Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I have never, do not, nor will I ever own Harry Potter. But, hey, a girl can dream.
This story takes place after Deathly Hallows, however disregard the epilogue. I tried to stick as close to canon as possible, adding my own personal touches, opinions and ideas to both old and new characters, places and items. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!
Summary: Harry Potter never looked for trouble; it always just seemed to find him. Even with Lord Voldemort gone, Harry isn't exactly out of harm's way. A major decision by the ministry puts him into what should be a safe situation; however, tribulations come knocking in the form of Beline Dicey. Despite her obvious alignment with the Malfoy family and other questionable witches and wizards, Harry and his friends are ultimately compelled to help her in her quest to accomplish Ten Terrible Tasks. Harry, Ron and Hermione have survived so much, but will they be able to persevere another deadly adventure? Harry/Ginny Ron/Hermione Draco/OC
This is just the first chapter of many yet to come. It's also only my revised first draft. By posting it now, I'm hoping it will encourage me to finish and revise and add more. While most of this story is already planned, I would be delighted to have your suggestions and opinions. THANKS!!!
Harry Potter and the Ten Terrible Tasks
CHAPTER ONE - Another Prophecy
July 31, 1981 Somewhere near Cape Cod, MA
She made her way down the road until she came to the tiny patch of woods that separated her from the small guest house situated on the manor grounds. He was there waiting for her, like she had asked him to be. Light spread through the windows and acted as a beacon for her in the darkness.
Stepping hurriedly, she stumbled and tripped along the cobblestone path that led to the door. She wanted to retreat, but an innocent babe was at stake. Pulling her dark traveling cloak around her tight, she treaded onward toward the candlelit house. She could hear the nearby ocean, and that comforted her until she knocked on the door.
The man she had been expecting opened the door, a murderous grin upon his face. Excitement burst out of the open doorway with him; however she was immune to it. She was nowhere near the sociopath he was and she didn't enjoy the reason why they had been brought together. His blue eyes were vicious, but they were alight with malice. A bottle of firewhiskey was in his hand; he had all intentions of celebrating.
"She's in labor," he said. Then, he ushered the girl into the comely house.
Unfortunately, the woman knew that this information wasn't coming from a proud soon-to-be father, or even an ecstatic family member. Rather, it was coming from something pure evil.
"The damn bitch is in labor," he said opening the bottle of firewhiskey he had been holding. The woman didn't want to take off her cloak, but the next thing she knew the man was at her side forcing it off of her. He strew it on the sofa and offered her a glass. She didn't take it. "You know what that means?" he asked, getting real close to her face.
She knew, but said, "What?" And she still had to tell him that there was more - that she now knew more. That would disappoint him a great deal, and if there is one thing that he hates, it's being disappointed. She waited.
"I'm about to be the most powerful wizard alive," he grinned devilishly. "That Voldemort bastard will have nothing on me. I'm going to be the most feared being alive, and there's nobody to stop me," he said matter-of-factly. She knew who he was talking about. A new article was written everyday about the awful things that were happening in Europe because of that evil man named Voldemort, and she knew that the man before her wanted to achieve the same terror. Certainly, he was capable of it.
She couldn't bring herself to say anything, which was terrible because what she needed to do was say a lot of things. All she could do was stare into his sapphire eyes that were sparkling with murder. He was going to kill that baby tonight. Or, rather, he had been going to kill that baby tonight. The girl knew there was no point in it now, and he would not be happy once she told him what she knew. He was waiting for her to say something; but she never did. She couldn't. A long, awkward silence ensued and the tension in the tiny living room grew immensely.
"Aleta," he said. His voice was filled with passion, but not for her, not of love. There was no feeling in his voice. Long ago it had abandoned him. "There's something you're not telling me." His eyes fell suddenly and he looked at her suspiciously as his brow furrowed. His blue eyes became dark, and although they had been cold before, she actually got chills by looking at him. Muscles in his jaw were clicking, and his nostrils flared. He was a bull about to charge.
"I was w-wrong," she whispered finally, lowering her head at the same time. That wasn't such a wise decision; it left her completely vulnerable.
Without warning, Aleta was up against the closest wall. The man's evil body was pressed against hers, and his vile hands were around her neck denying her breath. Her wand was unreachable in her position. She squirmed and tried to call out, but it was useless. He was much stronger than her and nobody would ever hear her. There was no doubt in her mind that he was going to kill her right then and there.
But then, he let her go. She fell to the floor, where she stayed rasping for air. He was angrier than a hornet. He cursed as he kicked the bottle of firewhiskey across the room. The far wall shattered the glass.
"The baby still has the power you want," she finally managed. Her voice was shaking something awful. "You just have to wait."
He turned and glared at her. "How long?"
Aleta crawled to the traveling cloak. Inside the pocket was a bundle of parchment. She searched through it like a madwoman and he waited impatiently. "You have to wait until the last burden appears," she paraphrased. She tried pointing out various symbols and numbers and readings but his mind was somewhere else.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he yelled. Still on her knees, she rummaged through the papers again.
"I don't know, I just …I just know you can't harm it until after they all appear, and before it makes them disappear."
The same question was written across his face. And he was growing angrier by the second. His tan complexion was growing a scarlet color and Aleta longed to leave.
"And there's more…" she began. "You ca…"
He cut her off. The wand was in his hand. "How long?" he asked again. Her life depended on the answer. Somehow she knew.
"I don't - I don't know," she cried. Hot tears streamed down her face and he became a blur. "It just has to trust you, and you're going to…"
"Enough."
"But, I'm trying to…" she was trying desperately to save him from making a grave mistake.
"I said enough. I've heard enough. Silencio!" A flash of light flew from his wand and hit Aleta in the chest, and suddenly she was incapable of talking.
Suddenly, his eyes were dead. All of the excitement that had been in them before had vanished and he was left with dull blue eyes that were unimportant. There was no life in them, which was fitting because Aleta knew that the man didn't have a soul. He couldn't. Nobody could just betray their family like that for power, or so she thought.
Too afraid to move, she was still on her knees. Parchment was scattered around her, filled with her numbers and runes that only she could read. Now, only she knew the fate of the man before her.
He was furious. Taking a gulp of firewhiskey from his tumbler out of feeling misery rather than celebratory, he looked at her with pure hatred.
She knew what was coming next, so she closed her eyes. Thoughts of her mother and father filtered through her head, and her old schoolmates. She thought of her son, and of her husband and the life they'd live without her. Tears stained her face. The ocean waves roared through the window and swept her away in them. Her final thoughts were the baby that was on its way and the hell the man would put it through. She knew. She knew.
"Avada Kedavra," he shouted and a green light shot across the room like a rocket. Aleta Chezona fell to the floor with a small thud. It hadn't been the first time he had used the killing curse and it wouldn't be the last. It certainly wasn't his last murder that night. His eyes were cold again, and he left her there with only the sounds of the waves singing a lullaby through the window.