Well, I did not want to wait too long to post this. I don't have nearly as much chapters done as I would like, but I wanted this up by the end of February at least, March 1st isn't too bad then is it?
So welcome my readers, to what you've all had me on your author alert list for, the sequel to Harry Potter and the Emerald Sword. Note for any new readers that this is a sequel, if you have not read the original Harry Potter and the Emerald Sword I suggest you do so before reading this. Now, I have many things planned for this, and this shall be more subtle than the prequel, welcome to the Third Wizarding War, readers. Enjoy.
Full Summary: Lord Voldemort has returned, and he is gathering forces. Meanwhile, Harry must fight with an extreme disadvantage. He's lost all credibility. The Dark Lord moves quickly, and the Obsidian Chest holds the key, if only it can be found before time runs out.
Harry Potter and the Obsidian Chest
Chapter 1: Cursed
Winter of last year had passed quietly after a dark Christmas, when Lord Voldemort had returned. The school year then had ended well enough, considering events that had transpired which would drastically alter many aspects of Harry Potter's life. Most days it was normal, or it appeared to be so from an outside view. Mr. Potter was merely the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, he was also head of the Auror Office, though that aspect of his career was kept in the dark more so than his status as the wizarding school.
Yes, things were completely normal to the spectator on the outside. However, one on the inside would notice that Harry Potter's level of stress had been increasing exponentially by the month since that horrible winter had gone by. He was constantly ordering the Auror Office around in secret, and consecutively covering up his tracks from prying eyes when one task after another was completed, or not completed, the latter of which happened much more often. Percy's secret war had not been effective in terms of victory, though the Minister could grimly state that no one who ought not to know knew a thing.
True enough, events has gone according to the Minster of Magic's plan. No one suspected anything, there had been a murder four months ago, but it had been concluded to be unrelated to any of the escapee Death Eaters from Azkaban, all of whom were now following their resurrected leader's every order, none of which were unclear. They drew no public attention, at least until three months ago.
That is when Harry began to lose his sanity.
Three months ago to the day, a man had been murdered, a reasonably high ranking member of the Ministry of Magic, a worker from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had been found dead on a red velvet armchair in his own home, killed by the Avada Kedavra curse. The official story was that no one had any idea who could have done it; the usual suspects were one of the Death Eaters, and that's what stood now, or did not. Harry was not sure he knew, for that murder had been remarkable, distinguished from the meaningless death a month earlier. Over that man's house, when he was found dead, the Dark Mark had lit up the black night sky with its emerald glow, and the victim had not only been killed by the Avada Kedavra curse, but his eyes had been closed by the fingers of the killer, and he had been covered with a white sheet from his own bed.
Two more murders in the months following had matched the same description. Both victims were high ranking members of the Ministry of Magic, both had been found dead inside their houses, Dark Marks ablaze at the scene, and both had been covered by the sheets of their own bed. It was a signature by the murderer, and it drove Harry Potter absolutely crazy. The Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort obviously knew of Percy's secret war, and they were not making the deception easy to nurture. They were playing with those in the Ministry who knew, namely Harry, Percy, and trusted members of the Auror Office (of course the staff of Hogwarts was aware too), the rest were made to believe whatever they could be made to. Harry was too busy trying to find Lord Voldemort, however, to deal with such matters. That task proved just as impossible as last time.
Malfoy Manor was deserted. The trail ended there with the bodies of Narcissa and Pansy Parkinson Malfoy.
If it was of any significance, the general public was five steps past suspicious, and the overriding majority was expressing their dislike of Harry running the Auror Office. They craved resolution to those murders, peace of mind, and the Head Auror could not provide it to them truthfully, all because of the Minister's insistence that the war would better be fought behind an iron veil.
Harry Potter sat in his office within the castle of Hogwarts. He ran his hands through his hair which he had expected would be completely gray now; after all he'd been through. At least the public was not detesting his position as the school, how could they? Grades had been improved dramatically in O.W.L.s. Whether that was because of Harry, or his students, the Headmaster did not know.
