I do not own Harry Potter, nor Final Fantasy. This cross over will not be a direct cross with any final Fantasy. It may use elements from various games but you probably won't see any characters that actually appear in final fantasy. (Unless I get bored and want say…Squall to liven things up…)

And while I might be delusional when it comes to the shipping wars, I am happy to say that I'm am one hundred percent sure that Hermione did not get with Ron…Why is everyone looking at me funny?

Harry Potter and the Crystal Song


Forget all that you know about "Harry Potter". Most of it is an illusion that is formed by the overactive imagination of a single writer. But, then again… The truth is far more 'far fetched' than anything that the esteemed JKR ever depicted.

In a world of magic, and wondrous creatures how could it get beyond what the author of the series claimed?

Imagine a world full of ships that soared the skies, where magic and swords collided and powerful beings held the elements and balance of the very world in their hands. Monsters that could defeat even the most powerful of mages, and mythical beings of ages past.

This is the truth of Harry Potter. The Final Fantasy.

Chapter 1

Near a sleepy village a small farmstead was nestled between two hills. It wasn't overly large and the family who ran it didn't even need (or look for) hired help. At night the farm was silent, inactive, and not even the chocobo, or the horses made a noise as they slumbered through the night.

However, when the first glimmer of light hit the hill's ridge the farm exploded into action. Vernon and Petunia Dursley would wake their precious heir up and then he would (rather violently) wake up his cousin. Their hated relative, Harry Potter.

Harry Potter was the son of Lily and James Potter. According to the Dursley's there had never been such pathetic people out there. They were roundabout, lazy drunks that died when they walked over a ledge that led the mighty Magnes River.

Their one year old son was then sent to the Dursley's by order of King Dumbledore (who didn't actually get involved personally).

However, the laws of the land had clearly stated that the last remaining Potter would live under the roof of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. With the law demanding that they take care of him, they had no choice but to obey.

However, that didn't mean that they had to like it or make it easy for the last Potter. No, they would work him to the bone and use him for all the menial tasks at the farm.

"Get up." Dudley ordered his cousin with a snarl.

Dudley used to actually hit Harry to wake him up but since the time Harry had accidentally stabbed him as he woke up Dudley was much more cautious. Dudley's cousin was a lean, yet powerfully built preteen with wild black hair, and intense green eyes that could pierce the soul. He was quite tall for his age, and a distinctive lightning bolt scar trailed down his forehead.

Harry blinked the sleep out of his eyes and grabbed the poor quality bronze sword beside him.

"What is it Dudley?" Harry asked as he put his worn leather armor on.

His clothes were all second hand, the simple brown tunic was however, surprisingly form fitting. Of course it made sense since Harry's leather armor had to go over it or risk severe chafing which could in fact leave a person bedridden for days.

On top of his wild black haired head Harry wrapped a thin strip of red cloth which kept sweat from his eyes. It was important since the sun could beat down rather harshly.

"Mum and Dad want you to go to market and pick up some supplies. I also expect you to pick up a crush axe for me."

Harry winced at the thought. There would be several more Chocobos and Moogles that Harry would be blamed for killing.

Even though Harry didn't have an axe and they left a distinctive killing blow on them.

It was the problem with being Harry Potter. The Dursley's loathed him. They hated him and claimed that he was the spawn of all that which was bad. He was born to a pair of layabout drunkards that were a leech on society. They did nothing but make the nation of Ivalice worse, or so the Dursleys had told him.

Harry wasn't sure what to believe but he assumed that in this they were telling the truth, after all; whenever he had mentioned his parents to the other townsmen they hastily changed the subject. It would make sense if they had been lazy drunks. No one wanted to hurt Harry's feelings, but the silence had always hurt more than them just telling him 'yes, they were drunks'. Was it so much to ask for? Just for someone to tell him the truth about his origins? Harry sighed in frustration. Perhaps it was too much to ask for after all.

"Alright." Harry agreed.

"Here's the money for the supplies. Now, get to town, and try not to get killed by the goblins." Dudley said with a horrid grin etched on his face.

Harry could tell that Dudley hoped just that. Recently, goblins had taken to attacking travelers. Usually if they defeated, or rather killed the traveler they would hoard the wealth in a giant facility that they decided to call 'Gringotts'.

