Harry Potter and the Heresiarch's Tomb

by Demosthenes2

The resurrection of an ancient sorcerer leads to a new adventure for Harry.

Harry Potter and the Heresiarch's Tomb
By Demosthenes

-1-
It was a warm night. The summer air lay heavy over Privet Drive, and no breeze
stirred its sultry cloak. Harry Potter sat looking out his bedroom window, doing his
homework. An astronomy assignment was nothing to sneeze at, and he squinted hard as
he searched for the constellation Draco. Oddly enough, the stars seemed distorted, as if
seen through water or curved glass. As the young wizard wondered at the strange sight,
something else happened to drive it quite out of his mind. Somewhere, off across the
horizon, a blaze of light appeared. Traces of white light began to stream along the sky
like jet trails. Suddenly, the light changed to a deep blue-black, crackling and dancing in
malevolent currents against the stars. The air grew cold.
Harry marveled at the sight, then clapped a hand to his forehead as a searing pain
shot through it. As a blinding haze of pain clouded his vision, a sound came from behind
him-within the room! Turning, Harry saw a tall figure, cloaked in fine but aged robes. Its
face was not visible beneath its hood. Strangely, the cold seemed to radiate from its
presence. Harry's first thought was that he was facing a dementor, but since he didn't
collapse, he ruled this out. Shaking his head to clear the pain, Harry addressed the
intruder.
"Who are you?" he said, trying to see some shape beneath the cloak. A chill filled
the air as his visitor replied,
"I am Phaeton…I am Icarus…"
"What do you want?" asked Harry, puzzled.
"That which has been denied me…" whispered the intruder in a voice that froze
Harry's blood.
"Why are you here?"
"I am here that I may know you when we meet face-to-face. Farewell!"
The outline of the strange visitor blurred. It raised one shrouded arm, gestured in a
bizarre way, and vanished altogether. Harry saw a flash of light, then knew no more.

-2-

Though Harry mulled over the incident in his mind, he was to have no indication
of the true nature of the previous night's events for a long time. He found that it was hard
to focus on the apparition with the next term at Hogwarts getting closer.
Harry was in his fourth year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
In only a few days, he would be making the journey to King's Cross to board the
Hogwarts Express. Of course, he had absolutely no idea how he was going to get there.
Uncle Vernon seemed a little reluctant to take him. Oh well. He was sure Hedwig hadn't
planned on dropping several birthday parcels onto the table at breakfast. All the same, his
uncle was being even more unpleasant than usual.
A few days later, while Harry was still pondering a possible solution, one
presented itself. While he was upstairs, doing a last-minute Potions assignment, the
doorbell rang. Given the thunderous waddling and subsequent reedy voice, Dudley had
gone to answer it. Harry's portly cousin was apparently being quite rude, as usual. Then
his obnoxious greeting was answered by two very familiar voices.
No. They couldn't be here. It's impossible.
Harry dashed out of his room and fairly dove down the stairs. Standing in the
doorway, largely obscured by the massive form of Dudley, were Ron Weasley and
Hermione Granger-Harry's two closest friends at Hogwarts. Dudley turned to face Harry
and said, with a suspicious look, "They're here to see you. This better not be anything
funny, or I'll tell Dad." The young wizard simply brushed past his cousin and greeted his
friends.
To Harry's surprise, Ron and Hermione seized his arms and fairly dragged him
down the steps. They stuffed him into a waiting car, which pulled away from the Dursley
household. Harry's friends then turned to him and smiled.
"Surprised you, didn't we?" began Ron.
"We thought we'd come and get you, since you hadn't said how you were going
to get to the station. The Weasleys will meet us there, but Ron wanted to come along.
Mom and Dad agreed to drive us." Hermione explained.
"And the dragging you into the car just seemed fun." Ron concluded.
All three burst into laughter.
____

Later that day, a small bird sat perched in a forest, chirping out his song. Without
warning, a huge, thunderous being roared by its tree and sped on its way, belching fire
and smoke. The bird fluttered into the air. The intruder seemed to be a brightly colored
thing of many segments. The small avian cheeped once more in righteous indignation,
then drifted back to its perch. The Hogwarts Express receded into the distance.
Hours later, the mighty train chugged to a halt. Hundreds of students bustled out
of the train. The first-years, guided by Hagrid the gamekeeper, nervously settled into
boats. All other students piled into carriages, which smelled of straw and were pulled by
an unseen agency. Harry, Ron, and Hermione occupied one carriage, accompanied by the
forgetful, accident-prone Neville Longbottom. The three friends chatted amiably about
their summers while Neville madly searched his bag for his Potions text.
As the carriages clattered their way up to the school, Harry remembered
something. "Oh, how could I forget? You two are going to love this." He followed with a
recitation of the visit of the strange being in his room. Both listened, rapt with attention,
and proceeded to ask several questions at once. Replying to all, Harry simply said, "I
have no idea. I was kind of hoping Dumbledore could explain. But, no time to worry
about it now-we're here."
The Hogwarts attendees climbed out of the carriages and stopped, as always, to
admire the castle. It was huge, ornate, and strangely beautiful. Harry never tired of seeing
it. Professor McGonagall, the stern witch who headed Gryffindor house, met them at the
door. She instructed the returning students to gather in the Great Hall for the feast. Of
course, the new students were led off for the sorting ceremony.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked quickly toward the Great Hall. The Hogwarts
feasts were never something to miss. The room, as always, was amazing. The decoration
was phenomenal, and the enchanted ceiling showed a bright blue sky. The teachers sat at
a long table at the far end of the room. Seated to the center was Albus Dumbledore, the
Headmaster of the school. He seemed, as always, bright, active, and his eyes maintained
their piercing quality. As the Sorting ceremony came to an end, Dumbledore rose and
addressed the masses.
"Greetings, all, and welcome to our new term at Hogwarts, especially to those in
their first term here. We all hope you enjoy your time at our fine school. It is my custom
to make a few announcements before the feast begins. Interestingly enough, I always
have something to say.
To begin, let me introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Professor Argyropt has kindly offered to take the post this year. I am certain that his
tenure will last longer than now seems to be usual."
At Dumbledore's instruction, a man Harry had not seen before rose from the end
of the teachers' table. He-Professor Argyropt-was tall, with slate-gray hair and matching
robes, and looked about twenty-five years old-young for a Hogwarts instructor. His
movements as he rose and nodded to the students were dignified yet vital. As the
Professor looked about the room, Harry noticed the man's most stunning feature. His
eyes were that same dark gray, but the irises were banded with brilliant silver. Professor
Argyropt smiled, and returned to his seat.
Dumbledore continued. "Now, on to business. It is a warning I have given often
these past few years, but I must ask all of you to exercise caution this year. Please report
any strange happenings you notice. Tell a teacher immediately if you see a suspicious
person on the school grounds. I do not intend to frighten anyone, but I must be certain
that all understand.
You have heard that Voldemort was the most powerful and feared Dark wizard of
the age. This is true. However, a little over a millennium ago, a Dark sorcerer appeared
who put Voldemort to shame. Known only as the Heresiarch, this wizard went on a
crusade of mass destruction. At some point he began to amass a following, and turned his
sights on Hogwarts. The school was still under construction, and could not have
withstood the mighty warlock's assault.
The founders of Hogwarts chose to attack the Heresiarch before he could destroy
the school. It was only after a tremendous struggle that they managed to vanquish the
Dark mage. Despite fantastic odds, the founders managed to seal the Heresiarch in a
magical tomb. Within this tomb, the Heresiarch should have been forced to remain in
suspended animation for all time. However, a few weeks ago, the Heresiarch's tomb was
opened."
Surveying the stunned crowd, Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I am sorry, but I
must impress upon you all the necessity of the caution I spoke of. Please, report odd
sightings or happenings to a teacher. Now, enough chatter. Time for the feast!"
The Headmaster signaled, and food magically appeared on the many golden
plates. Students began to eat, and the room resumed its usual happy buzz. No evil
sorcerer could match the happiness and excitement of a new Hogwarts term.

