Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter, Troy, or most of the historical references.
Authors Note: To those of you who have been following this story for sometime I really appreciate all the support you have given to the idea. I know that it has been a while and that updates have been sporadic and shoddy at best. That being said I plan to give this story a real go at it. I have many of the plot elements in my head and I do realize that the beginning will require a rewrite and something more substantial. I have looked into the legend of Troy and more specifically Helen for ideas on how to proceed, and while some of the ideas I will use conflict with popular notion as told by the movie, I will be drawing on sources such as the Illiad and other such mythical references that portray characters in a different light. That being said I do appreciate constructive feedback, and the effort some readers take to point out inconsistencies.
The Amulet of Helen – Prologue
1240 BC – Troy
The wails of women and children rose in the air as the city burned. Soldiers poured into the great walled city that was known as Troy and rivers of blood ran slowly along the paved walkways that had once held the jubilant masses.
Yet as the city burned below one woman stood on the tallest peak of the once great palace of Troy, looking down as the flames burned all that had once existed. Glancing behind her she saw the door shudder as another thump accompanied the shout of soldiers outside her door. At her feet was Paris the Prince of Troy, fallen to the beauty that had been gifted upon her, a beauty that some called a gift of Aphrodite herself, yet it was a beauty that had cursed the Trojans to their fate.
The woman, Helen of Troy, once known as Helen of Sparta, was indeed beautiful. The ethereal glow of her hair and the allure of her face drew in all men, and seemed to capture the dull glow of the burning city. Her eyes glowed an ominous blue and around her neck an amulet laid pulsating slowly with a light that seemed to exist beyond the realm of the living.
For a moment the world seemed silent as the woman continued to gaze down from her perch upon the burning city, only to be shattered as the door gave way and soldiers began pouring into the room. Looking behind her, her eyes flashed and then she knew no more.
Hours later a single soldier who had remained in the palace stumbled upon the room on the highest tower. There he found an empty room pristine and untouched save a black liquid upon the floor. As he turned to leave a glow caught his eye, stepping into the room he spotted a gold amulet lying in the midst of the pool of the black substance. Looking around superstitiously the man picked up the amulet and slipped it into his pocket slowly leaving the room. As the doors closed behind him the man's once brown eyes glowed an ominous blue and the room behind him was soon forgotten.
1997 – London, England
The night was quiet as a man walked down the streets of central London. Slightly inebriated the man whistled cheerfully to himself as he glanced at his unfamiliar surroundings. Looking into a dark alleyway a glow caught his eye. The man felt a tug, as if some invisible force was calling to him, and the man found himself moving towards the ethereal glow subconsciously.
Stopping in front of the gold amulet the man found at his feet he picked up the object in his hands carefully and stared at it. The amulet looked familiar; in fact the man recalled that this was the amulet that he had been sent to deliver to the Department of Mysteries, in the Ministry of Magic of the English government. This wasn't normal, and the man knew it as he tried to recall the facts and warnings he had heard from his superiors about this amulet. Yet even as the ominous warnings drifted into his head the man found himself unable to look away from the object and unable to move. Finally the man tore his gaze from the object clutching it closely to his side. He slipped the object into his pocket and looked around once more, his eyes shining an ominous blue, and then he disappeared with a faint pop.
If one were to look at spot where the mysterious object had once lain, upon careful observation one would note the tinge of blackness that slowly seeped into the pavement around it, and the alarming presence of a black liquid that slowly sunk into the dirt below, leaving the ground it had once occupied tainted and black.
The next morning Solon Perrochi, aged 45 and special ambassador from the Greek Ministry of Magic could not be found. His wand was found upon the doorsteps of the Leaky Cauldron over a black pool of an unknown liquid. The ministry Aurors were baffled and with no other leads were forced to close the case. Perrochi's cause of disappearance was noted as an accidental spell backfire, and the puddle of black liquid slowly seeped into the cobblestone around it leaving only the imprint of a hand behind.
Life in Diagon alley continued as it had normally, yet if one had looked carefully to where the imprint of the hand was, one could see a dull glow emanating from the coble stone clutched in the imprints hands
a/n Like it? Hate it? Please review and let me know I'm going to be working on the second chapter again now and hopefully I'll find a way to make it more satisfying.