Power of the Moon
Chapter 1: The Mysterious Box
Before I start this story, I would like to tell you a little about spirits since this tale circles around them.
Spirits are very different from ghosts. Some people think they're not, but they're wrong. Not surprising that so many rumours about them are all over the place. Very little is known about them. They do not choose to stay in the mortal world like common ghosts. They stay whether they like it or not. They are things people never see. Well, when I say never, I don't mean that spirits are invisible to everyone. They are visible only to the right people and none who see them will ever tell their secrets.
A great misfortune to all spirits is the long wait that ensues after death for the right person who will release them. To prevent madness, they are cast into deathly slumber and dream of their past. But it may take years, decades, centuries and even millennia's for them to find their Chosen One. There are many all around us who are waiting patiently for their Chosen One. Who knows? Maybe one of them could be looking for you…
Harry Potter was by no means any ordinary thirteen year old boy. At thirteen, boys were normally going to regular football clubs or youth groups. They would go out with their friends, call each other amusing nicknames and would start noticing girls.
Not Harry. He was at the moment our story begins wandering alone around a street invisible to non-magical folk. He would not see his friends until September the first when he would be boarding the Hogwarts Express from Platform Nine and Three Quarters to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Even for a wizard, Harry was not ordinary. The scar on his forehead was not your normal everyday scar you might get from a deep cut or an accident. It was lightning-shaped and the relic of when Lord Voldemort had tried to kill him with a deadly curse. Yes, Harry was not ordinary. He knew that fully well.
What he didn't know was that his life was going to get a whole lot more bizarre.
As I have told you before, Harry was at the moment our story starts wondering around Diagon Alley; a cobbled street lined with shops that you certainly wouldn't find in your everyday town or village. Shops selling wands, parchment, spell books, quills, magical instruments and broomsticks.
Harry was looking around a cramped antique shop. It was a maze of dusty artifacts stacked on top of one another and on shelves. This wasn't something he'd normally do but he was bored and he had never visited before. He wasn't really interested in buying anything when he went in.
He observed a bookcase so full of books that it made Harry scared to take one out in case the rest fell off. He got bored of it soon and turned around. On a moth-eaten chair was something that looked very out of place and the last thing Harry had expected to find in this cramped dingy old shop, with its objects lost under dust.
A small, pristine little silver box with the symbol of a moon engraved upon it. The moon was very thin and looked more like the outline of an oval with a bit rubbed out. Harry tentatively moved closer. He had long since learned to be wary of anything looking out of place. He picked it up and examined it closely; putting it up to his eye and turning it over for a better look,
"Ah," a strange voice behind him made Harry whip round, "you can hold it. But can you open it, boy?" A thin man with a chin partially hidden by stubble and with beady eyes was moving quietly; almost gliding toward Harry, carrying a knobbly cane. Harry was startled by this strange query. The lid of the box had no clasp or lock so it would be easy to open, surely.
Harry pushed the lid upwards and sure enough, it opened easily, the hinges in perfect working order. The shopkeeper's eyes widened,
"No one's who's ever taken to that box has ever been able to open it. Beats me what the problem was. No lock or anything. I've always thought it had some sort of enchantment on it to stop anyone from opening it. I kept it in the open just so I can watch people try to find out what's inside. They tried blasting it, unlocking charms, counter-curses, the lot. I remember one person got so frustrated; he threw it against the wall. But no one's been able to open it. 'Till you."
"How did you get it?"
"Well, y'know the Shrieking Shack just outside the village of Hogsmeade? Near Hogwarts? Well, it was found in the morgue about six or seven years ago. Down in the basement. It was in the hand of a two hundred year old skeleton. But it looked as though it'd just come off the shelf. Like it does now. Apparently, the skeleton had been one of the old Barons of Hogsmeade. They used to live there. Before it was wrecked, obviously. Anyway, the person who gave to me told me all this and that, if the person who wanted to buy the box could open it, I was to let them have completely free of charge. Dunno why. She was a bit of a weirdo..."
Harry peered into the box. It was lined with a rich mahogany satin and full of silver pieces with jagged edges that looked almost like a blank metal jigsaw puzzle. Clamped in place under the pieces was a piece of parchment, dark yellow with age. Hoping to uncover more clues about the box, Harry eagerly pulled it out. The shopkeeper looked over Harry's shoulder with the same intention.
