A/N: Alright, here's the next chapter. Sorry for the delay. It was a right awful week, and my dad was being a total bastard. It got so bad that he threw a laptop at my mom, and we all nearly left him, but my grandparents came over and managed to convince him to go to counseling. So hopefully everything will work out now…

Anyway, I hope that you enjoy it, as well as all the explanations that I'm using. And, in case anyone gets their knickers in a twist, YES, I got permission from Starlight Massacre to use the term/species of "Drackens". I didn't have to, since they exist in real life as proved by my google-searching, but I figured I'd cover all my bases.

Hope you enjoy this installment, and that it meets up to your expectations/hopes!

Harry and Sirius sat, staring intently, upon the thick package before them. It had appeared ten minutes ago in a flash of gold, nearly a week after the two had taken refuge in Gringotts.

During that time Harry and Sirius had grown closer to their two goblin companions, until they could be found, late at night, drinking Firewhiskey (Butterbeer for Harry) and trading stories and jokes by the fire. Turuk and Ironclaw had proven excellent hosts, and knew an extensive collection of bawdy and inappropriate songs that made even the infamous Sirius Black blush.

And yet, as day after day passed in which Harry and Sirius were allowed to heal; they began to become increasingly more worried by the lack of reply to Harry's enrollment letter.

And now that it was here, before them, they found themselves at a loss for what to do.

What if it was a denial? What if Sirius wouldn't be allowed to come? What if it was an elaborate trap and they found themselves bound to servitude for all eternity to the Tooth Fairy? (Eventually, Sirius conceded that this wasn't a likely possibility. But honestly, a person of unknown size and gender who was of the habit of sneaking into children's rooms while they were sleeping and stealing a tooth – with some of the child's DNA – from under their pillow before paying them for it made for a very creepy Muggle tradition from a Wizard – or sane person's – point of view. After contemplating it, Harry had to concede that point to his godfather.)

Finally, the short tempered Ironclaw – who had been watching with steadily growing impatience while Turuk laughed silently – finally stomped across the room, used his claw to break open the spellotape on the box, and took out the two objects – a letter and a book – before shoving them into Harry's startled hands.

Losing his silent battle, Turuk laughed openly now; Ironclaw joining in upon the sheepish and embarrassed blush that spread across godson and godfather's faces alike.

Allowing himself to stick his tongue out at his two new friends, but not allowing himself to delay any longer, Harry unsealed the envelope and opened the letter within, moving it over so that Sirius could read it at the same time.

Dear Hadrian Emrys,

It is with great pleasure that I accept your Enrollment Letter to our Prestigious and Timeless School, Myst Academy. Keep in mind that is it an extremely secret Boarding School that is located on the Legendary Lost Island of Avalon; and as such you will be required to find lodgings for the duration of your education.

Though, due to your status, accommodations have already been found for you; along with your Mundane Godfather, Sirius Orion Black. A pamphlet is disclosed with this letter.

Also included are four tickets to Avalon. Yes, four. It has been Seen that your two goblin friends – Turuk nephew of Ragnok and Ironclaw son of Ironfist – will also be accompanying you on your journey. We have procured a teaching position for Turuk, of Ancient Law and Customs. Ironclaw will be our new Head of Security. It has been too long that we've had the sharp eyes of goblins watch us and our affairs; and I feel that it is long overdue. Should they choose to accept, of course, lodgings for them shall be arranged near yours.

As specified in the Enrollment Letter, you are required to read the book that accompanied this letter: The Magical Compendium before you can join us. You have a week, as the next available Time Ripple will pass at that time. If you are prepared and ready, your tickets will transform into your individual Time Bubbles on April 14th, at exactly 01:37:29pm, Your Earth Time. A representative shall be waiting for you.

Do not bother with school books/supplies, as that list shall be presented to you upon your arrival. Your Vaults will be available here to you as well, so you will be able to acquire all that you need at our own shopping district.

We shall see you soon, Time-Child, and are greatly looking forward to your attendance and continued interest in our school.

Sincerely,

Headmaster Jasper Volturus

Vampyra, First Class

Harry, face blank, passed the letter to Turuk who began reading along with Ironclaw. Seeing the exact moment that both goblin's eyes widened and jaws dropped, Sirius and Harry lost their composure and jumped up, whooping in joy and excitement, and began dancing around the room.

And, if anyone had opened the door a moment later and caught sight of two excited, cheering goblins dancing alongside the humans; they would have fainted dead away from shock.

Turuk, who had been volunteered to read due to his soon-to-be professor status, pushed his half-moon classes further up his nose and opened the thick tome, The Magical Compendium, before turning it to the index.

"Hmmm… it seems that there are a total of nine chapters. There is a chapter each for all seven magical races, along with an introduction and a conclusion."

"Oh just start the bloody readin', I've got affairs to get in order if I'll be following this little shrimp around for the next who knows how many years!" Ironclaw scowled, although his voice lacked venom and his eyes were playful and mischievous.

Harry stuck his tongue out, Sirius captured it with his fingers, Ironclaw laughed at the indignant squeak from the child, and Turuk sighed before he began reading.

Introduction:

You. Know. Nothing.

Before you can begin reading this book, you have to realize this. Everything that you've ever been told, everything that you've always believed, is a complete lie.

The world is not as you've been lead to believe, and you must accept this as truth before you will be ready to accept the true reality. And it is significantly darker and more terrible that what you've grown up believing.

For you see, there is a curse upon the Earth, put their by Chaos and Discord. And they have, for all of their advances and wonders, succeeded in slowly but surely destroying the world.

They have been called Abominations, Scourge, Blight, and Annihilators. Today, they are named Muggles.

By the end of this book, every pro-Muggle sentiment or emotion that you might have for these filth will be erased. It won't be easy, or painless, but that is the way of all truth.

Prepare yourselves.

"Whoa…" Harry breathed, eyes wide. "That's… rather deep and creepy shit, right there."

Both goblins threw the small boy a startled glance, for using such language, before remembering that he was, in mind, seventeen years old. And wasn't that a crazy thing to wrap your head around…

"Totally." Sirius nodded, recently trimmed, but still-long black hair bobbing with the movement. "And fascinating! C'mon Rukky, read the next chapter!"

