "Of course, of course."

He muttered something under his breath. To Harry it sounded suspiciously like 'I'm going to get in so much trouble'. Harry started to question his reasoning behind that but couldn't because he was suddenlyhit by a cloud of silver, fairy dust. Coughing, he waved his hand in front of his face to clear his vision. When the dust dissipated, Harry realized that Lyrio was long gone, soaring through the sky like a silver comet. Unbeknownst to Harry the scar on his brow was glowing. Its golden glow radiated so brightly that if one were to look at it head on then they would have to shield their eyes.

"Lyrio, you little bastard!" Harry yelled into the sky, giving the finger. "You tricked me! Peter Pan will kick your ass! What a bunch of bullshi…"

Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell backward, unconscious.



A throne room, decorated in blue and silver, held an assortment of people on this celebratory occasion. Tall people, their bodies giving off a soft glow stood around the room, gazing at the couple in the middle of the hall. In honey robes that shone gold in the light, stood Dagda. His green eyes were lit up in happiness. His arm was wrapped around the waist of a statuesque woman who could be non other but his wife. Her long, wavy red hair cascaded down her back in soft waves and her brown eyes were lit up just as her husbands.

"Thank you everyone for coming," said Dagda to the people. "Morrigan and I would like to welcome to you our new daughter. Behold, the princess of the Tuatha Dé Danann, Lilith."

From the cradle beside him he scooped up a sleeping baby. Her eyes opened slowly at the sound of applause. Dagda held her up proudly, showing her off like any new father would. As the applause died down, Morrigan took Lilith and transferred her back to the cradle. Joining hands they walked to their thrones that stood a few feet away.

"As tradition states," said Dagda, his voice carrying across the room. "It is time for the bestowing of the gifts."

A young man with cornflower, yellow hair stepped forward and unrolled a scroll. "Her highness, Queen Thistle of the Flower Courts," he read, in a cultured voice.

A woman, her skin glowing a soft blue, glided forward. Her dark blue dress complimented the blue, translucent butterfly wings on her back. They fluttered softly allowing her to effortlessly glide to the cradle. Her blond hair fell down over her face as she gazed into the cradle upon the darling baby. Her rose colored lips broke into a smile as Lilith awoke at her presence. Queen Thistle turned toward Dagda and Morrigan. She curtsied smoothly and stepped forward.

"To Lilith I give the gift of beauty. While she is a beautiful child, all I can do is improve upon what is already perfection. She shall be the fairest of the fair and a jewel of my court."


A child, no older than 10 years, ran through a hallway, her laughter light and warm. Her red hair flew behind her like a streamer in the wind. Her green eyes landed on a half open door. Her father's treasure room, she thought excited. She was no never aloud in there. No one was around… the door was open. The answer seemed simple to her childish intellect. Lilith crept into the room, looking around in awe at the various objects lining the walls. What really caught her eye was the long table at the end of the room. Scrolls, books, and shiny objects that entranced her bade her forward. Standing on her tip toe, she reached up and picked up a stone off the tables edge. She frowned as the surface of the stone shimmered and shined with an inward light. Her eyes took on a glazed over look as she stared at it unblinking.

"Lilith, what in Danu are you doing in here child?" asked Dagda stepping into the room, and coming behind her.

The stone dropped from her hands and she looked up at her father, her eyes once again focused and her face set. His eyes settled on the Lia Fail lying near their feet. Picking it up, he set it back on his table feeling a sense of dread flood through him. What possibly could his daughter had seen to make her look as she did. The stone of destiny did not idly show trifle matters of the future. It showed you precisely what it was named for. It showed you destiny, whether it be good or bad.

"Lilith, what did you see?" he asked, taking her hand.

She looked into his eyes. His green eyes that she inherited her own from. "I saw my destiny."

Lilith acquired many titles as the years passed since the day she looked upon the Lia Fail and saw her fate. The most used were the goddess of protection, lady of the Flower Courts, and princess of the Faerie gods. In those years she grew into a beautiful woman. Her beauty knew no equal within all of Otherworld, the land beyond the Earth, where creatures of lore roam, myths are truth, and legends are fact. The dwelling of the immortal and the dead. Some knew it as the Great Beyond, the Everafter, or the Nevernever. Most called it Otherworld. It was on her eighteenth birthday that she gazed upon the stone again. Like those years before, Dagda walked into the room and came upon her.