They were both disappointed, though. There was no writing on it. No instructions; no description; no history; just an accurate picture that looked like it had been drawn with quill and ink in a steady hand. The black solid lines traced the outline of a circular, cracked pendant with the same moon symbol as the one engraved on the box. Harry could make neither head nor tail of this. It didn't look remotely magical. In fact, it looked a little too normal to be in a wizard's shop. Perhaps he could ask Hermione next time he saw her about it.
As promised, the merchant had not charged Harry for the mysterious box and its even more mysterious contents. Harry had gone back to his room in the Leaky Cauldron straight after that. Not even stopping at the broomstick shop to admire the new Firebolt in the window.
The box seemed to want to be paid attention to. Whenever Harry tried to think about something else, it pushed itself to the front of his mind. He sat down at the desk once he was in the quiet of his room. He opened the box and emptied the pieces in front of him. He looked at the parchment again.
This time, more lines appeared on the parchment. It was almost like someone invisible was next to him, drawing in a steady, skilled hand in ink. After a frantic look around the room, Harry stared at the progress it made. When they had finished, Harry now saw that there were new pictures around the unchanged one of the pendant. They were of jagged pieces…Hold on! Harry suddenly realised. The silver pieces were identical to the ones that were scattered on the desk. Arrows had also been drawn in between them; starting at the top left piece, going in an anticlockwise circle and ending with the piece next to the first one.
Harry took up the first and the second piece (at least the one to which the arrow leading off the first was pointing to). On instinct, Harry placed the two together on matching edges. They fitted together perfectly and stuck together. Elated by this, Harry picked up the pieces one by one and fitted them into place. He felt more and more thrilled as the pieces fitted into one another. His body seemed to be inflated with ecstasy when there was only one piece left. It felt like, if he finished it, his greatest wish would come true.
He picked it up and carefully (well, as carefully as he could when he was so eager) eased the piece into place. Harry beamed. He had done it! The pieces had made up the pendant from the picture. Albeit the cracks where the pieces had stuck together were still visible but it looked brilliant nonetheless. Just then...
The cracks began to glow as if there were a light within. Even though the cracks were very thin and small, they emitted a light so bright even the bright summer sunshine coming in through the window seemed as faded and as dim as the dying embers in the fireplace. Harry held up an arm to shield his eyes from the blinding light; all his ecstasy and pride replaced with worry. What had he done? Had that merchant just given it to him to lure him into a trap? Had that story been only a trick he told every customer to…well, god knows what he wanted.
Suddenly, the pendant started to levitate away from his hands and a silver chain appeared connecting to it. This chain began to snake around Harry's neck. Harry fought with it, trying to pull it away. After a few moments of struggling, the chain won and it connected back to the pendant so Harry was now wearing it. Harry's eyes had now got used to the light. Okay, he thought, that was strange. But, nothing seems to be happening...He looked up from it and gave a cry of shock as he realised he was no longer in the room. He was falling gently down a dark passage as though he was sinking through non-existent water.
Streaks and specks of light flew up, past him. Harry tried to clasp hold of them but they just slipped through his fingers. He looked down and saw a pinprick of light at his feet. This pinprick grew and grew. He must be sinking towards it. Harry looked down at the cracked pendant again. What was this? A hallucination? Some sort of teleport? Before Harry could properly discern what was going on, his toes were touching the light. He then passed through the light as though it was a ghostly sheet.
When he had fully passed through it, he kept on floating down until he was standing on a firm marble floor. He raised his eyes. It looked like the drawing room in some old-fashioned manor house. An ornate gold fireplace stood in front of him with wood but no lit fire. Two sofas, a coffee table and an high-backed armchair stood around the fireplace. There were no windows, no candles lit, no torches and the crystal chandelier was unlit. Yet, the place was full of light.
A wine rack stood on the side of the room between lavish blood red and snow white hangings. Vases stood on tall pedestals and a whitewashed door stood behind him. Harry was surprised that there was no one coming. He must have been here for about ten minutes, just taking this whole place in. He turned to the one side of the room he hadn't seen yet and...
This side held the biggest surprise for Harry. What looked like thorny vines like rose stems were coming out of the wall. In their grasp, suspended a few feet from the floor, was a immobile person. Harry took a step back. What was this place? The person was held in a position with his arms stretched straight out to his sides. He was definitely male but his age was unknown since his head hung limply and his face was invisible due to his long shaggy black hair. What Harry could see what that he was clothed in a long, plain, white robe that came down to his ankles so his bare feet were just visible. His skin bore a golden tan and he was very thin.