Turuk narrowed his eyes and growled at the Black Lord. Unfortunately, the years in Azkaban seemed to have affected his sanity more than the goblin had thought, for the wizard wasn't fazed in the slightest. Deciding that arguing or threatening an insane man was a fruitless cause, Turuk turned back to the book (firmly ignoring the insane man's triumphant grin and Ironclaw and Harry's snickers) and started the next chapter.

Chapter One – Immortals:

The Immortals were the first, followed by the other Magical Races. They were given Life by Mother Magic, who desired a people to share in her Gift of Magic.

These beings were nearly perfect in every way. They had the ability to live forever, never catching any disease or perishing of old age. Magic to them was just that – Magic. There was no Dark, Light, or Grey. Everything was open to them, for all was knowledge and opportunity. They knew nothing of evil, or cruelty, or hatred.

But Chaos and Discord felt betrayed by their sisters, Magic and Peace; and, like little children, sought to ruin the goodness that had been created.

Thus, Muggles came into the world. Almost as soon as they had been created, they fought and murdered. Muggles were nothing but evil and cruelty and hatred; and the Immortals understood none of this. So they refused to see it. All they saw of these new creations were their ingenuity, their resourcefulness, their creativity.

Until those very same qualities were put to evil, and destroyed everything.

A young Immortal girl, by the name of Wren Starling, was out picking flowers for the annual Spring Ritual, when she was attacked and kidnapped. At twelve, she had reached her body's maturity, but not her magic's, and so was unable to fight back.

The warlord of the time – Cainan Adamson – sought to secure his reign and power by siring a powerful, unstoppable Heir. After procuring his Immortal bride, he raped her continuously for two months before she finally conceived. After that she was given to the men, as a reward for bringing their Lord a powerful broodmare. They were allowed to do whatever they wished to the young girl, so long as the Heir remained unharmed.

Eight months and one week later, and the rising Rebellion Parties were gaining ground. After a particularly brutal battle that lost Cainan his best friend and General, the cruel Lord demanded his Heir's immediate birth.

She was brought to a clearing in the Forest and tied down as the army healers cut her open and stole her child. At that moment, of anguish and pain and fear, the now-thirteen year old Immortal came into her Magical Maturity – four years too early. Every person in the clearing was immediately killed – including Cainan and little Wren Starling. Everyone, that is, except for her child.

The son whose name she whispered upon the breeze to her Race's waiting, mourning ears: Merlin…

And, for the first time, an Immortal died.

The Dryads of the Forest – who had already nearly faded into their trees to escape the human scourge – were able to take in the half-human, half-Immortal child and raise him.

But even still, the Immortals thought that it was over. It wasn't until other humans got similar ideas, and two other children – twins Mordred and Morgana – were born, that the Immortals realized the truth.

There was evil, and there was cruelty; and every human had the capacity and ability to do those dark deeds.

It wasn't until war was waged upon them by those eager for the secret to their power – and they discovered that they could be killed – could be murdered – that they did the only thing that they could.

They ran, taking their Island and remaining people with them, and vanished into the mists of Time.

But they continued to watch, now a little more hardened, less naïve, less innocent. And when their fellow Magical Races fell under the persecution and scourge of Muggles and even of their own descendants – now called Wizards – they rescued them.

Gradually Wizards became more and more plentiful and powerful. There were those who gave into their Muggle ancestry, and became horrible Dark Lords bent on destruction and chaos. Then there were the rare few who took after their Immortal lineage, and possessed that wonder and naivety of magic and life.

But they were tainted – like so many other Races and Beings were tainted – and Chaos and Discord reveled in their victory.

"Dear Merli… er, Good Go – oh! What the fuck?" Harry hissed, hands clenched tightly in horror and eyes both glowing and misty with tears and fury. "How could we not know this? How could this have happened?"

"I dunno Bambi… but man… that is seriously messed up." Sirius whispered, arm reflexively wrapping around his godson and holding him protectively to his chest.

The goblins remained silent, mourning for the suffering of a fellow Magical Being, and allowing their human friends to assimilate this new knowledge that was – to them – so much more shocking and unbelievable than it was to Turuk and Ironclaw.

Finally, after he felt that the silence had continued long enough, Turuk turned the page and began the next chapter…

Chapter Two – Vampyra:

The second to fall were the Vampyra. While their nature is considered Dark and Evil, that is not so. Vampyra could eat real food and drink, but preferred to drink animal blood for sustenance. The only time they'd drink human blood would be from another Vampyra or Magical Being who was their mate. But they never allowed themselves to be tainted by Muggle blood.

They could sense – smell – that the Muggle blood was tainted, poisoned, by evil and cruelty. They resolved to stay far away from the Chaos Scourge – as they called the Muggles – and remove themselves from any and all of their conflicts.

Unfortunately, while a sound plan, it was not to be.

A young Vampyra boy, no more than five years of age, named Marcus Cruor, was captured during a hunt. Much like young Wren, he was unable to fight back effectively, and was brought to the mercy of the cruel Muggles who saw him as nothing more than an experiment – and certainly not as a human being.

Although he was not raped or forced to produce a child – as he was too young – his torment was no less terrible than the lost Immortal child's. He became a lab rat to a group of scientists, who wanted nothing more than to sate their curiosity of how the Vampyra body worked.

He wasn't wanted to win wars or advance technology. He was captured merely because the Muggles were bored. And somehow, that both cheapens and exacerbates his suffering and sacrifice.

How does It's body change the blood into nutrients?

Where does It's augmented strength and speed come from?

Are the teeth hollow? How does It suck blood?

Is It's skin impervious? What would it take to break it?

How long can It go without blood?

Can It bleed?

Can It die?

All these and more were unleashed upon the young child in horrible experiments and tests and tortures. While they burned and cut and beat him; while they took his blood and tears and screams; they refused to feed him either blood or solid food.

Until, finally, after nearly six months and a moment of weakness – where a guard got too close and Marcus was too desperate – the child lunged forward, wrapped his hands around the Muggle's throat, broke his neck, and drank of the tainted blood.

