DZ2's Den of Delights
Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and for this next one, I feel I must apologise to my readers; for you see, the idea you're about to read was one that I intended to put in the Den and accidentally posted as a story. I don't really have any intentions to continue this one as there are too many things to work out, but what I do plan on doing is keeping up with the good work I have right now.
So, anyway, my apologies to everyone who enjoyed the sound of this one, but it's not being continued; just put here in the Den as a sample idea;
Harry Potter, Phoenix King
Harry didn't know if it was just his imagination, but with everything that he'd taken on in the past year, it seemed like he'd been at Hogwarts for a lot longer than he thought he had.
After all, with nearly getting expelled, fending off a crazy House Elf, taking on Acromantulas, discovering he could speak another language, trying to solve an age-old mystery about a hidden sanctum, disguising himself as a Slytherin, battling his arch-rival in a battle in front of the entire school, being labelled a Dark Wizard because of that language gift of his, running away from a Basilisk, defeating Tom Riddle again and nearly dying to save an innocent girl, Harry was actually surprised he'd survived this year, never mind reached the end of it.
And now, with the sound of his trunk closing for the last time and a soft and gentle hoot from Hedwig, Harry knew that his thoughts were just thoughts: he had reached the end of the year. He was returning home to Privet Drive and he was looking forwards to a summer of fun and games and, of course, celebrating what, in some circles, was considered to be his coming of age.
Thirteen years old: there was a time when Harry had wondered if he would see twelve with the threat of Voldemort's presence weighing on his mind, but now, he was just over a month away from reaching the teenage milestone.
With his trunk locked, Harry walked around his bed and, reaching up his hand, he stroked his friend's soft white feathers gently, his face twisted into a smile of relief and finality as he told her, "You go on, girl: I'll see you at home."
Spreading her wings, Hedwig took off into the sky, her reaction and amusing display of loyalty to Harry making the Gryffindor wizard laugh slightly as he considered a thought about his friend. Ever since Hagrid had given her to him as a gift, Harry had always wondered if Hedwig actually understood what he was saying, though if she did, then he also knew that would mean that she was his familiar.
Not that he'd mind, of course: according to the books that he'd read on the subject, Harry knew that a familiar, at such a young age as his, was a sign that he was a great wizard with unbelievable levels of potential where his magical abilities were concerned. Given that he could out-run a Basilisk, stabbing it through the top of its head with Gryffindor's Sword in the process, and also speak to snakes, Harry had actually began to wonder just what other surprises waited for him locked away in the coded mystery that was his magical core.
As he returned to his trunk, checking it over one last time, Harry smiled as he considered what he'd just thought to himself: to anyone else, it would sound like something that his honorary sister, Hermione, would think about. But that was only because Harry knew that his potential was purposefully kept back: not because he'd had a bad lifestyle or an abusive childhood, but because the magical world didn't understand it and, if they caught wind of it, they'd ignore it.
The fact of the matter was that, ever since he was old enough to understand the words on the page, Harry had always had a strong learning and researching streak about him. He'd hungrily explored each book in the children's library at school and then, when Hagrid had told him that he was a wizard, Harry had also taken in every piece of information from there too.
Although the Dursleys preferred to just let him get on with it – since they weren't from that world unlike Harry and his family – Harry had never really been opposed by them for his potential. Sure, they'd tried to pretend that the strange and unusual events hadn't happened when he was younger, but when Hagrid had come out and said it to them, it was like a switch had turned on in their lives.
Harry was allowed to read as much as he wanted about his world at home, though Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon both made it a rule that any magical talk was to be kept away from Muggle guests and social events. So when Dobby the House Elf had used magic to try and keep Harry away from Hogwarts, they'd both been rather disappointed with him and given him the silent treatment for a long time: when Ron, Fred and George had come to his 'rescue' – like he needed it since the Dursleys treated him like family – the silence had been broken and Harry had sent them a letter home telling them that he was okay and sorry for the cake incident.
Accepting his apology, Aunt Petunia sent him a care package via Hedwig with his things and some of his favourite books and equipment; mind you, living in the Burrow, surrounded by Boy-Who-Lived worshippers, was not easy for Harry to indulge in his research-loving side.
If he was being honest, it was probably the one and the only thing that he didn't like about the magical world: nobody understood how hard it was to be two different people in one body.
"Harry?"
'Well,' thought Harry, hearing the familiar caring tone of his true best friend, 'Almost nobody.'
Turning to the source of the voice, Harry's smile widened slightly as he saw Hermione Granger standing in the doorway, her hair tucked back behind one ear and her choice of attire already changed into her street/Muggle clothes and not her robes.
"You all set?" asked the Muggle-born girl, earning a nod from Harry as he sniffed once before he made his way out leaving his trunk behind him for whoever transported them to the Hogwarts Express, ready to set off on the journey back home.