Harry took a tentative, nervous step towards him. This man could be asleep, pretending, enchanted, unconscious or even dead (Harry thought the latter would be most likely). Or it could be just a statue. No, it was too lifelike. Just as he took a second step, the smell of water lilies came to his attention along with soft piano music, echoing, as if from far away. Words too accompanied them, echoing, male and female combined in a duet,
"Amazing Grace..."
Harry whisked around, looking around wildly for the source of the music, "...How sweet the sound..."
"Who's that?" Harry demanded, getting more anxious by the minute. Still, the voices continued to sing persistently,
"...that saved...a wretch...like me...I once was lost..."
"Harry Potter."
The singing abruptly stopped. He jumped at the sound of his name but ruled out the possibility that the man had spoken since the voice was certainly female. He looked wildly to the side. A woman dressed in gothic-looking clothes of black silk and velvet was standing there, her concealed hands pressed together as though in prayer. She separated her hands and glided over to him as if on wheels. At least, Harry thought she was coming towards him. A white hood covered her eyes and yet Harry felt like she was looking right into his soul, "Do you see him?" she asked, pointing up to him with her concealed hand.
Harry nodded, slowly. Why wouldn't I?
"That is Baron Gabriel de Cinclion." Harry vaguely remembered hearing the name in History of Magic and on a Chocolate Frog card, "Come. We will have a closer look at him."
Feeling that a better task would be to back away, Harry felt himself levitate off the floor along with the mysterious woman and fly up to Baron Gabriel de Cinclion's level. The woman took the unconscious man's chin and raised it up so Harry could his face clearly. She brushed a lock of hair (that Harry saw came just past his shoulders) off his thin, youthful face. He couldn't be older than twenty-five. Around his head was a wreath of fresh green laurel leaves rather magnificent and honourable in his own right. His eyes were gently closed and his eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly as though having a nightmare,
"For many years, his spirit has been sealed here. For two centuries, he has remained in the Moon Medallion, dreaming of his past. But no more." The woman turned to him. If he could see the whole of her face, it would be likely that she would be looking grim, "Harry Potter. Danger is coming on us. The Moon Items are released to their destined owners. The fated time has come. Gabriel must be awakened."
"But..." The Baron looked like he was dead. How could he...
"The heart of Gabriel is still beating, albeit feebly. He is still breathing although barely. You are the one that must awaken him from his slumber."
"But..." Harry repeated. Him? But he didn't know how.
"Put your hand on his heart."
Harry felt himself move closer to him. The woman released his chin so his head flopped back down. Harry felt like this wasn't going to work but, still, he stretched out his hand and laid it carefully over the Baron's heart. Harry was starting to think this was all a bit far-fetched. How was this going to wake the Baron up? I can't feel any heartbeat...
As if in answer to his thoughts, he suddenly felt the Baron's heart give a very powerful beat. A beat that reverberated right through Harry's body. His heart began to beat rhythmically and the pendant began to glow again. He wanted to withdraw his hand but couldn't. A suddenly wind blew the Baron's head up and his hair all around him. Unseen to Harry, the woman vanished, her job done. Suddenly, the pendant emitted a burst of light that threw Harry back, away from Baron.
Harry tentatively opened his eyes a few moments later. He had hit the floor of the room that had now lost its unearthly lighting and the candles, fire and chandelier were lit ever so slightly. Massaging the side of his face that had hit the floor, Harry tentatively raised his head off the floor and looked up to where the Baron was held. Only to see that him and the vines had vanished.
Harry looked down again and saw the Baron sprawled on the floor, face down. His eyes were still closed and this frightened Harry for a second, making him think he might be dead; but, as he watched, the Baron's clothes began to change. A moment later, the laurel had vanished and the robe had been replaced with much simpler clothes; a blood-red shirt, buttoned right up to the collar, dark trousers and darker shoes. A white cloak appeared with the bottom right hand corner curled around his right elbow, presumably to keep it out of the way. Despite this attire, he kept his strangely magnificent air.
A pair of silver horn-rimmed glasses with red-tinted lenses appeared on the edge of his long nose and, finally, a pendant exactly identical to the one Harry had been wearing appeared around his neck.
