Chapter 1

The calm of Privet Drive was about to be demolished by a new wave of excitement. Enter stage left: a squad of wizards and witches who looked like they'd just walked off the set of a magical police procedural. These weren't your garden-variety spellcasters; they had an aura of authority and seriousness that screamed, "We mean business!"

Leading the charge were Madam Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE) and about as warm and fuzzy as a porcupine, and Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody, the grizzled Head Auror whose face looked like it had seen more action than a summer blockbuster.

As they stomped toward the crater—now the latest landmark on Privet Drive—Madam Bones took in the scene with the kind of sharp, no-nonsense gaze that could slice through steel. She could tell instantly that this wasn't your run-of-the-mill magical mishap. "We've got ourselves a doozy," she said, her voice tinged with determination.

Mad Eye Moody's magical eye whizzed around like a drone on a sugar rush, scanning for any hidden nasties or traces of dark magic. "Keep those wands at the ready," he grumbled, his gruff voice cutting through the night air. "Something big went down here, and I'm betting it's not just a rogue broomstick."

Madam Bones nodded, her expression as resolute as ever. "Let's get to the bottom of this."

When they reached the crater, the air crackled with leftover magic, like the aftermath of a magical fireworks show gone spectacularly wrong. Madam Bones eyed the swirling energy with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Turning to a young Auror who looked like she'd seen too many magical explosions for one night, Madam Bones asked, "What do we know?"

The young Auror, trying to keep her nerves in check, replied, "We're still piecing things together, Madam Bones. There's a crazy amount of magical residue here—more than we usually see from accidental magic. We're scanning for dark magic, but it's mostly... well, chaotic."

"Chaotic magic," Madam Bones mused, her mind racing. "That's not something you encounter every day. We need to figure out where this came from and make sure there's no ongoing threat."

Meanwhile, Mad Eye Moody's magical eye had locked onto a suspicious trail of residual magic that snaked away from the crater and straight toward Number Four. "The magic's coming from that house," he growled, pointing with his gnarled finger. "It's gotta be connected."

Madam Bones squinted at the unassuming house. "Number Four Privet Drive," she said, her voice laced with intrigue. "Let's go see what's going on in there."

She turned to one of the Aurors. "Who lives here?"

The Auror glanced at a scroll and replied, "Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Muggles."

Madam Bones' eyes narrowed. "The Dursleys. I've heard that name before"

Mad Eye Moody leaned in, his magical eye widening with a mix of urgency and excitement. "Petunia Dursley is Lily Potter's sister. This is the residence of Harry Potter, the boy who survived the Dark Lord."

The realization hit Madam Bones like a ton of bricks. "Harry Potter's relatives," she muttered, her voice suddenly more serious. "This just went from routine investigation to priority one. We need to make sure he's safe and find out what's really happening."

With a determined nod to Moody, Madam Bones straightened up. "Time to knock on the Dursleys' door and get some answers. Whatever's going on here, it's important, and we're going to get to the bottom of it."

And with that, the squad of wizards and witches moved toward the house, ready to uncover the truth behind the magical disturbance that had turned Privet Drive upside down. Little did they know, they were about to step into a world of magical chaos and adventure far beyond their wildest imaginations.

—

The squad moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine, Mad Eye Moody leading the charge with his magical eye spinning in every direction like a high-tech security camera. As they neared the house, the Dursleys were practically glued to their curtains, peeking out with expressions that suggested they'd just seen a ghost—or something worse.

Madam Bones, looking every bit the authority figure, gave the door a knock that could have been mistaken for an eviction notice. After a few agonizing moments, Vernon Dursley opened the door, his face a blend of terror and indignation. If he'd had a manual on "How to Look Terrified," he'd have been on the cover.

"What's the meaning of this?" Vernon stammered, trying to project an air of authority that was clearly failing him.

Madam Bones stepped forward, exuding an aura of command that made it clear she was not here to play games. "We're with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she announced, her tone brooking no argument. "Are there any magical children in this house?"

