. Standing at the Winter's Dark Heart frenzy

Now standing at Arx Atra Mons

Zeramar Drascovic, from Turkey

6th Year (special admission)

Specializes in transfiguration and care of creatures

Worst subject is dark arts recognition

With the parentage that Zeramar had, the grandson of a vampire (mother's mother), animagus gryphon (mother's father), muggle (father's mother) and dark sorcerer (father's father), it was no wonder that he wound up at House Domina. No one in their right mind would take on a kid who, at the age of 14 two years back, had transformed into a gigantic black eagle and never quite lost the wings. Nor one who when a child got at least as much sustenance from his mother's milk as from the little rats that his grandfather would bring him.

He was always fond of animals, of any kind. Though whether he'd keep them as pets or eat them was kind of up in the air. Cute and fluffy means nothing to Zeramar, he's just as likely to keep a basilisk wyrm in a bowl beside his bed, as a toad or goldfish.

His wand, a 12 inch long Alderwood with gryphon tailfur core (from grandfather of course), is a strong casting focus. With it he is able to perform most advanced transfiguration and transformation spells, along with a sizable number of manipulations and controls - as this wood is commonly known for controlling elements and the winds. Though he can fly with his wings when he decides to grow them out, Zera is often seen flying upon nothing more than the winds, blown by his wand.

With a good understanding of magic, but a borderline ability with English language, Zeramar was brought to Domina in order to learn more about why he needs to control his 'darker sides'. He's been surprisingly good about it, but still has trouble understanding why a spell that would lash out and destroy an enemy with soul-fire is a bad thing exactly...

***

"I do not understand," Zeramar said, looking at the chart before him. "The rune for 'heat' and the rune for 'destroy' should -"

"Yes, they do," Professor Mikar said, with a sigh. "But the point is not to destroy the target, but to subdue it."

"I ... do not know this word, 'sub-doo'." The brown-haired student lifted his face to the professor and raised his eyebrows. Clearly frustrated, Mikar shook his head and walked back to the head of the class.

"This," he said and traced with his wand on to the blackboard, "is 'defeat'. Here is 'destroy'," he added, and then drew another rune in a glowing line. "This is subdue."

"It is weaker than the others," Zeramar said simply. "An enemy should be disposed of properly, should it not?"

"When you ..." Mikar said, searching for something to say that would convince the boy, "want to question an enemy, you'd round them up and subdue them, but not kill them."

"But you could always call upon their spirits afterwards," Zeramar said and some of the other students snickered - he was right of course, with most magic came some kind of 'out'. Death was no exemption from questioning after all!

This obviously did not have the impact that the professor wanted, but he slapped his wand against the board and shattered the other runes - leaving only subdue. "This is the rune you will learn, I suggest you learn it properly. There will be an exam and you will not be allowed to kill any of the subjects."

He left the students to their writing and practicing, and Zeramar dutifully wrote down what he thought was a defective rune spell in his book. Once they were finished, before the end of the afternoon, they were indeed challenged by their professor to cook up a string of runic words that would bind but not destroy, that would call answers up but not permanently remove the information given. Some would - it seemed that Zeramar knew only the most deadly of the spell components and had a problem toning it down.

In the evening, during the meal in the great dining hall - not nearly so great as Hogwarts of course, since this was quite a tiny castle compared to that school - Zeramar and one or two other students continued to grill one another on words and powers. Another student reminded them that if he got out of control he'd have to replace whatever he blew up.

Perhaps that did it, as Zera didn't seem to want to call upon his parents to send any money along.

"What's wrong with asking for it, you're not poor, Zera," said Janos.

"No," Zera said with a mouth full of potatoes, "but the currency exchange is very poor from my home. You should know that." Indeed, the difference between Turkish and Hungarian galleons to the gold standard of England was not too hot at the moment. Both gold, just harder to get out of the country. So they stopped their practice and made notes about what their next classes would require in the morning, headed to the dorms to do their work in private.

***

Zeramar had a strange dream, and when he awoke it was obviously not even early morning yet. The whole of the castle Domina was silent, save for the creaking of wood doors or the soft patter of a rat's claws across the stone floor. Zeramar climbed out of his bed and put on a cloak, moving his small wings down and folding them so they wouldn't get smushed. He could at any time get rid of them, but he didn't tell anyone else that. He just liked wearing them.

Wings - had something to do with his dream, which was quickly fading. Around the silent halls Zeramar crept until he reached the courtyard doors. They opened silently thanks to a small spell, and he walked outside to the chilly campus. Up in the nearest hill there was a dragon or two - residents that were friends of the lucky few who had bonded them. He'd be able to ask one of them for advice. He didn't much feel like asking a human. He was too far from human himself, some days, and today was one of those days.

It had snowed overnight, a nice natural snow without any interferance by that strange girl Lenore. Zeramar liked her enough, she could summon winds and help him train flying, she was just a little too depressed for his tastes. Plus she spoke English with such a ... not-British-English accent!