He hoped it was his students, and that they would be able to learn under Draco Malfoy as their new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. They had no choice, because as much as Malfoy had plagued his life in the past, Harry would not let him or his son back out into the open where they could easily be murdered by Lord Voldemort. In the Headmaster's experience, Voldemort ran his army like a lifelong, crime-ridden business, if an employee left, or lost loyalty, they were… terminated. Neither the new Professor, nor his son would be thrown into that position so long as Harry remained Headmaster.
Potter sat back upon the chair in his office, he spun it with the use of magic to face the gloriously large portrait behind him, it was empty, free of Dumbledore.
Harry had arrived at Hogwarts just hours ago, the sun was now setting upon the mountains surrounding the school. Term started tomorrow, and Ablus, James, and Lily would be arriving on the Hogwarts Express. They would have come with him today, but things had just not worked out. The only student in the castle walls was Scorpious Malfoy who Harry had not seen at all during his trek from the Entrance Hall to his office, then again, what were the chances of catching the boy? He was probably shut up in the Slytherin common room reading, or partaking in something of that nature.
Potter spun his chair back into its proper position, then stood, ready to exit the place, he'd only come to speak with Dumbledore who was conveniently absent. Harry had other matters to attend to.
As his legs locked, and he was on his feet, a knock sounded upon the door. It was stiff, and rapping, loud. Harry fell back upon his seat.
"Enter," he called.
The Headmaster was surprised to see the door to his office burst open and, if it had not been for the enchantments placed upon it, it would have slammed into the wall. Professor McGonagall flew in as though the hounds of hell were on her heels, she carried in her right hand a rolled up newspaper which she was gripping rather tightly. Her wrinkled, elderly face looked more surprised then Harry had ever seen it in his lifetime, at the same time it seemed to fulfill the definition, to the utmost highest, of the word cross.
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall addressed tartly. "Have you seen the morning edition of the Prophet?"
"I'm afraid I haven't, Professor," said Harry. He drew his wand and flicked it once, a comfortably cushioned chair materialized behind McGonagall. "May I offer you a seat?"
"Thank you," the Transfiguration Professor replied swiftly as she sat down, the paper across her lap now.
"You were saying something about the Prophet," said Harry somewhat grimly. He had been avoiding the newspaper all summer, ever since they had hired Rita Skeeter again, the credibility of the paper had been, in Harry's mind, tarnished.
"I was," McGonagall said stiffly. "No one reported anything to you?"
"Should they have?"
"Yes, I would think so."
"What exactly are you trying to say, Professor?"
"I am trying to say that for an estimated two months, Dolores Umbridge has been under the influence of the Imperius Curse. The article is right on the front page Headmaster, authored by that Skeeter woman. To make matters worse, Dolores claims to have seen Lord Voldemort."
Harry snatched the Prophet from McGonagall's outstretched hand and unrolled it so quickly that it might have ripped. There it was, upon the front page, a large picture of Dolores Umbridge who looked pale, even in black and white, and an article wrapped around it by Rita Skeeter. Harry read.
MINISTRY OF MAGIC OFFICIAL UNDER THE IMPERIUS CURSE
By staff writer Rita Skeeter
Breaking news! Yesterday, a Ministry of Magic official who declines to be named confronted senior secretary to the Minister, Dolores J. Umbridge whom he had suspected was under the influence of Dark Magic for the past few weeks. This reporter has been authorized to report that the official works in close proximity with Umbridge and had been observing her slightly unusual behavior for days. When said official approached Umbridge to confront her, the secretary attacked him.
This prompted the official to run for the nearest Aurors in the proximity after subduing Umbridge. These Aurors were able to break what they conclusively conclude was the Imperius Curse, cast upon the secretary. After the curse was lifted, Umbridge reportedly mumbled the name of Bellatrix Lestrange over and over again. As you readers know, Bellatrix Lestrange was a former Death Eater in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She, along with nearly all other Death Eaters in Azkaban, escaped last year.
