Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything from or pertaining to the Potter-verse; they are the property of the brilliant J. K. Rowling.
Warnings: Mature Content, Graphic Language, Explicit Scenes, and so forth.
Pairings: Undecided as of yet. Suggestions may be considered.
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The Power He Knows Not
Chapter One: Through the Looking Glass and Down the Rabbit Hole
Location: Department of Mysteries (Harry's P.O.V.)
He dove into the room with a muffled sound as he rolled under a bright orange spell. He whipped his wand at the door, causing it to slam shut. The room began to revolve around him, the thirteen doors spinning around in a blur as he hauled himself to his feet. The doors slowed and stopped. His harsh breathing was the only noise. Harry looked around him at the thirteen doors, ignoring the one with a glowing red X on it. He did not know which door he had come in through. He raced towards the door to his right and ripped it open.
The room was dim. He could make out the shadowed form of a table, and several dark doorways stood open. "Lumos," he muttered, raising his wand up high as he stepped into the room.
He walked by the table, briefly glancing at the piles of misshapen items on the table. The first door to his left was an office. He peered right, and jumped to the side at the sudden light he spied. Harry paused. Looked closer at the room and realised he had jumped at his reflection in a massive mirror. Curiosity gripped him. Is that the Mirror of Erised? He pondered, surprised that it had been moved from Hogwarts to some unknown part of the Department of Mysteries.
At the foot of the mirror he paused. Only his uncertain face peered back at him. He frowned, squinting his eyes as though to help procure his mom and dad. Heck, he would settle with any one of the relatives he saw in the mirror when he encountered it back in first year. He frowned, only then noticing that this mirror was not the same mirror. The mirror bore an onyx frame that shimmered in his wand-light. At the top, embossed with gold, was: Ehte tagof Ynitsed. Whatever that means, he lowered his was a bit, and paused as the wand-light reflected off a sticker attached to the frame. In loopy letters it read: 'Discovered August 1, 1980 in the Veil Room. Significance and Function Unknown.'
Harry frowned and shook his head. He did not have time for this! His friends were in trouble.
"Harry, look out!" Neville shouted.
Harry whipped around and spied a black-cloaked man that had somehow managed to sneak up behind him.
"STUPEFY!"
Harry brought his wand up as there was no way to dodge the red beam in the cramped room, but the spell struck him straight in the chest. With a whoosh of air, his breath left him as he was propelled backwards and into the blackness of unconsciousness.
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Location: A Living Room (Harry's P.O.V.)
Harry's first thought was that Dudley and Vernon was dancing on his skull, causing his crippling headache. Then he shot upright, his eyes wide.
"Easy there, boy," a woman said from his side.
Harry turned his face towards a smiling older woman.
"Good to see you are alright," she said. "You startled me when you suddenly flew across my living room."
He blinked at the woman and then at the room. The room was large and spacious. Comfy leather chairs and couches were nearby, and a polished oak table sat in the middle. Colourful flower sat in tall vases on top of doilies located on every table. The carpet under him was soft and gushy. The wall to his right was covered in framed photographs. "Er...," Harry began, at a loss. "The mirror!" he exclaimed as he glanced around the room for the mirror.
"I have a mirror out in the hallway, dear," the woman said with a confused expression on her face.
Harry stood and rushed out of the double French doors and into the hallway. He spied the mirror. It was oval and had a golden frame with flowers and vines engraved on it. It was not the mirror he wanted.
"Is everything alright, dear?" the woman asked from the doorway.
He snapped his gaze to her. "Where are the Death Eaters? Ron? Hermione? Neville? Luna? Ginny?"
She stared at him, her confusion evident on her face.
"I'm afraid I know no one by those names," she said slowly. "And I don't know what a Death Eater is… unless you mean Lotus Eaters, but I can't imagine why it would be so important to discuss ancient Greek myth when you just popped into my living room out of thin air."
Harry blinked at her. "Are you a muggle?"
"A what?" she asked with a frown. "Kids these days sure have strange slang."
That was when he noticed something else, her accent. "You're not British?" he asked with surprise.
"No, I am Canadian," she said slowly, "just like most people here, in Canada."
"I'm in Canada?" He asked, his voice laden with shock. Wait, if I am in Canada, then the Ministry of Magic won't come Obliviate this Muggle, and I can't figure out how to get to my friends. Unless the Canadians have a Ministry of Magic, and they can send me home…
"Are you alright?"
Harry jumped, his gaze focusing on the woman. "How come you aren't more surprised that I just appeared in your living room?"
"I'm used to people popping by for a visit."
"You know witches and wizards?"
"Uhh… The politically correct term is mages," the old woman said with a bemused expression. "But, I suppose your terminology reflects the archaic attire you are wearing."
Harry looked down at his Hogwarts robes and blinked. His robes weren't even a year old yet, plus they were his school uniform. He frowned and looked back up at the woman.
"You were looking for a mirror...," she began. "Oh dear… I think I know what happened… You must have gone through The Gate of Destiny… That would explain everything, but that also means your Keeper has fallen."
Keeper? "Ron?" Harry asked, his shoulders tense. "Do you know what happened to Ron and my other friends?"
"Goodness no," the woman said as she approached him, her grey eyes staring down into his. "One Keeper does not know the affairs of other Keepers."
Harry's mind drew up a picture of the old woman in front of him, dressed in Quidditch gear and riding a broom. He cringed at the thought.
"However—"
Her voice pulled him out of his imagination.
"If that mirror appeared before you, then it would imply that your Keeper has fallen and your world is in grave danger."
Harry started at her words as worry pooled in his gut. He needed to get back to the Department of Mysteries!
"I need to go back!"
The woman shook her silver-haired head. "I'm afraid it does not work like that. You see, in the event of a Keeper's destruction, that mirror will appear before the Guardian, and send him or her to another Keeper for training. That mirror will only reappear to you once you are ready to return to your world and restore order."
"What do you mean my world? England?" Harry asked.
"No, child. That mirror was the gateway to a world far different and far removed from yours. This world is not yours. While we do possess an England, it is not the same England that you know."
"How do I get back? My friends are in danger and I need to save them! It would be my fault if they get hurt!" Harry shouted; anger and worry chewed at his belly.
"I'm afraid they must save themselves until you are prepared enough to return."
"I am more than ready to go back!" He shouted, his hands curling into fists.