Marcus' strength returned, his wounds healed, and his eyes glowed red. He broke his chains and, in a moment of bloodrage, killed and drained every Muggle in the compound before tearing the place to the ground.

He returned to his people, and a celebration was held for his safe return, but the damage had been done.

Animal blood disgusted him. Solid food made him retch. The Light and Goodness of the sun burned his skin and caused his Dark, Chaos- and Evil-tainted blood to boil and ignite with fire and agony.

The color was bleached from his skin, and with every necessary, desperate Muggle kill; his eyes glowed a brighter and brighter red.

But at the same time, he developed a thrall, an attraction, that called others to him and his Dark blood. He was the fifth son of the Cruor Coven – the ruling Vampyra Coven at the time – and so was listened to.

However, it remained largely ignored until, ignoring his family's protestations, he led his new following into the Muggle village that contained the families of those who had tortured – cursed – him, and razed it to the ground. When sun arose over the bloodless husks of the decimated village, all were forced to hide in a nearby cave, as all now felt the curse of the fiery star.

But, when they tried to return to their home, they found that they could not. The Vampyra feared what their brethren had become – with their evil eyes and dark inclinations – and so, despite the pain that it caused them, they closed the gates upon their brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers; and forbid them from ever returning.

What followed was a terrible, horrible war that nearly decimated the Vampyra. When they were attacked, they couldn't force themselves to defend with deadly force those whom they still loved. On the other hand, the newly dubbed 'Vampires', had no such qualms, and cut down family left and right; allowing the bloodlust to overtake their bodies and burn away their humanity.

When Avalon and the Immortals saw what had happened, they knew that they could no longer stand by and watch another Magical Race fall to the poison of Muggles. So they came, materialized, and Apparated all the remaining Vampyra to safety; leaving the Vampires on the Earth, knowing that there was nothing they could do against their animalistic cruelty and bloodlust.

And thus it was that another Magical Race was lost to time, slowly fading from the memory of Muggles and Vampires alike.

And even still, the Muggle Scourge continued to plague the Earth.

Harry trembled from the safety of his godfather's arms. So many of those cruel scientist's questions had hit home for him – painfully. Even now, he could hear Vernon's voice in his mind, cruel and spiteful and full of twisted lust and glee.

Do Freaks bleed? Do Freaks burn? Do Freaks cry?

How long can a Freak go without food?

Can I beat the Freakishness out of the Freak?

What would it take for the Freak to die?

And, as though Sirius could hear the echoing words as well, he clutched his little, seven(teen) year old godson to his chest; and held and comforted him in silence.

Knowing that, in truth, there was nothing that could or should be said, Turuk continued reading while Ironclaw gazed discreetly at the small, silently-sobbing form of the shrimp that had wormed his way into all of their hearts.

Chapter Three – Valkyrie:

There is little known of how these winged, dark, angelic-looking beings came to Avalon; for they refuse to tell. The only thing that we know for certain is that the Dementors are the Muggle-twisted version of these powerful, regal beings.

Somehow, and there is only speculation as to how, Muggles turned a Being from one who guides and protects brave souls on their way to Valhalla or Elysium, to one that sucks and devours them; thus destroying their magic and keeping it from re-circulating back into the Life Cycle.

Of all of the atrocities and horrors that Muggles have done against Magical Beings – that was one of the worst.

Valkyries are divided into three categories – or Flocks: Raven, Swan, or Horse/Pegasi. They are sorted into one of these three Flocks in a secret ritual upon their coming of age. No non-Valkyrie Being has ever witnessed this ritual, and no Valkyrie dares speak of it, so it is also largely speculation and hearsay.

But each Flock had its own defining characteristics and talents. To be a part of the Raven Flock signifies that you are a Warrior. Ravens are destined to fly into battle and choose their heroes for the final Apocalypse (or Ragnarok). Despite what you may think, they are not just muscle-headed brutes good for nothing but wielding an axe. They are also the most skilled with running and spying behind enemy lines. Every Valkyrie of that flock has the same Animagus – a Raven, although the colors vary. A novice is a light grey color, while an experience veteran would be a deep black. Those are the ones you'd best avoid.

The Horse or Pegasi Flock is best with weapons and forges. They are skilled and powerful blacksmiths, as well as competent and fierce trainers who show no mercy. They are known for their strength of mind and body, as well as their unwavering loyalty and good humor. They also have Animagi – either a Stallion or a Mare. Colors also vary, although there is no difference of skill or strength between a roan or a piebald.

And, lastly, there is the Swan Flock. Those belonging to this particular Flock have unparalleled powers in healing and warding; as well as beautiful and flawless musical voices and fingers. However, that does not mean that they are any less fierce or powerful than their other Flocks. They are fiercely protective of their family – or those they view as family – and tend to hoard their possessions. They are kind and have a great bedside manner, but are quick to temper as well as explosive. But, if they should need to fight, due to their sure and quick fingers, they lean quite heavily on the bow and arrow and almost never miss an intended target. Their Animagi are Swans, and the color of their feathers signifies their familial standing.

Keep all this in mind, for there is no greater mistake you can make than to insult a Valkyrie. And never, ever, ask how the Dementors came to be. I once knew someone who was foolish enough to do so; and now, well… I don't know them anymore.

"Whoa shit…" Harry gasped, shocked and awed. Sirius didn't seem to be in any better condition.

Ironclaw felt a cold shiver a fear run down his spine, and wrote a quick not to gather as many books on Valkyrie as he could, so that they would have as much possible knowledge as they could. As a goblin, he knew that ignorance of the law was no excuse.

Turuk made a noise of surprise, and everyone turned to him in question. "What is it?" Harry asked excitedly, almost bouncing in his seat like the seven year old he'd never been allowed to be. "What's the next chapter?"

"The Sibylline Oracles…" He breathed in awe, and Ironclaw sucked in a sharp breath next to him.

"Ummm… what are those?" Sirius asked, cocking his head in very Padfoot-way. Harry, next to him, unconsciously mimicked the motion, equally confused and curious.

"Well, they're… it's long and hard to explain; they're…" Turuk tried to explain, daunted by the huge task before him.