As they reached the Entrance Hall, Harry heaved a sigh before he asked, "You heard from Ron yet?"
"No," Hermione replied, "He's too busy fawning over the role he had to play in Lockhart's leaving from the school and then he hasn't asked me once about my own recovery. Even if he does speak to us, you know he'll only try and convince you to…"
"I know," Harry remarked, cutting off her words before he explained, "But I'm not going to stop, Hermione: just because Riddle speaks the language doesn't mean that speaking it makes someone completely dark. And besides, if it wasn't for my Parseltongue gift, we'd have never saved Ginny from Tom's influence in the first place."
"We?" asked Hermione, giving her friend a nudge as she added, "You: by the way, after I was released from the Wing, I paid a visit to…"
"The library," finished Harry, earning a laugh from his friend as he asked, "And?"
"I looked into the fact that you nearly died to save her," Hermione explained, "And how it was that Fawkes the phoenix could have known to find you: I mean, all right, I get that the Headmaster said you showed unbelievable amounts of loyalty, but if Fawkes could find the Chamber, then why not Dumbledore?"
For a moment, Harry was silent and, as they reached the edge of Hogsmeade Village, Hermione looked to him from the corner of her eye before she asked, "Harry, are you okay?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, but the tone of his voice was less than convincing as he added, "Just…I can't help but agree with you, Hermione: I mean, the Chamber was opened fifty years ago by Tom and then there's how Dumbledore vouched for Hagrid when he needed him not once, but twice. I don't know: it just seems like there's one too many coincidences with how things have gone this year."
Giving him a soft smile, Hermione placed a hand on Harry's arm before the young Gryffindor turned his head to her and asked, "So what did you find out?"
"Well," Hermione answered, "In saving Ginny's life as you did, your magic has inadvertently created a life-debt between you and her: the magic and the right to cash in the debt belongs to you, but at the same time, if she does anything to disturb you or endanger your life again, you can also…that is, you can consider the debt nullified and breached, but doing so would…"
She seemed to hiccup with a hint of fear to her expression; Harry, meanwhile, let his hand find hers before he asked, "Kill her?"
"At the least," Hermione answered, "Or the failing of the debt, depending on the severity of the crime, could make Ginny a slave to your family. I know you would never allow that, but if you didn't, then…yes, Harry, she would die."
"Don't worry yourself, Mione," Harry told her, his nickname for his friend earning a soft smile and a blush from Hermione as he explained, "While you're right that I wouldn't ever make someone out to be my slave; at the same time, I don't want to be responsible for Ginny's death, so the first chance that I get, I'll have a talk with her and Mr Weasley about the debt."
"Why him?"
"Well he is the Head of the Family," Harry reasoned, earning another soft smile from Hermione as they reached the station; finding an empty compartment, Harry and Hermione slipped inside, their things being transported by that mysterious magic of the train's keepers while, at the same time, the usual end-of-term hustle and bustle echoed around them.
While they waited for the train to roll out of the station, Harry let his eyes drift to the distant silhouette of the castle looming over the hill that led down to Hogsmeade Village. It was unusual for him to think of this as going home when, all throughout his two years of schooling, Harry had thought of Hogwarts as a second home, though one that came with life-or-death threats and dangers throughout the year-long term.
As he looked up at the school, however, Harry couldn't help but let his hand drift to the spot on his arm where the Basilisk had bitten him and Fawkes had healed him. While phoenixes were creatures of good and light, Harry couldn't help but think about the earlier point that he and Hermione had made concerning the coincidences surrounding this year.
At this thought, Harry remembered something that Dumbledore had said to him, though not completely to the knowledge of the others around him: you will always find that help will be available at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.
All right, he'd been dying, but Fawkes had been chased off by the Basilisk after blinding it, hadn't he?
How had he known to return to Harry with time enough to heal the boy's wound and save him from yet another close call with the Almighty?
Harry was certain that he hadn't asked for such a thing to happen…which he also realised was a weird thought to consider seeing as how Fawkes' act had saved his life.
He certainly didn't want to die, but…how had it been possible for Fawkes to know he needed him?
As Harry tried to wrap his mind around these thoughts, his constant thinking and dilemmas plaguing his thoughts in the process, the young Gryffindor groaned as he felt the mother of all headaches creeping up on him.
Hearing the groan, Hermione smiled before she moved across and, to Harry's surprise, she laid his head in her lap and gently began rubbing circles into his temples.
Meeting her gaze, Harry laughed before he asked, "Not that I'm ungrateful, Hermione, but what are you doing?"
"Mum does this for Dad all the time when he gets a bad headache," Hermione explained, the touch and friendliness of the act helping Harry more than he realised as she added, "Don't worry, I'm only doing this to help you relax: I'm not after anything."