"You are not. You came here to learn, and learn you must, should you desire to return before the destruction of your world. However, your timing is most troubling…"
Harry glared at her. "What, I interrupted your afternoon tea?"
The woman frowned at him. "My, don't you have quite the snarky attitude. But no, that is not what I'm talking about. I was referring to the fact that this world's Guardian has been reborn recently, as this world is about to face its own destruction. I cannot split my attention between you two. If I neglect you, your world will perish. If I neglect her, this world will perish. The only way for this to work is if I place the two of you together…"
"Great," Harry said, his tone anything but pleased. "Let's do that, so I can get home faster."
"Patience… How old are you child?"
"Er.. Fifteen. Almost sixteen. Why?"
The woman sighed. "You are too old to pair you two up. The Guardian is nine years old, and will begin her training September 5th, which is just one week from today."
"One week?! But it was June when I fell into that mirror!"
"Time does not flow the same in each world."
Harry just stared at her.
"I'll have to change you into your nine-year-old self so that you may be placed with my Guardian. That way, you both maybe undergo the training and trials at Xion."
"Wait!" Harry exclaimed. "What? Why do I have to be nine? How are you going to make me nine?! What the hell is Xion?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"As I just said, you will be nine in order to accompany my Guardian on her training. That way you too will receive the same training. You need to be nine as that is the age that one begins their tutelage at Xion Academy for Mages. Xion is a school where those with magic are taught to use magic, and to prepare them for their futures."
Harry blinked. Sounds like Hogwarts. "So what am I supposed to do?"
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Location: Conference Room Aboard the Forskirnis (Siri P.O.V.)
Her fingers drummed across the cool white metal table; its sound consumed in the din of the room. The meeting room was full. There were at least twenty people, like her, seated around the table, another two score more standing about the room, and all of them were visiting. A sigh escaped her lips. Her head dropped into the open palm of her hand while her elbow pressed against the metal, her fingers still drumming. Everyone around her was so loud. They were all visiting and gossiping amongst themselves. She just wished the damned meeting would start already, so that it could be over with, and she could return to the peace and quiet that was not this room.
"Crows feasting on your thoughts, Siri?" a cheerful voice to her side chirped in question. "If you keep grinding your teeth like that they won't last much longer. Then again, you are getting on in age now. I hear you made your thirty-fourth year."
Siri dragged her eyes from her drumming fingers and looked to the woman addressing her. The woman was tall, blond haired and blue eyed, and her bust size was greater than her intelligence. Then again… most things are. She had wedged her way between Siri's chair and the woman sitting to Siri's right side. Her hands were splayed across the surface of the table and the wench's breasts were all but thrust into her face. Siri was not amused. Pointedly, she ceased mashing her teeth and gave the woman a blank face. "What do you want?" She questioned. Two can play at this.
The woman snorted, her eyes rolling in a way that was reminiscent of a horse. "Oh! Greetings, Helena! How are you? Oh, I'm just lovely, thank you for asking!" the younger woman said, her high voice glutted by sarcasm. "Would it kill you to act nicely?" she asked before an overdone sigh passed her thin and painted ruby lips.
"Yes," Siri responded curtly, wanting nothing more than to shut her up. Could this get anymore tedious? She thought, hoping that the meeting would start soon, while images of her fingers curling around the woman's thin neck filled her mind.
"I don't understand, Siri, how a complete bore, such as yourself, was appointed to lead such an important operation. I mean… someone with a hint of charisma would have been the better choice," the wench said as she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a dramatic flair. And that is why you weren't chosen.
Siri could feel her teeth grinding again. "I, Helena, was chosen above you because I know how to keep my mouth shut," she ground out through clenched teeth that made her jaw ache.
Helena opened her mouth. A scowl bloomed on her face.
"Sisters!" a voice cut over the racket, effectively silencing everyone throughout the room. Everyone turned to the owner of the voice.
Siri sat up straight. Her fingers stilled in their drumming, before she removed her hands from the table and set them calmly upon her lap. Her eyes darted towards the two open doorways at the other end of the triangular shaped room. Two women stood in the doorway, and they had everyone's undivided attention. Siri let her eyes wander over their forms.
The taller of the two, was of average build, her long golden hair pooled down her back and shoulders in perfect coils. Her skin was kissed golden by the sun, and her deep blue eyes surveyed the room. She was dressed in a full-body white leather outfit that clung to all her perfect curves like a second skin. White leather boots, with heels that Siri knew she would break her own ankles with, was up to the woman's knees. Her hands and everything above her collarbone was left bare. A small smile was curled on her lips. The lieutenant was always a stunning sight, but it was the woman to her left that demanded Siri's attention.
The second woman was petite by all definitions, standing a full head and shoulders lower than the lieutenant, looking more like a prepubescent teen than a woman of thirty-three, and if it had not been for the maturity of her facial features, many would mistake her for a child. Her hair was black as jet and cropped at the back to the nap of her neck, while the front was angled down at a sharp degree, with her bangs brushing her shoulders. Where the lieutenant was tanned, she was a milky white, and wore the same outfit. The only discrepancy between what the two new comers wore was the flowing crimson cape that was attached to the captain's shoulders with two golden circles that had an onyx and ruby spear dividing it in half.
"I thank you all for returning on such short notice," the raven haired woman began in a stern tone as she strode into the meeting room, her cape billowing behind her. She moved towards the empty two chairs at the head of the triangular table, her heels clacking away on the white metal floor. Lucretia followed the captain and they both took their seats. "Before we get to the matter I have recalled you all here for," she began as she placed her palm upon the table, "I would hear your status reports, my sisters."
Siri watched as a woman, Ericka, dressed in a black pinstripe business suit, who sat to the side of the captain, lean forward. "My team and I have integrated into our post successfully these past three years of our mission, captain. We have managed to prevent any and all suspicions upon us. Further, the three of us have managed to successfully eradicate nine prime targets. While I do wish that our numbers were higher, it has been challenging to remove so many talented individuals from under the noses of our enemies," she stated as she leaned back in her white chair, her eyes never leaving their commanding officer. "This is our most formidable foe yet, they are too numerous and too powerful to make a dent in without outing us as their enemies," she concluded with a frown. "Further, we have found no trace of the king or the traitor. I think it's safe to say they aren't within my area of infiltration," she added.
