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Harry Potter In The Witcher [57]
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 18:27:39 +0000 UTCWith that in mind, it was time to get her some allies. And here, in this harsh, untamed land, would be his starting ground.
He would start a new kingdom here, a kingdom of his own, and he would use it to strike down all the others who dared to try and harm Ciri.
He would also use it to keep her creep of a father, Emperor Emhyr, far, far away from her. He couldn't just kill him, sadly, not without causing Ciri unimaginable pain, as he was, after all, still her father.
But he could go against him in other, more… creative ways. Such as challenging, and eventually dismantling, the precious empire that he thought was so damn impressive.
Harry stopped his thoughts on his further, long-term plans, and instead focused in on his more immediate, current goals.
While he could just go around, magically forcing people and creatures under his rule, that would just make him a tyrant, another power-hungry conqueror, and that's not a label he ever wished upon himself again.
No, he needed to convince people that he had a right to rule, to lead. He needed to show them something beyond just sweet-talking and powerful, coercive magic. He needed to show them something that looked… divine. Something awe-inspiring.
He slowly started writhing and shaking, his body contorting as he grew bigger, larger, his bones cracking and reforming, as shimmering, obsidian-black scales started appearing all over his skin.
A moment later, he was no longer a man, but in the familiar, terrifyingly powerful form of a giant black dragon.
He looked out over the vast, frozen lands he had just, in his own mind, claimed for himself, and then he roared.
He roared louder than he ever had before, a sound of pure, primal power that shook the very mountains. And then, he went even further, enhancing his deafening roar with his own, immense magic.
His roar washed over miles and miles of frozen, silent land, and he was pretty sure he probably caused somebody, somewhere, to piss themselves in sheer, unadulterated fright, but he didn't care. He waited patiently, his draconic eyes, glowing like twin emeralds, scouring the distant, snowy horizon.
A minute later, he heard it. Another roar, this one much quieter, more distant, but still very similar to his own. A challenge.
His draconic eyes quickly, instantly, zeroed in on the direction from where he thought he had heard the roar, before he raised his massive, leathery wings and started flapping.
Soon, he was in the air, soaring over the vast, snow-covered forest as quickly as he could.
Within half an hour of powerful, effortless flight, he was in the general area he thought the roar had originated from.
His sharp eyes scoured the forest floor below, searching for any sign of movement, for any heat signatures big enough to be his target.
He had only a moment's warning, a flicker of his magically enhanced senses, to feel the oncoming danger from above him.
He quickly, instinctively, swerved hard to the right in mid-air, just in time to watch a brilliant, white blur shoot down past him, towards the forest floor, before it spread its own magnificent, feathered wings and flapped back up into the air, its movements silent and graceful.
There it was. A white dragon.
Harry started to circle the beautiful, deadly creature, as it did the same to him, the two of them sizing each other up in the cold, winter sky.
He was impressed by what he saw. The white dragon was only about half of his own massive size, yet he could see a keen, sharp intelligence in its icy-blue eyes, an intelligence that was far higher than that of other, more common dragons, except, perhaps, for their rare, golden brethren.
It also seemed to be actively suppressing its presence, both physically and magically, making itself harder to track, harder to sense. It might be why they were so famously, and frustratingly, hard to find.
While he was sizing the white dragon up, the creature seemed to be doing the exact same thing to him, its intelligent gaze sweeping over his own, much larger, darker form.
Harry almost wanted to smirk, if a dragon could even smirk. It had been such a long, long time since he had battled another dragon, another being of comparable power and grace.
This, he thought to himself, a thrill of pure, primal excitement coursing through him, is exactly what he needed to vent some of his long-pent-up frustration.
With that last, exhilarating thought, Harry took a sharp, sudden turn in the air and powered his way, a black, roaring missile, straight into the path of the circling White Dragon.
The White Dragon, quick and agile, tried to dodge out of the way, but Harry, with his centuries of combat experience, had already predicted such a move from the creature and had already adjusted his own path, turning his massive body to intercept its new trajectory.
He slammed, with the force of a battering ram, right into its torso, causing the smaller dragon to stagger in mid-air and briefly start to freefall before it managed to catch itself, its powerful wings beating frantically.
But Harry was already on it, a relentless, black shadow, not giving it a single, precious moment to recover.
He knew the white dragon was smaller, and most likely faster and more maneuverable than him, which was precisely why he needed to keep it engaged in close-quarters, brutal combat, so it could not fly away and use its speed to its advantage.
The white dragon turned to face Harry, its jaws opening, only to get a searing stream of molten-hot, black fire straight in its beautiful, scaled face.
It roared, a sound of both pure, unadulterated anger and searing pain, before launching its own, counter-stream of icy, crystalline breath.
The two powerful, elemental streams one of fire, one of ice met in a hissing, steaming vortex between the two dragons, and successfully managed to keep Harry's fiery attack at bay.