No one knew where the building was but everyone assumed that it was two things: Impenetrable, and two: massive; filled with the loot of ten thousand ships.

Less than seven minutes later Harry set out to take care of his hated relative's commands.

In a different world they probably wouldn't have fed him well, nor given him a weapon. But since this world almost demanded that one have at least some kind of weapon at their side if they were to leave the safety of a home enclosure the Dursleys (however grudgingly) gave Harry a battered old bronze sword, and a some leather that should have been thrown away a decade ago.

To ensure that Harry could make it back with their desperately needed supplies they fed him heartily and so Harry was able to grow into a lean, yet powerfully built young man; toned by fending off the attacks of variable monsters. At his tender age of eleven he had already been able to claim seventeen monster kills and now most of the monsters left him be.

The town scholar claimed that Harry was only a 'level 2'; a sliding scale that helped measure strength and that meant that Harry had a ton of growing potential.

Sometimes, Harry would imagine that he would be called upon by the Sacred Crystals to be one of the Templar Knights; directly in service of the King of Ivalice; king Dumbledore.

If Harry was really lucky he'd have been made a captain of the revered Red Wings; the Airship company. Still, he knew that such dreams were pointless, and with a sigh he turned back to the road ahead of him.

It wouldn't take too terribly long to get to the town. It was only five miles away from the Dursley smithy and ranch.

The Dursleys were a family of blacksmiths and farmers, and had been for generations. The men were usually what Harry called the three lees: Burly, Smelly, and Surly. Dudley's grandfather had been that, Uncle Vernon was, and Dudley was most decidedly following in their footsteps.

They were also dimwitted but Harry felt it polite not to mention their failings. (At least in their faces.)

His aunt Petunia on the other hand looked like a horse. A very thin, ugly horse. She was by no stretch of the imagination attractive. She was a woman tainted by bitterness.

As he mused he saw a few goblins skittering about at the far edges of the road. Confidently, Harry fingered the hilt of his bronze sword and the goblins fled in abject terror.

"That was too easy." Harry smirked as he stopped using his intimidation aura.

If he had been anyone else, odds were that he would have been attacked, and while goblins were fairly weak, they were well armed and worse still; very, very smart.

Harry was quite a bit different than his relatives. His aunt was an archer of decent skill, his uncle was a spearman, and Dudley used an axe. The three of them relied on heavy handed physical attacks and lots, and lots of potions.

Harry on the other hand, hated using potions. It was a waste to have to use them, he also preferred to have quick light attacks that were sure to connect. Harry knew that if he were attacked and hit it would leave a serious mark, no matter how light it was. Harry also went for a more technical side of combat, using abilities and skills. He was more than a little fond of his first mastered skill 'first aid' which served as a much cheaper alternative to Potions. His favorite skills however were 'shadow' a move that made a couple illusions of himself (they couldn't actually attack and do damage but they confused the daylights out of opponents), and 'fear aura'. Fear Aura was by far, his most valuable skill, and he used it frequently. The skill would project a terrifying aura that would make most enemies run away screaming. Of course, Harry knew better than to expect it to work on say; a dragon, but against weak goblins it was more than enough.

Harry smiled lightly as he entered the town unhindered. It wasn't the first time for him but people were surprised every single time when he made it there without any problems.

He almost wished he had been attacked though so he might have picked up some barter items so he could start saving up for some better armor, shoes, and a sword that was actually had an edge.

It wasn't unreasonable for Harry to desire a weapon that could actually cut through armor was it? Okay, so maybe the Dursleys were afraid that if he got a decent sword he might take it out on them.

Heavens knew that he was more than skilled enough to beat any one of them in a fair fight, even if he didn't have their burly endurance.

Over the next hour Harry got the iron ore and items that the Dursleys wanted.

He then made his last stop, at the weapon shop for Dudley's extremely expensive Crush Axe.

"Back again Mr. Potter?" Mr. Blott asked as Harry entered Flourishing Armory.

"Yeah, this time Dudley wants me to pick up a crush axe for him." Harry sighed in frustration.