The captain, Eve, nodded her understanding before he gaze fell to Ericka's side.
"Captain, our situation has been similar. We've had a progressively difficult time getting close enough to cause any damage. Every time we eliminate one target, their defenses and suspicions multiply tenfold. Further, we have been unable to infiltrate the higher ranks, which makes information gathering difficult at best. However, I was able to ascertain that, despite the advanced information network available to these people, they are missing all the data from the first and second exploits of His Grace within this realm. Due to the newness of their networks, most old data is either missing or mixed with speculation," the sister began. "Further, the small amount of true data that has survived is highly fragmented and riddled with untruths that make the information seem little more than a fairy story. I think it is safe to say that not a single person here knows the truth." The woman leaned back into her chair with a light frown upon her aging features. "I did manage to come across one record that claims that the keeper died many years ago, but I cannot verify the validity of that."
"It is unlikely that he is dead. This lack of accurate data means that our enemies will be unprepared to deal with us at the very least. Should the keeper indeed be dead, than this incursion will be an overwhelming success. The first and largest threat to our enterprise is the three protectors of this realm. For the moment we shall not worry about them, but instead focus on the second threat, one that is no less troublesome," Eve stated as she looked around the room, her eyes locking with each seated woman's eyes for a second. Siri shivered as those eyes met hers. "While I urge you all to keep a look out for the three largest threats, I require all of you to diligently whittle away at the mass of their power. These are the strongest foes we have ever encountered, so it will not be surprising how difficult it will be to annihilate or assimilate their numbers to our benefit." She nodded at the next woman, to proceed with her report.
Siri tuned them out, as they regurgitated the same information to their captain with different words. The reports echoed along the chamber as each operation leader gave their reports until it was finally Siri's turn. Inwardly she cringed, hoping her report would be satisfactory. She cleared her throat. "Captain, lieutenant," she began, nodding her deepest respect towards the two women. "As is the case with my sisters, my team and I have been successful in our infiltration without suspicion. Further, over the five years we have been undercover, we have managed to decrease the numbers of dangerous individuals down. During our time there, sister Gunhild has dispatched of eight targets, Brynhild has rid us of five, while I have removed six," Siri paused. She knew all this data was no news to the captain and lieutenant, as she had regular report-ins from their undercover location. "Further, the three of us have devised a clever means to raise our body count exponentially this coming year. While I will not go into detail," because you will all steal my idea and claim it as your own, "I am certain that it will prove fruitful in our great mission."
She paused a moment, her eyes darting to the lieutenant's and then back to Eve's. "I did," she began slowly, "find something that may or may not be of interest," she trailed off.
"Well get on with it," Helena snapped at her.
Siri offered the wench a glare. "As you are well aware, I am stationed at Xion, and at Xion I overheard something that struck me as… off. I heard one of the staff members that teaches methods of foresight, telling the other two divination instructors of a vision she had. She described the vision as highly fragmented and making no sense. She first spoke of some girl and a book, of a great white tree that towered high as mountains, of a boy with a lightning bolt scar, and then of a man that she described as sounding much like Commander Kynan." She paused as she saw their Captain sit up straighter. This had happened since her last report-in to the captain.
"After that, she mentioned seeing a winged boy amidst a raging thunderstorm, before she described the All-Father's sigil in accurate detail." Siri's eyes darted to the two golden clasps holding Eve's cape in place. "The woman claimed the rest of her vision as too chaotic to see or interpret anything in. I am not sure what it means, but I think it is safe to conclude that she saw something relating to our mission."
The captain nodded her head sharply. Siri knew that this information was troubling, but she also knew that the woman had not seen enough to understand their purpose, nor to suspect anything about the mission. Either way, she wished she could see the vision for herself. It would make far more sense to me, than to some in-the-dark fortune teller.
"That was all she said?"
Siri nodded, and her fingers began their drumming on her thigh.
The reports then continued, and once they had all been received, the captain stood and stepped behind her chair, resting her hand upon the cold back of it. Siri leaned forwards with anticipation, her fingers frozen mid-beat. Siri had a hunch as to why they had been called back for the first time since their appointment of positions for infiltrating the enemy strongholds. They normally used their communication devices to relay information to and from their base of operations. This was the first time Siri had been back in five years, and she just hoped the news was indeed what she thought it to be.
"Sisters, we have received news that captains Hekiah, Elkan, and Dane have all begun their voyage here," she said.
Siri felt excitement bubble in her belly.
"As you are well aware, they will not be here for some time yet, but the Commander, upon order from the All-Father, has decreed the time of our victory draws swiftly upon us. We will reclaim what is rightfully His, and the evil that here opposes us shall be shown no mercy; we take no prisoners," the captain stated.
Finally! Siri thought. Five long years of true inaction had been irritating, but soon they would begin. I understand the caution; this is the greatest foe we have ever faced. I will serve her well.
"Since the time is drawing near, you are all to heighten your efforts to prepare the way for the arrival of our brothers in arms," she gazed around the room, meeting the eyes of every operation leader.
As their eyes met, Siri felt a flutter shoot through her. The captain's eyes burned into her own, longer than all the others, and her heart thundered in her breast. She would do anything for the great Eve. My plans will prove my worthiness to her. She thought, just as the woman's eyes left her, pulling a piece of Siri out as they went.
"Go now, my sisters, in the names of the Chief and His Consort. Bring honour to our cause, for the time of cleansing shall soon be upon us."
Siri leaned back in her chair, watching as the captain spun, her crimson cloak surging out behind her as she stalked from the room, her lieutenant following. As soon as the two had left the chamber, a cannon of noise exploded in the room, the sisters all talked with burning excitement over the announcement. Siri knew it would be some time yet before the actual purge commenced, but just the news that it would soon commence had rekindled the passion and thirst for what was to come. She would serve well her captain. It was finally time for her to acquire the recognition for her devotion to their cause and to their great master.
"Evil will be purged yet," she whispered; her words were smothered by the excited voices. With a pleased grin, she set her palms upon the cool table, and pushed herself to her feet. She moved out from her chair and made her way through the chattering fools fluttering around the room. She had a new spring in her step as she stalked out of the meeting room with her two agents trailing silently behind her. Neither of them engaged the rest in idle chatter. She knew that the three of them had no need for words. After all, the real game was about to start.
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Location: Ivy's Bedroom (Ivy's P.O.V.)
