Authors Note – Welcome all readers, new, old and faithful to the brand new redesign of Hail to the King. For some of you who remember this work in its original rendition, it was taken down late last year for reasons I was at the time unable to express. You see, writing is not only a passion of mine, it is a pastime I have now managed to hopefully extend into a career, with my first, fully original work SnakePit being released in late this coming summer. In that time however, I felt obligated to the many people who read Hail to the King to continue this epic fantasy FanFiction, as a way of saying thankyou to everyone who has supported me, both in the physical domain and online, and this is my attempt at an acknowledgement. I do hope you enjoy my work, and I look forward to any feedback you may offer. With all the best wishes – Paige The Harmony Lover
Prologue: The Fall of Gryffindor
Chaos reigned throughout the city.
Acrid smoke choked the lungs of both usurper and defender while its body of seering flame licked at the walls of sandstone with its insatiable hunger, igniting the thatch which comprised the shelters, and now trapping the dying citizens of Gryffindor within their own homes. Deaths unbiased touch came to the people of this once fair state, each, be they usurper or defender, cut down in this final, desperate, stand. Men were slaughtered with swift blades or broken by the smash of axe's, women were robbed of their virtues with cold, merciless lust; while with the wailings of their children, mothers were forced to watch as their babes were plucked from their breast, lives shattered against cold, unforgiving stone, or the throats of their little ones severed by swift, cold blades, their innocent cries ceased forever on a gargle of blood.
High atop the mountainous plateau of the Acropolis, within the mighty citadel of Godric's Hollow, Lord James Potter looked out across the devastation which claimed his once beloved city. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he watched his mighty state fall in this final conflict of a needless siege ordained by Lucius Malfoy. As the Sovereign of the militaristic state of Slytherin the Serpentine banner had marched on Gryffindor, where her walls had once protected her people, and her sons had repelled the mightiest army of Erin for more than a decade.
Now, in a single night, it seemed the Gods were against Gryffindor, as her walls had fallen by the claws and hides of dragons, the dark creatures of Slytherin had teamed in through the breach, a rend created in walls that had stood strong for more than a thousand years. And now, as the Sovereign of Slytherin trudged his forces closer towards Godric's Hallow, so the Lord of Gryffindor knew that soon Malfoy would be free to lead his forces across all of Erin in his bid for total conquest.
James heard the warning bells, gripped the rich marble of his handrail as he listened to the cries of his people, each putting up a desperate stand against the invaders as they lay waste to their home. James could not suppress the quiver of grief which touched his soul as he knew his people were slaughtered down in the streets below. Lives ended at the hands of their greatest and most hated enemy.
"Prongs…!" The captain of the guard: Sirius Black, rushed forth into his old friend's chamber, stopping when he saw the dregs of madness grief was slowly evoking within the eyes of his Lord and blood brother. In his arms the captain carried a bundle of blankets, the sound of James young son: Harry, finally breaking through the shade of his grief and returning the child's sire to some semblance of reality.
"My son…" James breathed, stepping forth and kissing the brow of the screaming infant, his very words were rich with affection. Beyond the walls of the Hollow the chaos and screams of his people drew ever closer to the citadel. "Watch over him, Sirius."
"Pro… James you can't stay here, you'll be killed!" Sirius stated, his voice breaking as he held the child tight in his arms. Though the words of his captain were wise, and though he knew they ran fast with a myriad of truth, James Potter, Lord of Gryffindor, shook his head, drawing his silver, ruby hilted, longsword and presenting it to his friend.
"You know what this is, Sirius," Lord Potter hissed, the sword flashing with a hauntingly beautiful sheen of crimson and gold, a ghost light which could be seen shining between the two men and the young child. "So long as this sword stays with a Gryffindor then hope shall remain for us. Go, Padfoot, take this sword and my child, the fate of our people lies with you now."
Sirius gazed from the Sword of Gryffindor to his boyhood friend. They didn't have long, the enemy would be upon them swiftly, but the thought of abandoning his friend, his family, to death went against the very fabric of what it meant to be born of this city. Gryffindor's never retreated, Gryffindor's never abandoned their comrades, Gryffindor's never surrendered.