Whenever the Dursleys could manage it they'd force Harry to go get a new weapon. Usually it was Dudley upgrading his axe, but every once in a while Uncle Vernon would get a new spear. (Never, ever, ever an elemental spear though. For some reason the Dursley family hated magic.)

"We have one Crush Axe available right now Mr. Potter."

"Great." Harry smiled.

"Might I suggest you take a look at this sword by the way?" Mr. Blott asked.

"Why? I can't afford it." Harry said with a depressed frown.

No matter how cheap the sword was Harry wouldn't be able to purchase it. Even though he had been able to barter away several trinkets from the seventeen monsters he had slain, he still didn't have a lot of money. Most of his funds had gone to antidotes, and restorative medicines. After all, it had taken him time to learn how to mend wounds without the aid of medicine and just use his internal magic to heal his injuries. It was fairly simple how first aid worked, but Harry had to figure it out on his own since he was the first person in the region to utilize his magic in such a way. He would focus some magic into a 'mental sphere', and then with a release word 'first aid', the magic ball would course through his veins, and look for any damage. Then it would begin to patch the injuries it could until the magic ball exhausted itself.

That's why it didn't fully restore him if he had taken more than light to medium amounts of damage. The problem truly boiled down to that Harry still hadn't figured out how to increase the size of the ball without clotting his veins with magic. If he clotted his veins with magic it would have done more damage than it would have helped, and maybe even caused an artificial heart attack.

"It's a mithril sword Mr. Potter. If you can handle it I'll give it to you." Mr. Blott pulled Harry's attention back to the present.

"A Mithril sword? Those are really rare." Harry gaped.

Mr. Blott nodded.

"Most people around here can't handle them. I'd rather make sure it fell into hands that would be able to use it properly and not make a profit than risk selling it to some idiot that accidentally kills someone because they didn't have a clue what they were doing." Mr. Blott explained.

"Alright. Thank you." Harry smiled before he walked over, and drew the Mithril sword.

He held the blade in both hands for a moment before finding the balance point of the sword.

The balance was perfect; the silvery-blue blade was elegant in its simplicity. Not overly heavy but it had a reassuring weight. Harry then gave the weapon a couple experimental swings before spinning it in his hand. He then spun the blade, and flipped it to his other hand.

"Yes, this is a magnificent weapon." Harry said in reverence.

"I realize that the Dursleys might think you stole it so I've written a note to give them."

"Thank you Mr. Blott." Harry thanked him profusely.

Mr. Blott smiled brilliantly as Harry paid for the axe and headed out with the weapons.

"Now, Mr. Potter. Destiny Awaits." Mr. Blott smiled once more before turning back to read the book hidden under the counter.

The Song of Crystal

"Yes indeed. Destiny's song plays in your life Mr. Potter." Mr. Blott whispered.

Harry however, heard none of this as he left for home; enthused about his new weapon.

On his way back he suddenly came to a halt. What were the odds that the Dursley's would actually believe that he was given a mithril sword? Harry's blood ran cold as he realized what this would spell out for him.

Even with the note, they wouldn't believe him and besides, knowing the Dursley's they'd turn around and sell it right away. With a disgusted shake of his head he decided to hide the sword, and that night he would sneak out after nabbing some rations for the trek. He was a fairly skilled warrior, and with the new weapon he could survive on the road; as long as he was careful and avoided thieves.

His only question was; how was he supposed to get more food? Then it came to him. Battle. By defeating various monsters he could sell the valuables that they carried (be it their raw hide or a precious talon). He could then live off of that wealth and more importantly, be able to find his place in the world.

He suspected that Mr. Blott hadn't realized that the Dursley's would take the sword. However, the gift of the Mithril sword that was one that he would cherish and use to become someone.

That day passed quietly, the Dursley's gave him the tasks of minding the Chocobo, weeding the garden, and breaking the soil for the harvest. The only thing that broke the set pattern was Harry's eagerness for the day to pass and for him to have a chance of leaving the Dursley's forever.

Harry hated breaking the soil for harvest but he did enjoy tending to Chocobos, the giant yellow birds were affectionate, and much, much better than horses in almost every regard. No wonder why mounted knights preferred to be Chocobo knights. However, Chocobos weren't exactly easy to find or capture, and domestic chocobos were far and few between and so horses were still an important part of the world.