-3-

For the first time in months, Harry woke up in the morning and felt he was truly at
home. Climbing out of his bed in the fourth-year dormitory, he stretched and walked over
to a window. Gazing out over the familiar lawn, he sought out known landmarks. Yes, he
could still see Hagrid patrolling the grounds, and the giant squid still waved its tentacles
lazily in the morning haze. It was good to be back.
Others in the dormitory began to stir, so Harry decided to head down to the
Gryffindor common room. The common room was beginning to fill as students prepared
to head down to breakfast. Harry sat down to wait for Ron and Hermione.
Ron and Hermione…Harry thought.
They were his closest friends, and the three were pretty much inseparable. If
Hogwarts was his home, Ron and Hermione were his family. He would do anything for
them. Harry sincerely hoped the trio could avoid the senseless bickering of the previous
year. Lost in thought, the young wizard didn't notice when the objects of his pondering
snuck up behind him. Tapping him lightly on the shoulder, Hermione smiled and
gestured toward the Great Hall. Smiling in kind, Harry nodded.
The three friends climbed out the portrait hole that served as their doorway. The
halls were packed with students on their way to the morning meal. The familiar clatter of
plates echoed out at them, and the food smelled better than ever. Hermione, as usual, had
her nose buried in a book-she wouldn't want to not know an answer on the first day of
class.
After breakfast they hurried to their first class, Transfiguration. Professor
McGonagall cheerily informed them that all their courses would be experiencing a slight
upward jump in difficulty. The classes of the few years were slightly behind, owing to a
variety of disruptions. If classes proceeded as normal, the fourth-year students would be
unprepared for next year's O.W.L. Exams. Hermione grinned, Ron groaned, and Harry
fell silent. This was going to be interesting.
Feeling largely brain-dead after trying to turn a cat into a mouse, the trio trudged
to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Ron kept muttering something like "Mine
kept chasing itself around." Opening the classroom door, they were greeted by Professor
Argyropt. He smiled and waved them to their desks. As the class filled in, the Professor
rose and spoke.
"Greetings. I am aware that Headmaster Dumbledore introduced me last night,
but I wished to say 'hello' personally. My name is Professor Argyropt, and as you no
doubt have deduced, I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. We will
be studying a wide range of topics this term. We will conclude last year's study of
dangerous creatures, and proceed into unusual Dark Arts incantations second term. I hope
you will all learn much. On to our first lesson."
Their first lesson was on werewolves, one of the last topics in their previous
coursework. Though Harry found the material difficult to grasp, Argyropt's teaching
made it much easier. The professor had a gift for words, and a tone and manner that held
the attention of the class. By the end of the period, Harry had learned more about
werewolves than he would have considered possible. Still, something seemed strange
about the teacher.
The remainder of the day settled into a comfortably brain-numbing routine.
__

That evening, many Gryffindors had gathered in the common room. Some were
doing their homework, but most opened the evening with a discussion of the day.
"It's not fair, how do they think they can make everything harder…"
"Professor Snape's a madman-he made us explain fifteen uses for aelebera…"
"What do you think of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"
The room fell silent. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown giggled. Many seemed to
be thinking. Hermione, after a while, spoke up. "He seems like a very good teacher. It's
strange, though-there seems to be kind of an…infinite sadness about him."
Of course, Harry thought, that's what it was. Argyropt seemed to carry a lifetime
of pain and sorrow. He said nothing, but his eyes spoke volumes.
__

Only a week or so after the term began, Quidditch practice ensued. Harry was
surprised, and a bit worried. No season ever began this early. Plus, if they were going to
be practicing every night, he would be in trouble with his coursework
Of course, Harry could never worry too long when Quidditch was involved. He
loved the sport, and every chance to ride his broom was a welcome one. At the usual
time, he headed down to the Quidditch field. A few minutes into the first Gryffindor
practice, it became apparent that their new captain was every bit as manic about victory
as Oliver Wood. Of course, Harry had no doubts that Alicia Spinnet was worthy of the
post.
Flying around on his Firebolt, Harry was once again thrilled by the experience.
Then the trouble began.
The practice was nearing an end when Fred Weasley noticed something strange at
the far side of the field. Harry, being closest, went to investigate. As Fred fell in behind,
Harry looked around for the oddity. He barely had time to spot a cloaked figure receding
into the trees before his broom stopped short. The Firebolt simply would not advance any
further. Placing his hands out before his broom, Harry felt them meet a solid surface.
Somehow, the evening air had become as smooth and firm as glass.
Alicia flew over. Quickly getting the details from Harry and George, she reached
out and tapped the invisible wall.
"I think we better tell the Headmaster about this. Quick. Let's go."
The practice was over.