"Oh, just read the bloody chapter! It'll tell them soon enough!" Ironclaw huffed, motioning to the book that lay open in his goblin friend's limp grasp.

"Oh! Oh, right, of course." Turuk cleared his throat in embarrassment, while Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing and Ironclaw and Sirius had no such restraints.

Chapter Four – The Sibylline Oracles:

The Sibylline Oracles are, perhaps, the most powerful Race in existence. For what good will Magic or weapons or brilliant strategies be against those who can See them months – even years – before they happen. Thankfully, they are much like the Immortals, in that they are purely Good Beings and would never entertain the thought of using their powers for evil.

But Magic believes in balance, and as such not all Seers are all-powerful or all-seeing.

To explain that effectively, we must delve into the very nature of Time-Magic. Many believe that Time runs in a circle – this is not so. It is, actually, more of a Line. A time-turner merely transports back down the line, before continuing forward by creating another parallel Line before eventually diverging back to where they had first departed. But travelling into the future is impossible, as the Line hasn't been created yet.

But Oracles have the unique ability to see merely the ghost of the future Lines. Magic knows and sees all, and people's choices will eventually lead to certain outcomes – and it is these Time Ghosts that Oracles can See.

But even then it gets more complicated. As choices and decisions are constantly changing, the future Lines actually branch into Five separate Lines. Each represents a different aspect of the Future. The more powerful the Oracle, the higher Line that they can tap into, the more definite their Visions, and thus the more that they can see.

Line abilities are always hereditary, and always passed through the mother. Males can still have Visions, but are unable their Line down to their children.

The Line abilities are as follows:

First Line: can See immediate premonitions, allowing for them to See the perpetrator for a crime in which there were no other witnesses, or just to get another point of view for a case. It's rather more like a 'sixth sense' than anything.

Second Line: Sees places and events a day or two before they happen. However, they cannot See the individual people in the Visions – only nameless bodies. Also, unlike other Seers, they do not get a definite 'sense' for where their Vision has taken place. Therefore, Second Liners are often the most observant of Seers, as they have to use their own ingenuity, cleverness, and observation skills to pinpoint exactly where what they are Seeing is taking place, and sometimes even who the nameless faces are.

Third Line: can See people and places and whole events, but these visions only happen occasionally and sporadically. The Seer has no control over what they See or when they see it.

Fourth Line: can See different paths of those they are 'watching'. If they are not actively 'watching' someone, they won't see their future. They can also see different paths that will happen if the person they are 'watching' make a different choice, changes their minds about something, or the Seer mistakenly reveals what she's Seen before it's time.

Fifth Line: those of the Fifth Line are the most powerful, as well as the most rare. They can see almost anything and everything. Able to tap directly into Magic and see the future, past, and present. However, Fifth Liners are bound by Magic's Laws to only reveal what they are allowed; no more and no less. Fifth Liners cannot directly change the future unless it is Foreseen that they are supposed to.

However, constantly being in tune with Magic caused strain on the Fifth Liner's bodies. As such, each Fifth Liner was only allowed one pregnancy. After several generations of males being born – males who, even as Carriers, could not pass on the Fifth Line ability – severely depleted the Fifth Line.

As the last male Fifth Liners married and had children who were of the other four Lines, only one Fifth Line family remained.

The Mother Oracle, and her son, the Last Child.

As she is the last Fifth Liner, the last who can pass the ability on to her children, she, by Magic's Will, is to remain immortal until such a time that she can give birth to a female to continue the Line. But, as the Mother Oracle has already had her one pregnancy, this is impossible; and thus the cruelty of Muggles strikes again.

For, you see, the Mother Oracle did have a daughter. For the first time in centuries, an Oracle gave birth to Twins during their one pregnancy. One boy, and one girl.

The Sibylline Kingdom rejoiced, and all was well. That is, until the young children's Seventh Birthdays.

When a Fifth Line Oracle reaches their Seventh Birthday, they have their 'Naming Day', in which they receive their true Magical names (that they will only tell to their future soul-bond) and tap into Magic for the first time; thus grounding their growing Seer abilities and beginning their training.

However, it was then that everything went wrong. You see, Fifth Line Oracle children cannot be 'Sensed' during the months leading up to their Naming Day. Their powers are so erratic and untamable beneath the surface, eager and waiting to be grounded to Magic. It was then that the Muggles, who could not have known this, got lucky. Because no one – no one – had seen it coming.

The Mother Oracle's mate – an Immortal – had taken his daughter out for the day. She had wanted to create a bluebell-necklace for her Naming Day, and her father had been unable to deny her anything, for he loved her dearly.

However, while their guards were down and none could See them, they were attacked.

In the battle the father, who had been unprepared, was struck down and killed first. Then the daughter – whom is now called the Lost Child – was taken; captured for the sick Muggles' pleasures. They didn't know that she was an Oracle, and it was another stroke of horrible luck that they took her just days before her Naming, so that, no matter what, she could not be found by Oracle means.

For years she was tortured and raped in that dark room with sparse light. As she had never had her Naming, and as such never tapped into Magic and never grounded her abilities, she became mad with the uncontrolled and untamed Visions that only amplified her torment. She was forced to See her attacks before they happened, live them as they did happen, then view it again after as her Oracle abilities fluctuated and waged war within her. Then the cycle would start again, and she had no control.

And then, the worst torment of all. The Lost Child came into her body's maturity early – at the age of eleven. Shortly after, she became pregnant – her one pregnancy – and from a Muggle.

Eight months later she gave birth to a daughter that she, during a period of rare lucidity, named Sibyls, in remembrance of her home. Unfortunately, due to the Muggle taint in her blood and the madness of her mother's trapped magic, the child only possessed the ability of a Line Three. She would becomd completely mad, only Prophesying in frantic mutterings and drunken rages. The Muggles took her away and, when they learned that she could see the future, elevated her status to earn themselves money. She became known to history as the first Sibyls Oracle, though this was not the truth.

Eventually her masters made her pregnant to carry on the gift and thus ensure their wealth. But this child, doubly tainted, only possessed Line Two abilities. And so on, and so forth, it continued, each generation possessing weaker and weaker Line One, Two, and Three abilities; all of them naming their first-born daughters either Sibyls or Sibyll. Eventually they took on the name 'Trelawney', and the truth was, once again, lost to the sands of Time.