The world was void of colour; white, black and the seemingly infinite shades of grey between were all that she could see. She knew this scene. She had seen this very scene played out a thousand times. She stared out over the dull edge of the cliff and into the thick fog beyond. There was no visible land ahead. Her eyes dropped to the dark and vast chasm that sunk below the cliff face, and she could not see a bottom; it looked like one could fall for an eternity and never reach bottom.
Ivy took a step back from the edge and turned around. The landscape of the cliff was flat, and composed of tiny speckles of white dirt as fine as sand. The flat land stretched on forever, disappearing into the sky, her eyes could not perceive the border between the two. Above her head, the sky stretched out in a pale grey, with neither moon nor sun to light the area, and yet she could see as though it were a cloudless day. She knew this place, but at the same time, she did not know this place.
She lifted her hands and stared at them. It was odd to see one's own hands void of all the spectrum of colour. Weirder yet, her hands were also much larger then she knew her own hands to be. The hands within the dream reminded her much of her own father's. The palm was wide and the fingers were long, and as she turned them over, on her right hand she spied the knotted scar that ran from the pinky-knuckle to the base of the thumb. She did not have the scar on her much smaller hands, but as she ran her left fore-finger over the lump, she could not help but think it real and familiar. How can a scar I do not have be familiar? She pondered, just as she had pondered every time she saw the dream, and just like all the times before, she had no answer.
Around her right arm, from wrist to shoulder, and only on the outside of the arm, was a Roman manica. It was strapped firmly to her arm with leather straps, and each beaten metal segment of the armguard was overlapped by the one above it, giving her arm a metal-scaling that would aid in deflecting weapons. The metal was attached to thick black-dyed leather which was buckled around her arm at four points. The arm it was attached to, her arm, was not the arm of a nine year old girl, but the arm of a man well-honed by physical activity. The left arm did not have the manica, in fact, only a small pale leather cuff of three inches wide with thick laces encircled the wrist; the rest of her arm was only bare flesh.
Upon her torso and shoulders was a pale set of armour, much akin to the armguard, in that it was composed of layered pieces of metal, all of which was curved and flat to fit her body perfectly. From the bottom of the torso armour, starting about naval and continuing to mid-thigh was a skirt of chainmail, each link tiny and beaten smooth. Under the skirt, she wore a pair of leather pants that clung to her bottom and legs like thick and unbreathing tights. Atop these pants, both back and front, were latched pieces of metal, protecting her legs from the chainmail skirt down to her toes, leaving only the back of her knees plate-less, although a small segment of chainmail was placed there to offer minor protection. Upon her feet were leather boots with metal latched onto them.
With the gloriously smooth and light coloured cloak secured around her shoulders, she looked almost ready for battle. What she was missing, however, was a helm, and shield, and some sort of weapon. From going through her father's books, she knew that the upper half of her armour was very similar to those donned by the Romans somewhere in the first five hundred years of the Common Era. She had been unable to recognize the source of her bottom half in her father's books.
Ivy did not know why she was in the form of a man dressed in this armour, but she was filled with the desire to know. Letting her arms fall to her sides, she turned her head to the right. There, just like in all the previous dreams, stood the two massive white poles with its black inscription engraved upon it. Her feet brought her to the nearest pole, and she placed her palm upon the structure. It was neither warm nor cool to the touch, and the words that ran from top to bottom horizontally were in a language she could not read. She could not even identify the origins of the characters. She had once, upon waking, scribbled down fragments of the engravings on paper, and had asked her father if he knew the language, but he thought it was gibberish.
Ivy felt they were more than gibberish. Instinctively she knew that the answer to her dream was inscribed upon this and the other post, but she could not discern the meaning behind the etchings. If she could understand the writing, she knew she would understand the point to her dream. In every single one of her dreams within this landscape, she had tried to find the understanding of the writing, but she was no closer now than she was at the first time she had stumbled upon the dreamscape. Dad said that reoccurring dreams are your subconscious trying to tell your conscious something, but what am I trying to tell myself? She did not know where to begin.
Her hand slipped slowly away from the post before her feet took her to the space between the poles where a long white rope and black plank bridge sat, spanning off into the fog over the gaping chasm. The bridge swayed back and forth on a steady breeze that did not touch her. She set one foot upon the bridge, before the other, her hands moving to clasp the two ropes that acted as both railing and as support for the lower planks. She could feel the bridge sway under her feet and, even though she could not see the bottom of the gorge, she felt her stomach in her throat. Her breaths quickened.
Ivy swallowed in an attempt to return her stomach to where it was meant to be as she put one foot in front of the other, sliding her hands around the rough braided rope. Her knuckles were pale as she clung onto the swaying bridge. The bridge shuddered under her every step, as though it were afraid. For every step she moved, her heart beat a hundred times in rapid succession, and she felt it would blast out of her chest long before she could get to the far side—not that she had ever made it to the far side in any of the previous dreamscapes.
She walked on and on, until the land behind her was devoured by the thickening fog. The wind howled and rocked the bridge, yet no wind touched her or so much as ruffled a hair on her head. She did not understand the bridge, but she wanted to know what was on the far side. The answer may be there.
Ivy squinted as she spied the familiar dark silhouette of a very tall figure ahead upon the bridge; the figure was undisturbed by the rocking and swaying and howling, and it stood motionless like a shadow waiting. Unlike her, the shadow did not hold the railings. She stepped closer and closer towards it and just when she was close enough to try and make out the figure's features, her eyes opened. The dream had ended where they all had, just before she could reach the shadowy figure upon the bridge.
Yawning, she reached up and rubbed the crusts of sleep from her eyes. It was a bright and sunny morning; beams of sunlight trickled through the pale purple curtains and blinds on her bay window that she had forgot to close the previous night. The light stretched across her window seat, and over a portion of a massive tank, while the tail end of the beam kissed the corner of her lilac coloured bedding.
Ivy sat up and brought her hands up to look at them. Unlike in the dream, her hands had colour, albeit she was as pale as snow, but it still held colour. Her hands were tiny, just like the rest of her, and so very different from the body she wore within her dream. She cast off her blankets and crawled out of the queen-sized bed. Dreams were very different from reality.