-4-

The next day, the school was abuzz with news of the incident. Of course, no one
doubted that the Heresiarch had come to Hogwarts. "That's an incredibly powerful spell,"
noted Seamus Finnigan, "Who else could it be?"
"Any number of sorcerers, Seamus," said Hermione. "The Airwall Incantation is
hardly rare, though it is difficult."
Harry felt inclined to agree with her. They had reported the visitor to a teacher,
and Fred, Harry, and Alicia had been summoned to the staff room for a full account. The
Headmaster, after hearing the story, said that he doubted the Heresiarch was responsible.
That Dark mage would not have bothered to run, after all. Harry was reassured by
Dumbledore's opinion, but couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive.
That day in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the day took a definite turn for the
better. About halfway into the lesson on Keres, Parvati Patil spoke up.
"Professor Argyropt, do you know anything about the Heresiarch?"
The teacher smiled. "Ordinarily, Miss Patil, that would be a question better suited
to Professor Binns. However, I happen to be something of an expert on the subject. The
study of the Heresiarch has always been a fascination of mine. I take it you would all be
interested in hearing what I know?" The class responded with a resounding 'yes'
followed by rapt attention.
Argyropt cleared his throat and began to speak. "You already know most of the
story of the Heresiarch. The Headmaster's explanation was better than any I could give.
However, I can perhaps fill in a few details.
'According to several sources, around the time of the founding of Hogwarts, there
lived a young wizard. This wizard's name has been forgotten in the flow of time, but it is
recorded that he possessed extreme prowess in many branches of magic, even to
abandoning the use of a wand. In fact, it is generally believed that Rowena Ravenclaw
admired him greatly and employed him as a spellweaver.
This wizard often worked with the help of two friends, one the woman he loved.
Around the time of his twenty-fourth birthday, he was experimenting with a new defense
for the school, which was under construction. At this point, written accounts become
unclear. However, many suspect that something went wrong with the experiment.
Whatever the reason, the results were horrifying. The young wizard survived, but his
friends were killed in a massive explosion.
It is at this point that the story of the Heresiarch begins. The common consensus is
that the young wizard, driven mad by grief and pain, began a terrifying campaign of
destruction. He devised a new spell, known only as the Heresiarch's Benediction. This
spell is perhaps the most horrifying curse ever employed. It lays waste to all it touches.
My only advice to you if you ever see the Benediction performed is to run like mad.
As you know, the Heresiarch and his followers set their sights on Hogwarts. The
Dark mage was vanquished by the founders, and entombed in suspended animation. For
whatever reason, Slytherin is believed to have modified the seal somehow.
This is all I can tell you about the Heresiarch. I believe we are out of time, so be
sure to have your homework ready by Monday."
The class whispered animatedly as they filed toward the door. That had been a
most fascinating lesson. As he gathered up his books, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder.
Looking up, he saw Professor Argyropt. "Harry," he whispered, "If you like, come to my
office tonight at eight."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Because I didn't tell the class everything I knew. I can tell you, better than
anyone now living, what happened that night in Godric's Hollow."
__
Harry could hardly wait for the evening to come. He was always thrilled by the
prospect of learning more about the night Voldemort attacked-mainly because he could
usually learn something about his parents. After the last class for the day ended, he, Ron,
and Hermione gathered in the common room.
Ron was trying out for the post of Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and
he would be busy that evening. Since she had (for once) no homework, Hermione asked
if she could join him in Argyropt's office. Harry readily consented, happy to have the
company.
At eight-o-clock, Harry and Hermione made their way up the winding stairs of the
west tower. Very near the top, they came upon a door. Opening it, they found a small,
sparsely furnished room. A couch rested against one wall, and a large oak desk filled a
large portion of the office. The windows looked out over the castle court, and Harry
thought it a stunning view. Hermione was examining a painting hung with pride of place
on the wall nearest the desk.
A young woman, about twenty-three years old, was pictured in the painting.
Unlike most of the paintings, her image stayed perfectly still. All the same, the picture
had a certain charm, and the woman herself was beautiful. Her smile was radiant, and her
brilliant green eyes seemed kind and intelligent. A crown of luxuriant auburn hair fell
loosely about her shoulders.
"She's gorgeous, isn't she?" asked a voice. Both Harry and Hermione turned in
surprise and found Professor Argyropt watching them. The teacher smiled and continued,
"Just a woman I knew once. She was an amazing person. But, you didn't come to admire
my décor, I'm sure. Harry…Miss Granger…I'm glad you both came. Harry really should
hear this, and Hermione-you'll be interested, I'm sure."
As the two students settled themselves onto the couch, Professor Argyropt went
on. "Anyway, after years of studying the Heresiarch, I have come to a few conclusions.
First, the Heresiarch was not a madman. Second, the being we know as Voldemort
is…perhaps I should explain.
Few know that the young wizard kept a diary for several days after the accident
that killed his friends. He describes the incident as the opening of some kind of rift, a
doorway into another time and place. He also notes that a strange "presence" in his mind
had appeared shortly after the rift opened. After a few days of recording his mental
struggle with this foreign influence, the diary stops.
After collecting a vast amount of evidence, I have come to believe that the
"presence" he describes is a parasitic entity freed from another time and space. Perhaps, it
is the shell of an ancient wizard, able to preserve itself. Whatever, it seeks to draw energy
and physical form from others. In love with worldly power, it uses its hosts for
destruction and conquest. Further, I believe it has done so on a variety of occasions in the
past, having fled before the tomb was sealed. The Heresiarch himself, Leoric the
Accursed, Emeric the Evil, Grindelwald…and Thomas Riddle."
Harry sat stunned. Shakily, he said, "So, Voldemort was really…"
"Make no mistake, Harry, Riddle was no saint, as you should understand from
previous experience. Over time, powerful wizards have willingly given themselves to the
being we know as Voldemort. However, I also believe it can assume control of a mind by
force. It seeks out the mightiest wizard of the era, then looks for weakness, assimilating
itself into the living host."
Fascinated but not as dazed as her cohort, Hermione interjected, "But Professor,
how do you know all this?"
"An excellent question, as always, Miss Granger. A wide variety of historical
accounts corroborate this hypothesis, if certain common elements are looked for. Usually
a drastic shift of appearance or character took place in each of the wizards I mentioned,
among a variety of other things…but for the time being, take what I say at its face value."
"So what does any of this have to do with my parents?" Harry asked.
"Harry, I believe that Voldemort had a very specific intent the night he came to
Godric's Hollow. Most people believe he desired the death of your parents, but I believe
he sought to possess you. You have a great deal of magical talent, Harry, and your
potential is greater than you know. Voldemort came, and killed your parents simply for
resisting him. The entity that possessed the frame of Riddle sought to break your mind,
and found a will he could not shatter. Looking forward, he found a power he could not
withstand. And when he attempted to kill you, he found your mother's love too vast to
overwhelm.
There was a problem, though. Voldemort had attempted to insinuate himself into
your mind. He succeeded, to a point. A great deal of the power he had amassed over the
centuries was dispelled, but some passed to you. Broken, reduced to his incorporeal form,
Riddle's body killed by the backlash of the curse, the fallen evil fled.
The rest, you know."
The room was silent for a long time.
Hermione was the next to speak.
"And what if this…entity…controls the Heresiarch again?"
"Then heaven help us all."
After a few moments of silence, the Professor walked over to the window. "It's
late. You two should be going. You have my thanks for your time. Think on what I have
said. The day may be coming when it may be significant. Take this-use it if Filch stops
you." He handed them a pass, and waved them toward the door. Rising from the couch,
they left Argyropt's office.
Walking down the stairs, Harry suddenly found himself overwhelmed. The
thought that Voldemort had killed his parents to get to him…all those wizards, bound
into a horrifying prison within their own minds…the Heresiarch himself, sealed away
from time for a millennium, innocent and alone. He sank down onto one of the steps,
unable to go further. Sitting beside him, Hermione wrapped an arm around his trembling
shoulders. Time passed. Two dark figures wound their way back to the Gryffindor
common room.