But the Lost Child knew none of this, for soon after she gave birth, Magic had mercy on her and absorbed her body into the Lines. She disappeared in a shower of gold, free from torment and pain.

As for her brother – the Last Child – he had refused to have his Naming Day. He had Seen, during a rare Underage Vision, that him and his sister would attend their Naming Day together. So he refused to move on without her. And, when it seemed that Magic approved this, as he never aged past the day his sister was taken, people stopped protesting.

Even to this day, the Last Child remains certain that his sister will return, and that he would wait for her – staying seven years old forever, if need be.

After the tragedy of loosing her mate, only to be informed by Magic of her daughter's passing years later, the Mother Oracle gathered her people and brought them to safety – to Avalon.

As thanks for the Island accepting them without protest, the Mother Oracle developed a sound and just governing body to preside over all of the rights of the Magical Races taking refuge there. Each Race is allowed two representatives on the High Council, none higher or more powerful than the others, with the Mother Oracle presiding as Final Judge.

But the largest, and perhaps the most important, contribution that the Mother Oracle made to Avalon is the Prophesy of the Emerald. None can view it, but all can see it, as it resides in an elaborate pedestal in the High Temple. Nothing is known about the contents, except that whomever the Prophesy is intended for will purge the Earth of the Scourge and bring Light and Peace to the World – and restore Avalon to its rightful place.

Often Myst University sanctions Field Trips to the High Temple, in hopes that this child, this student, will be the one that everyone's been waiting for, the one to cure the Earth and restore Magic.

Who knows… perhaps you are the One.

"NO I'M NOT!" Harry yelped, jumping up and pointing at the book furiously, as though to convince it otherwise. "ONE DAMN PROPHESY IS BLOOD WELL ENOUGH!"

"Easy pup!" Sirius grabbed his godson's shirt and yanked him back onto the couch. "They aren't saying that it's you! It's just a cliffhanger, and comment that is in every book for new students. It doesn't mean that it's specifically saying that you're the destined recipient for that Prophesy. Alright?"

"Oh… yeah…" Harry blushed and looked down, only to turn even redder as his comrades laughed and snickered at his sheepish, embarrassed expression. He quickly tried to change the subject, "Well, that certainly explains a lot about Trelawney, doesn't it?"

Sirius nodded, snickering. "Definitely. She was a right nutter when I went to Hogwarts. She was in sixth year when I first joined, and even then she was completely off her rocker. I couldn't believe it when James told me that Dumbledore had hired her for the Divination position. But, being one of the last of the Trelawney Line, I'm guessing that he didn't have much choice. Although, in my opinion, that one Prophesy she gave about you was the only valid one she'd ever Seen."

"That, and the one in my third year about Wormtail." Harry corrected.

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that. Stupid rat…" Sirius grumbled, glowering darkly.

Obviously seeing that Sirius was close to sinking into a self-deprecating brooding, Turuk turned the page and began the next chapter. As soon as they finished this one, they'd be only two chapters away from the epilogue of the book.

Chapter Five – Drackens:

Drackens are a dragon-humanoid-looking hybrid who are able to transform into Dragons at will – much like an Animagus transformation. In human form they still have the wings, claws, and scales, although they're significantly smaller. All Drackens, whether dominant or submissive, are extremely tall.

The dominants range roughly around six feet. The submissives generally are six and a half, although some have been known to be as tall as eight feet. Like in many species, the submissives are larger and fiercer, so as to protect the nest and their chicks from danger while the dominant is out hunting.

But submissives are in no way looked down upon in Dracken society. Both submissives and dominants can have jobs, vote, and hold office. They are just as fierce and deadly as their dominants… sometimes even more so. Submissives and Dominants can be both male and female; and as such the Dracken Race is perhaps the most un-sexist Race created by Magic.

Drackens are separated into Thirteen Ancient Clutches, and twelve of those are separated into four different Courts.

In the North Court are the Antipodean Opaleye, the Chinese Fireball, and the Welsh Green.

In the East Court are the Hebridean Black, the Hungarian Horntail, and the Norwegian Ridgeback.

The South Court consists of the Peruvian Vipertooth, Romanian Longhorn, and the Swedish Short-Snout.

And, finally, in the Clutches of the West Court are the Ukrainian Ironbelly, Catalonian Fireball, and the Portuguese Long-Snout.

The Thirteenth, and most powerful, Clutch is the Royal Pendragons.

Only the Royal Pendragons are immortal, although they compensate for that gift in only being allowed to reproduce once every three centuries.

The first and most powerful Royal Pendragons go by the names of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. And it is, once again, the fault of Muggles that they were forced to flee to Avalon. Although the betrayal was a lot more closer to home than any of the others.

Arthur Pendragon was close friends with the Master Guardian of the Immortals. So, when the Immortals fled and took Avalon with them, the Master Guardian begged Arthur to keep an eye on Merlin, the half-Immortal child; and Arthur agreed. So when Merlin came of age and maturity, Arthur took him into his Court as a sort of Royal Advisor. He sought to teach Merlin kindness, wisdom, honor and loyalty – all the things that the Muggle world would not have.

But Arthur was too late.

There came rumors, stories, of horrible atrocities being done against the Dracken race. Of whole Clutches being attacked and subdued; Drackens being forced into their dragon forms and bound there; losing their human minds.

It wasn't until Camelot came under attack that Arthur learned the truth. Only a select few knew that Arthur was a Dracken, and even fewer knew that his fabled Round Table was made up of twenty-four other Drackens, two from each Clutch (though not married to eachother).

And the only one who was not Dracken, and knew… was Merlin.

It was Merlin, his soul twisted by the Muggle cruelty in his blood, who informed and spurred on the mindless, blood-thirsty masses. Together, they attacked and laid siege to Camelot, their intent to kill the leaders of the Drackens, and wipe out the entire race.

From their vantage point in the Tower Room, around the Round Table, they could only watch along with their spouses as the gates were broken down and their betrayers – their once loyal subjects – stormed the palace. They knew that all was lost.

