A/N: This struck me while I was rewatching Stardust the other day. I'm going to assume that this hasn't been done before; therefore this will have clichés all through it. This includes slight AU, Severitus and favoring of the Malfoys even though we all know they're not in it for the glory. Will ignore just one death in DH and non-Epilogue compliant; yay, another EWE from my awesomeness. I'm sure you're sick of me by now. *laughs* Yes, I should be working on all eight of the new chapters from Folklore, but I have two plunnies that won't let go of my Muses and this is one of them. I hate the weather outside of my little apartment; rain, rain and let's check the channel... MORE RAIN! Ugh. Thus the spawning of the plunnies and more writing. My warning's harsher than usual due to flamers; don't take it to heart if you're a fan of mine. Enjoy the story, as always, and review, review, REVIEW!
DISCLAIMER: I own... Nothing! That's right, nada. No matter how much I wave my wand or wish upon a star, I will never own the fantastic casts of either book.
WARNING: I will be using the movie ending for Stardust as opposed to the book ending. I like both but only one serves my purpose in this fic. This is a slight AU. Violence will be used on certain characters that most people don't like. In addition to this, there are injuries to characters that are liked (don't worry, they aren't permanent nor are they disfiguring). Mentions sex, may hold the occasional grope and heated snogging session... Between two of-age men. If that is not your thing I suggest you hit the back button; right now, as a matter of fact. If you insist on reading this, I have not compelled you to do so nor will I hold myself responsible if you are disgusted. Flamers will be used to warm my Muses and attend them.
I Won't Give Up
Inheritance; the one thing all Wizards and Witches looked forward to when they came of age. Harry definitely wasn't as his had come and gone with no changes. Now nearing 21, he'd given up ever having one. It was probably his status as Fate's Chosen One... Or whatever else that insisted on making him as unnatural as possible.
"Harry, cheer up. You're at least legal drinking age in most countries." Hermione said gently elbowing him from his thoughtful trance. Ginny laughed at something Draco murmured, making her pregnancy glow even brighter. The alliance of the Malfoys and Snape (save Harry himself as they'd approached him first; Snape had always been on their side) had come as a surprise to everyone. This had included Voldemort himself which allowed him the winning shot... But his mind snapped out of the memory as Ginny hugged him.
"Oh, Harry! I'm glad you made it."
"Ginny. You look beautiful as usual. Draco." They'd come to a truce. Now, Lucius was another matter entirely... The elder Malfoy was still as influential as ever. Harry had what could be deemed as a huge crush on his fellow Lord. Thankfully the man wasn't here at the pre-celebration of his birthday. Merlin knows he tripped around Lucius more than was necessary; damn the man for being so handsome!
"Potter. Father has business but he will be here at a later hour."
"Oh. I'll go and check on Neville." he escaped from the topic of Lucius by checking on the actual birthday boy. "Hey."
"Did someone mention your crush?" Neville's grin is a little unsettling but he knows how to get back at him.
"Yeah." Harry blushed as they walked to the less-lit parts of the garden party. "How was your date with Charlie?"
"Wonderful. He's talking with Kingsley right now but he's been good for me." The warm brown eyes lit up with something Harry recognized easily.
"You're in love."
"What? No-" Even with the protest it's easy to see the soft smile sent Charlie's way.
"Mmm, you know you get that face when I mention the dragon tamer. Give it up." he teased lightly, bumping shoulders with one of his oldest friends. "Now, if the idiot worked up the courage to propose... I'd let you be happy."
"We're not that... Oh, Merlin. It's so obvious, isn't it?"
"No. The public still wants to believe I'm marrying Ginny when she's already married to Draco. I see no Potter cubs running underfoot." he remarks casually, leaning against a tree.
"True." the comment is sent his way with an apologetic grin. "I think I see Malfoy Sr."
"No! Merlin, I always end up doing something I shouldn't... Nevermind." Harry managed to trip on the only patch of rough grass and scrape his hands. "See?"
"You are welcome, although I do resent being compared to my fellow Lord." Harry bit his lip as he slowly turned around to face the amused silver eyes of the Malfoy Lord. Oh, you traitor... he thinks at Neville, leveling his friend with a glare.