Vernon blinked rapidly, clearly trying to dodge the question like it was a Bludger. "Magical children?" he echoed, as if he'd never heard of such a thing before.

Mad Eye Moody, meanwhile, was not one to let things slide. His magical eye swiveled around like a radar dish, picking up something that didn't sit right. He noticed Dudley's furtive glance toward the cupboard under the stairs, and it wasn't exactly a look of innocent curiosity.

With a growl, Moody raised his wand and pointed it at the cupboard, his suspicion palpable. "Revelio!" he barked, the spell causing the cupboard door to creak open with a dramatic flourish.

Inside was a cramped, dingy space that looked like it hadn't seen a proper cleaning in ages. The walls were stained with dried blood and grime—a pretty clear sign that someone had been living in less-than-ideal conditions. The scene was grim enough to make even a seasoned Auror's stomach churn.

Madam Bones' eyes widened in shock and disgust. "What in Merlin's name is this, Mr. Dursley?" she demanded, her voice dripping with righteous fury.

Vernon's face went an even paler shade of white. "I-I can explain," he stammered, his bravado evaporating faster than a snowball in July.

Madam Bones was having none of it. "You will explain everything to the Ministry," she declared, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. "This is a severe breach of magical law, and there will be repercussions."

The gravity of the situation sank in, making Madam Bones' anger all the more intense. To think that Harry Potter, the boy who had survived so much, was subjected to such mistreatment was enough to set her blood boiling.

Turning back to the now visibly nervous Dursleys, Madam Bones' gaze was unwavering. "Where is Harry Potter?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the tense silence.

Vernon shuffled uncomfortably under her piercing stare, his face a mix of dread and guilt. "He's... he's gone," he said, his voice trembling like a leaf in a storm.

"Gone?" Madam Bones echoed, her tone a mix of disbelief and urgency. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

Vernon took a deep breath, clearly wishing he could vanish as easily as he was describing. "There was a... a meteor," he began, his words stammering out. "It crashed in the street, and Harry... he changed. Turned into this... winged creature and... and flew away."

Madam Bones' jaw dropped as she processed the absurdity of it all. Harry Potter, a hero in his own right, had apparently morphed into some sort of magical being and taken off into the night. It was like something out of a fairy tale—if that fairy tale involved a meteor and a sudden winged transformation.

"We need to find him," Madam Bones said firmly, her voice a beacon of determination. "We can't let him disappear into the night. The Ministry will mobilize every available resource to track down Harry Potter and ensure his safety."

With that, she turned to the Aurors, her orders clear and her resolve unwavering. They had a hero to find, and nothing—not even the peculiarities of magical transformation—would stop them from bringing Harry Potter back home. The night was far from over, and the adventure was just beginning.

—

Mad Eye Moody's magical eye was locked on the cupboard under the stairs like it had just spotted the world's worst-kept secret. His anger was simmering, but you could practically feel the heat radiating off him. If there was a heat index for rage, Moody's would have been off the charts.

The cupboard was like a bad episode of "Hoarders," but with way more emotional baggage. Moody's mind was racing back to his old buddy Dumbledore, the man who had convinced him that Harry Potter—son of James Potter, his former student, and someone he had come to think of as family—was safe and sound with his relatives. Oh, the things Dumbledore had promised! It was like a bad sitcom where the punchline is that everyone gets betrayed.

"I trusted you," Moody muttered under his breath, as if Dumbledore were standing right there with him. "We all did."

The sheer weight of his disappointment felt like it could crush an entire dragon. But Moody knew he couldn't let it get the best of him—not now. Harry was out there, likely in more trouble than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and Moody was determined to make sure he got the help he needed. His anger towards Dumbledore would have to wait. Right now, it was all about finding Harry and making sure he was safe.