But, just as the raving hoard almost reached the barred doors, the Mother Oracle and Master Guardian came for them. They took the last fifty Dracken – four of each Clutch and the Royal Pendragons – and transported them to Avalon just as the massive doors were broken down.

But none on Earth – whether Muggle or Magical – knew of what had happened that fateful night. But Muggles, with no other answer and their penchant for romanticized tales, imagined and whispered some heroic account of bravery and strength and poetic death – that slowly became fact while the truth vanished to the sands of Time and the fickle loyalties of Muggles. And thus rumor and superstition became history, and Merlin remained vaulted friends with Arthur throughout times past.

And to this day, even while the original Knights of the Round Table passed away and their decedents took their place, King Arthur and Queen Guinevere Pendragon rule the Dracken Race with a firm and just hand and a fair mind.

But they shall never forget the betrayal of their First Wizard, nor the loss and decimation of their once-great nation. For the Dracken Race shall never recover from that first, greatest genocide.

"Fuck! I always knew that Muggles were twisted but… bloody fuck Merlin?That's so… so UGH!" Unable to come up with words to properly vocalize his level of disgust and horror, Hadrian threw up his hands and flung himself against the back of the couch. "Continue reading Turuk, if you please. I'd prefer to get this all over and done with as fast as possible – like ripping off a plaster."

Turuk nodded and, seeing that everyone was in agreement and had no other comment, turned the page and started the next chapter.

Chapter Six – Lycans:

Lycans are the original wolf-shifters, the ancestors of the oft-feared Werewolves.

They are separated into three Packs – the Moon, Starr, and Skye Packs. The Moon Pack can be discerned by their glowing emerald eyes, while the Starr Pack is known for their blue and the Skye Pack for their red. Each Pack has an Alpha, though all three Alphas fall under the jurisdiction of the High Alpha – or Spirit Wolf.

The Spirit Wolf is named such as he is able to go into a deep meditative trance and form of himself an Astral Projection. This 'Spirit' then goes to all of the individual Packs and checks up on them, giving advice or just watching out for them.

Although they have extended life spans, no Lycan, not even the Spirit Wolf, are immortal. Rather, each Spirit Wolf is chosen seemingly at random, although there is an order. If the current Spirit Wolf came from the Moon Pack, then the next will come from the Starr Pack. If from the Starr Pack, then the Skye Pack will be next. And so on and so forth, in a never-ending circle.

The next Spirit Wolf is determined purely by Magic. When the next Spirit Wolf reaches eleven years of age, he will wake up in the morning with the mark of the Mother Moon upon their forehead. Magic shows no preference for males or females, as there has been equal chosen as Spirit Wolves.

As soon as the cub has been identified as the new Spirit Wolf, he or she is then taken under the paw of the current Spirit Wolf, and trained in the art of Astral Projection and other necessary lessons for being a Spirit Cub. And, when the current Spirit Wolf passes on, all of the knowledge of the previous Spirit Wolves is passed on to the new one; and the cycle begins anew.

Along with this knowledge comes the true story of how the Lycans came to Avalon. And, after much deliberation and counseling with her past selves, the current Spirit Wolf agreed to tell me their history.

As you might not know, Lycans are not governed by the Moon. They are able to shift between their human and wolf forms at will. While in their human forms they still possess some wolf characteristics (mainly teeth, claws, and unnatural eyes and strength); just as they retain their human minds and intelligence in their wolf forms.

But all that changed with the interference of the Muggle Scourge.

The twin of the current Spirit Cub was captured while out finding a gift for his brother's Moonday (as Lycans celebrate their first Full Moon, rather than their date of birth).

The cruel, crude Muggle scientists who captured him were trying to create a super-human soldier for their current warlord. They created horrible chemical concoctions and poisonous, crude potions and pumped them into the bound Lycan. After thousands of experiments and years of torture, his basic physical composition began to change.

They forced him to remain in a half-state – half wolf and half man – as they tested what effect their 'inventions' would have on the 'beast'.

Until, finally, three years after his capture and on a Full Moon, the Lycan saw his chance, and took it. He had almost escaped – was at the edge of the compound – when it happened. A lucky Muggle got close enough, and stabbed him with a silver dagger that he had on him.

Ironically enough, it was the catalyst that the scientists had been looking for all along. But none could have predicted the outcome. The silver reacted with the chemicals and potions that once lay dormant in his blood, and caused his wolf-side to go completely mad and blood-crazed. The Lycan became feral and trapped in his half-state, and in his rabid condition, killed all of the scientists and decimated all of the research. He passed out some distance away, and woke up the next morning, completely human.

He had thought that he was free, that all would now go back to normal. He was wrong.

He found that his wolf side was now completely mad, and refused to transform until it had healed. Unfortunately, it was never given the chance to. His body – or, rather, the chemicals in his body – remembered the pull of the Moon upon the silver and potions in his blood. Every Full Moon, his body would be forced back into it's crazed, terrified, rabid half-state; never giving the wolf a chance to heal and only exacerbating the condition. And any time he came into contact with the catalyst – silver – the wolf would writhe and rave again, remembering and echoing the original pain, until it killed itself from the inside out.

He became known as the first Werewolf, identified by the now amber-yellow color of his eyes – another result of the foreign chemicals in his blood.

Knowing that he could not be trusted among his pack and around the cubs, the Lycan wandered as a lone Alpha, mourning the loss of his family and Pack more than ever.

Unable to stand it anymore, the now-Werewolf found a kind, good Witch (who took after her forgotten Immortal ancestry) and he married her, siring a cub.

However, that's when things took a turn for the worst. When the young boy bit his mother for the first time – as young teething children are wont to do – he secreted a venom, and passed on to her the same curse. The ex-Lycan realized that the Werewolf chemicals and Curse were passed on hereditarily, though only the males secreted the venom outside of their wolf form. And, as the same chemicals still existed and thus the pull of the Full Moon, every cub of that first Lycan also possessed a mad and crazed half-wolf.