"I'm sorry. He's usually the one cleaning out my cuts and scrapes." Harry barely keeps from flushing a brilliant shade of pink. "Ah. I do believe I'm being a horrible Host. Would you like a drink?"
"That would be lovely." He can't help but think he hasn't botched this up yet. "Cognac, if you have it." Harry summons the bottle from where he found it and pours them both a finger. "A bottle from '23. How did you manage to get it?"
"I found it in Potter Manor a few weeks ago. Ron nearly fainted at the sight of the cellars. Hermione has gone on and on about how much it's worth. Bah. Why own something just to stare at it?" he realizes he's probably spoken out of turn and most definitely out of the realm of politeness. Tact has never been his forte though he's better at it than Ron.
"Truthfully spoken. It is why my stables have horses and other magical creatures as opposed to them merely standing there in ruin from my grandfather's day." Whew, maybe Hermione's lessons in etiquette have paid off. "Though few bother to speak honestly with me anymore, Lord Potter."
"Please, just Harry. I have more titles than Dumbledore on a bad day..." Ugh and did he ever; The Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, Dumbledore's Man, the Saviour, the Golden Man, Leader of the Light, Master of the Order of the Pheonix, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter as well as Master of Death. Yes, he was sick of his titles.
"As you wish, Harry. I insist you call me Lucius then."
The next morning found him up later than normal, singing along with Julie Fowlis as he made breakfast. In fact, he's so into the song that a touch on his shoulder causes him to snap out of it and pin the intruder with a nonverbal spell.
"It's me, Harry. You can let go now."
"Nope. Where did I save you from?"
"The girl's bathroom."
"Mountain troll." He lets her go with a casual wave of his hand, not even reaching for the Elder Wand or his original holly. "Have you mastered nonverbal and wandless?"
"Mmm. I don't have the urge to reach for them anymore. The magic does what I want it to." comes the absent response as he mixes more batter, since Ron always follows Hermione.
"That's incredible... But you weren't able to do that yesterday."
"Oh." he caresses both wands and they thrum under his touch but don't vibrate as they used to. "That is odd. They're responding but not so eagerly as before."
"Harry, that means you've gone through an-"
"No. I-They only happen at magical majority. I've passed that."
"I think we need an expert." And Harry knows that if Hermione needs to consult something, she doesn't know.
Of course the expert is Lucius. Malfoys have a history of passing the majority and coming into their power later than other Wizarding Families.
"Anything else you've noticed? Different temperature? Blood color?" the smooth voice is relaxing. Harry has Hermione check his temperature, which is still normal. But why was his blood being taken into consideration? He muses to himself as he reads through Lordship documents as Hermione and Lucius debate.
"Ouch..." he accidentally cuts himself and watches in morbid fascination as his blood comes out blue instead of its usual red. "'Mione? Would this count?" Harry asks hesitantly, stretching out his paper cut. Hermione examines it curiously but doesn't gasp. It's Lucius who looks like he's seen a ghost.
"Blue blood. The lineage of Stormhold." At the word Stormhold, 'Mione stiffens before glancing down at the inoffensive cut with awe.
"Umm, hello? Would either one of you like to explain this?" He was relieved when she dropped into lecture mode.
"The lineage of Stormhold is magical. It combines the blood of the North Star and a human. Each child born to that union would have magic. It was long thought that the ancient line had died out. The Potters didn't display the trait, nor did the Princes, the last of such lines. I'm guessing that your Mum also had traces of Stormhold magic and you are the result. Oh! That means that the steward of Stormhold may start looking for you."
"... I'm part star?"
"No, Harry, royalty." came her patient answer.
Ron stared at the cut all throughout dinner. Harry hid it when he insisted on doing the dishes by hand, dunking his hands in hot water and scrubbing the plates harder than was necessary.
"What?" he snapped, shoulders drawn tighter than normal. "Gonna shove me to the side again?"
"No. I think it's wicked." Ron admits with a smile. "I'm friends with a Stormhold royal who didn't even know. This tops all of your other titles in the Wizarding world." He blew out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "Relax, mate. I grew up. You're my best mate and nothing is going to change that."
He covered up the cut with a set of fingerless gloves confident that he could go about his business as a Healer without question. It had refused to heal with any of the regular charms, including ones cast with the Elder Wand.