"I…I didn't say you…you were," Harry replied, the touch and effect of the actions making him rather drowsy, though alert enough to feel a sense of curiosity about Hermione's comment.
Before he could make heads-or-tails of it, Harry's eyes were closed and he was lost to the embrace of Morpheus…
Harry Potter, Phoenix King
As Hermione heard her friend's soft breathing echo in her ears, she couldn't help but laugh as she muttered to herself, "Funny, Dad usually wound up asleep as well."
Before she could move away and let Harry catch some z's, the calm atmosphere of the train ride was interrupted when the door to their compartment opened and, from the other side, Ron Weasley poked his head in, his eyes wide as he saw Harry lying in Hermione's lap.
"What are…" he began, but before he could get another word out, Hermione had shut the door in his face.
"I don't have the energy to put up with him now," she muttered, moving Harry's head back to the seat while she returned to her own place, a part of her curious as to what exactly had caused Harry to drop off like that.
Whatever it was, Hermione figured that her friend could use a good-night's sleep, especially after spending yet another year listening to Ronald's incessant snoring night-after-night.
Harry Potter, Phoenix King
Unknown to Hermione, however, Harry's sleep patterns and dream state was anything but peaceful;
Instead, as soon as the blackness of sleep claimed him, the young Gryffindor was surprised to find himself being almost lifted from his body and, soaring through the air like some sort of ghost, he found his path taking him back to Hogwarts; more specifically, back to the Chamber of Secrets.
As he soared down into the tunnel, his eyes widened when, up ahead of his path, he found a familiar bright-red figure waiting for him, the form of this figure perched on top of a live Basilisk's head.
"Funny," Harry muttered, looking to both the red-feathered form of Fawkes as well as the Basilisk of Slytherin, "I seem to remember killing you."
/I did die, young Speaker,/ the Basilisk's voice replied, its tone edged by a sense of purpose and instruction as it explained, /Not a feeling I care to recall, but thanks to the blessings of my co-guardian, I have been reborn and the magic of my maker has found you again./
"Your…what?" asked Harry, but his words were cut off when Fawkes, spreading his wings, opened his beak and let out a song: it was a powerful, bone-jarring, heart-rending song that echoed through the Chamber and, as Harry listened, he was surprised to find the song being turned into words…or so it sounded to him.
When the guardian falls, a champion shall rise; blessed with the power of the Immortals and gifted with unknown legacies, he shall become the sovereign of magic. Heralded by the scion of Light and aided by the lost Darkness, the sovereign shall reign over all Externals and rise as a force greater than the First. Wounded by the guardian, but saved by the Watcher, the sovereign shall have the power to save us all…or to plunge the world of the mage into the new apocalypse.
If Harry didn't know any better, he could have sworn that Fawkes had just given a prophecy of some sort, but the question on his lips was…why?
~To warn you, little master,~ replied Fawkes, his tone as sharp and musical as ever to Harry's untrained ears, ~Now that the prophecy has come to fruition, it will change everything for you. But fear not, for you shall have allies in the days ahead: while you are preparing, you must also be wary and willing to make a choice.~
"What…what choice?" asked Harry, but before he could get an answer, the power of his spectral self seemed to pull him back towards his body, the last thing he heard being Fawkes' powerful voice in his ears.
~You will know when the Lost One returns to you and returns you to the path of the King. Until then, luck be with you…my King…~
Harry Potter, Phoenix King
As Harry found consciousness returning to him, his heart felt cold with a sense of dread edged by a feeling of worry that wormed its way inside him: what did Fawkes mean by returning Harry to the path of the King and what was that strange prophecy supposed to mean?
Who was the guardian?
Who was the scion of Light and the lost Darkness?
And why did Harry suddenly feel more lost than ever?
As he tried to get the answers to come to him, Harry was drawn back to the present by Hermione as she told him, "Welcome back: you okay?"
"I…I think so," Harry replied, sitting upright before he asked, "Anyone been to see us yet?"
"Only Ronald," Hermione answered, "He tried to make some sort of remark because of how you were lying on my lap like that, but I shut him out before he could say anything."
"He might have been about to apologise," Harry surmised, but Hermione just shrugged before she returned her attention to the now-continuing Hogwarts Express journey back to Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters.
Truth be told, Harry didn't believe his own words either, but at that moment, his thoughts were somewhere else more important and more distressing than Ron's opinions:
'What did Fawkes's message mean?'
Okay, so there we go and, again, I apologise to everyone who enjoyed the sound of this idea; that being said, I would like to make something clear that I haven't really said before now.
In this Den, I post my ideas and, if there's any of the ideas that you, my loyal and faithful readers would like to adopt as your own, then let me know and I'll let the readers know.
Anyway, next instalment to the Den coming soon…