With a deep, somewhat theatrical sigh that could have rivaled any soap opera star's, Moody managed to channel his frustration into a resolve as steely as his old Auror training. The betrayal by Dumbledore was a wound that would take time to heal, but Moody wasn't about to let it derail the mission. Harry Potter might have slipped through their fingers for the moment, but Moody swore on everything magical and un-magical that they'd find him, no matter what it took.

And when they did? Well, let's just say Dumbledore was in for a reality check. The kind that came with a side of accountability. But first, finding Harry. The hunt was on, and Moody was not about to let anything—or anyone—stand in his way.

—

As Harry and Drakor soared through the skies, it was like a high-octane ride in an amusement park, only with fewer screaming toddlers and more dragon wings. The wind whipped around them, making Harry feel like he was finally breaking free from some invisible chains. It was exhilarating, like winning the lottery of freedom.

"Drakor," Harry yelled over the roar of the wind, his voice bubbling with excitement. "This is amazing!"

Drakor, whose voice felt like a cozy blanket wrapped around Harry's mind, replied with a playful rumble. "Oh, Harry, you haven't seen anything yet! We're just getting started. Buckle up, because this ride's only going to get crazier."

As they flew, Harry's heart was swelling with gratitude. It was a little surreal to think that a cosmic entity was now his buddy. "Thanks for sticking with me," Harry said earnestly. "It means a lot."

Drakor's response was warm and bubbly. "Aw, shucks! It's my pleasure. Who else gets to have a front-row seat to the Harry Potter show? We're destined for legendary adventures—just wait until you see what I've got planned."

But before they could dive into more of their sky-high chatter, Drakor's thoughts took a serious turn. "By the way, Harry," Drakor said, a note of concern slipping into his usually mischievous tone. "There's a little extra baggage in your scar. Not exactly a welcome guest."

Harry's eyebrows knitted together. "Extra baggage? What are you talking about?"

Drakor's voice was soothing, but there was a hint of gravity in his playful tone. "There's a dark, sneaky presence in there. It's kind of like having a leech that's been munching away at your energy. It's not pretty."

Harry felt a shiver of unease. "So, it's bad?"

Drakor sighed dramatically, as if facing a particularly difficult boss fight. "Bad is an understatement. It's like having a permanent raincloud over your head. But don't worry! I've got this."

Harry's resolve hardened. "Can you get rid of it? I don't want any more unwanted guests."

Drakor's inner monologue was a mix of enthusiasm and caution. "Oh, absolutely. I've got a whole arsenal of cosmic mojo ready. But let's be real—this is going to be a bit of a spectacle. Think fireworks, only with more dramatic energy blasts and fewer safety regulations."

Drakor's glowing form landed them in a secluded clearing, setting the stage for what promised to be an epic showdown. With a flourish, Drakor began to concentrate, his energy swirling like a galactic light show.

"Ready for the grand finale?" Drakor asked, the excitement palpable. "Watch as I perform the universe's most awesome exorcism!"

As Drakor unleashed a torrent of energy, enveloping the parasitic entity, Harry felt the air crackle with power. The force of Drakor's energy was immense, and Harry's feelings were a mix of awe and worry. Was this going to work?

Drakor's playful banter continued as the struggle raged on. "Hang tight, Harry! If this entity had a motto, it'd be 'No more Mr. Nice Guy.'"

With a final, dramatic blast, the malevolent force within Harry shattered, dissolving into nothingness. The weight that had been pressing on Harry's soul lifted, and he could feel a newfound lightness.

Drakor, glowing with triumphant energy, turned to Harry. "Ta-da! The pesky dark thing is history. You're free, like a dragon unleashed!"

Harry's gratitude was palpable. "Thanks, Drakor. I couldn't have done this without you."

Drakor's exuberance didn't wane. "Anytime! I'm like your cosmic sidekick, only with better scales. But, before we get too comfy, there's a bit more to spill."

Harry braced himself. "What is it?"

Drakor's tone grew more somber. "Your parents, Harry. They were wizards—brave souls who fought against darkness. And the man who took them from you… his name is Voldemort."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "Voldemort?" He whispered, feeling a chill.

