Chapter 4: A Sense of What's to Come

"You have proved very useful young jaylin" the dark voice crept from the shadows. "But your usefulness has run dry, and we can not risk you seizing the power for yourself"

A puzzled look crossed jaylin's face, but before he had time to register what the man meant, the entire room flashed a bright red, and in the blink of an eye darkness had re-enveloped the room, and the only thing different was the skeleton of what was once a very talented, very bright young wizard, lying motionless on the stone floor.

"We have it" the cold voice projected from the corner once again. "We have taken the first step on the path to a power not seen since the time of Zara".


Rome was just as beautiful as Harry remembered it. It dawned on him, that for as beautiful and romantic a place as the Capitol of Italy seemed to be, everything about it was enveloped in darkness. Some of the most violent battles in wizarding history had happened at the gates of Rome herself, some of the darkest legends found their roots inside the walls of this very city, some of the darkest magic had originated in these lands before the time of the Roman Empire. The soil itself seethed an unnatural darkness, but for all of this... Rome was still beautiful.

Harry could see the outline of the once great coliseum rising over the horizon sitting right underneath a blanket of stars in the cloudless sky, it was a breathtaking sight. Harry shook his head, he needed to focus, he wasn't here to see the sights. Following the directions he'd been given by his contact at the ministry, Harry headed down a crowded street until he saw it, sitting in plain view, but the muggles kept going like they couldn't even see it. The gilded centurion was a small pub smack in the middle of the old town quarter of the city, one of the only wizarding buildings sitting in the open. Harry pushed the door open and walked in. As usual, he was met with whispers; he picked out "scar" and "hero" among them. He walked calmly to the bar and told the innkeeper that he had a reservation. "Ah yes Mr. Harry Potter" the elderly gentleman said in a suave Italian accent "you are in room 22 right up the stairs and to your left" the man handed Harry his key and went back to his business. Harry took one last look around the seedy bar and shook his head, he'd thought his days of staying in these places were over, but it seemed that his glory days, the days of being a war hero, the days of Harry hunting evil wherever he could find it, we're in fact not quite over yet.

The door creaked open on rusty hinges once Harry unlocked it, and upon stepping inside he was met with a smell of dust, alcohol, and stagnant musk. This room was old, that much was clear, this place was no better than the leaky cauldron. The ministry had already sent Harry's provisions ahead of him. Only a select few in the department of Magical Law Enforcement knew where Harry was going or why, in fact it was not even a publicly known fact that he had resumed his position at the ministry. Once he had filled Cho in on everything he had found, she had granted him emergency powers, his old position, and unrestricted ministry clearance to do anything he needed to do. Cho had gone into a fit of panic Harry had seen far too many times, when he'd told her what he knew. She tried to send his entire department to Rome with him, but he told her they would just slow him down and he worked better at this kind of thing alone. Harry had no doubt though, that this time, there was going to be a full scale war if the wrong hands found what he was looking for. One that the wizarding world may not ever recover from.

The only thing that kept Harry going was the thought of his family, they'd been through so much, and he didn't want to see another wizarding war in their life time. Harry wasn't a soldier, he may have been branded a "war hero" but he knew, in all reality, he had never fought a real war. Skirmishes and scuffles and battles maybe, but there had never been flat out war. There hadn't been a real war in centuries. Voldemort, Xanatos? They had been evil men, but not even they could instigate a full on war. This scared Harry to his core, those battles had been hard enough, but this... This was an ancient magic that from what he read was darker than anything Voldemort could have ever dreamed. Harry had to do everything in his power to prevent evil men from finding what they sought, he didn't even know what that was yet, he had nothing to go on but a few scraps of paper and some nameless whispers of old gods on the prowl. He would have study and hunt relentlessly if he was to figure out what he was doing. It was times like this when Harry missed Dumbledore, or Sirius. In all likelihood they would have been as lost as he was, but at least he wouldn't have to do this alone.


It was a rolling clap of booming thunder that jolted Hermione awake from the nightmare that had had her squirming in bed. It had been so many years since her captivity at the hands of Voldemort and his death eaters, but she could still remember it clear as day. She could still feel Dolohov's hands on her naked body, still remember Lucius Malfoy bending her over and violently forcing himself inside of her, she could still feel Goyle's breath on the back of her neck, and Wormtail's grubby paws between her legs. It wasn't something she was ever going to forget.