-5-
The next morning came, with the amazing realization that it was Halloween. The
fourth-year course schedule had been so rigorous as to drive the holiday from the minds
of all. The sun rose above a fog-shrouded lake, and the crisp, cold air was stirred by
falling leaves. The Great Hall was already decorated for the Halloween feast, and most
students found it difficult to concentrate all day.
After their classes had finished, but before the feast had begun, Harry, Ron, and
Hermione went to visit Hagrid. Their conversation with their teacher-friend lasted for
some time, and the sun began to set behind the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Noticing the
time, Hagrid waved them to the door. With the gamekeeper following close behind, the
trio made their way up toward the castle.
As they walked, Ron stopped and looked behind. "What's going on in the forest?"
he asked, puzzled. There seemed to be a great deal of activity behind the edge of the
trees. A kind of roiling, dark mass spread across the entire forest. Realizing with a shock
the source of the motion, Hagrid roared for them to run toward the castle. No sooner had
they begun than a low wave poured forth. A huge group of rats, bats, and sickeningly
large spiders poured forth from the Forest. Close behind came even larger spiders,
humanoid wolves, and shambling horrors devoid of any name.
The sea of small creatures swarmed around their feet. A snarling werewolf lunged
at them, only to be knocked back by a bolt from Hagrid's crossbow. (That overcoat was a
veritable cornucopia.) Reaching the door, they burst inside then slammed it shut. Led by
Hagrid, they raced down the corridor. Panting, the messengers entered the Great Hall.
Running to the teachers' table, Hagrid whispered something to Headmaster Dumbledore.
Looking exceedingly grave, Dumbledore rose and instructed that all students
should return to their common rooms immediately. Assigning prefects to groups of
students, he then led the teachers into the corridor. Percy Weasley led the Gryffindor
fourth-years out of the hall. As they went through the entrance area, they saw the door
shake with a thunderous impact. "Trolls!" Ron whispered. "I heard some live in the
forest."
"Let's stand over there," said Harry, "I want to see what's going on." Avoiding
notice, Harry, Ron, and Hermione slid into a corner. The teachers were busily conferring.
"I tell you, there's no reason…"
"Reason or not, every unpleasant creature in the Forbidden Forest is trying to get
in here…"
"Surely they can't get in…?"
"Headmaster!" rang a voice from the group. It was Professor Argyropt. "A
powerful magic influence drives these beasts. They will not be easy to stop. The doors
can't hold forever."
"I am aware of that, Melchior," replied Dumbledore. "We will need to strengthen
the entrances, then plan a way to repulse our guests."
" You know there is an ancient defense system protecting the castle, Headmaster.
One facet of that system is triggered in the west tower."
"It hasn't been used in ages, Argyropt!"
"I can work it! Trust me, Headmaster! Trust me!"
"All right, Melchior. I'm afraid we cannot help, though. We will defend the
entryways while you work."
"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but I can't do it alone."
"Believe me, willing help lies close by."
With one fluid movement, the teachers spread apart. Each darted off in a different
direction, wands raised. The Headmaster and Professor McGonagall stood before the
huge front door, reinforcing the quaking timbers with magical barriers. Alone, Professor
Argyropt sprinted toward the stairway to the second floor-right at them! Stopping,
surprised, he smiled and said "Ah, Harry. I need your help. Please come with me. Mr.
Weasley, Miss Granger…kindly return to Gryffindor Tower."
Motioning for Harry to follow, Argyropt dashed up the steps. Following a
winding path through the castle, they finally reached the west tower. A few levels below
his office, Argyropt stopped. Looking around, he took down an ancient painting of a half-
built castle. Behind the frame lay a button. Pushing it, Argyropt stepped back.
Harry started in surprise. A large section of the wall shimmered and disappeared,
though it had been perfectly solid a moment before. Inside the opening lay a small room,
with many gears and cranks set in its walls. As Argyropt and Harry walked inside, both
sneezed. The air was thick with dust. Lying on a low table was what once had been some
kind of manual. It had long since rotted away. Argyropt looked around, chewing his lip in
frustration.
"What is this?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"Oh! It's a defense spell protecting the school. It just…hasn't been used in a long
time…"
"How did you know about it? Can you work it?"
"The Heresiarch designed this." Replied Argyropt. "I came across it in my
studies. Can I work it? Well, I can only say that I sincerely hope so. I read a copy of that
manual once, but it was a long time ago." The Professor pointed out a crank-gear system
on the far wall. "Go turn that, would you? Hold it securely-it must remain open!" At the
teacher's instruction, Harry gripped the lever and rotated it.
"Surely," he said, "It's not mechanical?"
"No," replied Argyropt, "The system is entirely magical-the catalyst, however,
requires some physical work."
Argyropt slid a green crystal from a wall mount. As Harry turned the crank, a
metal plate slid open, revealing a small recess in the wall. Argyropt fitted the crystal into
the gap, and told Harry to release the lever. Then, Argyropt took out his wand and placed
it against the plate. He instructed Harry to do the same, and then began to whisper a low
incantation. While Argyropt chanted, Harry was left to stare out a small window.
His heart pounding and his wand arm cramping, Harry stared in horror at the
scene below. A vast sea of horrifying creatures rose in waves and broke against the castle
walls. As Harry watched, horrorstruck, one of the doors gave way. An army of rats
poured into Hogwarts. A flash of white light drove back the larger assailants, but small
creatures entered in droves.
Suddenly, something happened. Argyropt finished his incantation with one loud
word. A shell of glittering golden light sprang up around the castle. A second pulse shot
up from within the school, driving the creatures back. As the two shimmering fields
meshed into one, a tired cheer rose from the grounds below. Amazed, Harry turned to the
Professor and said "Incredible! Was that the…?"
"Yes," replied the teacher, looking weary, "It was."
"How long will the shell hold?"
"With the current energy stored in that crystal and the damage those creatures can
do, about three months…if necessary."
"How long could it withstand an attack from the Heresiarch?"
Looking grave, Argyropt sighed and said "About three minutes."
The only remaining task was driving out the rats and bats that had infiltrated the castle.
Within a few days, most were gone. One rat, however, avoided detection. Silently it
crouched in a corner, then skittered away as Mrs. Norris approached. As it ran, it left
footprints…with one foot showing only four digits.
__
That night, the feast was finished in each house's common room. The Gryffindors
celebrated joyously; all proud that one of their own had helped to stem the tide of the
assault. Vigorous discussion of all that had happened was present throughout the group.
Many had theories, but few could support them. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat at their
usual seats before the fire, toasting Hogwarts' safety over tankards of pumpkin juice.
By morning the army of beasts had dispersed. The teachers turned to investigating
the disturbance, while still making their pupils miserable. Professor McGonagall was a
bit bleary-eyed, and Snape was, if possible, less pleasant than usual. To Harry's relief, the
Quidditch team was given the go-ahead to practice. They would be playing against
Hufflepuff the next day.
The previous year, Hufflepuff had handed Gryffindor its only loss with Harry
playing Seeker. The team was in a fevered pitch of excitement, eager to reclaim lost
honor. The captain laid out stratagem after stratagem, trying to cover every possible
contingency. At nine-thirty, they dismissed with orders to go straight to bed. Until the
morn…
Harry's dreams were troubled that night. In his mind he heard a faint whisper, a
dark voice speaking of its might. A shade, nothing more, but proud and powerful it was.
It had broken the souls of many, and would shatter the minds of a thousand more. In its
formless shape lay the being that had brought death to legions. His parents' blood mixed
with that of all the others it had killed. His parents…he heard them screaming…
No, wait…someone was screaming, somewhere. Jolted awake, Harry listened to
the roar of terror and pain that seemed to echo from everywhere-and nowhere.
__
The air was cool and crisp the next morning, and a slight frost crunched under the
feet of the Gryffindor team. They walked huddled together against the cold, heading for
the Quidditch stadium. Before ten minutes had passed, all were into their Quidditch robes
and ready to play. After a short pep talk from Alicia, all picked up their brooms and
strode onto the field.
The stands were packed. Gryffindor was again playing to overtake Slytherin in
the season standings. A number of teachers could be seen in the stands, and even
Headmaster Dumbledore was present. Across the field, the Hufflepuff team advanced.
Led by their captain, Cedric Diggory, they marched in tight formation to the center of the
stadium. The two captains shook hands, and both teams mounted their brooms. Madam
Hooch blew her whistle. The game was on!
As always, Harry was entranced by the experience of the Quidditch match.
Gryffindor held the ball, but the Hufflepuff chasers were in close pursuit. The game
dragged on, goal after goal, and no one had seen the Snitch. Until…
He had seen it! A tiny flash of gold at the Hufflepuff end of the field! Looking up,
Diggory noticed the fluttering ball, as well. He turned his broom and flew at top speed,
but Harry was already shrieking down the field on his Firebolt. With a triumphant shout,
Harry closed his fingers around the Snitch and shot up into the air. He had redeemed
himself…he had conquered the only team to defeat him as Seeker.
As he leveled out his broomstick, Harry noticed something wrong. The Snitch
beat as usual against his confining palm. Somehow, though, the pulse seemed unusual.
Suddenly, the tiny object in his hand began to grow. Tiny silver wings stretched into
massive, leathery, misshapen things. The small golden body stretched and distorted into a
gigantic, monstrous horror. A huge, toothy jaw gaped and cold, beady eyes fixed on him.
Harry gasped, then shot sideways as a mouth slammed onto the space he had just
occupied.
Turning, Harry sped across the field. The creature/Snitch followed close behind.
The Firebolt bucked in the wind produced by the flapping wings. The long, flexible neck
of the beast extended as it sought to consume him. Seeing only one hope, Harry shot
toward the Gryffindor goalposts. Crossing his fingers, he waited until the tip of his broom
was less than a foot away from one of the golden hoops. He abandoned his broom,
vaulted over the hoop, and landed back on the Firebolt. The Snitch, apparently not very
perceptive, stayed on a straight course.
Thud! With a sickening sound, the beast's bulbous head slammed through the
hoop. Its form seemed to be quite malleable, since it survived-even though its head was
about three times the size of the goal. Still, the creature was unable to extricate itself,
roaring as it struggled to pull its head back out of the confining hoop. Several teachers
stepped forward, raised their wands, and shouted something…and the beast shrunk back
into the good old Snitch.
The stadium was in an uproar. Gryffindor had admittedly won, since Harry had
caught the Snitch not only once but twice! Many students were pale and shaking, and
Harry noticed a definite note of fear in the voices of Ron and Hermione as they came to
congratulate him. The teachers held a hushed conference at the stadium exit. As the
Gryffindor team left the arena, Harry heard Dumbledore whisper to the staff.
"I think…that we must consider…that the Heresiarch has indeed come…"

