The Mask and the Burden – The Beginning of the End
"Hello, Professor," greeted Harry as Einar sat calmly on the windowsill of his office. The night wind brushed against his face, gently shifting his hair. Outside, the darkness of the sky contrasted with the silent, twinkling stars.
"It's late. Why are you still awake?" said Einar, turning slightly to glance at him for a moment before returning his gaze to the sky. The wind was soothing to him. After all, Einar came from the frozen lands of Skyrim. Compared to that, England's weather was warm—almost unbearably so. That's why he sometimes stepped out for air… though sitting on the edge of a high tower's window wasn't something most people would do to relax. Then again, falling several stories wouldn't really harm Einar.
"I had a nightmare… or at least I think it was. And I hope that's all it was," Harry said slowly.
"Mmm… yes. Things we can't control. Even I, despite being this strong, had many of those in the past. Especially when I had to do everything I could to stop my homeland from being destroyed by a dragon called the World-Eater," Einar replied with utter simplicity.
"Professor..." Harry looked down. He didn't know how to continue. Einar, however, turned slightly again, as if he understood exactly what was going through the young man's mind.
"Did you finish your mask, Harry?" he asked suddenly.
Harry blinked, confused by the question. Then he nodded.
"Yes, but… I don't know what else to do. I really have no idea," he said, while reaching into a small pouch hanging at his side. He pulled out a rather simple mask—plain, black, with two eye holes.
"Quite simple," Einar remarked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well… it was hard to make. Neville and I struggled with it. We ended up with two identical masks, just different colors. His is red," Harry explained, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
"It's fine. Where is Viir?" Einar asked calmly.
Upon hearing his name, Viir peeked his head slightly out from inside Harry's robe, right from the chest area.
"It's time, little one," said Einar, looking at the dragon with seriousness.
Viir looked at him, then at Harry, a bit of concern in his eyes. Still, he jumped from the robe and landed directly in front of his bearer.
Harry, still holding the mask, looked at them both, confused.
"Just stay calm," Einar said, not moving from where he was.
Viir stepped closer, and with a solemn expression, opened his mouth. A large jet of green fire shot directly at Harry.
Instinctively, the boy tried to leap aside, but Einar raised a hand and caught him midair with telekinesis. Suspended, Harry opened his eyes just in time to see the fire completely engulf him. He shut them tightly, lifting the mask in front of his face, bracing for pain… but felt nothing.
After a few seconds of complete silence, he slowly opened them.
The green flame surrounded him, dancing across his body without burning. He raised a hand and looked at the fire in awe. There was no pain. Only warmth. Gentle. Comforting.
The mask in his hand began to change. Glowing runes appeared across its surface—ones he didn't understand. And yet, he felt a deep connection to it… and to his own chest.
Eventually, Viir's flames faded away. The small dragon, exhausted, checked to make sure Harry was alright… then leapt back into his robes to sleep.
Harry smiled softly at his little friend's behavior and lifted the mask, examining it closely.
"Congratulations," said Einar, who hadn't moved an inch since the beginning. As if the whole thing had been too simple to warrant further reaction. But to be honest… if this had happened in Skyrim, a new temple might have been built to welcome it. Or an army might have been raised to destroy the priest, depending on the era.
After all, dragons were once rulers—and the priests, their interpreters. Their heralds. It was they who enforced the dragons' laws upon men.
"What happens now?" asked Harry.
"Nothing. You are now a Dragon Priest. You've gained the power your dragon gave you. You will grow with him. Live with him. And be bound to him until the day you die. Your magic, his soul, your body and blood. The words inscribed on that mask are now part of your power," Einar explained, eyes still fixed on the sky.
Harry, who had already learned a few words of the dragon language thanks to the Dovahzul dictionary Hermione helped him study, focused more closely on the runes etched into the mask. Then, with surprise, he murmured:
"Dragon Priest… of death."
"Why does that surprise you? From the start, your dragon's abilities were tied to souls and the dead," Einar said with a faint smile. "From the aura of that mask, I can sense it grants some kind of resistance against soul-based spells. Quite useful. After all, in this world, the most dangerous spells tend to be exactly those. Well done."