"You still haven't told me what you see when you look upon the stone?" Dagda questioned, softly.

Lilith turned to him, eyes sad. "I have to do something father and I would like your support." She drew herself to her full height. "If you won't support me then I will do it without your help."

Dagda frowned. "Why would I not support you in whatever it is you would ask of me?"

Lilith took a breath, gathering her courage, she explained. "My destiny, father, is not godhood…my destiny is on Earth. My soulmate is a mortal. A wizard. I wish to join him at his side."

"No. I wont allow you to leave Otherworld to live with the mortals!" he roared, jaw clenching angrily.

She shook her head. "Father, you have no choice. I can feel it in my heart that my soul will never be complete here. When I looked in the stone when I was a child, I saw my destiny, yes, but I also fell in love. The boy I saw in the stone stole my heart."

"Lilith! Please, daughter, I can tell there has been something heavy on your shoulders all these years, but I'm sure we can do something."

Lilith smiled, sadly. "I saw my destiny all those years ago and I've accepted it. My heart is on Earth, father. Please, let me go."

"Is this really what you wish?" Dagda asked sadly, looking down at her, torn.

Morrigan with tears trailing down her cheeks hugged her daughter never wanting to let go. Dagda hugged his youngest daughter once his wife let go. Brigid and Aengus mac Oc, her sister and brother, were there too each lost in grief to see their sibling leave. Lilith, had yet to shed any tears. She had come to grips with her choice years ago. Hugging each of them again, she looked upon their faces trying to take in their features so she could forever carry them in her heard. She stepped back and gazed around the Hall of Fire one last time, the hall place where she first learned to dance, where she celebrated all her birthdays, where she got her first kiss. This place held so many memories.

"It's time, Lilith," spoke Dagda. "I love you, daughter. Always."

"I love you too, Da," she replied, voice quiet as her eyes watered. "I love all of you."

He waved and light flooded the Hall…

Lilith was sent to Earth, to the Evans family in the form of a daughter. Their memories were changed, along with records to show that Lily Evans was their legal, blood daughter. All who knew the family from then on remembered events as if Lily was always the daughter of the Evans'. Lily herself had her godly powers bound and memories modified so she knew no different than the Evans. She herself believed that she had always been their daughter, as memories of godhood and dancing along clouds, were replaced by school and playing with her friends at the park. Time had been rewind on her body, turning her into the age of a ten year old. The exact age that she looked into the Lia Fail and witnessed her fate.

"Do you know me?"

Lily looked up from her book of Irish Mythology, a subject that always fascinated her. Green eyes met brown in a time stopping stare. Lily took in the boy before her. He was already dressed in his Hogwarts robes, and was a first year, like she was, since he didn't have a crest over his heart like the returning students did. His black hair was a mess. It looked like it had never seen a comb. His glasses were brown, darker than the brown of his eyes. Something though struck a chord of familiarity inside her. She felt that she had seen him before once upon a time. But she surely would have remembered such a person. The hair alone was something that was unforgettable. No one purposely wore their hair that messy.

Blinking to clear her head, she thought over what he said. "I'm afraid that I don't."

"Would you like to?"

"I'm sorry," she replied, confused.

The boy grinned at her. "Would you like to know me that is," he said in what she could tell was his suave voice.

For the first time in her mortal life, Lily Evans looked upon James Potter, her soulmate, with nothing but disgust.

Lily leaned her head against James' shoulder. Closing her eyes, she snuggled up to him. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, balancing the both of them in the armchair they sat in. The light from the fire warmed their bodies fighting the winter chill.

"I think that I'm going to take that job, James. The one at the Elysian Institute. With their resources I think that I can figure out why I have these powers. Why I can see things others can't? And that song…the one I hear just beyond my hearing whenever I'm outside. I know it has something to do with Ireland. I can feel it."

James kissed the top of her head. "You're just special Lily, that's all. I've known that from the moment I first saw you."

She turned her head to look at him. "You always say the sweestest things…age sixteen and up of course."