-6-
Despite the occurrence at the Quidditch match, no one seemed very concerned.
Even the teachers showed doubt at the mention of the Heresiarch. Apparently, the Dark
sorcerer was too distant a concept to inspire fear. After all, he hadn't done anything in
over a millennium, right?
Harry found that he was far too busy with schoolwork to worry about such
matters. Hermione had begun inscribing exam study schedules-with months to spare-and
the instructors all seemed to agree with her. Every class was filled with horribly difficult
assignments on a daily basis. Harry was so busy, in fact, that he failed to notice the
approach of the Christmas holidays.
His first reminders came with the soft blanket of snow covering the grounds and
the calendar announcing-rather loudly- that it was already December. A few days after,
Professor McGonagall posted the sign-up for those remaining at Hogwarts over the
holidays. Harry signed up, as usual, and Ron and Hermione joined him. Then, one
glorious day, the sun rose on an almost-empty school with the promise of two weeks of
no classes.
Christmas morning dawned, and the sun rose into a brilliantly blue sky. Harry
awoke to find a pile of gifts piled on the foot of his bed, and Ron was already clad in his
maroon Weasley sweater. As Harry opened his gifts, a few caught his interest. After a
new quill, a box of Every-Flavor Beans, a sweater, and a five-pence coin, only two items
remained. The first was a book of famous Animagi, signed with a dog footprint. The
second lay in a small velvet box, accompanied by a note.
The note, written in tight, even script, read:
Mr. Potter,
Your mother left this in my care the year she left Hogwarts. She gave
instructions that it should be returned to you when I believed it appropriate.
This object is accompanied by a verse of some significance. It is as follows:
"Entrust me to a friend's care, and entrust to me the same."
Most cordially yours,
Prof. M. McGonagall

Harry was amazed. This…whatever it was…had belonged to his mother. He
opened the box carefully and gasped. Inside the small velvet container laid a beautiful
necklace, crafted exquisitely from silver and hung with a radiant blue gem. Lifting it
carefully from the box, Harry admired the sparkling of light through the gemstone. Ron,
noticing the necklace, came closer to look. Entrust me to a friend's care, it had said.
__
That Christmas stood out vividly in Harry's mind. The Christmas feast, though
only for about a dozen students and the teaching staff, was as grand as any given for the
entire school. Everyone ate at the same table, and the decoration was exquisite. Harry,
Ron and Hermione-after about an hour of stuffed complacency- accepted the challenge of
the Weasley twins to a snowball fight. Even Professor Argyropt, on his way to the
greenhouse for an herb, was not above joining in.
The evening supper was excellent, as well. Afterwards, everyone returned to their
common rooms for games of gobstones, wizard chess, and Exploding Snap. As night fell,
Harry felt in his pocket to make sure the necklace was still there. Ron, tired, trudged
upstairs, leaving Harry and Hermione alone. Harry had an idea.
Walking over to the window where his friend stood, Harry spoke. "Hermione," he
began, "I, uh, wanted to ask you something." She turned, and replied.
"What, Harry?"
"Well, you see…this necklace…" He drew the jewelry from his robes and went
on, amazed for a moment by its glitter in the firelight. "Belonged to my mother…and,
well, I was wondering if you could…keep track of it for me, you know, wear it or
whatever…" He held up the necklace, inexplicably nervous.
Hermione smiled and took the necklace from his outstretched hand. "I'd love to,
Harry. Thank you. I'll wear it with pride." She fastened it around her neck, and then
hugged him. She smiled once again, and walked toward the girls' dormitory stairs. Harry
didn't know what the verse had meant, but he had done what it said. All the same, the
walk up the dormitory stairs had never seemed so light; he found himself humming by
the fifth stair.
__
Later, Harry would believe that he remembered that day because of the ones that
followed. It was the day after Christmas, and he, Ron, and Hermione were gathered in the
library. Madam Pince was on vacation, and the place had never seemed so wonderful.
Professor Flitwick was filling in as librarian, and he was much more relaxed about
students wandering around the shelves for hours. Under these optimal conditions, they
decided to do some research on miscellaneous topics.
The day wore on, and Harry felt he had learned more than he could in about seven
History of Magic classes. Eventually, the dinner call came, and Professor Flitwick
decided to close up the library for the day. After the meal, the trio wandered down to the
gamekeeper's hut for a visit with Hagrid. Their rather large friend was tending a flock of
rare Zephyr Falcons for the next Care of Magical Creatures lesson. They visited with
Hagrid for the better part of an hour, and then prepared to leave. As Ron and Hermione
headed out the door, Hagrid caught Harry and asked him to stay behind a bit.
"Harry," Hagrid said, "I was just wonderin'…was that yer mother's necklace?"
"Yes, Hagrid, it was," Harry replied, "why do you ask?"
"Well, ye see, I, uh, gave her that necklace when she became Head Girl. Her and
James…they both made me so proud. I can't even remember where I got it, fer that
matter, but still, I can almost see her wearin' the blasted thing again…yer did good,
Harry. That necklace couldn't be in better hands. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think yer
better be goin'." Harry rose to go, and saw tears forming in Hagrid's eyes.
With instructions not to wait for Harry, Ron and Hermione proceeded up toward
the castle. It was cold, so they decided not to wait outside. They entered the building, and
walked toward the fireplace burning in the side hall. As they passed a dark corner, they
glanced quickly into the shadows, but paid no mind. Rats were perfectly common in
Hogwarts. No sooner had they passed than they wished they had. A four-fingered hand
clapped over Hermione's mouth. She bit down hard on the unseen assailant's hand, and
turned to see none other than…kicking the attacker, she and Ron both reached for their
wands.
A flash of green light burst from the man in the shadows. Ron slumped to the
ground, and began to vomit a thick black ichor. Hermione ran, hoping to find someone
who could help. As she fled down the corridor, she saw a cloaked figure approaching.
The figure seemed to exude a wave of cold. With a horrifying realization, she screamed
and drew her wand. No sooner had she done so than the man behind her pressed a wand
into the base of her neck and whispered a sleeping charm. The cloaked figure laughed, a
rich tenor rising to a high, cold pitch.