The dragons that were still awake, stirred slightly and shook the snow from their heads. One was a lovely snow-white female herself, the other a darker green-black whose student-rider lived in the dorm near Zeramar's.

"Hello," he said carefully. The dragons acknowledged him, without speaking. "I a'm sorry, I could not sleep." He paused, drew in a breath, and said, "dreams should not dictate one's future, should they?"

Both dragons perked up at that. Why would you say that? asked the male, Naspeth. Dreams are important.

"But not so important," Said Mistylia, "that you should worry over them. Unless it was prophetic?"

Zeramar looked down, felt his wings squirming. There was snow falling - and with a strange shudder he recalled that there had been snow in his dream too. "I do not know. My ... family... does have a history of prophesy. Or perhaps they are just very observant."

Naspeth chuckled at that, but Mistylia moved her face in closer. "Tell me the dream, what you remember of it."

Zeramar closed his eyes, and felt uncomfortable. The eyes of this dragoness seemed to bore right through him - and his vampiric heratage would wither under that gaze if it were not more dilute. "I was flying, on wings that were my own," he fluttered his black wings, "but then a great storm hit me, and I froze in mid air. But I did not fall. I remained right where I was, I do not know why."

"Is that all?"

"No... Then, when the sun came up, I began to burn, to melt - I had been turned to ice and then the heat of the sun was killing me."

"You are a vampire's grandson," Mistylia muttered with a draconic grin.

"But then when I had all but turned to water, I hit the ground and woke. The ... The ground was so hard, frozen." He sighed. Mistylia knew there was more to it than that. She pushed her soft warm muzzle against him. He sighed again, and added, "I was not ice, I was blood, melting... Frozen in the sky, I could not fly. I could not move. I felt like if my wings had moved, I would have shattered into a thousand pieces."

Naspeth noted that the boy had slipped into his native tongue, but he still understood. The likelyhood was that this was not really a prophesy, but more a fear.

You fear the sun, as your blood tells you to. Said the male. It is safe to assume that there is a bit more to your history and bloodline than you know. Vampires are quite old things, after all.

"So you think it is just... That I fear flying into the sun?"

"Perhaps, on a level that you in your mind don't realize," Mistylia asserted. "But... Perhaps you should pack up. We have been thinking when to take you - and others... To find a dragon companion. Then, perhaps, it will not matter if your wings are frozen. Your dragon will still be there."

Zeramar looked a bit bewildered. "Well... it is not even sunrise yet. I often have a hard time sleeping at night..."

***

They went off shortly, Mistylia knowing that while she was doing the right thing for the boy, she'd be uncomfortable at the Clan's darker side... Naspeth informed a couple others, who eventually got word to Zora, that Zeramar would be heading off.

While they were preparing, he was instructed as to what to do, who to contact, and why to 'not' leave until someone could escort them all back. Just in case he didn't want to lose a couple more years around here...

(((Updated)))

Zeramar was pretty pleased with the way he could sling around magic here without having to worry about paying for it. But when Naspeth and the others confirmed that so far nothing was happening here, they were going off to another place, Zeramar eagerly joined them.

Arx Atra Mons it turned out had a much stronger set of creatures, ones which would fight each other to the death if need be. This piqued Zeramar's interest because of course... well, pit fighting was something he might encourage at his own place when and if he developed further. He wanted now, because he'd seen how hesitant people were to actually teach, to open his own school. Calebrindra might even make a good professor - she was an excellent duelist already, anyway.

He didn't bring that up, yet, because he did want to actually finish the schooling he'd been offered at House Domina. But for the moment he was with Cale, waiting for something (possibly dreadful) to happen here at this new place. They may return to Clan Akalera but it might be a while.

Zeramar watched Calebrindra with mild interest, though she was a bit younger than he, they were of like minds on certain things. The fact that the dark arts - or what people feared about those arts - were severely under-represented in modern instruction.

They had chatted about making that school of theirs, eventually. More so now, once the carnage of the hatching had settled and they were able to assess their new bondings.

Zeramar had seen his beast right when he broke his own shell violently enough to pierce the nearest other hatchling with the shards. He didn't bother with the little legless or wingless hatchlings. No, instead this fifteen-ranked creature went for unhatched larger eggs. Zeramar couldn't blame him, the meat would be sweeter from those. Even though one of them started fighting back, it was almost ready to hatch, Arneot had his fill and came strolling by toward Zeramar. No one dared confront the pair once they'd formally bonded, though there were a few people who were angry that Arneot had defouled several potentially high-ranking beasts eggs.

Who cared? It was the strongest that survived, right? Always had, and always would. Whether that meant smarter, physically stronger, or more adept at magic?

And speaking of magic, while they were here at Arx Atra Mons, Bhaktar discovered that their long-awaited Winters Dark Heart clutch was about to begin hatching as well.

So they went off... To face what future?