"There are good people who are dealt a bad hand by fate, and bad people who live long, comfortable, privileged lives, a small twist of fate can save or end a life; random chance is a permanent powerful player in each of our lives, and in human history as well." - Jeff Greenfield

PROLOGUE

12 February 1979

A goblin – one of unusually large stature, being about a foot taller than the other goblins that were rushing about outside his extensive office – sat behind his great wooden desk and contemplated the day's workings.

The heavy losses that Universal Brooms Ltd. incurred for the last few years had finally caught up to the once popular company. Although they came up with several prototypes of above average brooms, they were simply not good enough to compete with other companies such as Nimbus. With many meetings between bank officials and Jon Terkweed, who represented the company when dealing with the goblins, it was finally decided that the debts owed to Gringotts were too heavy and vast for there to be any chance of recovery. They were forced to officially file for bankruptcy.

His Head of Management had assigned a whole team of executives to handle the assets, which were gained with the permission of the owners, in order to aid the owners in the repayment of their debts. Now, he was to sign the Order of Restrictions that were to be placed upon those who were involved with the company, copies of which would be ready to be sent to the Ministry of Magic for their own official records.

The documents were sat on top of the desk in front of him, fresh ink still drying upon the parchment, waiting to be collected by an executive, when a sudden glow started shining from a bottom drawer at the side of his desk.

Ragnarok widened his eyes and rushed to pull the drawer open. Inside, lying within the polished wood, was a thick old tome which was growing brighter as the moments passed. He bent down to grip the book and lifted it, slightly struggling due to its great weight, and placed it gently on the table – documents laid forgotten underneath.

He was aware that the brightness could only mean one thing, the thought of it nearly overwhelmed him. Could it be?

Ragnarok stared at the cover, taking deep breaths as he read the title written in the ancient language of Latin.

Annales Regum et Reginarum Maleficus.

'The Records of the Magical Kings and Queens,' he roughly translated.

Furrowing his thick, furry eyebrows, he clutched at the pages and pulled open the large book to the middle, where the glow seemed to be coming from. The hefty pages flipped and thumped onto the surface of the desk, Ragnarok gaped at the page he opened up to.

The light from the book was slowly dimming, and with the fading of the glow came the appearance of newly inked words on the blank page.

Dated: 12th February 1979

Crown Prince Nicholas Westerly (Magical) of Houses Pendragon, Emrys, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor – Born. [Currently Stable]

Anna Smith neè Westerly (Non-Magical) – Deceased. [Cause of Death: Infection, Severe Bleeding]

"Your Majesty?"

Ragnarok glanced up at the new arrival within his office. His trusted advisor and current Head of Gringotts, Lord Rockstooth, stood just inside the small double doors he had entered through, looking out of breath and slightly relieved at the sight of the king.

"Rockstooth." Ragnarok acknowledged him.

"Sir, I felt the wards trigger – they gave an indication to an alien object which could cause you harm. Are you well?" the smaller goblin said as he waddled closer to his King, glancing around to be sure of no present dangers, hand firmly grasping the hilt of the sword that laid on his hip, and then resting his eyes upon the book that laid on top of the royal's desk.

Ragnarok narrowed his eyes at his advisor. "The wards triggered?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Then perhaps you should consider weakening the wards. The only danger here is my incense at your belief I cannot protect myself." Ragnarok glared at Rockstooth who bowed his head in apology and respect.

At one time, a few decades ago, the look he gave would have caused the smaller goblin to shake in trepidation. As it were, Ragnarok was glad, and somewhat annoyed, to have a true friend who did not fear him or the power he possessed.

"I am sorry, Majesty, but you understand this is a formality which you must follow."

The King let out a long-suffering sigh and nodded his head. Seeing this, Rockstooth decided to speak again, as Ragnarok did not give any indication that he would give an explanation to the activation of the wards placed on the King's study, "May I ask what could have caused the trigger?"

Ragnarok considered for a moment before answering, "Seeing that all of the protections placed on this office are renewed to newer and more advanced ones every month, the wards may not have been able to identify this," he pointedly looked at the large tome in front of him, "as anything other than foreign."

Rockstooth shot a curious look at his old friend. "What is it?"

"This is an ancient written archive of all information pertaining to the wizarding kings, queens, and heirs apparent of Britain."

"The wards triggered because of a book." Rockstooth gave a look of disbelief to his senior in rank and age.

"Indeed – rather what the book is charmed to do, though."

Disgust marred the younger goblin's face as he ferociously growled at the tome, "Why do we have a book that should be with the wizards in our possession?"

"Now, my lord. This book is not the cause of our kind's woes but rather, it is its salvation." Rockstooth scoffed as Ragnarok shot him a pointed angry glance before continuing,"My ancestors were given this tome by the last Queen of Magical Britain. Her children were barren of magic, disabling them from having any legitimate claim to the throne so, with her death, we were given the book to protect her descendants – you are aware of the pure-blood wizarding opinions of non-magical children born to highborn magical families?"

"It's abhorrent," Rockstooth answered, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Undeniably. The royal Prince and Princesses had eventually married and all of them were not able to create a legitimate heir, all of the Queen's grandchildren also lacked magical ability. They were all eventually forced to leave the wizarding community and live within the mundane world. Queen Eleanora feared for her children as well as her grandchildren's lives so asked help from her closest ally – our then king, Warnock. I suppose she saw it as the best choice – we were and are renowned for our ability in protecting treasure – and she believed them to be the greatest treasures of them all, an opinion we Goblins also share of our own young. If the records were kept with us, handed down through generations to generations of our Kings, the Queen was sure the knowledge of her children and grandchildren would remain protected until the time came in which a magical heir would be born."