-7-
After leaving Hagrid's hut, Harry leisurely made his way up to the castle. Night
had come early, as it did in winter. Though the air was cold and crisp, the stars above
were gloriously bright. Snow crunched beneath his feet. Then he heard a scream.
Breaking into a run, Harry dashed toward the castle doors.
Bursting inside, Harry ran along the corridor. As he flew past vacant classrooms,
he saw something that nearly stopped his heart. Ron lay on the floor, writhing in pain as
he coughed up a foul substance. Kneeling by his friend, Harry placed a hand on Ron's
shoulder. The wounded wizard was obviously oblivious to the presence of his friend. As
Harry rose to continue the search for Hermione and someone who could help Ron, he was
arrested by a tug on his robes. Using a trembling hand to trace letters in the black vomit,
Ron spelled out a message.
Wizard…Heresiarch?…I saw…took Hermione…down corridor…
Ron shuddered and fell unconscious. Harry said goodbye to his injured compatriot
and proceeded on the way. He had to find someone who could help! He began to run.
Harry was almost to the entrance hall when he discovered his next great shock.
Running full tilt, he had tripped over a shadowed shape lying on the floor. Turning over
the still form, he fervently wished that it not be Hermione. It was not. It was Peter
Pettigrew.
Pettigrew laid on the floor staring upward, his eyes focused in middle distance. At
a rough shake from Harry, his eyes snapped over to meet those of the young wizard. His
breathing became audible, ragged snatches of inhalation followed by shuddering
exhalation. Coughing, Pettigrew whispered something, either to Harry or no one at all.
"My master is strong again, yes, strong…It seems he has no more need of me…oh
yes…no more need of little Peter…I am obsolete…now he has the one he sought, yes,
and doesn't need me to get inside…strong…why, master? Why do you abandon your
servant? Of course…I was weak…never good enough for the master…never…but now I
die…oh…master, for all I've done…could you not have let your servant live…"
It was only then that Harry noticed the grotesque burns covering Pettigrew's face
and hands. He could summon no pity for this man- Pettigrew had killed his parents and
led another to destroy his friends. But, he was still needed.
"Pettigrew!" Harry said loudly, "Where did they go? Where did Voldemort take
Hermione?"
In a wheezing voice, Pettigrew replied, "The master has need of the girl, yes, and
he is the Heresiarch now, not Voldemort, oh no. But tell you where he took her…no, no,
that I cannot do. The master doesn't wish to meet you yet. No, no, I cannot tell you."
"You cur," Harry spat coldly, "You will tell me. You owe your life to me,
Pettigrew. I gave to you the remainder of your pitiful existence. And you are going to tell
me. Now."
"Owe you…why yes, I suppose I do. No…but…I have no choice, do I? Mystic
connection…I forgot. The master has taken her to his Tomb. Back to his tomb, yes, they
have gone. You will find them there. It lies…"
The servant of Voldemort whispered a location in Harry's ear. With a long,
shuddering moan, he clutched his chest and found the reward of his dedication.
Harry rose and dashed to the Quidditch shed. There was something there he
would need. On his way, he heard someone step out of a classroom behind him. "Potter!"
Hearing his name, Harry stopped and looked behind him. Draco Malfoy stood in the
hallway. Malfoy, paler than usual, said, "Where did they go? I'll find a teacher…get help
for Weasley. Admirable, you are. What makes you think you can stand against the
greatest wizard of all time?"
"I have to try, Malfoy. Ron's hurt bad-maybe dying. I'm not going to lose both
my closest friends in one night."
"Yes, he did take the Mudblood, didn't he? Well, good luck. You're certainly
going to need it. Don't worry. After seeing what happened…there's no way that I can't
help. Tell me where you're going. I'll let the Headmaster know."
Harry told him, and then shook his longtime opponent's hand. "Thank you,
Draco. I would have thought you and your father would be glad to see the Dark Lord rise
again."
"I am not my father, Potter. Now go."
Turning, Harry continued on his desperate errand.
__
Soon after, Harry was shrieking through the air on his Firebolt. The ground
rushed past at an incredible rate. The Heresiarch's tomb lay somewhere ahead, shadowed
by time and darkness. It was carved into the side of a great mountain to the east, buried
deep from sight. The Tomb…what awaited him there? He could only hope that
Dumbledore knew the location as well. Failing that, well…he would have to see. Harry
had flown this fast before, but never so far afield, on what seemed like so desperate an
errand.
After what seemed like an hour-or perhaps a lifetime-Harry saw the mountain
looming in the distance. It was a mighty thing, one he didn't remember from geography
in Muggle school. Snow blanketed its rocky flanks, and the summit stretched out of sight.
The titanic edifice drew closer every minute. Would the Headmaster be able to come…?
Not long after, Harry found himself standing on the frozen side of the great
mountain. A fresh set of tracks through the snow showed him the way to the Tomb door.
At least, he hoped they would. Strangely enough, as Harry walked, he felt breaths of
warm air rising from some unknown source. He broke into a run, stumbling on the slick
ground. He had seen the door!
Set back in what looked like a cave was a huge stone door. Upon it was a large
seal bearing a scarlet lion. The wax of the seal, though in incredible condition, had a fine
hairline crack down the center-right along the opening between the two parts of the door.
Placing his hands on either side of the seal, Harry pushed with all his might. Grinding
furiously, the door slid open. To Harry's surprise, however, it did not reveal the
Heresiarch. It merely opened the door to a long, circular passage.
Walking down the path, Harry looked around him. The walls were smooth, made
of deep black obsidian rock. The air grew warmer the deeper he traveled. Eventually,
footsore and despairing, he came to another door. This next one bore a seal as well, of a
badger on a yellow background. Reaching out to push the door open, Harry's hand
brushed the seal. A flash of pain seared through his body as a wave of magical energy
sprang from the wax image. So, the seals were more than they seemed. Carefully, Harry
managed to slide the stone door open.
The ambient temperature was still rising as Harry continued on. He began to
realize that this was no ordinary mountain. He was searching for Hermione in a dormant
volcano! Along the way, the young wizard met one more seal, a black raven. Finally, he
came to a set of huge golden doors-the largest he had seen yet. A jagged spur stood out
from the otherwise smooth surface, with an inscription carved below.
Blood opens many doors.
Below the inscription, there was a serpent, carved in relief with mouth turned
upward toward the spur. Recently dried blood traced a path down the projection. Gritting
his teeth, Harry slid his left hand across the spur's sharp edge. His blood flowed down the
wall, dribbling into the serpent's mouth. A low humming began, and the door slid open.
A breath of stale air rushed out, bitter cold. He had come to the Heresiarch's tomb.
Behind the doors lay a massive chamber-the very heart of the extinct volcano.
Despite the geothermic heat outside, the interior of the cavern was frigid. Enchanted
torches burned at regular intervals along the wall. A stone mausoleum, door open, lay at
the center on a raised dais. And by the cavern wall…Hermione!
Harry dashed over to where his friend lay. She was gagged and her hands were
bound with cord. As he knelt by her side, Hermione woke. Looking up, she saw him and
shook her head violently. He untied the gag, which she spit out. "Harry! Get out of
here…it's you he's after!" Harry began to protest, until a thunderous noise distracted
him. Massive stalactites shot down over the cavern entrance, spaced too tightly to
squeeze through. To the young wizard's further amazement, a cloaked figure stepped
from behind the dais. The familiar pain began to build along his scar.
"Well, well, well. Harry Potter. I wasn't expecting you. Not yet. Pettigrew told
you, right? Of course, it doesn't matter. Not much." These words echoed around the
chamber as though spoken from all directions. The cloaked figure threw back its head,
and a high, cold laugh sounded throughout the room. "How rude of me. I am the
Heresiarch. I am come once more."
-8-
Harry stared in mute horror at the being before him. Voldemort had recaptured the
most powerful wizard in history. Which meant that…
"So, Voldemort." Said Harry, "Why? Why all this? Why didn't you just kill
everyone in the school?"
"Ah, you've guessed! How nice. The answer is quite complicated, Harry Potter. I
realize, of course, that your goal is to keep me talking until help arrives. But it matters
not. Though complex, your query may be answered in one word. You. You see…"
Suddenly, a huge explosion rocked the cave. Clouds of smoke and dust filled the
room. The rocks blocking the door had been blasted away. And through the open
doorway walked Albus Dumbledore. Behind him followed several Hogwarts teachers and
a team of Ministry Hit Wizards, the magical police elite. Wheeling in surprise, the
Heresiarch swore loudly, and then waved one hand at Harry. Columns of green light shot
up around Harry, forming a magical cage. Try as he might, he could only watch events
unfold.
The newcomers spread into a line just inside the door, all facing the Heresiarch.