The day passed quietly with Harry finishing his chores, eating a hearty meal (which he had to make), and going to his tiny room to wait for the Dursley's to fall asleep. Once he was sure that they were sleeping Harry slipped out of his room wearing his decrepit leather armor, and a small travel bag, his poor quality bronze sword he had riding in the bag. Harry supposed that at the very least he could sell the sword for the bronze anyway. Once he slipped down to the kitchen Harry packed his bag as full as he could with foods that would last out in the wild. He took several strips of jerky, and other vital food supplies.

Once he had gathered what he could he left the building quietly and went to the bush that he had hidden his mithril sword under. There, he extracted the weapon and without as much as a glance back Harry made his way to the road.

He wished that he could have taken the Chocobo with him. They were loyal and steadfast companions, they really rolled in all the best traits of horses, dogs, and birds.

Chocobos were intelligent, they were known for their affectionate gestures to those they considered the leader of the group, and they had soft downy feathers that they could actually give to their human companion if needed.

Yes, they were remarkable creatures and everyone wanted one because of that.

His destiny had changed and Harry was unwilling to operate as a tool for the Dursley's anymore.

He would become great, and prove that the Potters weren't just a bunch of deadbeat drunks. That he would be greater than them or his drunkard parents.

This was the beginning of a destiny that Harry had never dreamed of. That night he felt his heart pound in joy. Hope, burning within his soul and strengthening his resolve.

He took the road back to town, where he would be able to get on the highway to the next city. He needed to get as far away from the Dursley residence as quickly as possible; and so concerned about getting away he didn't notice the figure that began to trail him.

He eventually laid down under a small tree that was fairly well concealed by bushes several hours after he had left.

Harry yawned tiredly before he slowly closed his eyes, with one hand grasping the mithril sword rather possessively.

The night passed silently and Harry didn't even dream before the first rays of dawn began to press against his face.

He awoke with a reluctant sigh and froze when he saw several bandits nearby.

"Do you think he's awake?" A bandit whispered.

The bandits were dressed in the infamous green garb with the green bandana covering their lower faces. A small red and green bandanna covered the rest of their heads except for the eyes.

Bandits were well known for dressing in that certain fashion. No one knew why, but people guessed it was because of some kind of 'bandit guild' regulation or something. Very rarely did people come across bandits dressed differently than the woodland green armor and bandannas.

"It won't matter either way, There's only one of em. There's no way he'd beat all of us."

"What if it was a legendary hero?" Another asked fearfully.

"Oh do shut up. There ain't no legendary heroes. It's a myth made up by them law abidin' types to try to scare us to do the same." Another snorted in disgust.

Harry thought for a moment, some of them were fearful, and that meant that his Fear Aura could probably scare several away, but on the other hand the ones that weren't already scared would probably rush him, and that would lead to his likely death. However, if he did nothing they would kill him anyway.

With that Harry used his Fear Aura and to his surprise a large group of voices screamed in terror.

"It is a Legendary Hero!" One wailed before several fled.

Harry kept the Aura up and left the enclosure.

"Bring it on." He snarled as he held his Mithril Sword in front of him with two hands. His feet slightly apart, Harry wielded his sword in a position that was excellent for blocking most strikes, and gave Harry incredible strength behind his blows. However, his range for attack was fairly limited, mostly leaving him the options of swinging horizontally or powerful overhead strikes.

A few more thieves fled but there were still ten left.

He managed to parry the first one's dagger strike and ran him through, before a thrown dagger embedded itself in his left shoulder.

Harry winced but managed to ignore the pain and so rolled over to another and sliced him across his chest, bringing the thief down. He desperately blocked the strike of a sword wielding thief before another thief attempted to stab him in the side as he was locked in combat with the other one.

Harry managed to move enough that it was instead his leg that was pierced instead of his side.

He managed to dispatch the swordsman before he turned to the remaining thieves.

"First Aid." Harry muttered and his leg wound was slightly sealed.