Harry stared. Then, he gave a small jump as Baron stirred. He raised his head and ran a hand through his hair, opening his eyes. Harry saw they were a deep, emerald green, gradually growing in focus. Baron slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes, unaware of Harry for the moment (and Harry felt he would have liked it that way). He raised his eyes and squinted around, his eyes not used to the now growing light,
"What ist?" he said to himself. He had a deep, wise and confident voice. One of a leader and a mentor and one that suited him, "The Moon Medallion? So familiar and so strange it - but soft…!" He began, looking at the clothes he was wearing. He turned round to have a look at the rest of the room and then, caught sight of Harry, making him jump and freeze. Baron blinked in surprise and, then, seemed to understand. He said quickly, "Forgive me. I beheld you not." He held out his hand politely in a form of greeting, "I am Baron Gabriel de Cinclion; Spirit of the Moon Medallion and Exiled." Harry shook his hand,
"I'll just call you Baron, shall I?"
"If that is your will. What name do you go by?"
"Harry; it's…Harry Potter." Harry never thought he'd have to introduce himself to a wizard,
"Harry, congratulations are prudent."
"What d'you mean?"
"You know not? Baron of Hogsmeade was I when the seventeenth century was meeting its death. Harry, knowest of the War of the Exiled? The Unfinished War? Ah, it matters not. The Moon Items seven; Visus Oracle their father…"
"Hang on," Harry said, thinking back, "I've heard that name. Wasn't he a maker of magical tools? And I know something about a daughter helping him…"
"You have me deceived, Harry! Visus Oracle had a daughter, Topaz, who, when a mere girl, did deliver them to their owners. Such enchantments were woven there, their spirits and sorcery were sealed within when the flesh hath rejected them."
"Where are these Moon Items?" Harry remembered the woman mentioning them, while wondering how on earth he could understand Baron's words,
"Harry, hast you no sense?" groaned Baron, "We both bear an Item now!" He pointed to the pendant around Harry's neck (he'd nearly forgotten about it), "Ist the Moon Medallion."
Harry still didn't have a clue about any of this, "Just what are the Moon Items?"
"Vessels of Sorcery; that magic that is more potent than regular and cannot be easily performed. Those fortunate who own Moon Items hath the ability; as you."
"Me?"
Harry gaped. Having powers like that? Him? How could he possibly do it? Baron looked rather amused at Harry's expression. He then said,
"My guidance will steady your hand. I will arrange your thoughts."
Harry felt rather relieved. At least he wasn't expected to do it straight away! He then remembered to ask something, "Where are we?"
"The Moon Medallion." Baron answered, having a look round, "The Moon Medallion does pilot us here."
Still confused, Harry was about to ask Baron to explain a bit more but, instead, he asked, "How come no one else can do it? Sorcery, I mean?"
"People wrong it without cause. Ist the first instant you have found this?"
"Yeah." Harry then added, "But I've lived with Muggles all my life. I only found out I was a wizard two years ago."
Baron was surveying him; rather like a parent would, "You be not born of Muggles."
"I know. But I live with my aunt and uncle."
Baron then stood up and held out his hand to help Harry do the same. Harry then found out the Baron was very tall, towering over him but not in a menacing way. His eyes then rested on his forehead, "May I?" He raised his hand, level to Harry's face. Harry nodded. Baron moved back Harry's fringe, "By the powers..." he breathed as one of his long, elegant fingers traced the outline of his scar. Harry even felt his scar tingle a little as Baron touched it, as if recognizing something, "...what ist? This mark is old and yet I sense the magic within hast not yet faded."
Harry blinked, surprised. No one who had touched his scar had ever said that! Baron then began to become very interested in Harry's past and asked him to explain. But, as Harry opened his mouth to start, Baron held up a hand, "Sit you down beside me. This back permits me not to move freely."
So, Harry sat down with Baron and explained to him. Baron made a very good audience. He gave appropriate reactions in all the right places and, when he asked questions, they weren't too intruding. When Harry had finished, he straightened up and said,
"Well, young Harry, part with me awhile. My mind does begin to awaken forgotten thoughts."
There was a blinding flash of white light this time and Harry felt rather as if he was being dragged up by a hook that had taken hold of the back of his neck. Rising up through a bright tunnel of light. Up; up; up…until he slowed down and floated gently down to earth. He felt his feet touch something solid and, as soon as he was standing, the light vanished. He was standing in his quiet room. He looked around. No one was there. Good. Harry sat down at his desk where the box still stood.
A/N: Okay, as soon as I finish these chapter changes, I'll get down to the next chapter!