Dumbledore was first to speak. "It's over, Voldemort. Let the children go."
"Incorrect, Albus. It's only beginning. I am strong again. And this world will pay
for my weakness. As for these two, they are still useful to me."
The Hit Wizards knelt and raised their wands. The teachers, still standing, did the
same. The Heresiarch laughed, raised a hand, and spoke one word. "Lithomorphus!"
Dumbledore voiced a countercurse, but all the others rapidly turned to stone. Harry
watched in horror as Professor Snape fought against the stiffening of his limbs. Professor
McGonagall struggled to move her wand hand, which was fused in midair. Even the Hit
Wizards turned dark grey and stopped moving. Dumbledore sighed and took one step
forward, leaving behind a group of statues.
The Heresiarch laughed mockingly. "And to think, Albus, that once I feared you.
Now you are but dust before me. So, let us match our skills, you and I. The great Albus
Dumbledore and the force he so foolishly resisted." Dumbledore raised his wand, and the
Heresiarch spread his arms. A pulse of white light burst from the Headmaster's wand, but
flashed and dissipated feet from the Heresiarch. Voldemort retaliated with a wall of flame
that Dumbledore barely managed to block. The Headmaster swayed on his feet, as though
ready to collapse. His attacker once more motioned with his hand, and a wave of energy
swept across the room. Dumbledore raised his head to watch it approach, then
disappeared just before it struck him.
"Incredible," Whispered the Heresiarch, "I've never seen any other wizard dodge
that spell. All the same, he won't be able to return for some time. Anyway, Harry Potter, I
think it's time I dealt with you." The columns of light vanished, and Harry stood to face
the Heresiarch. "First of all, know who it is that will destroy all you hold dear." The
Heresiarch reached up and drew back its cloak. Harry stared in horror.
The Dark Lord stared back at him from behind silver-banded eyes.
"You!" Harry shrieked. "It was you! That's why you knew so much about the
Heresiarch!"
"Of course, Potter. But believe me, the man Argyropt didn't give in easily. In fact,
he held me imprisoned in his mind until tonight. After my little interruption of the
Quidditch match, that is. His will is every bit as strong as his magical talent. But I digress
from the topic at hand, Potter. What I need. What I need is…you. I offer you a choice.
Surrender yourself to me. Let me share a place in your mind. I can give you power. I can
make you the ruler of nations. I will show you immortality. The Heresiarch has existed a
thousand years-that is nothing."
"I refuse."
"Then you will die."
"I would sooner die."
"It shall be so."
The Heresiarch made a beckoning motion with his hand. Harry's wand flew from
his grasp and fell lightly onto the Dark wizard's palm. A curse was whispered, and the
wand crumbled to dust. "So, Harry. Without armament, without aid, facing an adversary
you cannot hope to defeat. And yet you resist me. I would rather have you, but I will not
hesitate to kill you."
"Answer me this, then," Harry said, again hoping to keep the Heresiarch talking.
"Why did you need Hermione? Why not just come after me yourself?"
"Ah yes. Expository dialogue. How often it is our downfall. But I will tell you. I
planned to use the girl to get to you. A vessel, nothing more, she was to be. An
extraordinary mind, yes, but nothing I hadn't learned long ago. She would have allowed
me to avoid this confrontation by taking me directly to you."
"Why do you want to…possess…me?"
"That is my business."
"Why kill me, then?"
"Because you have resisted me."
"Though you conquer this world, there will be those who resist."
"I think not. Strike the head, and the body will die. Crush the spirit, and no army
will fight. The wizards of this world look to Albus Dumbledore for protection and
guidance. They look to Harry Potter for hope and inspiration. What do you think will
happen when I have destroyed both?"
"Sometime then, in the future."
"Ah, yes. The future. Tomorrow. I have seen over two million tomorrows since I
came to consciousness, born in a forgotten world and time. I will see as many more. And
I have learned something about tomorrows, Harry Potter. They are useless! I concern
myself with today. I will kill those who resist me as surely in the future as I have in the
past. Your parents knew that well. Now, enough stalling! I ask you one last time. Will
you join me?"
"You know I cannot."
"What a pity. Well then, perish…with my blessing."
The Heresiarch raised both hands into the air and began to chant in Latin. The air
grew colder still, and a dark energy seemed to gather. Voldemort finished chanting then
motioned one hand in a cross-like pattern. The Heresiarch's Benediction! Harry stood
transfixed, unable to move. The spell was complete. A wall of air rushed across the
cavern toward him. Buffeted by the unearthly wind, Harry barely managed to see a ball
of energy focus in the palm of the Dark wizard's hand. The pain in his scar was blinding
now, driving him to his knees. He had…to get…away…
Harry! A voice screamed, Harry! His mother? No, not his mother, or was it…?
Harry managed to struggle to his feet. A pulse of white light shot toward him. Then, at
last, he was going to die. No! Harry could only watch the harbinger of doom advance. At
the last second, Harry saw a dark shape before him. There was a flash of blue light, and
then he was flying, flying backwards across the room. A massive explosion rang in his
ears. But still, if this was death, it could be worse.
But he wasn't dead. As Harry came rapidly back to his senses, he did a quick
inventory himself. Two arms, two legs, burns on left leg, face...this was the most
destructive spell ever devised? Looking around him, the floor was blackened and several
stalactites had fallen. So why wasn't he more badly hurt? He looked to the right. Next to
him lay…
"Hermione!"
She was covered in burns and bleeding badly. Several of her bones appeared to be
broken. About her neck was Lily's necklace; the gem was shattered. Hermione opened
her eyes and looked into Harry's. She smiled, and then slid her wand from the pocket of
her robes. She grimaced, shrieked in pain, and fell silent. The young witch did not
awaken at Harry's insistent shaking. Harry roared in pain and grief, gripped his friend's
wand, and stood up. The Heresiarch still stood there, watching silently.
Harry raised the wand and shouted a spell he had never heard of before. A
massive blast of green light exploded from the end of Hermione's wand. Surprised,
Voldemort barely managed to block the spell. "Excellent! Yes! I knew that you were
more than met the eye! So, the great Harry Potter finally shows some teeth! Again, I offer
you the choice! Will you join me?"
"Never. You have killed everyone I ever held dear. I will destroy you or I will die.
Never join you."
The Heresiarch laughed. "Ah yes. Well then, let us take off the "kid gloves", eh,
Potter? Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter, whose friend died to save him and awakened
his power. A great contest, no?"
Voldemort crossed his arms and shouted "Protothanat!" Harry reeled as the spell
struck him-he felt like he'd been hit with a ton of bricks. Keeping his head, Harry tried to
think of what to do…something had happened-he'd never been able to use this kind of
magic! Deciding on a response, the young wizard raised his wand and said, "Pyrostyl!" A
column of flame shot down from the ceiling, engulfing the Heresiarch. However, when
the conflagration cleared, the Dark Wizard still stood. Voldemort laughed and made a
throwing motion with his left hand. Razor-sharp shards of ice appeared and screamed
across the cavern at incredible speed.
Harry had no time to avoid the blow. He raised one arm to protect his face, but it
was scant defense. Pain lanced through him as the ice shards hit. Several laid open the
flesh of his arms, and others buried themselves in his torso. One would have pierced the
young wizard's heart, were it not for the rather painful intervention of a strategically
placed rib. Screaming, blinded by the pain, Harry sank to his knees. The room spun as he
fought to draw breath. Worse still, the familiar pain blossomed in his scar as the
Heresiarch walked closer. Looking up, Harry saw his assailant raise his hands for another
assault. Then the Dark mage stopped.
The Heresiarch stopped, grimaced, and spoke aloud. "No! No! Not now. NOT
NOW! Not when I'm so close…I can break him now…you stop…I control…you…"
Voldemort dropped to his knees as well. Harry was fairly confused. "I won't let you kill
him! You have no choice! I will no longer…obey…you! The time has come for us to
have peace, you and I…NO! Nononononono…"
Then, in a perfectly rational tone of voice, the Heresiarch looked up and said,
"Hello, Harry. You'll never know how sorry I am it came to this. I, Professor Argyropt,
ask for your forgiveness. Now, I must ask you to do me a favor. I can contain this
monstrosity within myself for a short time…and time is the most important factor. Look
inside yourself. You will find what must be done."
Harry closed his eyes to blank out the searing pain. He was growing faint.
Suddenly, he felt that he was standing on the edge of a cliff. He dove off. A voice
somewhere began to incant a spell…his? No? Yes? He was falling…he felt a wand
clasped in his blood-slick fingers…the spell was almost done. The ocean flew up to meet
him…an ocean of shining light. One last word echoed into the darkness. The young
wizard whispered "Goodbye…" and surrendered to glaring brightness.