With his mobility restored Harry managed to strike a dagger wielding thief down before two more blades sliced him. One tore across his back, leaving a gaping wound that blood flowed freely out of and another managed to stab him, however Harry managed to use his left arm to intercept the blade and so the sword was embedded in his arm.

Harry let out a small moan of pain as he collapsed.

"He was tough I'll give him that." The thief that had stabbed his arm snarled as he ripped the sword out of his arm.

Harry let out a gurgled cry as the blade left his flesh.

"Now brat, it's time to die." The thief smirked just moments before an arrow was protruding out of his throat.

The man's eyes were wide in surprise before he gurgled and collapsed beside Harry; dead.

"Archer!" Another thief screamed before an arrow hit him in between the eyes.

Over the next few seconds a flurry of arrows rained down upon the thieves and once the arrow storm (that was so accurate that it was scary), a young teen stepped out of the clearing wielding a compact bow.

"You okay Harry?" The teen asked.

Cedric Diggory, an honorary member of the great Hufflepuff House had just saved Harry's life. Harry had only seen Cedric before. The archer was well known for travelling and helping settle disputes between other teens. He was essentially a roving teen judge, and the teens respected his decisions.

He was even more famous because of his legendary archery skills. Cedric Diggory was known to be deadly with the bow, and could hit any target, at any range.

"Thanks to you I'll be able to make it." Harry said gratefully.

Cedric grinned before he pulled out a potion from a small pouch at his waist.

Potions were unusual substances that had the ability to knit wounds together extremely fast. There were more advanced versions of the potion such as Hi Potions and Mega Potions, but most people didn't need them since they had a limited 'endurance pool', or as scholars liked to call 'Hit Points'. Potions were said to restore a base '100 hit points'. That was far more than most people had. Harry was also one that had a limited amount of endurance.

"You fought well Harry." Cedric complimented as he handed the potion over to Harry to drink.

The soothing and invigorating blue liquid had a unique flavor that was impossible to dislike. A few moments later and Harry felt the potion begin to knit together his ravaged body.

"Thanks. What brings you here?" Harry asked.

Cedric looked at Harry seriously.


Harry blinked in confusion before he replied slowly.

"Me? Why me?" Harry asked.

"I saw you leaving the town last night. I was curious, so I attempted to follow. However, I got intercepted by some thugs that tried to relieve me of my valuables." Cedric explained.

"At least you made it in time to make sure I survived." Harry smiled in relief.

"There are only two types of people that travel the roads alone Harry." Cedric said seriously.

"Huh?" Harry blinked in confusion once more.

"The really, really powerful ones that can literally tear apart armies of bandits, goblins and dragons alike, and then the stupid people that think that they can do it all on their own."

"What about you then?" Harry asked accusingly.

"We got separated because of a storm. I managed to send a letter via Mognet, but I haven't received a reply yet."

Moogles were small white bear like creatures that had tiny red wings that amazingly allowed them to fly and a red ball that floated above their head via an antenna. They were best known for surveying and their famous 'Mognet', a letter service that covered the entire planet.

"I'm sorry." Harry apologized.

"Thanks, anyway I think I'll stick with you and teach you a little bit about what I know."

"Really?" Harry asked eagerly.

Learning how to survive was certainly a top priority of Harry's. This last event had only strengthened his resolve for survival.

"Really." Cedric laughed.

"Thank you!" Harry grinned in delight.

"Now, I'm not a swordsman, but I can teach you the basics of stealing items off of enemies, and more importantly several archery moves than can be applied to swordsmanship."

"There are moves that you can apply like that?" Harry asked in wonder.

"That's right, but it'd be better to head to the city of Isanal, off to the north. Inside of the Veria forest."

"Veria? Those weird girls that have silver hair and rabbit ears?" Harry asked curiously.

Veria were unique beings. They were known as women of the forests. There was no such thing as a male Veria, and they were exceptionally tall. Most were at least six and a half feet in height but a rare few made it to eight feet tall. They were in tune with nature and so being a black, white, red, time, geomancer, or blue mage was exceptionally easy for them. However, no Veria mage would be caught dead without a trusty rapier or longbow. Veria had incredible senses which meant that they were far superior archers than that of their human counterparts, and their deftness meant that they could handle the elegant rapier quite well. To make matters even more humiliating for humans, the Veria were a very long lived race, able to live even hundreds of years, like an elf from the tales of old.