Drakor's voice was firm, a reassuring presence in the storm. "Yep, Voldemort. But don't sweat it. We're in this together. I've got your back, and we'll face him head-on. The universe may be chaotic, but we've got a fighting chance."

With Drakor's playful yet steadfast support, Harry felt a renewed sense of courage. The revelation about his parents and the looming threat of Voldemort was daunting, but with his new, exuberant ally by his side, he was ready to embrace the adventures ahead, facing whatever came with bravery and a touch of cosmic flair.

—

As the Aurors, led by the infamous Mad-Eye Moody and the no-nonsense Amelia Bones, closed in on Harry's location, Drakor's senses were on high alert. The Klyntar symbiote dragon was like a cosmic detective, instantly picking up on the fact that these people didn't seem intent on turning Harry into a human pancake. With a dramatic flourish worthy of a high-stakes heist, Drakor melded seamlessly with Harry's clothes, becoming part of the fabric itself.

Moody and Bones emerged from the trees, their faces a mix of relief and barely contained anxiety. Moody's eye was spinning in its socket like it was auditioning for a circus, and Bones looked like she'd just found out her favorite chocolate had been stolen.

"Harry!" Moody's voice boomed, a mix of concern and authority that could've easily been mistaken for a particularly grumpy thunderstorm. "Are you alright?"

Harry's heart jumped straight into his throat. The last thing he needed was to be handed over to the Dursleys—again. The very thought made him want to take flight, only he didn't have wings or a dragon-symbiote buddy (well, actually, he did).

"I-I'm fine," Harry stammered, his voice shaky. He shot a quick mental message to Drakor, who was nestled comfortably within the folds of his clothes, their presence like a cosmic hug. *"Drakor, any advice here? I don't think I look very reassuring."*

Drakor's voice buzzed in Harry's head, filled with playful mischief. *"Relax, kiddo. They're here to help. If they were planning to drop you off with the Dursleys, I'd be busy plotting our dramatic escape. Now, just act like you're casually meeting a new superhero team—minus the cape."*

Bones, with her expression softening from stern to something resembling concern wrapped in sympathy, stepped forward. "Harry, we're not here to send you back to the Dursleys," she said, her tone as soothing as a warm blanket on a chilly day. "We're here to make sure you're safe."

Harry's brain did a quick double-take. Safe? Like, actually safe? His internal skeptic was rolling its eyes so hard it could've given Moody's magical eye a run for its money. But the sincerity in Bones' voice and Moody's gruff yet kind demeanor started to chip away at his defenses.

He took a deep breath, the knots in his stomach loosening just a fraction. *"Well, Drakor,"* Harry thought, *"if they're telling the truth, this could be the beginning of something less horrifying than my usual existence."*

With a tentative nod, Harry allowed Moody and Bones to guide him away. His mind was a whirlwind of doubt and hope, and he couldn't shake the feeling that his life was on the cusp of a big, cosmic-sized change. 

Drakor's mental voice was a mix of excitement and serious undertones. *"Welcome to the next chapter of your epic saga, Harry! And remember, if these Aurors try anything funny, I've got your back. We're in for a wild ride, but I'm here to make sure it's at least a bit less bumpy."*

—

Once Harry was safely in their custody, Moody and Bones retreated to a secluded nook, their minds already buzzing with the next steps. It was like watching a game of chess, except with more magic and less checkmate.

"We can't just leave him with those Muggles," Bones declared, her voice as firm as if she were casting a particularly difficult spell. "It's clear they've been mistreating him for years."

Moody's magical eye darted around the room as if expecting the walls to sprout ears. "Agreed. We need to find him a safe place," he grumbled, his voice as gruff as a dragon's growl. "Somewhere he won't be mistreated or worse."

Bones's frown deepened, her brow furrowed like she was trying to solve the world's most confusing puzzle. "But where? We can't just drop him off at any old wizarding household. We need somewhere secure, somewhere he'll be properly cared for."