And as his cubs grew and found their own mates, the not-Lycan realized that his children did not follow the regular wolf mating cycles, and began to breed at an alarming and exponential rate – turning their mates before having many, many cubs, who grew up to turn their own mates and have their own cubs. And every Full Moon, they would go mad, and kill whole populations of humans – with no distinction between Muggle and Magical.

Finally, after he woke up after a Full Moon to discover he'd killed a whole town of Muggles and Lycans, the first-Werewolf was forced to act. Going to his long lost twin, who was now the Spirit Wolf, he begged him to take the Packs and flee to Avalon.

The Spirit Wolf refused, saying that he would never abandon his brother, and that he would find a cure. And he stuck by his promise, until the Muggles forced him to break it.

The Muggle Scourge organized lynch mobs, hunting down and killing any and all wolf-shifters; uncaring if they were amber-eyed or cerulean, Werewolf or Lycan.

It wasn't until a small band of humans attacked the Spirit Wolf while he was Astrally Projecting that everything came to a head. The brother, who had been watching over his twin's prone, helpless form, defended it at the cost of his life.

By the time the Spirit Wolf came back to his body, the humans were nothing but bloody corpses around him, and his brother – his ex-Lycan brother – was gasping on his last breath, two arrows and a spear through his chest.

With his last breath he begged his brother to take their people and flee to Avalon, flee the madness and chaos that had been created from his body. And the Spirit Wolf could do nothing but obey.

With the blood of his brother still staining his clothes, the Spirit Wolf gathered up the last of the three Packs and, on the next Full Moon, pleaded to the Mother Moon, using Lunar and Equinox Magic to summon the attentions of Avalon. And on that very night, when the Moon was at it's apex, the Lycans vanished from the face of Terra, never to be seen again.

"Moony!" Harry yelped. He then lightly flushed at the incredulous and confused looks of those around him. "I-I mean… that's really terrible and twisted… but Moony would love this! I can't believe that I forgot about him! Maybe… maybe he could come too? Why are you shaking your head?"

For Sirius was shaking his head the negative. "No cub. Right now, Remus is so far up Dumbledore's ass that they share the same brain. It's of no fault of Moony's, it just, with the death of his pack and Alpha – James was the Alpha, in case you didn't know – Moony had no direction. And, being the manipulative bastard that we know him to be, Dumbledore stepped in and filled that role. Now Moony's compelled to obey and follow Dumbledore, if not for the Alpha-bond, than just through straight gratitude. In the past-future, it wasn't until I came back and became his Alpha that fateful night by the Whomping Willow that I wrested control of him from Dumbledore and gave him his mind back.

"That's why he never visited you – his cub – once while you were growing up. Dumbledore told him not to, and Remus was compelled to obey. He never sent you letters or gifts, because Dumbledore caterered to both his logical side by saying that you wouldn't understand it as you didn't know of the Magical World, and his wolf side by wording it as a command.

"Besides, right now he's in a DADA Apprenticeship in the States under another Werewolf, as they don't have the same demeaning and restraining laws there as we do here. He'll finish his Apprenticeship shortly before your would-be Third Year, which qualified him to teach under Dumbledore's thumb; thus giving you another attachment and reason to remain close to the old coot."

Harry visibly deflated. Because, really, what could he say to that? Dumbledore had covered all his bases, the damned old goat, and there was nothing that Harry could do about it. Not so soon, not while it could uncover and endanger all that they were working towards.

He nodded despondently, and Sirius put his arm around him in comfort, motioning for Turuk to continue reading. "Let's just get this Merli – er, thrice-damned book over and done with."

Ironclaw and Turuk seemed to be in agreement, for Ironclaw remained silent as the other goblin turned the page and began the second-to-last chapter.

Chapter Seven – High Elves:

Immortal. Light. Dark. Grey.

All these thing pertain and describe – at least partially – the High Elves.

Once they were a prosperous race. Their Immortality had not effect on their bodies or birthing rate, and as such the Elven cities were teeming with children, laughter, and life.

The Dark Elves – eyes of obsidian, cobalt, and indigo and hair of blackest ebony – would practice their mystical and alluring magic in Night and Shadow, paying tribute to the secret Magic of the Unseen.

Light Elves would – with locks of spun gold and orbs of periwinkle, jade, and ivory – would dance away the Summer Solstice barefoot in the grass, hands raised towards the life-giving rays of the sun and worshipping the Magic of Life and Music.

And both would train and teach the rare, coveted Grey Elves in both their arts – for they possessed the exceptional ability to harness both types of Magic; to dabble and master both Light and Dark.

The Elves, as they live for millennium and are immortal, were both wise and far-seeing. As such, the High Lord saw that the Age of Elves on Terra was at an end, and so they left Earth for Avalon.

Unfortunately, though far-seeing, they should have been looking closer to home. For, when they left, in the chaos of moving a whole people to another Land, a small Elven child was left behind.

And that small child was the Heir to the Elven Throne. Although the youngest of thirteen, he was the only Grey Elf the High Lord had sired, and thus was to inherit the Throne.

It was not to be.

For that forgotten child, shortly after his people had left him behind, was found by cruel Wizards, and his powers bound to them. The Grey Elf was forced into servitude, his own magic attacking him if he dared to disobey his masters. And, when it was discovered that the male Elves could bear children, he was used as a broodmare for more and more Elven servants.

And the Forgotten Elf's children, and his children's children, being forced to reproduce with either Wizards or their siblings, constantly at war with their own magic, began to change.

They became shriveled husks of what they once were. Their original make-up and magic was twisted and warped beyond recognition, until they became as low as they could be.

They became… House Elves.

When this atrocity was discovered, Magic raged and was furious at the Elves for abandoning one of their own. Magic punished all Elves with near-barrenness, to the point where the Race was lucky to get a child once every two hundred years.

But the Royal Family was cursed most of all. They would never sire another child again – not the High Lord and Lady nor their twelve other children – until the Forgotten Child returned, a Grey Elf once more.

So the High Lord and Lady are forced to remain Rulers over a Race that they had condemned, through their own thoughtlessness and even arrogance, for eternity.

Or, at least, until the impossible happened, and their Forgotten Child returned.

For, after all, aren't all things possible with Magic?