"Their royal line has remained without an heir since the reign of Warnock?" Rockstooth asked, "That must be at least five hundred years, Your Majesty!"

To say that Rockstooth seemed shocked was an understatement.

"Yes. And what damage they have done without them. They have had a civil war between different families who thought themselves noble enough to rule the kingdom after the death of the Queen, resulting in the formation of their Wizengamot where all of these families had a seat – agreeing that a democracy would be the best way to solve their issues. Three Goblin Wars were fought due to their disrespect of our customs, something that would not have been required as a wizarding royal would have usually been knowledgeable of our traditions. A new dark lord has also risen, only a few decades after the fall of Grindelwald, embodying variants of all the ideals which belonged to the ancient families who dishonourably drove out the heirs of Queen Eleanora."

"Indeed, Sire. I find myself struggling to hold in laughter when I hear the Ministry is still publicly declaring opposition against Voldemort when most of his followers are within the Wizengamot itself. Do they honestly not wonder how that bastard is getting so many followers? Surely everyone knows that gold speaks."

Ragnarok hummed in agreement, a slight smile on the side of his lips, showing some of his razor sharp teeth. "You are correct, of course. We follow the gold that which feeds us – it is the simplest nature of all beings on this Earth – and the people with the most gold, other than our own people, are those within the ancient families of the Wizengamot."

"You think that a wizarding King or Queen could have avoided the current war?"

"I believe we could have prevented most of the wars that have occurred since Their Majesties Warnock and Eleanora. Wars with dark lords such as Grindelwald or Voldemort are unavoidable but would have been easily deterred with the presence of higher authority that outranked the corrupted Wizengamot."

Rockstooth nodded in thoughtfulness and curiously watched as his King looked back down to the large book still laid out flat in front of him.

"Is that why you are reading that book? I do not think it does well to dwell in the past and what could have been, Your Majesty."

Ragnarok glimpsed at his trusted friend for a moment, frowning then deciding that his advisor should know of the new development that had occurred.

"I do not read this for the history, my friend. I bring these records back from the dust for the future."

Rockstooth frowned in confusion. "Sire?"

"Do you remember the prophecy about the Promised Ones? It was made only a month ago." Ragnarok asked, turning the book around and pushing it across the desk so that it was right in front of Rockstooth who then leaned down to read the short piece of writing on the page.

It was later that Ragnarok would recall this memory as one of the most amusing he had, the wide shocked eyes of the advisor who had seen him through most of his failures and victories as a ruler would serve to humour him for the rest of his reign.

-o0o0o0o-

Two Years Later,

24th November 1981

Another tiring day had passed. Ragnarok sat in his large palace home, his time of overseeing traditional procedures and signing documents as he usually did was as dreary as all the rest of the days that had passed after his coronation.

The recent end of the wizarding war which was led by Voldemort saw a rise in the previous declining wizarding economy. The sudden rush excited many of the goblins as, at the height of the war, all work was nearly scarce for them. Presently, witches and wizards no longer feared to leave their homes, businesses had begun to run again, and gold flowed freely between the happy populace. Malicious goblins, those that did not bother themselves with the promise of confidentiality, would also choose to mention that the members of the Wizengamot were also transferring money into the accounts of newly elected members of the Ministry of Magic – possibly to ensure the cover-up of their involvement with the Dark Lord.

As well as accounts spilling their gold as much as they could to wipe the blood off of their owner's hands, accounts had to also be frozen. Though goblins still held contempt for wizardkind, they still viewed the events that occurred at and around Godric's Hollow as tragic. An innocent child was stolen from both his father and mother in one night, left an orphan with just a few moments of destruction. The Potter accounts were locked, with the exception of the set trust fund that Harry Potter's parents had established for him until he became of-age to inherit all assets.

Ragnarok could not help but admire James and Lily Potter for acknowledging the worst outcome and preparing so thoroughly for it.

However, the King was informed of the slight change in procedure when it came to the last will and testament of the deceased Potters. They had received correspondence from the Ministry of Magic where they were sent an official copy of the documents that made Albus Dumbledore the main guardian of Harry Potter, making him responsible for his well-being as well as his finances, rather than Minerva McGonagall who was the last possible guardian mentioned within the will who was neither imprisoned, insane or dead.

By law, the goblins had no right to intervene with this action. They were only responsible for the protection of documents, such as wills and leases, as well as finances. Above this reasoning, goblins did not usually feel passionate enough for action against any misconduct that occurs in the wizarding world.

The Black accounts were also frozen as the deaths and imprisonments within the family led to there not being any apparent heirs to their properties. Laws regarding these circumstances state: 'A period of seventeen years and ten months must pass, without any present successors, before they are to be then handled by the wizarding government, to be distributed as seen fit.' Although there were no direct heirs to the large estate, Ragnarok was aware of some distant relatives who may attempt to claim the fortune.

Rockstooth had informed Ragnarok of the massive boom that had occurred in the magical British economy only a few days ago. The worth of the Galleon had increased by two percent in the space of nearly two months; the steepest incline that the currency had seen in over thirty years. This was the cause of the goblin's own celebrations.