However, they did have a couple of drawbacks, they had trouble mastering moves outside of a small pool of 'classes', and they were rather frail. They weren't extremely strong and so heavy weapons and armor were impossible for them to use, and they took longer to heal.

"Easy there Harry, those 'weird girls' have incredible sight, and smell. They also are extremely proud. Don't insult them."

"I didn't mean it like that." Harry said defensively.

"Be that as it may, just hold them in the upmost respect. Especially the off branch of Veria known as Veela."

"Veela? What are they?" Harry asked curiously.

"They are much the same as Veria, but instead of 'rabbit ears', they have a mostly human appearance, except when they get angry and then they take avian features."

"That's it?" Harry asked.

"Not quite. Veela; while few in number, are known for their powerful…allure. They also have access to powerful fire elemental attacks. They can absorb fire too." Cedric explained as he helped Harry up.

"Allure?" Harry asked curiously.

"You'll see." Cedric said ominously before he turned to face the road.

"We've got a long journey ahead of us Harry. It's twenty miles to the nearest village, where we then turn north. We'll probably have to camp out for several days to say the least. I'm just glad I have a pack of tents, and even a couple cottages."

Harry smiled in agreement. Yes, Tents were vital when travelling.

Tents of this world were different than that of other worlds. If deployed they would cast a healing aura, and a magical protection field around the encampment, leaving the campers in a safe enclosure, protected from just about everything. However, the magic was so potent and draining the tent had only one use as a protective tent before it became just ordinary cloth.

However, the healing aura was so great that even those on the verge of death could be saved thanks to its restorative properties.

Cedric passed Harry a canteen, and the two boys started down the road at long last.

Harry still felt some soreness but was happy to feel that fading rather quickly. The potion was finishing mending his wounds rapidly.

They managed to make good time and they reached the village before midday, they decided to stop there, pick up some food, and eat a warm meal at the local pub.

They first made their way to the market where the two of them bought bread, salted meat, some vegetables, and some other foodstuffs before turning to the pub. Cedric went in first and called for the bartender to bring them some milk.

Harry looked at Cedric distastefully.

"Not a big fan of milk then?" Cedric asked with surprise.

"When I was six Dudley switched my milk out for sour milk. I was sick for a week thanks to that."

Cedric winced.

"Sorry, I didn't know. I just automatically assume everyone likes milks as much as I do." Cedric apologized.

"It's alright, I should be able to handle it this time. Just don't do that to me again please." Cedric nodded fiercely at Harry's request.

Then the two of them asked for a simple meal, whatever was ready and so a few minutes later two large plates of roast beef were brought out. The beef was flanked by potatoes, carrots, and a couple slices of peaches. It was delicious.

"So, Cedric, what's it like being the 'teen judge'?" Harry asked.

Cedric winced.

"I hate it when people call me that. I'm just an arbitrator. Nothing more." Cedric complained.

"What's the difference?" Harry asked curiously.

"A judge has the legal authority to oversee criminal cases, I however, can only settle disputes, such as minor grievances. Important, yes, but I'm not a judge." Cedric explained.

Harry nodded slowly. He supposed that Cedric would be tired of being called something he wasn't. Harry knew what that was like first hand. He had been called 'freak' and even 'abomination' by his relatives. He decided that if he was tired of being called those things, then Cedric who did what he did because he wanted to would be awfully tired of it too.

"Sorry." Harry apologized.

"It's alright." Cedric shrugged before taking a bite of the beef.

"You better hurry up. We'll need to leave soon." Cedric said.

Harry nodded at that and began to devour his food, to which Cedric chuckled as he continued at a more stately pace.

Less than ten minutes later Harry had finished and Cedric finished his last potato piece. Cedric then waved to the barkeeper and handed him several gill.

"Thank ye kindly young masters." The old man grinned.

"Thank you. That was excellent. If we pass through again we'll have to stop." Cedric replied.

Harry nodded at the man. It had indeed been an excellent meal.

"It was great." Harry agreed.

The old man brightened considerably.