Even while, with no prompting, Turuk turned the page and began the epilogue; Harry whispered hoarsely, "Dobby…"

Thinking of his House Elf friend, his courage and bravery and eccentricity, a lone tear rolled down his face at the abuse and torment of a once great Race.

Conclusion:

So you now understand. The atrocities of Muggles, the abuse of Magic's Gift and Life, and the pain and torment of the Magical Brethren.

There are many other Races that Avalon was not able to save, or decided to remain behind.

The Veela, in their arrogance, refused Avalon's hand and as such bred with Muggles, eventually becoming what they are now – mindless half-bird beings driven by vanity and pride. Now the Veela know nothing of Avalon, and have lost their Ancient Magical Rights.

The Centaurs and the Goblins chose to remain. The Centaurs because they Saw that they still had a purpose to fulfill on Terra; though occasionally they'll send a foal to Avalon for learning.

The Goblins, in their oft-overlooked loyalty and honor, offered to stay behind and watch out for the remaining Magical Races and their scattered, twisted offspring. They pledged to watch and wait, rescuing whom they could and spiriting them to Avalon and safety, even risking their own extermination in the meanwhile. Magic blessed their sacrifice by guarding them, and giving them a position of power over the Wizarding Banking System; so that they may hunt for Magic's lost heirs.

But, for all it's legends and vaulted tales, Avalon is, in reality, nothing more than a Refuge. They thrive and live and heal, but they are hiding, for they are afraid.

They all, whether they may deny it or not, are waiting for the Emerald Heir, the Prophesy Child, to lead them from their Sanctuary and back into the Once-Glory of their Races. They possess the power, weapons, and Magic…

They just need a leader.

And they will wait, for a million years if need be, for their Leader to arrive.

We just pray that it doesn't take that long.

As soon as the last word passed Turuk's lips, there was a flash of purple light and everyone yelped or cursed as the backs of their hands felt as though they were pinched roughly. When the light faded, there was another letter on the coffee table and an odd symbol on the backs of their right hands.

It was a light gold in color, and looked like the face of a clock with roman numerals. Harry reached out, while everyone else was still examining their marks, and picked up the letter.

Opening the envelope, he read aloud the rather short missive:

What you have just felt is the Marking of the Compendium. It marks you as having followed the guidelines, and will now allow you to enter Avalon unmolested.

While your ticket might get you to the Gates of Avalon, it is the Myst University symbol on the back of your hand that will allow you through them. Those who haven't read the Compendium will be forced to sit outside the Gates and read it before entering, and thereby gain a mark on their school records before even entering the school.

Thank you for your compliance, and we are eager for your impending arrival at our Prestigious School.

"Cool…" Harry breathed, looking at his Marking in a new light. It was actually sorta cool, in a Victorian, steampunk-y kinda way. Beyond the initial application it didn't hurt, and it reminded Harry of the stamp that children receive at theme and amusement parks, signifying that they could return if they wandered outside the gates.

Harry, seeing that they were also examining their Marks, brought everyone back to themselves by asking, "Now what?"

As one, Turuk, Ironclaw, and Sirius looked up and exchanged devious, anticipatory grins.

Hadrian gulped, and briefly prayed that Avalon was ready for them.

One week later, the four friends were holding their tickets, waiting for the clock to count down to the inevitable time of departure.

It was discovered that their Markings acted like real clocks, adopting the current time in whatever zone they were in (as Sirius tested by Flooing from Gringotts branch to Gringotts branch, driving the goblins insane and eventually making Sirius sick up – much to Harry's amusement). It was actually sorta weird and eerie to see the minute hands ticking across your skin without feeling anything.

Each had a large, embossed trunk. Harry's was emerald and silver (a gift from a grinning Sirius to his 'Slytherin-in-Gryffindor's-clothing godson'); Sirius' was grey and purple; and Turuk and Ironclaw's were an identical red-and-black. All were feather-light and expanded on the inside, and held all their worldly possessions – all that they would need for the many years that they would remain in Avalon.

Finally, five minutes before 1:37pm, their tickets began to glow. Before they even had time to blink, there was a flash, and before them floated four identical golden orb-like Pods.

They opened with a hiss of released air, and the moment was so scifi-ish that Harry nearly laughed aloud. Harry stepped forward and peeked into the Pod, but could see nothing but black.

Suddenly, without warning, Sirius chucked Harry's trunk into the Pod and picked the now-squealing Harry up; holding him over the blackness.

"Sirius! Don't you da-AGH!"

Without further ado, the raucously laughing dogfather dropped Harry into the Pod; where he disappeared, screaming death threats, into the black.

Then the snickering Grim and Goblins climbed into their own Pods (Turuk and Ironclaw threatening the Black Lord with castration if he did the same to them), and there was a swish of sliding metal as all four Pods sealed themselves.

Finally, 1:37pm grew closer, and the Pods began glowing and vibrating with a blinding gold. They began swirling around in a circle – faster and faster and faster – until the very air between them began to Ripple and Warp. Until, at exactly 1:37:29, the fabric of reality gave a might heave, Rippled, and tore. Fast as lightning, the Pods, one after another, zipped through the opening. Then, with a resounding bang of displaced air and reality, it snapped shut.

And all was silent.

A/N: AND THEY'RE OFF! I hope that you enjoy my explanations. This was a really fun and extensive chapter… THIRTY-THREE PAGES PEOPLE! Almost ELEVEN-THOUSAND WORDS! Gosh that was painful… and super, SUPER fun! A lot of this I came up with on the spot, and a lot of it I'd planned a long time ago. This was a lot of fun and I can't wait to discover where we're going next! I hadn't originally planned to have Turuk and Ironclaw join them, they just sorta stowaway-ed without my knowledge (I swear!).

By the way, I recently wrote another short one-shot. It's not a song-fic, but it's still really good (at least, I think so – as well as my one reviewer: Sesshomaru-XD-13 you rock!). It has to do with Binns' absentmindedness during the Chamber of Secrets, when Hermione questioned him about the legend, and how he really came to be a ghost. It's a rather sick and creepy twist if I say so myself… I really have no idea where it came from…

Anywho, read 'Grant, O'Flaherty, Pennyfeather'… I promise (think) that you won't be disappointed!