Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, and neither does Naruto.

Chapter 3: Draco dormiens

"Hoot," A brown barn owl screeched as it sat upon the branch of an old oak tree looking at the house in front of the said tree.

Thrice the young owl had tried to enter a window perched atop the second floor of the said house to deliver its letter to the recipient and thrice had it been repelled. Its latest attempt had left its wings singed, and its throat parched.

Just as the avian was finally about to call it quits and fly back to the ancient castle from where it was sent that the gate opened and a young child walked out.

"Hoooot," the bird cried, its eyes zeroing in on the boy before jumping off the branch flying straight in the child's direction.

However, it was not meant to be.

A hand's distance from the boy, the bird found itself surrounded by thick dark smoke.

"Hoot," and the young owl knew no more.

The smoke lingering in the air condensed to form a raven, which then proceeded to snatch a light brown parchment from the talons of the now-dead owl.

"Seidr," The young boy called out with his hand outstretched, his eyes frowning with disapproval.

Upon hearing the child's voice, the corvid which had just now murdered the owl seemed a bit chastised before flowing back to its owner and dropping the letter into the hands of the said boy and resting on his right shoulder.

Looking at the letter in hand, the boy read the cursive handwritten message addressing him.

To,

Altair of the Blacks,

The largest room on the second floor,

House of Black, Belor.

Turning the thick envelope, the boy's eyes were drawn to one of the most easily recognized and prominent sigils in their world.

Embossed upon the envelope in red wax was a crest with a dragon, its powerful wings outstretched, resting atop a stone with letter 'H' intricately carved into it.

"Kilgharrah," the boy whispered, looking at the ferocious dragon. A small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Looks like we're going to Hogwarts," the boy said out loud, looking at the three ravens.

"Come," he said to his familiars, "we need to prepare."

"Master Black," the squeaky voice of a wrinkly house-elf brought young Altair out of his reverie.

The young wizard was sitting on a sofa, in his hand the yet unopened letter.

Looking at the small creature, he raised an eyebrow waiting for the distant cousins of their more graceful counterparts to make its case.

"His Lordship is free to meet you now," the elf continued bowing low, trying to be helpful to the heir of its house "he is waiting for you in the study."

Giving the elf a nod, Altair got up and walked into the study.

Over the years, Arcturus Black had raised Altair to be the perfect scion of his illustrious house and the grace with which the young wizard walked into his study was only expected.

"You received your Hogwarts letter," the old Lord stated looking up from the parchments he was working on.

Altair didn't ask how he knew it, it was expected, and so with a nod, he extended the sealed letter to his great-grandfather.

"Sit down and read it to me," the old warlock said, keeping his quill aside and leaning back on his chair.

Once again, Altair just nodded and broke the seal keeping the envelope together.

"Dear Mr. Black," he began after skimming the top part of the letter.

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

"Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July." here he paused and then looked up "Yours sincerely, Helena Ravenclaw, Elder, Council of Ravens."

Looking at his great-grandfather, he noticed the old wizard lost in thoughts and so asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

"There's no need," Arcturus motioned with a sigh, standing up and walking up to the bookcase, a red book in hand, "summarise it for me."

Smoothing out the second parchment, Altair took a minute to read through the entire leaf before putting it back in the envelope and placing the envelope on the table.

"Uniforms, books, equipment, nothing extraordinary there."

"Hmmm," The elder Black gave his charge a nod before coming back to his table and rolling up the parchment he was working on moments ago and tying it to one of the ravens sitting in the corner. "Very well, get ready, we are going to Camelot."

With that the old wizard opened the window and let the raven take to the sky.

Upon seeing the confused look on his heir's face, he clarified, "This is a monumental occasion, Altair. You must present yourself to Lord Phineas at once."

Coming back to sit on his old chair he continued with a small smile "We also need to see Ollivander, it's time you got a wand."

Seeing the somewhat distracted look of Altair, he asked, "Is there something else you want to add?"

"First years are not allowed to participate in war games," Altair answered reluctantly.

Arcturus laughed.

Ancient.

That was the only way to describe the city of Camelot.

It held the seat of Pendragons, the council of high tables, the resting place of Merlin and Morgana, the seat of power of the four pillars of magic, and much, much more.

In the entirety of Albion, there was no other city as saturated in magic as this.

And this is where Altair found himself later in the day following his great-grandfather, standing at the gate of Castle Black to meet Lord Phineas Nigellus Black, the patriarch of the House of Black.

Walking in, Altair felt the wards of the ancient black estate pass through him, judging him and his intentions. He knew that had he been under disillusionment charms or had any ill will towards the Black patriarch; the wards would have killed him there and then in the most gruesome of ways.

And everyone knew, no one did gruesome quite like the Blacks.

Once inside, they were led by a house-elf to the study to wait for the Lord of Blacks.

And wait in silence they did.

After around two hours, the gate opened, and in came an old wizard, his eyes immediately focusing on Altair before training on Arcturus.

"Welcome Arcturus, I've been expecting you for two days now," he said, motioning to take a seat in front of his dark rich mahogany table.

Seeing Altair's look of confusion, the head of his family cracked a smile, "When you're as old as I am, you learn how to hear the unsaid and see the unseen."

'I've got spies everywhere,' in his mind, Altair translated.

"Come here, child," The ancient wizard said, as he sat at the chair behind the table, pointing at Altair to come and stand next to him.