While Ragnarok had attended and functioned as a witness to many duels throughout the country, he was able to observe the happiness of his people. It was obvious to say that Ragnarok was a very pleased king. His mood did not remain completely positive for the whole day, however.

Earlier in the afternoon, the book recording all wizarding royals had glowed a bright blood red. Ragnarok knew this to be a warning – the life of the heir was in mortal danger.

With this knowledge, the Goblin King had ordered his guards to find Rockstooth who arrived within a minute of his summoning. Ragnarok had then activated the enchantments around the book that would instantly transport him and Rockstooth to the location of the prince.

Upon arrival, both goblins were horrified and enraged at what they saw.

The Prince – not even three years of age – was left on the floor of a small prison-like room. His eyes were clenched shut, breaths coming out in long pained wheezes. Ragnarok could see several large blue and yellowing bruises around his half-naked body that was shivering violently from the cold air which drafted through the grey room. His black hair was matted across his forehead, a sheet of cold sweat covering him. The small boy's bones could be spotted through the thin layer of skin that barely protected him from whoever had abused him so.

Ragnarok growled in fury. He was well aware of the lack of honour and morals that humans possessed. He knew that they were the most despicable creatures on the planet. Their egotistical nature had made them believe that they were on top of the food chain, that they were permitted to restrain other creatures, keeping them as slaves or for entertainment. They had even gone as far as to fight statuses amongst themselves, whether it was the rich against the poor or the white skinned versus the coloured skinned. The humans had the world at their feet but they kept their views as primitive as they were thousands of years ago.

Through all of their faults – through all of their stupidity – Ragnarok had always thought there was a line. A line that not even humans could cross. However, the sight before him taught him that he was wrong to think so optimistically.

How could it be that this brutish civilisation had built machines and weapons that could reign the fires of hell upon whole cities before they have even created a world free from vile acts against innocent children? This blatant hatred against a child was the very epitome of everything that repulsed the goblins.

Ragnarok leaned down to the quivering child he knew to be Prince Nicholas and placed a hand on his damp forehead. The Goblin King felt the boy's magic reaching out to his own in desperation, detecting that he did not want to cause Nicholas any harm, begging him to help. Ragnarok snarled, still thoroughly disgusted by whoever did this to him, and let a flow of magic run down his arm and into the young Prince. The effect was instant as the boy's trembling had stopped, his scrunched face relaxed and then seemed peaceful. Several of his bruises had faded and his pasty skin had gained a bit of colour.

Taking off his thick black cloak that bared his sigil, a sword surrounded by a single flame, Ragnarok placed it on the ground beside the child. He then picked up the young boy and placed him on the cloak, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling the golden strings so it tightened around his neck. Ragnarok then placed his hands under Nicholas and picked him up once again, standing up with the small human child safely tucked in his arms.

Rockstooth, who had remained silent in his fury, had chosen then to speak. "Who could have done this? To a child – a prince, no less!"

Ragnarok shook his head. "I do not know, Rockstooth. I assign you the task of finding out who lives here, however. I am aware that his mother had passed after his birth so that leaves the father and other relations from his extended family as suspects for the crimes against him. Approach me when you are finished with your investigation. Also, disguise yourself as human, we do not want the damned Ministry catching wind of this."

"Yes, Sire. But, the child . . ." Rockstooth trailed off.

"Do not worry. Warnock's promise of security shall be fulfilled. The Prince will be returning with me – as a ward of the Goblin Nation."

With that, Ragnarok had given his advisor a nod and then silently vanished, the small boy still in his arms.

The Goblin Nation did not have many hospitals as injuries were seen as prideful and sickness was a rarity. However, there were many goblin healers that existed with the highest amount of knowledge in the field of work they had chosen to specialise in. They had taken it upon themselves to not only study goblin methods of treatment but also mundane, centaur, elf, as well as many other approaches.

Knowing this, Ragnarok was confident that bringing the Prince back to the Cavelands where the goblins lived was the best decision. It was here that he would get the best treatment.

He brought the Prince back to his own home, laid him on one of the beds in the guest chambers and called upon the best healers he knew. It took them all about thirty minutes to arrive, Ragnarok stressing that it was not an emergency and they should not leave any of their patients if they could not. The healers were confused upon realising that they would not be treating their King but a human child. Ragnarok was grateful when they had chosen to stay silent and examine the child without question.

The healers had been working on the young Prince for a few hours. Once they had finished, they had approached him and told him that the boy was severely undernourished and that they had given him the necessary treatments to improve his immune system. He was now to take a series of potions to help him regain the average weight for a boy his age by ensuring he received all the right nutrients to grow healthily.

After the healers had left, Ragnarok was left alone with the toddler. He was yet to awake from his deep slumber, but Ragnarok liked it better that way.

He knew that, for a human child who had grown up in the conditions he had, surrounded by cruel mundane people, he would most probably not have the creative imagination that children were usually associated with. Ragnarok feared that, without this imagination, the boy would not take well to seeing a goblin. The King could only hope that Nicholas would trust his magical instincts and know that Ragnarok did not wish to cause him harm.

Ragnarok decided then to wait within the guest chambers, not wanting the young Prince to wake up alone. He ordered some of his passing guards to fetch all the documents that required his attention and bring them back to the chambers.

Once they had obliged, Ragnarok had conjured himself a desk facing the large queen-sized bed in front of him so he could work and also keep an eye on the boy.