Moody's eye gleamed with the excitement of a new plan hatching. "Before we make any moves, though, I've got to have a serious chat with Dumbledore," he said, his voice dropping to a grave tone. "There are some tall tales he's been spinning about Harry's past that need to be untangled."

Bones's nod was slow and thoughtful. "We can't let Dumbledore keep hiding the truth," she said with a firm resolve. "Harry deserves to know what's really been going on."

"Absolutely," Moody agreed, his voice steely. "But in the meantime, can you take him to your place? It's the safest bet until we sort things out with Dumbledore."

Bones thought about it for a moment, probably weighing the pros and cons of hosting a teenager who had just been dragged out of a less-than-ideal situation. "Of course," she replied, her tone unwavering. "Harry will be safe with me."

As Moody and Bones planned their next move, Harry sat quietly, his mind racing with thoughts of what might come next. At least, he thought, there was a glimmer of hope in all this chaos. And if anyone was wondering about Drakor, well, the symbiote dragon was nestled comfortably in Harry's clothes, probably preparing for a commentary on how the heroes of this story could use a little less brooding and a bit more cosmic flair.

—

Moody Apparated straight into Hogwarts with a sense of purpose that could probably knock a few paintings off the walls. He marched through the castle's winding corridors, each step echoing his resolve, the kind of resolve that made people in charge take notice. He was on a mission, and he wasn't in the mood for small talk or pleasantries.

When Moody reached Dumbledore's office, he didn't bother with a polite knock. No, he gave the door a solid rap that might as well have been a battle cry. The sound resonated through the empty halls like a herald of doom.

Inside, Dumbledore was his usual calm self, but even he couldn't ignore the storm that was about to hit. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be one of those "Let's discuss the intricacies of wizarding charms" kind of meetings.

The door creaked open, and Moody's eye, which had a knack for intimidating even the most serene of wizards, met Dumbledore's gaze. It was clear from the get-go that things were about to get serious. Moody didn't bother with a friendly "Hello." Instead, he got straight to the point. 

"Albus," Moody began, voice as sharp as a razor blade. "We need to talk."

Dumbledore greeted him with that annoying twinkle in his eye, which Moody could have sworn was just a fancy way of saying, "I'm up to something." But Moody wasn't in the mood for any of Dumbledore's charms. 

"Albus," Moody continued, cutting through the room like a hot knife through butter, "I'm not here for chit-chat. We need to talk, and I'm not buying the twinkly-eyed act this time."

Dumbledore's smile faltered slightly, like a dim lightbulb flickering out. "Of course, Alastor," he said, trying to keep his cool. "What seems to be the matter?"

Moody's eye narrowed, the kind of look that made people squirm. "You know exactly what the matter is, Albus," he snapped. "It's about Harry Potter and the load of hogwash you've been feeding us about his upbringing."

Dumbledore's face was the picture of serene composure, but Moody wasn't buying it. Dumbledore's calm demeanor couldn't mask the growing discomfort as Moody continued.

"What seems to be the matter, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked, a hint of unease creeping into his voice. He probably knew he was in for a rough ride.

Moody's voice was like a judge's gavel, booming and unyielding. "You've been keeping secrets, Albus," he accused. "Harry Potter deserves to know the truth about his past. And you've been keeping everyone in the dark about his upbringing for way too long."

Dumbledore looked like he was trying to come up with a good excuse, but Moody wasn't having any of it. "I just came back from the Dursleys," he said, letting the words hang in the air like a thunderstorm. "And let me tell you, what I found was nothing short of appalling. Harry's been living in a cupboard, treated like a second-class citizen."

Dumbledore tried to play dumb, which Moody found about as convincing as a three-headed dragon in a dragon-free zone. "Don't play games with me, Albus," he retorted. "You've known about Harry's situation for ages, and you've done nothing. It's time to stop pretending and start taking responsibility."