After a dream with no colour, her room stood in startling contrast with its muted, yet still vivid colours. Her bedroom was a large one, much larger than her classmates' bedrooms, and she was willing to guess it was bigger than her classmates' parents' rooms as well. A plush white carpet spanned the floor, the walls were done in a shade of pale lilac, and the ceiling was as white as the floor. All her furniture was made of white wood, and pale purple dominated her room. Ivy loved everything in her bedroom, everything from the sheer lilac canopy draped over her bed, to the massive tank filled with trees, rocks, and water, to the many shelves stuffed full of books in every size and colour. It was her room.
Ivy walked over to the large tank and knelt at its side, the sunlight reflecting her face in the glass. She was pale, but even in her slightly distorted reflection she looked healthy. Her eyes were a wide blue-grey, more grey than blue, and her hair was a silvery blond that cascaded down her shoulders and back in lazy, but wavy ringlets that reached her lower back. She smiled at her reflection, before focusing her gaze upon the two moving creatures in the tank.
"Good morning, Jake. Good morning, Elwood," she whispered through the glass as she smiled at the two turtles. Jake and Elwood were ringed map turtles, a relatively rare type of turtle to keep as pets. Their shells were an olive brown and they both had yellow rings around each of their scutes. Jake was sitting on a rock, basking in the morning sun. Elwood, the smaller of the two, was stirring up the sand in the area of the tank with the shallowest water. She had talked her dad into letting her have the turtles when she was five, and she loved them even more now, four years later, then when she had first gotten the duo.
"Oi, Ivy!" a voice called through her bedroom door as a hand rapped on the wooden surface. A single bark echoed through the wood.
"Yeah?" she called back, her gaze drifting to the alarm clock on her bedside. It read 8:03.
"Dad says breakfast will be ready soon, so get your butt in gear!" her brother called back before his feet thumped along the hall, the sound of his dog moved with him, and silence descended.
Rolling her eyes at her brother, she stood and moved to her dresser, plucking off her pyjamas as she went, and leaving them in a trail from her bed to her dresser. She dressed herself in a pair of dark denim capris that had a purple flower stitched at the hem of the right leg, and pulled on a loose and flowing pale purple tank top that had a small string that she tied around her waist. Next, she pulled on a pair of white ankle socks before she closed her dresser drawers and moved over to her mirror vanity. From there, she pulled on a slim gold chain that bore a heart shaped locked, and fastened it about her neck. Next, she grabbed two black bobby pins and pulled her long bangs, which were parted on the left, to the right, and secured it there with the pins before tucking the strands behind her ear. After that, she put in a pair of gold studded earrings with purple sapphires into her ears. She then pulled a small golden bracelet with charms dangling from it, over her right wrist as she secured it with her left. She was ready for a new day.
She smiled at her reflection before she moved over to her bedroom door and opened it, stepping out into the hallway. The hallway was wide and long, composed of dark hardwood flooring, painted white ceilings, and muted brown walls. Both and hers and her brother's rooms were at the far end of the hallway, the two white doors. Ahead in the hallway were four more doors, two on each side of the hallway, but they were the same brown as the hardwood. One door lead to her bathroom, one lead to Hope's bathroom, one lead to their father's office, and the last lead to the smaller of the two guestrooms.
Ivy's sock clad feet made no noise upon the polished wood floor as she padded down the hall. The hall opened to a large living room and had a side hallway that led off to their parents' room and the other guestroom. She entered into the living room, and headed towards the stairs in the corner and descended the first set, before having to pivot on the middle landing and descended the final segments of stairs to the main level of the house.
She passed through the main floor living room, and moved towards the front of the house, where her bay window reading nook was situated. As she passed the area she deemed as her own, she glanced at the book sitting upon the small round table. Her blue-grey eyes remained upon the book as she descended the two steps into the front entry way, before turning down the hall. Near the end of the hall, at the glass doors that exited onto the deck, she turned left and entered into the small eating room.
"Morning, sweetheart."
Ivy glanced over the stool and tall seating that was propped against the half-wall dividing the eating area from the kitchen. "Morning, dad," she called back as she moved to the table, and sat on the blue cushioned seat of the bay window. "Did mom go to work already?"
"No. Your mother has today off for a change," he said as he walked from the kitchen and into the breakfast room with a plate and cutlery in one hand, and a glass of chocolate milk in the other.
Her father was a tall man of thirty-six. His silvery-blond hair, which she had inherited from him, was cropped short, and styled in a messy set of curls and spikes. His grey eyes were behind a pair of green framed glasses, and he had the beginning of laugh lines around his mouth. David Knight was dressed in a pair of casual jeans and a black t-shirt that read "Winter is Coming" in bold white letters. It was a shirt from one of her dad's favourite books, one that she had been deemed too young to read yet. I'll read it when I am old enough.
Ivy watched as he set the plate and glass in front of her with a small smile on his face. Ivy smiled back up to her dad. "Thank you," she said before looking down at her breakfast. Her dad had made pancakes; hers were drizzled in strawberries. A wide smile split over her face as she picked up her knife and fork and began to eat with earnest.
"Since your mother has today off," he began as he set another plate and glass of chocolate milk to the seat beside Ivy, "that we would all do something together today."
"No can do, dad," Hope said as he skidded into the eating room and plopped himself down beside Ivy on the cushioned bench, pulling his plate of pancakes smothered with blueberries, closer to him. "I have a game against those jerks from Campbell, and I can't bail on the guys," he explained as he grabbed the container of syrup and drowned his stack of pancakes and blueberries in it.
Hope was sixteen and, like their dad, he was already tall, but still growing. His hair was blond, but a straight golden blond, unlike hers and their father's hair. He wore his hair slicked back, with a small chunk of his bangs remaining at the center of his forehead. His eyes were a bright blue. Ivy noticed that he was not wearing his black-framed glasses, but he could still see what he was doing. Contacts, she inwardly concluded. He was dressed in his soccer outfit, and had a hemp necklace tight around his neck.
"Isn't it off season?" their dad asked as he moved a third plate and glass to the table, before walking back for the fourth and final.
"The soccer season starts up soon at school, but we have to stay in top condition to kick butt. The only reason we have a game today is because they attempted to steal our field time on Monday. We are settling the fight over who gets the field at what times today," he explained as he shoved a large chunk of food into his mouth, making his cheeks bulge as he ate.
Their dad sat down. "I guess it will just be the three of us then, Ivy," David said with a smile as he took the syrup and drizzled a small amount on the top pancake.