"Thank ye both. I'll tell the missus that you liked it." The man grinned.

"That's fine with me." Harry agreed and with that the two boys left the pub.

The two boys left town and over the next several days continued their trek with the only thing slowing them was the random attacks of monsters. However, about eighty percent of the time Harry was able to terrify them so badly by using his Fear Aura that they fled screaming. After one particular time Cedric had turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"How do you do that?" He asked curiously.

"Dunno, I just suddenly realized that I could use it and ever since my 'random' encounters with monsters has decidedly dropped." Harry grinned.

"Can you control it?" Cedric asked in concern.

Harry nodded seriously.

"Yes, it's like how a white mage uses cure. I have to focus and activate it. Although I don't need a release word to get it to activate."

Magic was fairly wild, and hard to restrain. That's why a brilliant mage about seven hundred years ago came up with the idea of release words. Because of it his students were able to grow much stronger and over the next century they became the premier school of magic and all callings of magic, be it red, blue, black, or white magic (or any of the other unusual schools of magic) would require release words to use their potent magic.

"Release word?" Cedric asked curiously.

Harry looked at Cedric in some surprise, to which he looked on in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I never studied magic, except how to survive getting hit by say fira." Cedric explained.

"Do you know the various schools of magic at least?" Harry asked.

"There's more besides black and white?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes indeed. When I talked to the town scholar he mentioned that there are black, white, red, green, blue, time, geomancy, arcane, and several other schools of magic."

"What's the differences?" Cedric asked curiously.

"Well, black focuses on elemental attack magic, white focuses on healing, restoring, and protecting, red magic is both black and white schools but they usually can't learn the higher tier magic of either branch, blue magic is monster magic and skills, green is support magic; most white mages learn it but there are a few green mages out there, time magic bends and warps space and time alike to speed up allies, slow enemies, and even use gravity to destroy foes." Harry took a breath.

"So, white heals, black destroys, red does both, just not as well, blue is monster moves, green is like white magic, and time plays with time?" Cedric paraphrased.

Harry nodded.

"So what do geomancy and arcane do?"

"Well, apparently Geomancy can use the terrain to attack the enemies in various ways. I don't really know what that means, I've never met a geomancer to ask. As to arcane, it's powerful death related magic. Such as the spell 'death' or 'doom'."

"I hate those moves. I got attacked by a reaper once and he cast doom on me. It managed to knock me down but Hannah had a spare phoenix down which pulled me back from the brink." Cedric said with a shudder.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about summon magic."

"Summon magic? That's when summoners call aeons down right?"

"Actually they're called eidolons." Harry said with certainty.

"Wait…I've also heard them called 'summons', 'guardian forces', and a couple other things…" Cedric suddenly mused.

"I'm confused." Harry admitted.

"Well, no reason worrying about it now. We've almost made it to the forest. It'd be a good time to teach you how to use concentrate.


"It's basically a skill that archers learn so that they can hit their targets with deadly accuracy."

"That's a skill?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I didn't name it. I don't know why they named it like that, but for some reason it lets you pass most enemy defenses. It's almost like a guaranteed hit. Some theorize it's a limited form of precognition."

"That makes more sense then." Harry agreed before he frowned and asked another question.

"Then why isn't it just called precognition?" He asked.

Cedric shrugged.

"I didn't make the world, I only live in it." He replied before he drew his bow as they passed by the first trees.

The forest was heavily populated with monsters, animals, and of course trees. So many that there were large patches of land that were completely dark and only a few rays of sun actually made it through the canopy above.

Leaves blanketed the ground, yet strangely grass was under the leaves.

Over the next few days whenever they weren't walking, or fighting off monsters Cedric would teach Harry various skills and abilities. He of course, focused on the 'concentrate' skill that somehow utilized a fragment of time magic or something to allow the user to know where to strike next. It wasn't easy to understand or figure out but slowly, Harry began to master the difficult skill.

But, at long last; nearly a month after they left that sleepy village where Cedric learned that Harry hated milk they neared the city of Isanal.

"We should be able to enter tomorrow afternoon. After all, we're getting close." Cedric said confidently as he looked about.

They thankfully hadn't encountered any Veria up to that point, and Harry was hopeful that they wouldn't.