"Hmph, nice try. I have a magic-resistant cut. Severus should be in today. He'll Heal it if nothing else can." he casually answered. It still creeped out some of his fellow Healers how easily he got along with his former Professor. "Sev?"
"Weasley, I swear I will remove your genitals if you refuse to hold still." the pleasant tone was enough to get George to stop cursing. "Harry."
"Burn Paste or my special brand?" he hummed back as he sifted through the various colored Healing pastes and potions.
"Regular-Strength along with a Numbing and Skin-Repair. There is no need for your Healing." came the smug reply. "Really, Messr. Weasley, can you not enlist the help of an assistant knowledgeable in herbs and Potions?" George sighed and hissed as the Numbing potion was applied first.
"Well, if you'd respond to my inquiries-"
"Bah. I meant another, not myself. I am far too busy doing my own Healing experiments." Severus snaps as he finishes with the potions.
"Mmm-mmmm. I have enough knowledge to get myself out of trouble. Voldemort really does a number on your memory when you're busy saving your own life. You might want to try Draco though. He hates Lordship papers and wants to follow in Sev's footsteps. Send him an owl and say it wasn't my suggestion. Blame Sev for all I care." He managed before collapsing into helpless giggles. George shook his head before leaving the room more whole than when he went in.
"Whatever did you eat this morning to cause such insipid merriment?" Severus asks with a sneer.
"Nothing. I learned something that just makes my list of titles even longer." he huffs, stripping off the gloves to show Severus the shallow blue cut that slanted across his dominant palm. "This was an accident and it won't heal."
"Not even with the Elder Wand? Unusual... Potter, I better be seeing things."
"I wish you were, Sev." he sighs, turning his hand this way and that as the cut shimmers in the light.
"You're glowing. Why are you glowing?" comes the acerbic snark.
"Oh. I thought it was just the cut."
"No, all of you. Care to tell me something?" This is said in a much gentler voice as Severus brings over several jars of unguents and pastes.
"Apparently, according to 'Mione and Lucius I'm Wizarding royalty. I don't get it Sev." he muttered helplessly, shrugging the shoulder of his free hand.
"Stormhold has been without a king for nearly a century. No doubt the Steward will either want you dead or genuinely want you to rule." Severus murmured as he opened the first jar.
"There's no in-between?" He abhors fighting now; Voldemort after your life will make you good at killing, though.
"With men like that, certainly not." The admonishment is gentle but firm. "Do not expect a handshake or any goodwill."
"I can't ever catch a break, can I?" Severus chuckles himself before smoothing yet another paste over the persistent cut.
"I suppose not Harry. Mmm. None of these are working on that cut of yours."
"Really? Of course they aren't. It won't go away until it's acknowledged by some official or other before it fades. It'd be just my sort of luck." Harry grumbled as he pulled the fingerless gloves back on.
"Indeed. You draw far too much trouble upon yourself."
"Nah... More like trouble is drawn to me, Sev." He knew his friend couldn't argue with that.
These days the reporters are always at a distance, save Rita Skeeter.
"Harry, darling, what is this word that you're supporting Delores Umbridge in passing laws against Magical Creatures?"
"I have said no such thing." he snarls coldly, whirling around to face the annoying blonde Witch. "What's more is that Delores Umbridge is a monster. I would never allow a law like that to be passed. My godson is a Magical Creature." Oh, he's had it with Umbridge creating false statements in his name! He strides with purpose to the Ministry Entrance in Diagon Alley, Rita falling behind as his anger fuels his steps.
"May I see your wand, please?" He growls lowly, pulling out the Elder Wand as opposed to his holly. "Mr. Harry Potter to see whom?"
"Delores Umbridge." he replies in a sweet tone of voice. "We've a long over-due appointment."
"Please pick up your badge at the next station, Mr. Potter." Harry takes back his wand and slows his walk taking a deep breath to calm his fury. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold.
Umbridge's office door still holds the same sickening pink shade it had during his year on the run.
"Madame Umbridge, a Mr. Potter here to see you."
"Oh, how wonderful it is to have to the Saviour in my office!" she simpers dutifully. Harry is having none of her bullshit, however, and her fake smile drops the instant the door is closed. "What brings you here?"