Lord Potter saw the reluctance in his friend, a sight which caused him to slam the hilt of his sword, painfully, into the man's chest.
"Go!" James ordered, practically throwing Sirius away from him, emphasising the seriousness of his command with a bellow of his voice. It was here, with these words of flight. That Sirius knew his friend would not follow him, knew that he would stand strong in the face the enemy with courage and valour in his heart. Sirius grasped the sword tight in his hand, the cries of the infant Harry drawing a surge of affection from deep within the captain. The crash of magic or the smash of a ballista broke over the sound of war from beyond the walls of the Hallow, and Sirius knew, for the boys sake if not his own pride, that they must escape.
Sirius rushed towards his Lord's concealed passage. He tapped five times upon the bricks with the tip of the sword, chanting in a soft, fair tongue as soon a single archway appeared, leading forth into a corridor of shadows, broken only by the ghostly blue sheen of a single, arcane, torch.
Sirius cast his gaze back towards his friend. James met his gaze, followed by a single salute. The captain returned the gesture before placing the sword at his hip, freeing his hand to carry the light source deep into the darkness of the secret passageway.
The bricks returned to the sight of a solid wall, sealing off his child's cries and leaving James alone to his fate and a thankful sigh escaped his lips.
He stood silent, waiting for his enemy's presence, though he had feared that Sirius would have had some crazy surge of mania and would have stayed behind with him. The war of Erin was slowly winding down, and the victor was soon to be named. Lucius Malfoy had won. Slytherin had won. It was the will of the Gods. But his child survived as did the Sword of Gryffindor and these two things alone made dying in the face of his foe a much brighter ordeal. Knowing that somewhere, at some unknown time. His son may rise up and win.
The doors of the high chamber burst open and a woman's scream resounded. James stiffened as his wife: Lily, was flung forth before his foe where she crashed at the feet of the now defeated lord.
"Lily… Lily darling." James said tenderly, kneeling to assist his lady to her feet. Her clothes were torn in places of ill modesty, and her face and nose were bloody. She swallowed, shaking her head at her husband's silent inquest. James sighed in relief at this gesture. If they were going to die, then the Lord and Lady of Gryffindor would not die molested or on their knees begging for mercy.
Leading his chosen force into the chamber of his enemy the Sovereign Ruler of Slytherin strolled forth, armoured in silver and trimmed in emerald green. His helm was fashioned in the shape of a serpent, it's fangs bared, while at his side he carried a long, ornate rapier. A wealth of pale hair fell from the back of his helm and his grey eyes were cold and cunning. Lord Potter knew this man, even if his helm prevented full sight of his future killer.
"This war has been a blight on all of Erin, Potter," Lucius Malfoy, Sovereign King of Slytherin spoke with chill contempt. "All you had to do was accept the inevitable and your people could have been spared."
James Potter's lips curled in a mocking sneer.
"And serve a tyrant like you?" spat James Potter hacking spit at the feet of his foe. Even now, in the face of total annulation, he spoke with pure, unwavering, courage. "We of Gryffindor fight not for false glory, we fight to stand against people like you. You snakes who fight merely for power. Fifty thousand worms brought here to fight for one man's greed."
Lucius Malfoy's face grew dark behind his helm. He leered at James, hissing forth like the snake which adorned on his brow.
"Careful Potter… I hold your life in my hands."
"My life is my own, as every citizen of this city's life is theirs. And I tell you something now, Malfoy. No son of Gryffindor shall ever submit to your command!"
"Then every son of Gryffindor… shall die."
Lucius drew his rapier, three more Slytherin's drawing their blades as they surrounded the two nobles.
The Potters death was nothing more than cold butchery.
All the while, amidst the chaos and anarchy of the battlefield, a single rider fled the chaos of fallen city, stationed on the back of a swift, black, steed. He was robed in black, his hood pulled high over his head, as the rider held a screaming infant tight against the strength of his chest.