She whimpered and reached for Harry, and felt nothing but air, he wasn't there, Hermione was beginning to lose hope that he would be home for a very long time. She'd seen her beloved husband once in 5 months. She understood that he had to do this; she just wished selfishly that it wasn't always him that had to go. She was tired of the constant worries and fears, and just not having her Harry home with her, she longed to just be wrapped in his arms lying next to him, she longed for him to comfort her after her nightmares had set in. She just wanted Harry.

Hermione had been having the nightmares more frequently now. She was afraid to sleep, they were becoming more and more real, and she was completely re-immersed in the tragic reality of what had happened to her on that island. Some wounds just never heal, and that must have been one of them. She was constantly stressed, losing weight, her hair was getting grey flecks now, and she just wanted Harry to come home. Hermione stood up and threw her robe around herself and stood up, it was cold, far too cold for a midsummer morning. She walked across the vast master bedroom of the potter mansion, and slid open the gigantic oak door leading into it. The carpet in the bathroom felt warm underneath her feet as it squished between her toes. Another rumble of thunder startled her and the flash of lightning that came next could have killed her. With the room illuminated even just for that split second, shed seen him, she knew it was him, she could never forget that face, skin white as paper, with the beady red eyes, and the slit snakelike nostrils, Hermione could have sworn that shed just seen in the mirror, Voldemort behind her, arms outstretched, ready to take her again. She whirled around wand already in hand, and the lights came on at the wave of her hand, she was ready to fight, but no one was there.

As a precautionary measure Hermione waved her wand arm in a complex pattern whispering "reprexo exionum". It was a simple charm Hermione had invented when the children were younger, green smoke leaked from the tip of her wand, forming itself into a perfect floor plan of the house, with one red dot standing in the bathroom, Hermione being that red dot. No one else was in the house. Still, she couldn't help feeling she wasn't alone. After checking that the house was indeed empty and making sure again that the manor was secure, she slipped back up the stairs and into bed. As she drifted off to sleep again, she wondered if being alone in this big empty house was really taking an emotional toll on her.


Mark was literally exhausted, Puddlemere had out the team through a 10 hour practice in preparation for the first game of finals the next week. He slowly descended to the ground; snitch in hand towards the middle of the pitch where the team was already beginning to gather for a few final words before they went home for the night.

Before heading off to the showers the team went over a few final plays and tactics for the upcoming game against the Hollyhead harpies. They were good but Puddlemere had been undefeated. The finals were easily in their grasp as long as they could keep ahead long enough to get to the World Cup, where mark had no doubt the final face-off would be against Bulgaria, while they no longer had victor Krum, the team was still a well oiled machine of quidditch perfection, they'd crushed every opponent by a more than adequate score all season.

Mark ran his hands through his hair, it was so hard to try to focus on quidditch right now. His dad had just dropped a bombshell on him and suddenly disappeared again without doing too much explanation. Harry ha always been good at disappearing. Mark loved his dad with all his heart but it was easy to see Harry had never let his hero complex die, he still felt like it was his job so save the world. Mark was worried about what it was doing to his mother emotionally, it was plain to see she was a nervous wreck. Harry had just up and vanished for 4 months, out of no where, and then comes home for not even a full night, acting all weird and cryptic before leaving again straight away, no one had any idea when he would be back.

All mark had done in the last week since his dad had come back was stress, he'd never seen Harry so worried, so scared as he was that night. Harry potter wasn't afraid of anything, period. That's just how it worked, marks dad was a fearless hero who had put a stop to some of the most evil wizards of all time, Harry had brought a peace to the wizarding world that no one had felt in over 50 years. Mark wanted to question his father's stability, was there any validation to these legends? Or was Harry just lost without some kind of evil to defeat. He shook these thoughts from his head, his dad wasn't losing it, that look in Harry's eye the night back at marks house, no Harry full heartedly believed in whatever it was he was after, an mark had never known his dad's judgment to be bad.

Something was definitely stirring, there was a storm brewing. Harry felt it, and Mark was sure that before long the rest of the magical community would feel it too.

The scary thing about all this was, this wasn't just some wizard who thought he had the rights to the world, if Harry was right about all this... This was going to be a war against evil itself... Against the devil and his sons. This wasn't even something Mark could fathom. These were the entities of everything that was wrong in the world as they knew it, all powerful, divine beings of the darkness. The creators of the darkest magic known to men and gods alike. If Harry was right, the world was doomed.