__

Time passed. Harry was dimly aware of movement around him, though he did not
know where he was. Voices drifted through his mind, muddled with dreams of ancient
parasites and silver-eyed sorcerers. "Magical wounds heal slowly, sir…"
"Do you think…survive…"
"Should we tell him…?"
"Harry! Can you hear me? Harry!"
The world came into focus. Harry lay in an infirmary bed, at Hogwarts. Next to
him sat Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster clapped and smiled. "Ah, Harry. Good to
see you among the living at last. You really must stop doing this every year…I do have
other things to attend to, you know."
"Headmaster!" Harry said urgently, causing a shock of pain to sear through him,
"The Heresiarch…Voldemort…Professor Argyropt…everything…the teachers…you!"
"I believe that a question was included in there somewhere. Please begin again,
and make your query a little clearer."
"Headmaster…the Heresiarch-is he…?
"Gone? Yes, he is."
"Did Voldemort get away, then?"
"No, Harry, he did not. As I said, the Heresiarch is gone. Lord Voldemort has
been cast out of time, out of the very flow of our existence. He is not dead-he can never
die-but he is gone."
"Who did that? Who…that must have been incredible!"
"It was, Harry. What is incredible is who. The who was you. You cast the spell
that banished the Heresiarch from this timestream. That spell was used once before-only
once-by the Sorcerer's Council in fifteen-oh-seven for the removal of an extremely
dangerous artifact. Even they found it difficult. But you managed the spell under
extremely adverse conditions. Alone."
"You said the Heresiarch is gone…then, did Professor Argyropt…?"
"Melchior Argyropt is dead, yes. No mortal being could have survived the shift
out of our dimension. Judge him not too harshly. His only real crime was caring so for
another that with their death, his own life meant nothing to him."
"Hermione…Ron…are they alright?"
"Mr. Weasley was treated and released several weeks ago. Miss Granger remains
comatose, but she will survive. Incredible, truly incredible. No one has ever taken the full
force of the Heresiarch's Benediction and lived. I believe your mother's necklace helped
considerably. Lily asked me to appraise it for her when she got it from Hagrid…I believe
she wanted to make sure he hadn't been cheated by the salesman…anyway, I digress. The
necklace was imbued with a shieldspell of great power."
"Peter Pettigrew…"
"Pettigrew was discovered, thanks to young Mr. Malfoy. Even dead, his discovery
was sufficient to allow the repeal of Sirius Black's conviction. He will be thrilled to hear
of your recovery."
"My wand…"
"Your wand was destroyed, Harry. You are tired. We will talk further tomorrow."
Harry slept fitfully until the morning. When the Headmaster came in, Harry raised
one heavily bandaged arm and greeted him. "Good morning, Harry." Dumbledore said
cheerfully. "Let us continue our discussion from yesterday afternoon. Your wand was the
last topic of discussion, I believe? It is no longer usable, I'm afraid. However, Professor
Argyropt left this for you in the event of his death."
Dumbledore extricated a long, narrow box from his robes. Inside it was a
beautiful, well-preserved yet ancient wand. Harry picked it up. The wood almost seemed
to sing as it touched his fingers. Dumbledore continued to talk. "Twelve and seven-
sixteenths inches, rowan and dragon heartstring. An incredibly potent combination in a
wand, it is. Only the most skilled of artisans can successfully make a wand of this kind.
Very often the two elements will react too strongly and simply consume the wand. The
Professor favored this in the days before he abandoned wands…over a thousand years
ago. There has never been, and I doubt there will ever be, a wizard who is his equal."
"Dumbledore, sir, can you tell me what Voldemort meant when he said he
'needed' me?"
" I believe so, Harry. The Dark Lord sensed in you the power that you just
recently revealed. The Heresiarch had magical might beyond all imagining, but he also
had one flaw. As his wand shows, powerful magic can be difficult to contain in physical
shells. Such great energy eventually begins to consume its corporeal form. You have
heard, doubtless, that the candle that burns twice as brightly burns half as long? Melchior
Argyropt would almost certainly have died by his thirtieth birthday. Voldemort needed a
new host."
"One final question, Dumbledore?"
"Certainly."
"How long have I been in here?"
"Almost a month, Harry. We feared for a while that you had died…for almost two
weeks you were in the same state as your friend Hermione. Then, you spent more time in
a semi-coherent state, drifting in and out of partial consciousness. Finally, you awoke.
Magical wounds heal slowly, even with magical treatment."
"But that means that I missed a Quidditch match! Gryffindor…"
"It was quite amazing, Harry. The Gryffindor team vanquished Ravenclaw 160-
150, thanks in large part to their new Keeper, Mr. Ronald Weasley."
"Oh, good. All the same, I wasn't there…"
"Yes, you were, Harry. If you have one great gift, it is to inspire others. The
Gryffindor team sought to win for you. After all, if their compatriot could vanquish the
greatest sorcerer in history, surely they could win a Quidditch match. Rest now. You will
be discharged soon.

-Epilogue-
The next few weeks were a blur of happiness for Harry. From Hermione's
awakening a few days after his conversation, to his passing performance on the exams, to
Gryffindor's resounding victory over Slytherin to win the Quidditch Cup, to the fourth
consecutive House Cup win, to the smiling, gaunt, long-haired man who met him at
King's Cross station.
Though he could not help but celebrate the most excellent summer of his life,
Harry always remembered the Headmaster's final warning. "Voldemort has been cast
out, true, but there is always the chance that he will again appear. Be ever ready, and
always alert. As I told you once before, if there is always someone to take on a losing
battle to resist him, he may never return to power."
"But for now, rejoice with all our world."