"Resistance… to soul spells? Do you mean… like Avada Kedavra?" asked Harry, still processing everything.
"I suppose. But to be precise, I'm not entirely sure. It's your power. If I wanted to obtain it, I'd have to kill you… and even then, I'd only get a fraction of it by stealing your mask," Einar said casually.
Harry looked at him without concern. He was already used to his professor's strange sense of humor.
"You are now a Dragon Priest. The highest rank. The greatest honor to some… though you're only at the beginning," Einar said, still gazing at the sky. "You choose your own destiny. No one else. You can lead a generation… or destroy it. It's all up to you. You alone choose what to do."
"And what if I don't want to choose?" asked Harry, his eyes fixed on the mask.
"That's a choice as well," Einar replied firmly. "That's why I said—you decide your fate, no one else. That's what I've been hoping for since the day I met you. I chose mine… and maybe it wasn't the right path. Now it's your turn. What do you want to do, Harry?"
Harry looked down. He could feel the weight of a decision pressing on his shoulders—a decision that, in theory, he had already made long ago. He thought he had it all figured out. But after that dream… he could no longer say he accepted the outcome of everything.
He didn't want a war with hundreds of deaths, even if that meant a better magical world. It was the best way to fix England… yes. But at too high a cost.
And he didn't want to accept that.
"I want to be normal," he finally said, his voice quiet. "I want to study like any other student. Go out with my friends and have fun without fear. Attend class without some psychopath chasing me. Without some strategist pulling strings in the background. Without invisible threads moving in the dark."
"I want… to finish school. I want to join the Aurors. Work hard to become the best. I want to be the best Auror. Hunt down the bad guys. I want my friends to live normal lives. I want students to stop being afraid of stepping outside Hogwarts."
"I want the war to end… but I don't want innocent blood to be spilled either."
Tears began to fall from his eyes as he clutched the Dragon Priest mask tightly in his hands.
"I know I'm not normal. I never was. But… that's what I want," he confessed.
Einar watched him in silence. Then, slowly, he stood and walked until he was standing right in front of him.
"I don't want to be the Chosen One. I wish I had my parents, but I don't," Harry continued. "That's why I want to defeat him. But if I do… the war will start all over again. Many will die."
"I… I want help to destroy Voldemort with my own hands. But no one else should interfere. That way, if I defeat him, I can finally be normal. I know it sounds contradictory… especially after accepting a power that shouldn't even exist. But… that's how I want it to feel."
Then his eyes turned serious, locking onto Einar's.
"Please, Professor… help me. I want to defeat Voldemort. Myself. Even if I die trying. But please… destroy his army. If I lose, let me lose in peace. And if I win… I'll finally be free to live."
Harry's words echoed with strength. On the mask, the Dovahzul runes began to glow faintly green, as if responding to his feelings.
Einar smiled with pride. Harry hadn't asked him to destroy Voldemort. No. What he wanted was to face him alone. Einar only needed to clear the field… so that no one would interfere in his battle.
"Hahahahaha…"
Einar's laughter thundered through the air like an ancient storm. His voice was so powerful that, even with the enchanted earring meant to contain it, the unleashed force shattered it. The castle trembled. The mountains groaned. Even the Forbidden Forest quaked.
Einar raised his hand and drew out the mask of NAHKRIIN, a dark piece inscribed with golden runes that shimmered like ancient fire. He placed it upon his face. It wasn't his most powerful mask. Not like Miraak's… or those worn by his priests. But it would be enough.
"Good choice," said Einar, nodding toward Harry's mask.
Harry nodded in return. He placed the mask on his face, and as soon as it touched his skin, the Dovahzul runes lit up with a deep, brilliant green.
It accepted him.
Then, Einar placed a hand on his shoulder and looked once more toward the open window.
"WULD… NAH… KEST."
Both of them vanished in a flash of light. The ground beneath them was left cracked and half-destroyed.
The war… had begun.
And it would end before anyone even realized it.
With the actions of a single man.