Harry woke with a start at the sound of his alarm, he looked over at the red 4:00 AM flashing at him, and reached over and shut it off. Groggily he sat up and collected his bearings. He shook his head and stood up from the roughly put together bed, his back was sore. Muttering curses Harry walked to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face, Harry tried to wake up, he had a job to do and he needed an early start.

Harry crept down the stairs of the inn, as no one was awake yet, he decided to try a silent exit. Bag slung over his back and broom in hand he exited the back as to not draw attention from whatever muggles may be skulking around outside. The warm Italian air greeted Harry as he stepped into the dark alley way, at least it wouldn't be a cold trip. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, and silently mounted his broom and kicked off. It felt like it had been ages since Harry had actually flown, with the busy day to day bustle it was quicker to apparate everywhere. But Harry had no clue where he was going so that wasn't really plausible. Harry sped north as fast as his old broom could handle, for what seemed like days. Finally Vatican City soared beneath him and he knew that it was now the real journey began. Harry slowed to almost a complete stop, and carefully took his hands off the broom. Reaching carefully into his robes he produced his map and unrolled it. Charting a careful course of where he needed to go, Harry knew he had a long day ahead of him. A very long day. He folded the map and placed it back into his robes, before taking off again full speed setting a course north to where this island was supposed to be.

It was mid day before Harry reached the coastline. He looked for over an hour before he finally found his mark, off in the distance he could see a jungle looming on the island. He knew once he arrived, he'd have to make the track on foot, those trees were too high and too thick to be able to fly through and still find what he was looking for.

Harry was also weary of any magical defenses the island may have, surely it wasn't this easy to find the library of Alexandria that had been hidden for thousands of years.

Safely reaching the island Harry descended and carefully dismounted his broom. He placed it carefully into his enchanted bag that thanks to Hermione's genius would hold far more than it appeared. Harry checked his surroundings, pulled out his wand, took a deep breath, and headed into the jungle. He had no idea what he would find there.


It seemed like months Harry had been trekking thought the heavy population of trees and shrubs. He had no clue where he was or where he was going, or if he'd been here already, it all looked the same. His shoes were soaked from crossing a river about an hour before, and he was beginning to get hungry. It was almost impossible to see the sky through the endless canopy of trees, but Harry knew it had been at least 3 days since he'd set into the jungle. He'd whittled his food supply down to a few items left and he was trying to save them in case he really needed them. He could always hunt if he needed food. He had all the spells at his disposal to kill, clean, and cook any poor victim that fell prey to his hunger. He was trying not to have to light a fire to cook any food by night though. The previous night he'd heard a series of howls that seemed too territorial and too low to be that of a mere wolf, Harry didn't know for certain but he was almost positive there were werewolves in these woods. The previous day he'd found the husk of an acromantula that was easily 20 feet tall, almost 3 times the size of the ones that inhabited Hogwarts' forest. It worried him a bit not that there was such a creature in the jungle, but that there was something that could have killed it still out there. He slept in the trees and bushes, trying to avoid the ground or caves at any cost, he had no idea what else was out here. He only traveled by day, and even then he was cautious. Harry heard a twit snap behind him, and he whirled around, wand out, curse on the tip of his tongue. A small deer had wandered into the clearing behind him, and was eating berries from a vine. Harry thought about it for a second, the deer wasn't big enough to make a full meal, and he needed enough food to keep him full for a while, he wouldn't kill an infant animal just to save him some bellyache.

Harry pushed on through the jungle, wandering for hours, climbing cliffs and wading through rivers. His robes were torn to shreds by now and his whole body was covered on cuts and bruises and mud. His feet were constantly waterlogged, but he couldn't let it slow him down, he was as determined as ever.

Harry knew something had been tracking him for the past few hours and he was determined not to become prey to some beast trying to fill its gut. He'd braved too much in his life to be brought down by a wolf or a big cat.

As day quickly turned to night Harry desperately tried to find a tree that had branches low enough for him to climb into. The shrubbery was still too thick for him to be able to fly up, and this island had some kind of magical barrier that prevented anyone from apparating while on it. Harry heard crunching and stopped dead in his tracks, he couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Then he heard a noise that made his skin crawl. All at once, from every direction, came a blood curdling, bone chilling howl. Harry could see them coming now he was surrounded, wolves were emerging in every direction from the trees. Not small wolves, big, thick, muscled wolves that stood on 2 legs. Harry had never seen this before, usually they hunted alone, but something was different here, it must have been. Harry was surrounded by a pack of the biggest werewolves he'd ever seen.