"Morning," Ivy's mom greeted from the doorway as she walked into the eating room, and plopped down on her seat next to her husband. Their mother was an average height woman, with more of a ruler figure than a womanly build. Her golden hair was tossed up in a neat bun, and her bright blue eyes were behind her silver framed glasses. Her makeup hid the lines around her eyes and mouth, but Ivy knew they were there.
"Morning, mom," Ivy said, while Hope made some attempt at a greeting through his mouthful of breakfast.
"Morning, dear."
"Hope, don't talk with your mouth open," their mom chastised him as she picked up her mug of coffee, before taking a long dreg of it. "So, what is today's plan?" she asked as she set her mug down to butter her pancakes.
"The guys and I got a game against Campbell, so I'll be out. Afterwards, Jeremy and I are going to go to his place and play some games," Hope said before resuming his devouring of his breakfast.
The doorbell chimed. "Crap, that's probably Jeremy and Brandon, now!" Hope said as he shoved half of the remaining pancake into his mouth, before picking up the last half between his fingers as he stood and raced out of the room.
"Don't run!" their mom called out as she shook her head. "Teenage boys are difficult," she muttered before taking a sip of her coffee. "Ivy, you better not be as problematic as your brother," she said.
"Mom, dad! The guy at the door wants to talk to you!" Hope yelled from the front door.
Ivy watched her mother sigh and stand, arming herself with her mug of coffee as she stalked out of the kitchen with an irritable stomp. "I swear we raised a barbarian," she muttered as she walked into the hallway.
"We'll be back in a minute or so. Think about what you want to do with us today," her dad told her as he too stood and exited the room, abandoning his breakfast.
Ivy knew that if they were going out, that her mother would want to take her clothes shopping. She cringed at the thought as she stabbed a piece of strawberry on her fork and began to nibble on it. If she had to go shopping, she was sure that she could convince dad to go to a bookstore, and dad would convince mom. I do want more books, I am almost done the book grandma gave me on Arthurian Legends. I can handle clothes shopping, if I also get books. She nodded to herself as she took a sip of her milk.
Ivy's right hand drifted up to her pendant as she continued to eat her breakfast. Maybe we can go visit grandma today, she thought. It had been sometime since she had last seen her grandmother, but the old woman did call once a week to check up on them. Ivy's grandmother would be seventy next year, but she was a very active widow. She was always baking, or out helping charities. She even did the occasional marathon that came to the Regina area. Ivy adored her grandmother, and her grandmother always doted upon her, giving her sweets, books, and other gifts. Ivy knew that her mother disliked that Viola Knight spoiled her, and not Hope. Meaning I might not be allowed to go see grandma, because mom doesn't really like her.
Ivy frowned down at the pancakes on her plate as her brother came back into the room, and picked up his glass of milk before guzzling it down. With a dramatic sigh of content, he placed the glass back down on the table. "The guys are here, so I'm out. Tell dad Ares is still in the backyard. Wish your favourite big brother luck," he ordered with a grin.
"Good luck, Hope," Ivy offered with a smile, as her big brother leaned down and placed a kiss on top of her head.
"Thanks, shrimp!" he called before moving out of the room, leaving Ivy alone yet again.
Ivy resumed eating her breakfast, pondering her latest read and all the stories that her grandma had told to her. Her grandma loved telling her stories, and Ivy loved hearing them. Sometimes, the two of them would act them out and have adventures together. Ivy smiled as she ate, reminiscing until her plate and glass were both empty.
The doorbell sounded again.
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Location: Outside of 313 Circle Drive (Harry's P.O.V.)
"Are you sure I have to do all this?" Harry asked as he ran a hand through his messy hair, while his gaze flickered from the large house before him to the silver-haired woman beside.
"Of course I am, Harry," she said. "Do you remember the rules I've set for you?"
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Viola had drilled the rules into his head constantly the last couple of days. "Yes," he said. At her look, he sighed before recounting them: "One: I do not tell anyone about being from another world. Two: I do not tell anyone about your abilities. Three: I do not tell the guardian about being a guardian. Four: I will stop being a worry-wart about things happening back in my world that are beyond my ability to do anything about."
"Very good," Viola said with a small smile. "Now, Harry, just remember, you are the son of an old friend who asked me to look after you while she is unable to do so."
"I got it." Harry said.
"Good. Make sure to repeat that and the rules every night before you go to bed… silently of course."
Harry nodded. The sooner he did this, the sooner he could go home. He just hoped that Sirius and his friends were alright, and that they managed to fend off the Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries. An imagine of Hermione being hit by that unknown spell flashed through his eyes, followed by the brain's tentacles wrapping around Ron's arm, and Neville's face streaming blood from his nose.
"Alright there, Harry?" Viola asked; her voice and hand on his shoulder cut through his thoughts.
He nodded sharply, shaking the images from his mind. "I'm fine."
"If you say so," she said as she tapped the lock button on her car keys. They beeped, and the sound of clicking locks echoed behind him. "Let's go." She led the way up the concrete path to the house they had been standing in front of.
Harry watched as the woman walked forwards, and ascended the three steps to the front door before she pressed the bell. A dog barked. He could hear the faint echo of the bell resounding through the house as he came to a stop just off to the side and behind the old woman. Footsteps could be heard approaching the door, before two locks clicked and the door was pulled open.
"Mom!"
The man who had opened the door was very tall, his head just slightly below the top of the doorway. His hair was a silvery-blond colour that was short and a mess of styled curls and spikes. I wonder if my hair could do that… He shook thoughts of his own ill-behaved hair aside, as he continued to look at the man. The man before him wore glasses with dark green frames. He was dressed in dark blue jeans, and a shirt with a weird sentence on it. He didn't understand what was so special about the coming of winter…
"Hello, son," Viola said as her son wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "Sorry for the surprise visit. I hope I didn't catch you all at a bad time."
"It's never a bad time for you, mum, but we do have… company here," the man said pulling out of a hug, just as another set of footsteps raced towards the door.
"Jeremy, Brandon, you guys are la— oh, hi Grandma," a teen said as he slid to a halt in the front entryway, just as the man released Viola from the hug.
"Hope, come give Grandma a hug," Viola said as she held her arms out.
Harry watched as a teenager with bad acne stepped outside the front door and hugged the older woman. He was blond, but the blond was more golden than the man's.
"Oh, and who do we have here?" the man asked.