As all documents were thoroughly read through and signed, gradually decreasing their numbers before there were none left, it had turned into the late hours of the evening. Ragnarok sat back in his chair and looked over to Nicholas.

For the past hour or so, the boy had been tossing and turning under the heavy sheets that covered him. Ragnarok suspected that the boy was having a nightmare and briefly wondered if he should wake him. However, the healers' instructions of allowing Nicholas to gain as much rest as he could had echoed in the King's mind and he had left the boy alone. It took about fifteen minutes before Nicholas had relaxed and went back to a peaceful sleep.

Ragnarok walked around his desk and stood to the side of the bed. He lifted his hand towards his chair and levitated it, sitting on it once he had placed it down. He narrowed his beady black eyes in contemplation of the slumbering Prince. It was astonishing how someone so small and fragile had such a great destiny ahead of him.

The Goblin King was reminded of the prophecy that was told by one of the rare goblin seers that the nation was aware of. Ragnarok knew the woman to be a creature of absolute lunacy, ironically only making sense when she told a prophecy, and he was lucky enough to hear the foretelling mentioning the Prince in front of him himself. He remembered being told by his guards that the seer wished to see him saying that it was a matter of great importance and was adamant in talking to him. Ragnarok did not see the harm in humouring her for some time and so allowed her to come into his office where her eyes had instantly glazed over and she spoke the words of the prophecy.

"From the rage of war,

The Prince, The Lioness, and The Saviour approach as champions for all magical creatures.

The Prince who must become the king of wizards will join the king of goblins and they shall fight together as kin,

uniting with the Lioness and the Saviour,

and vanquishing their common enemy.

The Lioness of infinite magic shall stand beside the Prince.

The wise and the mighty leading a legion into burning flames,

emerging through the ashes to a new world.

Their souls shall be bound – a union destined to last a lifetime – and forged by the fates.

They will be the joint power of the Saviour marked as the dark lord's equal on All Hallows' Eve.

They shall have the might to destroy bigotry.

They shall have the might to govern empires.

The Age of Albion – an era of complete unification of all magical beings – will begin should the Saviour succeed and the dark lord dies.

Born in the fires of conflict,

The Prince, The Lioness and The Saviour are promised as the chosen ones."

It was obvious the moment that Ragnarok had first read the recording of the Prince's birth that the prophecy may have been a true prediction of the future. His thoughts were further confirmed when Harry Potter, the recently dubbed 'Boy-Who-Lived', had received a scar that was made by Lord Voldemort himself on Halloween, therefore making him the one marked by the dark lord.

Ragnarok figured that, as both the Prince and the Saviour – two of the five key people in the prophecy – had been revealed, the events within the prophecy were not something he could overlook.

He focused his eyes on the Prince once more. If the prophecy was correct, he and the young wizard in front of him would be kin to each other. The thought may have made him laugh if he thought it a few years ago, but now that Ragnarok had seen the abuse that Nicholas had already suffered in his short life, he could see how the boy could come to view him as family.

The prospect of raising an influential member of the wizarding world as a goblin was something that excited Ragnarok beyond anything else he could think of.

Ragnarok did not plan to exploit the child since doing so would go against everything he was taught. The Goblin Nation was known for its respect of women and children – no matter what type of being they were; they would never be harmed in the presence of a goblin. To allow doing so, would be the greatest act of dishonour a goblin could undertake. Ragnarok would never compromise his integrity in the most disgusting manner when there were other more ethical options available.

He knew that all the Prince needed was to be raised with an open mind and a vast education of various subjects which will include but not ever be limited to traditional goblin texts. Nicholas would be taught several different languages as well as the different approaches to subjects he had learned. As well as this, he would be broadened in his own personal abilities – where a wizard would wave his wand and cast the spell to summon an object to him, an elf would simply click its fingers and the object would vanish from its place and reappear in its hands. Nicholas would be trained in both methods of summoning as well as many others.

A cultured wizard in a position of leadership was what Magical Britain badly needed for a very long time. Ragnarok was determined to ensure that happened. All he needed now was to wait for Rockstooth to return from his investigations so Ragnarok would know how to proceed in gaining guardianship over the future king of wizards.

Ragnarok then contemplated another part of the prophecy. He was not as knowledgeable as he wanted to be on the subject of wizarding soul mates but knew that they were a true rarity. Under his estimation, there were only twenty-six documented soul bonds in the whole recorded history of wizardkind. However, according to the prophecy, a twenty-seventh soul bond would be added to that short list. Ragnarok had no inkling as to who the 'Lioness' could be but was sure she would, as the Prince and the Saviour had, reveal herself in time.

It was thinking of Nicholas' soul mate that Ragnarok was reminded of his own heartbreak.

The double doors that led into the guest chambers then creaked open slightly. From the crack, Rockstooth had peeked his head inside. "May I come in, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, of course. Have you completed your investigation?"

Rockstooth strolled inside the room, gently shutting the door before standing aside his King. His gruff voice was grave as he spoke. "Indeed I have, Sire. The abuser is most definitely the Prince's father since he is the only other inhabitant of the house. His financial status does not seem to be very weak although his physical condition is appalling. I believe he was inebriated when he opened his door to me and was unaware of the absence of his child. I took it upon myself to read his thoughts and watched the memories he had regarding his son. This was most definitely not the first time the prince was abused, the father has despised him ever since he came into the world and was left to him after the death of the mother."