Of course, it was always when one least expected it that one's fate changed.

Before they knew it the two boys had a dozen bows pointed at them at point blank range. The arrows, notched and ready to strike. However, thanks to the high senses that he had Harry had managed to grab one of the women and pull his sword out in time to hold it against her throat.

"You've intruded upon our lands." A Veria wearing black armor and a rapier at her side glared at the two boys.

"We're just passing through. Nothing more." Cedric assured.

"By the way, you two are completely unobservant. We've been tracking you for the last three days, and you were talking so loudly we could have shot you in the dark."

Cedric blushed.

"We are just passing through. We mean no harm." Cedric reiterated.

"Is that so?" The woman glared at him, her long ears twitching in distrust.

Meanwhile, Harry continued to hold his sword against the throat of the woman. He was surprised that her ears weren't as large as the others, as a matter of fact she looked almost human…save for the silvery hair that she had.

Suddenly, he began to feel something. Like he should flip her around and kiss her, yeah, that sounded really good. He didn't need to have a sword at her neck did he? She was too wonderful to…

Suddenly, Harry's eyes snapped back into focus.

"You're a Veela? That was a mean trick you tried to pull." Harry whispered.

The woman sniffed haughtily.

"Well, I'll admit that you 'eld out better than I expected." She replied with a faint accent.

The other women stared at Harry in consternation.

"You were able to repel the Veela's allure?" A Veria nearby asked in surprise.

"What's so strange about that?" Harry defended.

To which the arrows near his body pressed against him painfully. He winced at the sudden pain.

"As interesting as all this is, boy tell me your name." The leader of the Veria demanded of Cedric.

"My name is Cedric Diggory, and this young man is Harry Potter."

The Veria's eyes widened in shock.

"Did you say 'Potter'?" She demanded.

Cedric nodded.

"What are you doing young lad?" The Veria turned to Harry.

"We're headed to Isanal." Harry explained.

"Why?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

Cedric spoke then.

"I have some friends there that can teach him a little more on how to survive outside of settlements." Cedric explained.

"Normally, it would be our duty to take you to the oracle and have her judge you. However, this time I think we shall be able to release you. On one condition." The woman replied seriously.

"What is the condition?" Cedric asked.

"That Harry Potter returns here after he has learned what you are to teach him. I want your oaths that you shall return him here. We would much desire to speak with him." She said.

"What should we make our vows on?" Cedric asked seriously.

"I want you to make your vow that he returns on the house of Hufflepuff's honor and dignity, and Harry Potter will make his on the great and majestic house of Potter."

"My parents were part of a great family?" Harry asked in shock.

"They were indeed Harry Potter. The house of Potter is known as a family of incredible warriors, and noble of soul. They never, ever broke their word. Nor were they known for falling into mead. Your parents were Lily and James Potter?" She asked with a slight waver in her voice.

Harry nodded.

The Veria let out a sorrowful sigh.

"They were amongst the best humans I've ever met. Loyal, proud, honorable. They fought against the darkness and served the crown loyally. We were honored to call them friend. Perhaps one day, you shall prove yourself worthy of the honor as well." The Veria said.

Harry stared in awe.

"You knew my parents? If you can tell me about them that on its own would be enough to encourage me to return." Harry replied eagerly.

"You don't know about them?"

"They died when I was one." Harry replied bitterly.

"I understand now." The Veria nodded.

"Very well. Make your oaths." The Veria said.

"I Cedric Diggory, Protectorate of the House of Hufflepuff hereby swear on my life that I will see to it that once Harry Potter finishes his training I shall see him safely escorted back to the Veria of this forest." Cedric wrapped his hand around the arrow of a Veria and pulled quickly, allowing blood to flow.

"Thus my blood holds this vow." He whispered.

Harry repeated the procedure but instead released the Veela and made a cut using his mithril sword. Harry's vow however, was simpler.

"I Harry Potter of the House of Potter hereby swear to return to speak to the Veria as soon as I am able to do so."

The Veria nodded at that.

"It shall suffice." She said as Harry cut his hand upon the sword; sealing the vow.

And so the women departed and the two of them made it to the city of Isanal.