Altair did.

For a long while, the old wizard kept staring into the eyes of the scion of his house before nodding and whispering, "Always pure," and with that, he held out his palm.

Altair was unfazed when a silver ring formed in the outstretched palm holding a small diamond in its center.

"Take it," the wizard motioned, "wear it on the third finger of your wand arm." He ordered before turning to Arcturus.

And once again Altair did it without a second thought.

"We have much to talk about Arcturus."

Altair got the signal and gave a small bow before turning to leave the room.

"Oh, and Altair," Phineas called, "next time, take care not to kill delivery owls."

The young boy flushed.

"Lord Gaunt has extend..." walking out, that was the last thing Altair heard before the door closed and the privacy wards went up.

A house-elf offered to take him up to the kitchen, but Altair refused it in favor of the library.

It took another hour before he saw Lord Black exiting the study with his great-grandfather in tow.

Altair closed the book he was reading, it was an essay by Mortimer Lindquist, dealing with the faeries and nevernever. Altair had a sense of deja vu when he learned about the nine beings of power, the eldritch sentinels of omnipotence residing in the outer territories.

Standing up, he went to place the book back from where he had picked it before heading towards his guardian.

He was about to put back his cloak on when the Black patriarch stopped him with a casual wave as if he had read Altair's mind.

"There's no need, I've summoned Ollivander."

And indeed, as if on cue, no sooner had he said so, the gates opened to reveal a house-elf accompanying an old wizard with rough patches of white hair and silvery eyes.

Their eyes met, and the wandmaker cracked a smile, "You must be Altair. Heartwood tree with a core of sphinx, I knew your father."

"Ollivander," Phineas said, welcoming the wizard, disrupting anything further the wandmaker had to say.

After some pleasantries, Altair followed the wandmaker to the library, the elf still walking with them carrying Ollivander's trunk.

Once settled, the old wandmaker began, "Sit back young Master Black and allow me a moment."

With a snap of his fingers, the latch on his trunk opened, and measuring tapes of all sizes started measuring Altair.

It was disconcerting.

It took a few minutes before Ollivander finished arranging boxes upon boxes of wands on the table in front of them and called off the tapes.

And then the grueling task of testing for wands started.

An hour, thirty-six wands, and two more measurements later, the couple found themselves sitting across each other.

"I wonder…" Ollivander paused, "yes, why not," he whispered, looking into the eyes of the quiet child sitting in front of him, handing the boy another wand.

The moment he touched the wand, Altair knew it was the one.

Blood red sparks shot out from the wand, his body filled with energy, voices started whispering in his ears, and asking him to let loose.

Altair had no idea when he closed his eyes, but when he opened it, he felt a drop of tear rolling down the edge of his left eye.

The world appeared to have slowed down, and there was a sting in his eyes.

Altair knew that had he looked into a mirror at that very moment; he would have seen red irises staring back at him.

What he didn't knew was that there were now two black commas in them.

A blink later, and the world was back to its normal state.

"Interesting..."

Looking at the old wandmaker, Altair motioned to elaborate.

"The wood used to make your wand was taken from Mitragyna speciosa, a tree from Rubiaceae family, the leaves of which are known for their psychedelic nature. Suffice to say," and here Ollivander broke his gaze, "few would be able to match your illusionary prowess once you come to maturity."

"...and what of the core?" Altair asked, his gaze caressing his new partner.

"Breathe of Nundu, voluntarily given."

The days blurred together, and soon, the end of the eighth month arrived.

Altair stood in front of the sink, thinking of all he had done up until now. This was one of the turning points in his life, and he knew it.

He had taken Ollivander's recommendation to heart and started focusing on mental magicks.

Looking into the mirror, he slowly blinked, pushing a tiny sliver of the vast ocean of magic that made up his form and watched in silence as his eye turned red, tomoes spinning in them hypnotizingly.

The water flowing from the tap slowed, and reality warped to cater to his wishes. Altair saw particles of dust floating around him, he noticed the individual flappings of wings on the fly buzzing in a corner of the room and he knew that should he choose, he could attack it with at least five spells with pinpoint accuracy between each flap.

So much power.

Another blink and then everything was back to its natural state.

With a sigh, he turned to walk out. There was no doubt that he was powerful, but he had ways to go before he could even think about standing with the likes of his great-grandfather, much less with Lord Dumbledore or Lord Gaunt.

"One day..." He swore to himself, "one day; I'll eclipse them all…"

Muse:

Like it? Hate it? Review and share your opinions…

The title of this chapter, "Draco dormiens" translates to "Sleeping Dragon."

Comment if you know who Kilgharrah is ;)

"Mortimer Lindquist" - look him up my dudes.

Canon has no mention of Sirius's wand's particulars, except that it was gray. Heartwood tree has sort of grayish wood so that's what I went with.

Just to be clear, I never said Itachi would never remember his past. He might, but it would take a while.

Itachi would grow in power, and he would need every help he can get to stand toe-to-toe with the likes of Mab, Dumbledore, and Voldemort.

*cough*It wouldn't be the first time a Sharingan user learned to summon the greatest of nine*cough*

Thanks, everyone for such a fantastic response, you guys make me smile.

You know the drill, and if you don't, well... it's along the lines of sending me tonnes of reviews.

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Cheers,

Clumsy Psychopath