But this is not so shocking, that Lestrange would take control of a Ministry official for her own bidding. What is shocking is what else Umbridge had to say. Reported by one of the Aurors who broke the Imperius Curse upon her, Dolores Umbridge also claimed that she saw You-Know-Who along with Bellatrix Lestrange at least once! As of now, we do not know whether or not this is rumor or fact.
Umbridge is currently under evaluation in a secure ward at St. Mungo's Hospital. The press is calling for the Ministry to hold a conference between them on this matter. No word from the Minister yet, or Head Auror Harry Potter who was not to be found in office today, reasonable evidence suggests that he—
Harry would not read any further, he tossed the paper lightly upon his desk and ran a hand across his forehead.
"Well?" McGonagall finally asked after lengthy moment of silence.
"What?" Harry snapped unintentionally, staring at her with hard eyes.
"With all due respect Potter, what the bloody hell are you going to do?!"
"Percy's idea of a secret war was moronic from the beginning, now it's ruined…. My job might be in jeopardy, Professor McGonagall, perhaps not as Headmaster, but certainly as Head Auror." Harry stated, half to himself, half for her benefit.
"I wish you good luck," said the Transfiguration Professor.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I'm going to fly to London immediately; I have some questions as to why I was not alerted… could you send and owl to Ginny for me? I hope to be back by the start of term tomorrow night."
"Of course, Headmaster. Now if you'll excuse me, I must prepare lessons for the beginning of term, I shall send the letter shortly, and alert the rest of the staff."
"Thank you," said Harry gratefully. He remained seated as McGonagall stood, magicked her chair into oblivion, and strode in her dignified manner out of the office. Harry sighed; he was close behind her, bound for a different destination, London.
XxX
Water dripped from stalactites like green blood, illuminated eerily in the magic light which spawned from nowhere. Bellatrix Lestrange's shadow followed her from every conceivable angle, for light hit her at every direction as she trekked down a long, uneven natural passage. She arrived in a smaller nook at the end which formed a kind of large room. A fire was burning on the floor, emerald flames licked at everlasting logs, oily, black smoke rose into nothingness. Behind the burning blaze stood a chair, a simple, velvety green seat, and upon it sat Lord Voldemort.
The Dark Lord's chalk white face glowed green in the lighting of the nook, his red eyes stood out like beacons from their sockets. Voldemort, her Lord. Bellatrix kneeled before him dutifully, willfully, adoringly. He smiled lightly.
"There is no need my dear Bella, rise," said the Dark Lord.
"Thank you, my Lord," said the Death Eater slightly breathlessly as she stood.
"You have come…."
"To report, yes, of course my Lord. The curse on the Umbridge woman has been broken."
Voldemort nodded. "Good, I was wondering when the fools at the Ministry would finally see it."
"Yes, there is more, my Lord. Our newest follower is in place."
"Ah, yes, very good indeed. This war shall not be secret much longer, if it is not publically known already. It shall be won swiftly and simply. How is our recruitment coming?"
"Excellent, many, many students of Slytherin have been sympathetic to our cause, overjoyed that you have returned my Lord, it is an honor to bask in your presence."
"Indeed. Lord Voldemort demands the utmost respect, everyone shall be reminded of that again, and soon. The time has come, they will not stop us now, my dear Bellatrix."
It was a bit short… but it is an introduction…. Anyway, don't forget to drop in a comment. Thank you for reading the very first chapter of Harry Potter and the Emerald Sword's sequel, Harry Potter and the Obsidian Chest. I guarantee you, whatever you might be guessing the Obsidian Chest is, you are absolutely wrong, I believe it is utterly impossible for you to even come close to guessing, and I've got some great things planned for this fic.