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 start with an apology; you see, dear readers, a while back, I told you that my alliance was with the darkness in creativity now and, when I realised that, my inspirations seemed to disappear completely inside my head for my only Light story 'A Hero's Best Friend'
Now, while I know I could have put it up for adoption, simply put, I didn't want to: and I didn't want to give a go at going over it again just to lose my inspirations for my other work.
So, in a nutshell, I'm now writing solely for whatever pops into my head; I'm no longer abandoning or deleting stories after today. Instead, if I lose my inspirations along the way, I'm just leaving them on-site.
Maybe in the hopes of regaining what I've lost or just maybe to remind myself of how good I can be, I don't know.
But in the words of a famous entertainer: I feel like I've lost my smile!
Anyway, on with the Den and, for this next one, I'm going with a fairly popular idea, but not one that you might expect; here we go…
The Blessed One
Angry;
There had been times in Harry's life where he'd felt angry, but none of those times could compare to right here, right now: it was like a black mist had settled over his senses and completely blocked common sense from the thoughts of revenge.
All he could see was her; all that he could hear was her taunting jibes; all that he could feel was the desire to see her fall and all that he could smell was…well, that was the weird part.
All that he could smell was a thick, cloying sensation of ozone that rose up inside him, his eyes watering while his mind became fogged over by the blackness.
As the overwhelming force of the senses attacked Harry's subconscious, he was brought back to earth when he heard Bellatrix's voice, "Did you love him, Potty wee Potter? Are you going to avenge my dear cousin?"
"Yes," Harry replied in a cold voice, "I am!"
With that, he stretched his arms out to the sides, the feeling of ozone now moving through his fingers and, before he could make a guess as to what happened, Harry felt a mix of shock and satisfaction as he saw the water from the fountain rise up behind him, the power of the water clear in its size as the tidal force rose up, dominating the scene of power and magic while also moving at Harry's command.
"Ooh, so Potty wants to play does he?" asked Bellatrix, now looking at the cascading force with amusement as she cackled, "Then let's make this fun!"
With that, Bellatrix fired off a curse that flew towards Harry with intensified force, but, instead of striking Harry, the curse's magic was surprisingly extinguished when Harry threw his arms down again, the force and magnitude of his power showing itself as the water rushed past him, his body remaining upright while, at the same time, sending Bellatrix flying down the Atrium.
To one side of the witch, a Floo Gate flared into life; in a vague attempt to escape, Bellatrix used the Carpe Retractum spell on the gate and disappeared in a flash of green flames. At the same time, the cascading waters died away, leaving Harry scowling before he snorted and, with a half-amused smirk, he whispered, "Until next time then, dear Bella."
Then, with a burst of renewed magic that seemed to soak into his skin from the water, Harry disappeared in what could only be described as a swirling vortex of oceanic power.
Moments later, Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore appeared, both of them too late to stop his escape…
The Blessed One
Luke Castellan stood at the edge of the barrier that divided Camp Half-Blood from the rest of the world, one hand wrapped tightly around a solid gold orb while the other held a teleportation device that would be his escape once the plan came to fruition.
As he thought about The Plan, the son of Hermes glanced towards a beautiful, giant-sized tree and, with a half-hearted smile, he whispered, "Sorry about this, Thalia: but for the Greater Good of our kind, it must be done."
Then, without any remorse whatsoever in his motions, Luke threw the orb towards the tree where, upon contact, it started to eat away at the bark, causing a rippling, rift effect in the barrier surrounding the camp.
Satisfied with his work, Luke commanded, "Go: lure them out to me…and make sure you make it hurt."
A streak of bronze passed one side of the fallen demigod before, just as Luke was about to enter the Camp to enjoy the fun, a ripple of power passed behind him. Turning to the source of the power, Luke's eyes widened when he saw a dark-haired boy dressed in red-and-black coloured clothing, his eyes a strong, deep shade of sapphire-blue, his posture and sense of power telling Luke one thing: this kid was an Olympian.
And those eyes…that damned colouring; it could only be one god's hell spawn.
"Who are you?" asked the boy, his voice cold and menacing as he addressed Luke.
"Luke Castellan, son of Hermes," replied the young warrior, his eyes inspecting the boy as he then realised something was wrong here: sons and daughters of that cursed God didn't have eyes this dark a shade of blue. Maybe he was wrong after all, "Who are you?"
"Harry Potter, son of Lily and James," answered the boy, smirking as he asked, "What sort of joke is this anyway? Son of Hermes? Get out of here; there's no such thing as sons of Gods!"
"Well here I am and here you are," Luke argued, indicating the Camp before he asked, "How else would you be drawn here if not by the power of…of Poseidon?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry scowled, moving past Luke as he added, "But since I'm here, I may as well have a look about."
Rather than stop him, Luke let Harry enter the Camp through the weakened barrier, a part of him amused to the thought of what a certain bane of his life would say if he saw this one.
If his suspicions were correct, then Harry Potter was just like Luke: not one with favouritism for the Olympians and their blindness to the plights of their children.
And if so, then it looked like Luke had just found himself a new ally…
The Blessed One
'Where am I?'
This was the thought that entered a young man's mind as consciousness returned to him, the first thing he noticed being a strange forest and, at the front of the forest, there was a large brown stone archway with unusual writing upon it. As the man looked to the writing however, he was surprised to see it switch its lettering around until it spelled out 'Camp Half-Blood.'
'Half-Blood?' wondered the young man, 'Half-Blood…what?'
Before he could hazard a guess, the young man was surprised when, from beyond the arch, a large group of people appeared, each of them looking somewhere between horrified and shocked at the state of an old, wise tree. Some of the people looked like normal teenagers, but there were those who had…unusual additions: elven, centaur, wings and horns that couldn't be found on normal people.
With shaky steps, the young man tried to blend into the crowd while, at the head of the crowd, an aged centaur asked, "What in Zeus' name happened?"
"It was Luke," replied a stern voice; from within the crowd, a dark-haired boy with sea-green eyes emerged, his hand holding onto a strange silvery sword that was shaking slightly with fatigue from its bearer as he explained, "Luke poisoned the tree, weakened the barrier…and he had help."
"How are you so sure of this, Percy?" asked the centaur, but rather than answer, the boy, Percy, pointed forwards…right at the dark-haired young man.
"Because he's standing right there…who the Underworld are you anyway?" he asked, watching as several heads turned in the young man's direction.
With shock and disbelief in his eyes, the young man replied, "My name's Harry…Harry Potter…and I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about: I just got here…wherever here is."
Huh? Surprising little twist there, wouldn't you say? This idea came from my having a thought about writing a HP/PJ XOver and, strange as it may seem, this was the idea that came to mind;
Whether or not I proceed with the idea…I don't know;
Anyway, next instalment to the Den coming soon…