He gave a sarcastic laugh in response and attacked her sides, tickling her with a vengeance. Their laughter filled their living room and echoed through Godric's Hollow.

Lily stood in front of the door while standing protectively in front of the crib that Harry was placed in. Lily held a wand in one hand and in the other was a silver, Celtic cross. Her head was bowed and eyes were closed as she spoke softly under her breath. An invisible wind blew in the room blowing her hair wildly about her. A soft emerald glow surrounded Lily as she chanted, while her hand clenched the cross in a death grip. The song that always hovered on the edge of her senses suddenly amplified and pounded in her ears with intensity like never before. The song guided her in her next actions, putting words into her mouth that she would have never before uttered.

"I call upon the spirits of my homeland, the emerald isle of my forefathers, Ireland. Tuatha Dé Danaan please hear my plea. I beg the aide of the Fearie Gods, the Little People, the King of Light, the Queen of Darkness… Any who will hear me, please help me! Not me but my son, for he is only a child!"

A moment passed in tense silence and then without warning a glowing figure appeared. Dagda stood before Lily, robes and white hair blowing in an unfelt wind. Looking upon the young woman, a smile touched his lips. He had known his meeting would someday come. Lily opened her eyes and gasped at the sight of him.

"Hello, child of my land," said Dagda, voice caring and affectionate. "You know who I am?"

The Lily nodded stunned. "You're Dagda," she whispered breathy. "God of complete knowledge and warrior of the Irish people. Eternal enemy against the Lone Power, Rhita Gawr. I've read about you."

Dagda's green eyes twinkled with an inner light as he gazed at the young Lily. He wanted nothing more than to hold her and tell her everything would be fine, but she didn't remember him.

"Child, I have come to answer your call. The dark one who wants your child will not get to him. I promise you this. I have seen his future in the Lia Fail."

Lily's green eyes widened. "The stone of destiny…"

Dagda nodded. "Your child's destiny does not end here. He's one of the Chosen. A Champion." He moved to the crib where Lily had laid the small form of baby Harry. Dagda stared down at the serene baby who had not emitted a sound throughout the frantic ordeal. Dagda gracefully bent over the rail of the crib and pressed his lips to Harry's brow in a light kiss. He pulled away and where his lips touched there was now a glowing mark. A second passed and the glow receded leaving a thin scar in a lightning bolt shape.

"He is one of mine now. I have given him my mark and forever more will he be under my protection." Dagda turned his gaze to Lily. "Lily, Daughter of the Flower Courts, you know you will not live another day, but I will see you soon in the Otherworld. Goodbye… for now."

The god gave her a look of such sorrow that was lost upon her. Before she could say anything, she disappeared in a flash of light. Lily turned to Harry and touched a finger to the fresh scar on his brow. It was as if time suddenly resumed itself and the noises outside of the room suddenly grew into a roar. Lily turned back to the doorway as the door blocking the room started to shake and tremor in its setting.

Lily turned to the young Harry a sad look in her eyes. One lone tear trailed down her cheek as Lily Potter gazed down one last time at her son. "I love you, Baby."

She turned back to the doorway sadness leaving her eyes. The sadness was replaced by stone cold determination. Her green eyes hardened and her posture straightened ready for the approaching battle. She raised her wand as the door in front of her was blown off its hinges. A dark figure strode into the room in a menacingly black cloak.

Lily's red hair blew behind her as the untraceable wind picked up more strongly. Her form still glowed with an eerie emerald light. Her green eyes glowed too. From edge to edge a glowing green filled her eyes. No white appeared in either eye. A chilling smile appeared on her face as she stared her killer down.

"You'll have to earn your kill here, you muggle hating fucker," she said in a whisper that carried intense coldness behind it. "I promise you that you'll feel a world of hurt tonight. Before the night is over you'll know the true meaning of a mother's fury."



Harry snapped awake, his breath coming in loud pants. "What a load of shit! I'm…I'm half god!"

"That you are."

His head turned around, and he stood up slowly, all the while not taking his eyes off the figure before him. Glaring, he greeted the deity before him.

"Hello, Grandfather. Fancy a chat, do you?"