Ragnarok nodded his head in contemplation. "I see. I know that the boy gained his royal status from his mother and she was the last of the line before his birth. That leaves nearly no one who can take him instead of his paternal family relations."

"The father's family is not capable of taking care of a child, Sire. Both grandparents are under state care and the father himself has proven he is not qualified."

It was hard for Ragnarok to hide his pleasure in hearing this piece of information. "Then I have another job for you, Rockstooth. Tomorrow morning, go back to that house and force the father to sign over guardianship rights for Nicholas to me."

He watched as Rockstooth widened his eyes and looked over at him in shock. "Do you think this is wise, Your Majesty? He is a wizard, after all."

"He is a true heir – a descendent of the first King, Arthur. His lineage brings together great houses; Pendragon, Emrys, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor . . . All of these houses are still known for their kindness towards our kind – wizards who treated us as equals. We have had enough rebellions, my friend. This child is one of the keys to the revolution that will change everything – the Prince that was promised."

"A king of the prophecy?"

"Indeed – one of the powers behind the chosen one. It will do well if he is raised by the Goblin Nation, at least until he reaches eleven years of age."

Rockstooth remained silent in thought for several moments before he spoke. "I can see how that is our best option but do you believe yourself to be capable of raising human child? I fear the Prince may not be able to handle the ways of goblins – humans are a lot more fragile from what I have seen of them."

Ragnarok considered his advisor's words. There was no denying that there was truth in them. Human children seemed to require a gentle approach in nurturing which was not something they could receive from goblins who were taught to duel from their fourth year from birth. "I do not intend for Nicholas to be raised completely in the ways of goblins, Rockstooth. I am sure the Union of Druids will accept our asking of help."

The Union of Druids was renowned as an ancient and exclusive magical organisation whose members were seen as the mediators and law-enforcers of the magical world. Ragnarok admired the organisation as they were among the first in the world to allow creatures other than humans, including goblins, into their esteemed halls – to be treated as equals. It was this admiration along with the desire of the young Prince having as many advantages as he could that led to Ragnarok deciding it would be extremely useful to inform Lord Commander Desmond – the current leader of the Union of Druids – of the turnabout of events in regarding Magical Britain's royal line.

"The Prince can proceed and learn at a lesser pace than our kind under Lord Desmond's tutelage," Ragnarok stated.

"From what I recall, the Lord Commander's sole responsibility is to ensure the Union remains neutral, Your Majesty. We do not yet know if he will consent to educate the Prince."

Ragnarok shook his head as he spoke. "I have heard the vows spoken by many members of the Union, my friend. The rumour that they are kept neutral under oath is only a myth. Their only loyalty is to the law," Rockstooth bowed his head in acknowledgement of his mistake while the King continued, "You are right, though – there is no guarantee that Desmond will consent but it is important the Union is at least aware of the heir. They will be essential if we hope for a chance of a smooth succession."

"And if the Lord Commander agrees? You must be aware that a passing tutor will not be able to teach the boy everything he needs to know."

The King acknowledged this. "The rest will be taught by me under this very roof. He is the Crown Prince of the Wizarding Throne, Rockstooth. I believe myself to be completely capable of educating a king."

Rockstooth's expression showed a slight sign of softening. "Yes, of course. But on a more personal level, the Prince may grow to view you as his father."

His advisor's soft-spoken words struck Ragnarok. The prophecy stated that he and the Prince would approach as kin but he had thought that they would be brothers in arms – just close allies with a common enemy. He was once again reminded of his pain.

Almost ten years prior to that day, Ragnarok had lost his lifemate and children. An accident within Gringotts had torn his companion for life and his dear daughters from him in a single blazing moment of fire. From then, Ragnarok had grieved for the loss of those he loved – never believing he could feel an agony worse than he had felt at that time.

The thought of his passed family reminded Ragnarok of the hurt that throbbed with every beat of his heart in the absence of those he loved most in the world. It was with that thought that Ragnarok then became aware of why Rockstooth mentioned being viewed as a father to the young Prince. His advisor wanted to know if the King was ready to care deeply for another child.

Taking a deep breath and letting it blow out, Ragnarok leaned across and placed a hand on the side of the young boy's face. Nicholas let out a small sigh and unconsciously leaned into the touch. Ragnarok allowed a small smile to pass his face, finally knowing the answer to Rockstooth's unspoken question. "Then his father I shall be."

Nicholas then stirred, Ragnarok's gravelly voice having disturbed him from his sleep. He moaned in displeasure and then drowsily opened his eyes to reveal bright silver orbs. It took a moment before he had turned his head so it was facing Ragnarok and then focused his eyes upon the Goblin King.

Ragnarok felt the two-year-old boy's magic flare up in his fear. Nicholas widened his eyes and attempted to jerk away from the hand that was still clutching the side of his face. Ragnarok pulled his hand away and leaned back in his chair, lifting his hands in front of him in a sign of surrender, showing Nicholas that he did not mean him any harm by giving him some space. The Goblin King then felt the magic that surrounded the boy compose itself and retreat.

The boy eventually calmed from his silent fright and relaxed his body. His widened eyes narrowed back to a normal stare. He then simply remained laid on the large bed and curiously gazed at the creature in front of him. Nicholas' eyes lingered on both of the goblins that were present in the room and he cocked his head to the left as if he was intrigued.

Nicholas lifted one of his thumbs into his mouth and began sucking on it while he raised his other arm and pointed his index finger at Ragnarok's ears. "Big," he giggled.

