I don't own Harry Potter.
…
Before Britain, there was Briton. Before Briton, there was the Realm of Magic, Avalon. Before the Realm, before Avalon, there was a vast kingdom, a kingdom so old that it's name have been lost. This kingdom existed in a time where man lived long, and magic lived longer.
This kingdom, in all it's vastness, was ruled by a single man, a great king, who ruled with justness and kindness. This king had two sons and two daughters, but he was worried. None of his children was his heir, and with no heir, the kingdom would fall. However, one night the spirits came to him in a dream, and told him that, when he died, his children would be married and have produced heirs of their own – and in the future, the four bloodlines would become one, and the old king would be reborn, and sit in his throne again. The king could now sleep easy, knowing that his land wasn't doomed, for if his children would rule, it would not be in fairness.
Then the strangers entered the kingdom, bringing with them those of bad faith and guards clothed in grey. This was the beginning of the end, marking the start of an era in which the world would recede and prosperity merely be a word of legend.
His oldest, his daughter, a woman of wit beyond measure, married the Heir of Ravenclaw. She was a beautiful woman, stately with bronze hair and blue eyes.
His second, the oldest son, was a man that valued bravery over all else. He married the Heiress Gryffindor and took her name, passing on his golden hair and strangely red eyes to his descendants, in turn.
His third child, also a son, was his carbon copy. Silver hair and eyes so green as to pass for emeralds, and he managed what his father did not – he married for love, even though his ambition and cunning made sure he saw the power in marrying Heiress Slytherin, he did it out of love.
His fourth, and youngest child, was an unassuming woman with no extraordinary gifts, but a willingness to do what it takes and to work hard to get what she wants. Yellow hair and black eyes served to ensnare the Heir of Hufflepuff, who seemed quiet taken with her.
When so the kind old king breathed his last, the kingdom mourned, his children most of all. His crown and staff was placed in a vault, his castle sealed and his legacy became a legend. But, in their hearts, all magicals knew; one day, there'd be a king again, one worthy of their allegiance.
"The old king is dead!"
…
He woke with a gasp, and his eyes snapped open. He knew he would be reborn, but did not think it would happen like this. He thought he'd do it memory by memory, day by day, not getting half-a-century worth of experiences and memories in an hour.
He knew enough of the current times, thanks to his host, to know that the goblins still governed the economy, now under stricter laws. There was a man, a wizard, who had put fear into the hearts of his kingdom, and he could not let this continue. The strangers had ruined his lands, those of bad faith sown mistrust and anger, and the guards clothed in grey had watched and helped from the shadows.
He had to do something, and he had to do it now.
…
Every magical being felt it, a tremor that leapt and danced and grew for every little piece of magic it touched, and it brought with it an undeniable feeling: a feeling of change, of imminent chaos.
Magic rejoiced, and everyone knew why, but none knew the cause.
…
The goblins in the bank sat up just a little bit straighter, wrote just a little bit neater, and focused all their energy on looking like they weren't desperately watching the man that just entered Gringotts.
He went up to a teller, and did not have to wait for acknowledgement, and this little fact told the few customers that noticed that there was something special with this man. He just looked at the goblin, and gave a low, guttural noise, followed by baring his teeth violently.
Every goblin in the hall bowed in his direction, and showed him the way deep into the bowels of the magnificent structure, and took him down to the very first vault. This vault he opened, and in this vault he found his crown, his staff and his ring. He found his cloak, and when he wore it all, he knew what he needed to do, and he turned on his heel and left. The goblin was left standing in a dark cavern, looking around in awe at riches scarcely imagined.
…
There was a gathering in the Throne Room of a castle with no name, and every magical being, insignificant or not, almost-extinct or not, were there. Neither the Room nor the castle itself should be capable of holding that many beings at the same time, but in a castle built by magic for magic anything is possible.
On the throne was a man, dressed in a red cloak brimmed with fur, a crown of glistening gold and a staff grasped tightly in his hand.
He raised his head an surveyed his subjects. His green eyes glinted, his black hair shone blue in the light, and he looked strikingly like the man, the king, on the portrait behind him.
"Long live the king!"
…
Well, this didn't take long at all to write! Hope you like!
Any and all faults you find are solely my own. Dammit, can't even blame the beta!
Signing out, Skugga.
PS: Review?