Harry's eyes darted to the man, and realised that his question was referring to him.
"This is Lillian's boy," Viola said with a wave of her hand. "She is a good friend of mine. She asked me to look after him while she was doing a dig in Egypt. He is Ivy's age."
"Well, young man, my name is David Knight," he held out his hand.
Harry placed his hand in the much larger one and shook it, hating how small his nine-year-old body was. "Harry Potter," he said.
"Oh, are you British?" the teen asked.
Harry nodded. "I grew up in Surrey."
"Cool. I'm Hope," he said as his eyes darted to the street. "That's Jeremy's car! I'm out of here," he said as he grabbed a duffle bag he had by the door as he slipped on a pair of shoes. "Bye Ivy!" he shouted into the house before sprinting off. "Nice meeting you, kid!" he called at Harry as he moved towards his friends.
"So, you said you had company?" Viola asked as David ushered the two of them in.
"Yeah…," David said as he shut the door behind them. "Some sharply dressed man making claims about magic." David shook his head. "He was about to give an example before you rang the doorbell, so I had best get back there to see what tricks he is trying to pull. Harry, if you follow that hall and take a left at the end, you will find my daughter and some pancakes."
Harry glanced up at Viola who nodded. Harry slipped his trainers off his feet, and padded down the wooden floor of the hall. He was really curious about the magic visitor, but part of his deal with Viola was to watch over Ivy, Viola's granddaughter, and the guardian of this world. She's just like me, he thought as he walked, knowing he would do everything to help her. He knew how tough it was to be singled out to do strange things. He rounded the doorway and froze.
"Luna?!" he asked as he stared at the silvery-blond haired girl.
Wide grey eyes darted up and met his. "Umm… I think you have me confused with someone else," the girl said slowly.
Her face was different than Luna's. Her nose was smaller and her cheekbones seemed somewhat higher. Her voice was soft and gentle, like Luna's, but it was definitely not Luna's.
"Sorry, you just look like a girl I went to school with," Harry said as he scratched his head. Of course it isn't Luna. Luna is from my world, not this one. "I'm Harry, by the way, Harry Potter."
The girl tilted her head to the side as she looked at him.
He felt his cheeks grow warm at the unexpected examination.
"I'm Ivy Knight," she said with a smile. "It's nice to meet you. Was it you that just rang the doorbell?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm here with your grandma."
Ivy's face lit up with a bright smile. "Grandma is here?! Wait, why are you here with my grandma?" Ivy tilted her head to the side again.
"Erm...," Harry began. "Your grandma is looking after me while my mom is in Egypt on a dig. My mom and Viola are friends."
"Oh, that is cool!" Ivy said. "The Egypt thing, not the being left behind part though. Oh! Did you want pancakes?"
Harry shook his head. "No, thank you. Your grandmother made breakfast for me at her house. It was really tasty."
"Grandma is super good at cooking. So is dad, since grandma taught him." She stood and gathered hers and her brother's dirty dishes, before taking them into the kitchen and loading them into the dishwasher.
Harry trailed after her, watching as she loaded the dishwasher.
"So how long will your mom be gone for?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm not really sure."
"Ivy."
A voice from the doorway of the kitchen and into the hall called.
Harry watch as Ivy jumped and turned around, nearly falling off the stool she had climbed onto to wash her hands. Eyes wide, she looked to her father who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Ivy had not heard him approach, and neither had Harry.
She reached out, grabbed the towel next to the sink, and dried her hands. "Yeah, dad?" she asked before she put the towel back and stepped down from the stool.
"There is a gentleman that would like a word with you. Both of you actually, since mom mentioned to our guest that you were here too. Come on, kids," her father said, as he held out his hand.
Harry watched as Ivy tilted her head thoughtfully as she walked over to her dad and took his hand in hers, her blue-grey eyes falling to the hand in hers, which was just below her eye level.
Harry followed after them, wondering if he would have been as close to his dad if Voldemort hadn't killed his parents.
"Do I know the person?"
"No."
They turned left towards a living room, before hanging yet another left, and then a right into an office.
Harry filed in after David and Ivy, and he noted that a golden haired woman sat behind the large dark desk, and that the magical stranger was sitting in one of the black chairs in front of the desk. Beside the man, and in the only other chair, sat Viola Knight with a knowing smile on her face.
The man turned his head and smiled brightly, his teeth were blindingly white and perfectly straight. His long hair was black like a raven's wings and bound at the nape of his neck, and his eyes were a deep and dark brown that looked almost black. His skin was a deep olive colour. Upon his head sat a pair of black sunglasses. As the man stood, she noted that he was a full head taller than Ivy's father, and that he was dressed in all black. He wore black dress pants, and a black button-up-shirt. Even his tie was black.
"Good morning!" the man said as he looked at the blond girl. "You must be Ivy. His dark coloured eyes met Harry's. "And you must be our opportunely locate Harry." He said in greeting to both of them.
Harry looked at Ivy and met her eyes, before they both turned back to the man.
Ivy nodded. "Good morning," she greeted.
"Morning." Harry added politely.
"Ah! Where have my manners gone? My name is Sky Loyola. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances." He took a few steps towards Ivy and offered his black glove clad hand.
Ivy reached out with her free hand and shook the stranger's, Sky's, hand. "It's nice to meet you too," she said with polite curiosity.
After their handshake, Sky offered Harry his hand, and he too shook it. "Pleasure," Harry mumbled.
The man released her hand and reached behind his back before holding out two thick, legal-sized, envelope to both of them.
Ivy stared at it.
I'm guessing this is like Xion's version of the Hogwarts' letter… Harry reached out and took his envelop, and Ivy followed his example.
The envelope was stuffed full, but as Harry turned it over, he noted that it had no writing on it, and that it was well sealed. He ripped the deal open. The envelop was full of papers and booklets, each of different sizes and colours, and he slid out a small pamphlet from the group. The front had a large picture of a magnificent white stone castle surrounded by immaculate greens and courtyards, with people dressed in uniform meandering about. At the top, it read: 'Xion Academy for Mages'. The castle, from the photograph, looked far larger than Hogwarts, but the lack of movement in the photo left him staring at the image. Magic photos don't move in this world. He stared at it with surprise.
"Mages?" Ivy questioned aloud.
"Yes, it means that Xion is a school for people with the ability to use magic," the man, Sky, stated as he smiled down at her.