Ragnarok tried not to let his delight show but was pleased to know that the little boy did not seem to fear his appearance, rather he was amused by it. It was astonishing that the Prince had already surpassed Ragnarok's expectations of him, even if it was in the simplest of ways. The King conceded that surprises were only to be anticipated from raising the prophesized Prince.

His life would not be easy, this Ragnarok knew from his own experience. Nicholas would be faced with obstacles much larger than any Ragnarok had faced before and even during his reign. Ragnarok then decided to make a silent oath to himself as he reached out and clutched the giggling boy's hand that was dangerously close to pinching his long hooked nose. Nicholas would not enter the corrupted Wizarding Britain without the proper knowledge and strength he needed to rule it.

So mote it be.

-o0o0o0o-

Eight Years Later,

12 February 1990

The sound of swords clanging against each other filled the air.

"To your left!"

An eleven-year-old Nicholas faced his tutor, Desmond, and blocked a blow that was heading to the left of his abdomen. He groaned as his sword – which was forged to be well balanced and nimble to account for his age – parried the sword of his master.

"Good," Desmond said with a smirk on his face.

Nicholas was panting from over-exertion and had a layer of sweat coating his light skin. Though he was exhausted, the Prince still smiled slightly at the praise given to him by the renowned swordsman.

The older man paused for a few moments to give Nicholas a chance to catch his breath before he rushed towards him again. Nicholas glanced up and quickly raised his weapon to meet the crashing of Desmond's broad blade. From the block, Desmond swiftly retreated slightly only to return with several blows that Nicholas was forced to guard himself against.

Throughout the several years that Nicholas was under Edwin Desmond's tutelage, the Lord Commander maintained that the best way to learn any kind of fighting was through example and practice. Nicholas had to admit that, though he was far from a gentle instructor when it came to sword fighting, Desmond had a style to his training that rivalled any other swordsmen that taught Nicholas during his time with the goblins.

The attack continued. Nicholas dodged the upward swing of his master by twisting himself away from its blow as the sword barely missed him. The Prince then turned back to the brown-haired wizard and decided to begin his own assault.

Nicholas was told long ago that his strength lied in his agility – the nimbleness of his feet allowed him to move rapidly whilst avoiding any kinds of attack that could harm him. He had worked out that his speed could also be used in an offensive manner if he had the right opening to strike back at his opponent.

Darting towards Desmond, Nicholas parried several more swipes of his master's sword. He bided his time, beginning to view a pattern in his fighting. The ringing of steel became louder as the blows increased in strength from the close-combat the wielders were engaged in. Nicholas eventually saw his opening when he observed Desmond's sword heading towards the side of his arm.

In the space of a second, the Prince ducked under the swing of his master's blade and then shifted so that he was facing Desmond's back. From that position, Nicholas swiftly kicked the back of Desmond's knee so he was forced to kneel. Once his master was downed, Nicholas pressed the point of his sword on the back of Desmond's neck.

"Yield," Nicholas commanded.

The grin in Desmond's voice was heard as he spoke, "I yield."

Immediately, Nicholas lowered his sword and watched as Desmond stood. The tall man sheathed his weapon and began brushing his shoulders and trousers of the dirt that had gotten on them. Desmond then regarded the young Nicholas with a look akin to pride. "You have improved immensely, Your Highness."

Nicholas had dropped onto the ground in exhaustion. "I am . . . grateful, Lord Desmond," he gasped in between short breaths.

"I was told King Ragnarok wanted to see you after this session was complete. Go on and clean up before presenting yourself," Desmond said.

Nicholas furrowed his dark eyebrows in confusion, glancing at the clock tower in the distance. "But, Desmond . . . we still have an hour left of the session. Surely we still have a little more time before I will need to leave."

Desmond chuckled. "I am thrilled you still want to continue, Sire, but I am aware that today is your birthday. It is for that reason I am allowing you early leave."

"Oh," Nicholas grinned, "I am flattered you chose to remember, my lord."

"Do not be cheeky, young prince. It does not become you." Desmond smiled warmly at the boy. He then pulled out a small box from his pocket and wandlessly enlarged it. "My wife and I would like you to have this. Eleven is a very important age to wizards, after all."

Nicholas smiled gratefully and accepted the present. "May I open it?"

"Yes!" Desmond laughed. "Or I think Lady Desmond will commit regicide."

The Prince instantly ripped through the layers of wrapping paper until he had his hands on the actual box. Pulling the lid off, Nicholas saw that he was faced with a book: 'World Renowned Piano Pieces: Volume I.'

The young boy gasped and widened his eyes, looking to Desmond in silent question who laughed again and fondly tousled the Prince's hair. "Yes, Jane will be here every Monday to teach you."

Ever since Nicholas first visited the Lord Commander Desmond's house when he was seven-years-old and heard the beautiful melodies of Jane Desmond playing the piano echoing around the warm home, he had asked and pleaded and begged to be taught by her. All the while, she had refused due to not thinking herself to be a good enough tutor for the future King. All the while the Prince himself had stubbornly refused to be taught by anyone other than her.

Nicholas was now delighted to see that Jane had been the one the yield in their conflict.

"Now," Desmond brought Nicholas out of his thoughts, "King Ragnarok still wants to see you, Your Highness."

The ebony-haired boy smiled widely and spoke. "Could you tell Lady Jane that I am eager for her lessons and she will not regret offering them to me?"