"You, actually." his tone is one he's learned from his friend. "Might I take a seat?" He takes one anyway and Transfigures it into his favorite leather wingback. Allowing the silence to stretch uncomfortably, he relaxes into his chair with a predatory smirk.
"Tea? Coffee?" she finally breaks it with an offer for refreshments.
"No thank you." he turns her down coldly. "I'm here on business."
"What sort of business? Couldn't you take it up with the Minister, since the pair of you are so close?" the toad questions, digging her hole even deeper than before.
"Ah, no, Delores. I requested your delightful company." he purrs smugly, leaning on the desk as though he does not hate her. "You mentioned to Rita, I'm sure in passing, that you had my support in passing new laws on Magical Creatures. Care to tell me what they are?"
"Cages for the were creatures, Cold Iron to ward off the Fae as well as those awful Sidhe, muzzles for those horrid Cerberus, hobbles for the Centaurs, more cages for those Veela, leads for the herds of Unicorns... Oh and all stars that fall are to be harvested immediately."
"Ah." Inside he's seething, wanting nothing more than to reach out and choke her for the last one. "Is that it? Surely-"
"Of course there's more. But we can't touch the goblins or Hogwarts without seeming callous, m'dear." she trills as she sips her cup of gloopy sugar with a side of tea. "Those giants don't like it when you drug them either."
"True. I hope you remember all of that at the next Lord's Meet." he manages with a smile so fake it hurts to move. She lets him out with a little wave of her stubby little fingers before he heads off to the men's room. He can't hold it in anymore and he pukes up what little he managed at Malfoy Manor. "That woman is vile."
"Umbridge?" The voice is a familiar one, Dennis Creevey.
"Yeah." he mutters after rinsing out his mouth with cold water.
"She's been doing tests in the Auror Corps for a star that fell a few hours ago." Dennis'd never had the burning desire his older brother once had to take pictures of Harry.
"She's wasting her time. They sleep in the morning." he huffed, surprised to even know that tidbit. "Wait, what do you mean?"
"Two stars fell at midnight this morning. They were over the Wall though which means she's forbidden to cross it. You'd have to be a royal to even get past their guard now."
"Oh. I'm not supposed to know that, am I?" he asks as he straightens his robes.
Once he's outside the Ministry, he slips into a darkened alley and pulls a black beetle from his robe pocket.
"Rita, I don't care how you do it, but make her suffer. Ruin her rep and it may escalate your own. Do you understand?" Skeeter buzzes off of his hand to reply. There's a glint in her sharp blue eyes that makes him grin back.
"I've been waiting for a scoop like that my whole life." she admits, the crocodile teeth that make up her own smile still slightly terrifying.
"Don't think about slipping anything on me in there. We have a deal. I expect you to keep it." he murmurs as he Transfigures his white Healer robes into a black leather duster, white short-sleeved turtleneck and black jeans tucked into black boots.
"Yowza. You draw attention in an outfit like that."
"Meh. My bike's just around the corner anyway. You, my dear, do stick out. Might want to change back before some Muggle spots us." She disappeared, chirping her thanks from the wall as he strode out into the night and towards his motorcycle. He ignored the stares of the women; they always made him slightly self-conscious about his body.
"Heya, honey." he stiffened as one of them plastered herself against his back. "Mmm, nice muscles." Shrugging her off took little effort as he could smell the alcohol on her breath. She squeaked as he pulled on his black helmet and sped off down the road.
A breeze sprang up as he stopped at a red light in traffic. Wolf whistles made him jump as the women, obviously on a girl's night out, blew kisses at him. He shyly pointed his thumb at himself and they nodded enthusiastically. Flicking his bug-shield up he grinned, sending them a thumbs up before the light turned green. Tipping his head, he flicked the plastic shield back down and gave a wheelie on the heavy bike as the light turned green. Whoops and whistles followed him as he set it back down, riding his bike all the way home on the quaintly lit country roads.
Morning brought with it a slight sense of lethargy as if a part of him didn't want to get up. A tapping on his window had him grumbling, sleepily opening the bottom half to allow the owl through. The rather official looking letter made him yawn as he fed the frazzled owl food and let it drink water.