"Magic is real?" Ivy questioned.
Harry couldn't help but see the same doubt on her face that he had felt when Hagrid had told him that he, Harry, was a wizard. He smiled at the memory.
The man chuckled. "Yes. Magic is very real."
"So I say funny words, and poof, magic?" Ivy asked.
"Magic is more than words. After all, how can a language express something in its inexpressible truth? Magic is an element beyond us, so how can language, a human construct, truly express it?"
Erm… Where's Hermione when you need her? Harry thought, before freezing as the last memory he had of Hermione was her being hit by that unknown spell in the Department of Mysteries, and how she fell with little more than a surprised 'oh'. His mood sank.
"Can you tell me… us… about… Xion?" Harry asked as he distracted himself from his depressing thoughts.
"Certainly. Xion Academy, known as the Frosted Rose Academy for the Gifted in non-magical circles, is a school that accepts any and all magical beings in Canada, and is situated in northern Saskatchewan. Students attend the academy for nine years and, upon graduation, they are prepared, more or less, to enter into many post-secondary magical institutions throughout Canada and the world.
Post-secondary? Like university for witches and wizards? Harry wondered. He had never heard of such a thing back home.
"Xion is a boarding school, and so all students live in dormitories. The student population is divided into six groups. Students in years one through three are placed into one of two houses, those being Pixie and Nymph. Years four through six are likewise placed into two houses: Elf and Siren. Lastly, students in years seven through nine are placed in either Black Wyvern or Red Dragon. These divisions determine dorms, common rooms, and club or team activities. All like-year students attend classes together, so house placements do not affect classmates.
"Xion has thirteen core subjects: Potions, Morphology, Animation, Law, Summoning, Rituals, Magical Literature, Battle Magic, Spell Crafting, Herbology, Magical Beings, Divination, and Necromancy. These thirteen are compulsory classes for all nine years. However, in your fourth year, you may choose electives. The electives offered are: Duelling, Latin, French, Healing, Ceremonial Magics, and History. Electives are non-compulsory, and one is free to take as many or as few as he or she wishes. For every block of three years, you will have a different teacher for each class. I teach Potions to students in years seven through nine."
Harry felt his eyes go wide. Xion's classes didn't even sound close to what he was used to. Potions, Magical Beings, Herbology, and Divinations are the only ones I have any real clue about. But Necromancy sounds like Dark Magic. He frowned at the man.
Beside him, Ivy nodded slowly. "How do you use magic? I'm pretty sure I've never done magic, so how do you even know that I have magic? Mom, dad, and Hope do not have magic," she said, her gaze flickering over to her dad. "Do I get a stick and have to wiggle it around and mumble gibberish? Can you show me magic?" she asked.
"We do not use sticks, or wands, or staves, or orbs," Sky began as he pulled off the glove on his right hand. "Magic does need the necessary conduit to be used; however, we use metals and gemstones, in a ceremony known as the infusion ceremony. The infusion is where specific metals and gems are placed magically within the body, and they act as relays for your body to channel magic to and from your core, and out through a channel stone on your dominant hand," he explained as he held his right hand up, his palm towards her. On his palm was a rich red ruby that caught the light in the study.
"Wow," Ivy said as she looked at it.
Harry could not help but silently mimic her awe at the way magic was used in this world.
"Once a person undergoes his or her infusion ceremony, a magical grimmoire will materialize," he said as he reached behind him and pulled out a medium sized black tome. "The book is blank, but once you learn a spell, it will be recorded within the book. To use magic, one needs a combination of will and imagination, so that they can picture what they desire of their magic and manipulate their magics to grant it. Because it is dependant upon the individual, there is no single spell imagined or said the same way to get the same results. As an example:" he turned to the desk and poised his hand at it, "Shackles undone, rise into the sky," he stated clearly. On the desk, the papers stirred in a sudden breeze before they rose into the air, hovering on a conjured breeze.
"Cool," Ivy breathed, honestly impressed, as she stared at the papers. "I am so going."
Harry blinked at the strange display of magic. Maybe this would give him an edge against Voldemort.
"Ivy, honey, don't you want to go to school with your friends?" the blond woman behind the desk voiced.
Harry's gaze darted to the woman. He frowned.
"Mom, I don't have friends."
"What about that girl, Cassidy, she invited you to her birthday."
"She invited the whole class because her mom made her," Ivy responded. "The other girls don't like me because I'd rather read stories, and pretend to be on an adventure from a story, than play dress up, or talk about boys. The boys don't like me because I am a girl, and they think girls have cooties," she explained. "No offense, Harry." She gave him an apologetic smile.
"I don't think girls have cooties," Harry said with a small smile back at the girl.
Ivy nodded. "I want to go. I want to use magic. You always told me to use what gifts I have to the best I can; magic is a gift and I want to learn how to use it."
"Fine," her mother said, her tone sharp, indicating that Ivy's decision was all but fine.
Harry didn't like her tone. It reminded him of Aunt Petunia when she was telling him not to act so… freakish.
"If that is what you want," Ivy's mom said before she plucked up a ball from her desk and squeezed it until her knuckles turned white.
The Potions instructor glanced between Ivy and her parents, his face neutral as he pulled his glove back onto his hand. "If it would be alright with you, I'd like to escort Ivy and Harry to a magical district so that they may undergo their infusion ceremonies and collect all the materials needed for the school year. The school year begins in five days, so sooner would be wiser than later."
Harry watched as Ivy's father placed his hand on her shoulder and knelt down so he was on eye level with her. "You understand that this means everything in your life is about to change and that it will never be the same again?"
She nodded.
"And you are sure, without a single doubt in your mind that this is what you want, and that this is what is best for you? Remember, you are only nine."
"I am more sure of this than anything," she said quietly as she met her father's gaze. "I want to have my adventure, one that separates me from the pages I read. Please let me do this?"
He nodded his head.
She was going to live her very own story, and Harry was going to help her with it. He offered a bright smile to the girl, and was pleasantly surprised when she returned it.
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Well, that is all for my opening chapter. Hopefully those of you who made it to the end found it acceptable enough. This was just an experiment, as most Harry-goes-to-another-universe/dimension features a verse more intimately related to the Harry Potter series, and I felt I would try a dimension unlike the Potter-verse. Any thoughts or comments are welcome. Thank you for reading!