Desmond nodded, his brown eyes mirthful. "Of course."

With that, Nicholas said his farewells and rushed back to the palace. As his sword training usually occurred in the King's Gardens within the area that surrounded the palace belonging to King Ragnarok, Nicholas was easily able to bring himself back to the large home he also lived in.

Nicholas was aware that it had been eight years since the Goblin King had adopted him. Many of the details of that night were still kept from him to this day, being given the promise that he will be told what he had so wanted to know once he was older. The boy often wondered if that was for the best. All he knew of his family was that his mother was dead and whenever he asked either Ragnarok or his advisor, Rockstooth, about his father, all he received were angry looks that did not seem to be directed to him but something, or someone, very far away.

Running past the many serving goblins that were going about their daily routines around the palace, Nicholas headed straight for his rooms on the first floor.

Tearing off his shirt and trousers, throwing them into the laundry basket that Hardwell – his personal manservant – had angrily demanded that he must place his clothes, Nicholas darted into his bathroom to shower.

King Ragnarok never liked unexplainable tardiness.

After ten minutes of scrubbing off the grime and dirt gathered on his body from training with Desmond, Nicholas dressed into one of the clean tunics hung in his wardrobe as well as a pair of slacks.

Raising his hands to his wet hair, Nicholas focused the elements around him to emit a flow of hot air right through his locks with his magic, being taught to do so from Hardwell who became annoyed at always being called to dry it for the Prince. After he was finished, he hurried to his door.

Nicholas walked quickly to the King's study which was only down the hallway, took a breath to compose his breathing and then pushed the double doors open to reveal Ragnarok with Desmond who stood in front of the King's desk with his hands clutched behind his back. Both had turned their heads to the doors to see who had entered.

"Ah! There he is." Desmond beamed.

Nicholas stepped forward to stand beside Desmond and bowed his back in respect to the King – as he was taught to do. "Well met, Your Majesty."

Ragnarok growled jovially and bowed his head in return. "Well met, Your Highness. I assume that you are confused as to the presence of the Lord Commander?"

"Yes, I am," Nicholas stated and turned to address his tutor and leader of the Union of Druids. "You were meant to be making your way to Germany, were you not? I thought there was some extreme dispute from western magicals about the reunification of the East and West."

"There are still some issues but most of the threat the west was worried about had been handled yesterday. Knight Commander Mason had just informed me today that she was able to track down where most the escapees had hidden after the raid we had performed. The official reunification of Germany should be able to take place later this year."

Ragnarok spoke in curiosity. "The escapees – are they Grindelwald sympathisers?"

Nicholas too was interested in the people who were leading the western allies to believe it would be too dangerous to allow two sides of a country the chance of resolution.

"Most likely, Majesty. We shall find out from the interrogations when they are found."

"Keep me posted, Lord Desmond. There have not been any large fluctuations in the daily finances of any members of the old magical families so I do not believe these criminals are acting in a single large organisation."

Desmond considered this. "This is promising news. Nevertheless, I will still push for probing about co-conspirators – out of a need for lawful confirmation and not of any lack of belief in goblin abilities, of course."

Ragnarok snarled a laugh. "You have not offended me, Desmond. I am well aware of what your profession entails. Your presence here today though is rather less urgent but just as important. You are here as a trusted advisor." The King reached across his desk to pick up an envelope and held it up to Nicholas. "This is addressed to you; it came only this morning while you were training."

Nicholas stood still for a moment from what seemed like a sudden switch in the conversation but then took two steps forward so that he could take the letter from his guardian's hand. He looked at the front of the envelope and saw that it was indeed addressed to him and then to the back where an ancient crest carrying the symbols of a lion, eagle, badger, and snake was presented in the wax seal – which meant that it could only be one thing.

"My Hogwarts letter – it came." Nicholas was astonished.

"Indeed. Open it, little prince." Ragnarok told him amusedly.

He did so with nervous hands. This was one of the few aspects of his life that turned out to be normal and he treasured it. He unfolded the neatly written-on parchment and started to read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY.

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Westerly,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31st July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The silver-eyed Prince turned the page and found the mentioned list of school supplies that were compulsory for a first year. He felt apprehension along with excitement at being accepted into the school that had been part of his fantasies for as long as he had known about it.

He was brought crashing back to Earth when he realised what Ragnarok had said before handing him his letter.

"Who is Lord Desmond meant to act as an advisor to?" he asked, trying to keep a cool mask on his face but was well aware that both men in the room knew him too well to not see through his walls.

"To you, Nicholas." This was one of the few times Ragnarok used his true name – something Nicholas did not fail to recognise. The King took a pause and then cautiously spoke. "I need you to consider everything before you make up your mind about attending or not."

"Surely there cannot be a lot that I do not already know, Ragnarok."

It was at this point that the Goblin King glanced at Nicholas wearing the most expressive look he had ever seen on the ever mighty King Ragnarok. Amongst all of the emotions that Nicholas could see, two – regret and sadness – stood out the most.

"What I am going to say next cannot leave this room. The only other person that knows is Rockstooth. The both of you will understand the need for secrecy once I tell you everything."

Desmond's face instantly hardened with professionalism. "I know it is not in your nature to play games, Your Majesty. Do you require an oath?"

"I would prefer an oath, yes." Ragnarok then pushed a piece of parchment towards him. "I had the vow written for you beforehand should you have consented to give one."