"Who would be writing to me at..." he cast a wandless Tempus, scowling at the numbers in disbelief, "4 o' clock in the morning?" Harry flipped it over and dropped it. "Bloody hell!" The writing had his address on it but he was quite sure his name was wrong.
His Majesty Hadrian James Potter Thorne the First
Warily prying open the wax with a letter opener, he couldn't help but stare at the intricate seal that had an eight-pointed star behind a sword and what looked like an (quite literal) airship from the 1840s.
King Tristan and his Queen Yvaine request your presence at noon this day. There will be a feast in your honor. Please bring your significant other. If you do not have a significant other, please bring someone who holds your attention in that manner. Three friends are allowed with you as an entourage. Your mounts will be secured in our stables, so choose wisely.
Lord Septimus du Seigneur
Steward of Stormhold
Harry sat back and looked at the exhausted owl. It churred weakly, blinking up at him with golden eyes.
"I'm not making you go through that again. Thrace!" An imperious screech was the answer his familiar gave, descending on thermals to land on his shoulder. Thrace happened to be a pitch-black eagle with a nasty temper towards anyone but Harry. "Hey. I need you to deliver a reply and not injure its recipient okay?" His familiar nosed the owl with concern, churring softly and sharing his body heat. Harry smiled at his eagle before searching for a fresh piece of parchment and his Lordship ink set.
Tristan laughed as Septimus struggled with a much larger bird than the one that had been sent. He whistled sharply and the eagle landed on his heavily padded shoulder.
"You must be fiercely protective of your Master. May I see the letter?" A low churr was his answer as the leg with the letter was thrust out imperiously. "May I pet you?" This was answered with a low hiss. "No? Very well."
Lord du Seigneur
I shall be at the wall by noon as requested by Thier Majesties. I will bring my entourage and Lord Malfoy as my interest. Thank you for the letter. I will be taking the owl sent to me on thestralback as he seems tired. Take care that you do not insult my familiar nor touch him. Thrace is violent towards other folk he is not close to.
P.S. Is it noon by over The Wall standards or yours?
Tristan grinned at the letter of his only descendant.
"Septimus, ink and parchment."
He mounted his steed with a slight grunt, the unicorn stallion shifting under his weight. Yvaine glowed brightly as she flashed him a sweet smile. Oh, even after a century he still loved everything about his star.
"Tristan, you're staring again." she laughed lightly, her glow becoming brighter momentarily before his own glow flashed back.
"Mmm, can't help myself, luv. Still gorgeous after all these years." Yvaine giggled as she mounted her own unicorn.
"Mmm-mmmm. I tell the truth."
The trip to the wall isn't the mad dash it was when his wife tried to cross the wall. Slow and measured is the pace as they travel, hooves a steady thrum against the ground. They greet the Wall Guard cordially and Tristan grins when his heir's mounts scare the steward (just a little, but it is amusing). Thestrals aren't often seen in Stormhold and Hadrian reins his with pride as well as care. At least he assumes the one with brilliant green eyes is Hadrian.
"Your Majesties, Lord du Seigneur."
"You are Hadrian?" The gorgeous green eyes narrow at Septimus's presumptuous tone.
"You want proof? Typical." The glove of the dominant hand was pulled off and a thin blue cut displayed even from this distance. Yvaine chuckled as Hadrian began to glow in his anger.
"Charming, little star, and very refreshing." his wife greets as she dismounts with ease.
"Your Highness." Hadrian also dismounts his steed and cradles the obviously much better owl in his arms. "My apologies for being so... tactless. The owl is still weary from travel."
"You're one of us, Harry." Yvaine giggles, wrapping her slim arms around their startled Heir. "It's Yvaine and Tristan. Septimus is too much of a grump to properly say what he feels."
"Oh, really? He reminds me of someone." Harry grinned and the glow was brightened as he glanced back at his companions. "Well, that's Severus, Lucius and Hermione. They're my companions for the trip to Stormhold."
"Come, Harry. There is much to see." He finally spoke, giving the green-eyed half-star a grin.
Ending A/N: Whee! Okay, I can and will do more of this one if you all like it. I found this awesome writer, Lionna, that writes amazing fics! Go check them out! Oh, and leave a review if you liked what you read. Seriously.