Dumbledore let out a deep sigh, the kind of sigh that suggested he had a mountain of regrets to unload. "I understand your concerns, Alastor," he said, regret dripping from every word. "But I thought keeping Harry with the Dursleys was the safest option. I hoped that by keeping him away from the wizarding world, he'd be protected from those who might wish him harm."

Moody wasn't buying it. "Protecting him by leaving him with those Muggles?" he scoffed. "That's not protection, that's negligence."

Dumbledore's composure cracked, just a bit. He looked like he was trying to hold back a river of guilt. "I understand your concerns," he repeated, sounding more like a broken record than a wise old wizard. "But please believe that I always had Harry's best interests at heart, even if my methods were, well, unconventional."

Moody wasn't letting up. "Conventional or not, Albus," he said firmly, "it's time to face the consequences. Harry deserves better, and it's about time you realized that."

Moody's tone was final, as if he'd just delivered the last verdict of the day. "Harry Potter will not be going back to the Dursleys," he declared, his voice brooking no argument. "He needs to be somewhere safe, where he'll actually be cared for."

Dumbledore's expression tightened like a drum. He didn't say anything, but it was clear he knew Moody wasn't going to back down. 

"And as for what else you've been hiding," Moody growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I want the truth, Albus. No more secrets, no more lies. Harry deserves to know everything about his past, and it's about time you started being honest with him."

Dumbledore, looking like someone had just walked in on him eating a pineapple pizza for the first time, took a deep breath. "I must confess, Alastor," he said, voice laden with guilt, "Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, was sent to Azkaban without a trial. It was a grave oversight on my part, one that I deeply regret."

Moody's magical eye did a full 360 in shock. "You didn't push for a trial?" he bellowed, as if he'd just discovered that the world was flat. "And all this time, you've had Harry because of it?"

Moody wasn't done yet. His tone turned sharper than a Quidditch Beater's bat. "If you didn't intend to keep Sirius from Harry, then why has he been rotting in that soul-sucking hole for the past eight and a half years?" His question hung in the air like a bad smell.

Dumbledore looked like he'd just been told he'd been using dragon dung instead of fertilizer. "I was wrong, Alastor," he admitted, his voice weighed down with regret. "I should have fought harder for Sirius. Fear clouded my judgment, and I let the mistaken belief in his guilt blind me to the truth."

Moody's skepticism was practically oozing from him. "And now?" he pressed, eyes narrowing. "What are you going to do to fix this mess?"

Dumbledore's eyes turned steely, as if he'd just donned his most serious expression for an epic showdown. "I will do everything in my power to make sure Sirius gets a fair trial," he vowed, voice firm. "And I will make sure Harry knows the truth about his godfather."

Moody wasn't buying it, his voice dripping with contempt. "Tell me, Albus," he spat, "how do you sleep at night, pretending to be some great and good man, when you're really just a dark lord in disguise?"

Dumbledore's stoic façade cracked slightly, pain flickering in his eyes. "I've made mistakes, Alastor," he said quietly, his voice weighted with sorrow. "But I assure you, my intentions have always been for the greater good."

Moody wasn't having any of it. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Albus," he shot back, his tone filled with bitterness. "And you've done more harm than good with yours."

Dumbledore, looking like he'd just been hit with a bucket of cold water, bowed his head. "I understand your anger, Alastor," he said softly. "But please believe me when I say that I'm trying to make amends for my mistakes. I'll do whatever it takes to set things right, no matter the cost."

Moody's gaze turned hard as steel. "You can start by going to the Ministry tomorrow," he instructed, voice brooking no argument. "Relinquish your guardianship of Harry Potter to Amelia Bones."

Dumbledore nodded, the weight of the world clearly on his shoulders. "I will do as you ask, Alastor," he said, determination in his voice. "It's time for Harry to be placed in capable hands."

With that, Moody and Dumbledore went their separate ways, each weighed down by their own burdens. As they prepared to tackle the challenges ahead, they knew the path to redemption would be long and tough. But with a bit of courage and a lot of determination, they were set to make things right, no matter the cost.

---

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