The middle-aged man read the parchment that he was given and nodded in acceptance. He then pulled his wand from his arm holster to begin his vow. "I, Lord Commander Edwin Charles Desmond, swear on my body, mind, and magic to keep all secrets disclosed to me by King Ragnarok III and only discuss them with those that are confirmed to have the knowledge that will be imparted to me. So mote it be."

Nicholas watched as a soft warm glow encompassed Desmond for a moment before fading away.

"Now, Nicholas. You will not have to make a vow but I hope you see how important it is to keep this from everyone that is not Lord Desmond, Lord Rockstooth or I."

The Prince carefully gave a nod of understanding.

Ragnarok visibly took a deep breath within the silence that struck the room. He then looked into Nicholas' young, innocent eyes and felt guilt in the information he was about to impart.

For he knew those eyes would never be the same after the Prince left this room.

"There was a prophecy made just a month before your birth . . ." he began.

Ragnarok poured all of his knowledge and theories out to the two humans in front of him and struggled to keep his emotions in check. It was not fair that Nicholas' face slowly became more fearful as Ragnarok spoke. It was not fair that the boy would need to know of the darkness in this world at such a young age. It was not fair that Ragnarok had to impart this onto Nicholas just so the boy could understand why it would not be best if he went to Hogwarts. It just was not fair.

Desmond sat thoughtfully in the seat that he had conjured for himself while Nicholas sat on his own.

"There will be another dark lord?" Desmond asked.

The Goblin King shook his head. "It is not likely. It was already established that Nicholas is the Prince of the prophecy. Further, Potter was confirmed when Lord Voldemort, a dark lord, marked him on the night of his parent's death – a misfortune that happened to fall on Halloween night or 'All Hallows' Eve' as the prophecy put it. I, myself, am the King of Goblins who was to be your kin."

Nicholas narrowed his eyes in concentration, trying to recall another part of the foretelling of the future. "What of the . . . the Lioness, was it?" Ragnarok nodded in confirmation that Nicholas had her name correct and allowed him to finish. "Do you know who she is and what does our souls being bound mean?" the Prince queried.

"No, I still do not know who she is. I must admit that she is the only mysterious figure inside the prophecy." Ragnarok then considered his next words before speaking them, "The binding of souls in the prophecy specifically describes what is called a soul-bond by wizards. This is a bond that occurs when two magical beings are recognised upon birth by the Earth Core Magic as being perfectly compatible in mind, body and magic. Thus, the deep magic of the lands binds them together so they are always led to each other and incomplete without the other. From what I have read over the years, the process of discovering the other could take as little as a few months to even decades. Nonetheless, I have faith that we will at least know who she is very soon – a young girl of powerful magic is not easy to be kept hidden."

Lord Desmond suddenly widened his eyes and whispered, "Powerful magic."

Ragnarok sat straighter in interest. "You have suspicions, Lord Desmond?"

"I have a hunch, Sire. I met a remarkable young girl five years ago – she had a great burst of accidental magic, none like I had ever seen. Her sadness began to affect the surrounding elements, she defied gravity itself and began swirling winds around herself that only got stronger as the minutes passed until I was able to calm her."

"Why was she so sad?" Nicholas asked.

Desmond's brown eyes lowered in sadness. He hesitated before saying, "She – she was abandoned in a playground by a person who should have cared deeply for her."

"She was born in the mundane world," Ragnarok stated – correctly if Desmond's nod was anything to go by. "It would make sense. The old pureblood families are too inbred to have magical ability past the bare minimum. Fresh blood has the most power."

Desmond hummed in agreement. "I have been keeping an eye on her at a distance. She is due to get her own Hogwarts letter in September if I recall correctly, but I think I will push for the Druid Institute to send her our own offer on my own personal recommendation."

Nicholas considered the words that were being spoken in front of him. "She could be in Hogwarts with me?" he whispered sadly.

Ragnarok stepped off of his desk and moved around to stand in front of Nicholas, reaching to hold one of the boy's hands. "Apparently so, little prince. Yet, I think you have realised why you are likely to not be going to Hogwarts."

"I am the Prince destined to be King in the prophecy – Hogwarts cannot teach me to be King," Nicholas said, almost diplomatically, his silver eyes shining.

Ragnarok squeezed his hand like he always did when comforting the Prince.

Desmond chose to speak at that moment. "There are many reasons why you should or shouldn't go, Your Highness. You have, however, understood the major reason why you should not. Hogwarts is plagued with texts and instructors with extreme bias which is not something I can recommend for someone who is supposed be the country's head of government. Simply said, Hogwarts would only be a waste of valuable time you can have to truly prepare."

The Prince let a tear fall on his pale cheek. "So I am to just wait until the dark lord comes back?"

"Yes," Ragnarok grumbled in anger and grief for the boy's loss of innocence.

Nicholas bent his head down in submission to his fate.

The years that followed would be the longest Nicholas had ever known.

Time that was instantly forgotten once his eyes finally fell upon hers.

A/N: The stage is set! It was a large starting chapter, I know, but it is focused on an OC - he needs some sort of background before this story properly begins. Nearly 10 years in 9540 words is pretty good - considering the time span.

I'm going to clarify for the sake of you hardcore Harmony shippers who are hungry for just another soul bond story, this is not Harry/Hermione. Harry will be a main character, definitely, but his involvement with Hermione will be of the extremely strong friendship/sibling kind. I hope you'll still give this story a chance, though.

- Guardian.