Parts of this are word for word from the first book which I own a copy of but nothing more in case you thought I did. Remember it's crack fic and I warn you that from this chapter and onwards it will get crackier and crackier~ Also this is the entrance of cameos so from this chapter on if it's in the body of the story in italics it's probably a cameo.
Harry pats each of the dog's heads as they chew at the thick bones. He has to stand on one leg to manage them all at the same time, leaving one shoe on the floor. Perhaps the cerberus would be less aggressive each time he passed through (and he had a feeling he'd have to do that a lot) if he didn't just put it to sleep.
Its singular tail wags...
The room is silent. A log fire burns on in the grate despite the many hangings on both the windows and walls to preserve the heat. The furniture is made universally of fine oak, hard wearing and polished to a glossy shine. The fire is a sole point of warmth, contrasting to the thick drapes of green and silver, iridescent fabrics glimmering as if tiny beetle wings had been stitched into the surface. The chairs too have been cushioned with a deep emerald green worked into with a silver design which seems to slip from one fabric to another. Lining the walls and dotted across the heavy oak floor are bookshelves of the same ilk of the chairs and desk. The parts facing the room are inlaid with precious stones and a scrolling metal design. The shelves themselves are packed with rare books. The work of tens of generations to collect and catalogue. Out of anything these suggest perhaps the strongest the ancestry of the family who live in this home and their status.
The tall, suavely dressed man appears in an instant.
Harry looks around the chamber- how strange- he had the feeling that time had stopped for a minute or two.
Shrugging off the puzzled feeling he steps down through the trapdoor. Cushioning charm like the last two times. Warming spell. He enters the room with the door.
He slips off his sunglasses, disappearing them with a mere thought. His eyes are turned almost black by the dim lighting of the room. As the fire catches them they shine purple, fading again as he moves sharply to a standing bookshelf. His trench coat flows from his shoulders like death's own cloak. Beneath that he wears silky dress trousers, fitting neatly to his legs and a cleanly cut white shirt, flattering his lean body.
Also a tie. Black- as if he were about to go for a formal dinner.
He tilts his fedora back, looking intensely at the thinner books scattered over the shining top of the bookshelf. He smirks, hearing the door open.
Harry's head snaps to either side- there was that weird feeling again! He laughs awkwardly, quite glad no one was there to see how awkward the moment really is. He coughs to derail that train of thought.
What was he doing?
Ah- yes.
Harry unpicks the first two layers quickly. He sighs when he sees the mass of magic still left- why did security have to be so tight? He sets to-
"Who are you?! What are you doing in my house?!" The blonde man scrambles for his wand, baring his teeth in anger, "I'll call the Minister down on your head unless you leave right this instant!" The taller man spins on his heel.
"Oh- will you?" Retorts the trench-coated man snarkily. The blonde man can't even begin saying a spell before his lips have sealed shut. The purple eyed man smirks.
"I am Rapture. Rapture Unknown- think what you will of that-" He waves a hand nonchalantly. His eyes close as he introduces himself, tilting his head towards the ceiling, "Not that I expect someone like you can think." His gaze snaps down onto the shorter man cuttingly.
He spreads his hand against a book on top of a thin book, flipping it up into his hand.
"I am here to rid the world of a disease- of course a wizard as out of touch as yourself with muggles probably doesn't know what a disease is- regardless your dear boss Tom Riddle is one and as such I have taken it upon myself to destroy him with a few… Friends… I suppose you could call them."
-work memorising-
Hey! It did it again! Harry was sure time had frozen again anyway, his eyes flicker as far as they will go into the darkness around the room and his magical senses stretch out.
Nothing- there's nothing.
For some reason Harry doesn't believe his senses. He sets to work regardless, memorising the layout of the next layer of the magical lock.
One man stands by the fireplace, turning the poker in his hands. He smiles politely, light hair falling in front of his delicate face as he tilts his head.
"I am Ragnarok. I am afraid that you will find me to be quite… Unidentified… In any database, Wizarding or otherwise." He chuckles, gloved hand covering his mouth as he looks to his left. His eyes shine like the sea.
A comparitively deep voice seems to emerge from the shadowed depths of the drapery. It's somewhat unintelligible.
"I am Armaggedon. I too doubt that I can be found in many catalogues. I suppose you may call me… Obscure."
The tap of heeled shoes can be heard from beyond the room. The silenced blonde looks to the door hopeful that his wife is bringing him a peacock sammich.
The door opens and it turns out that Lucius isn't that lucky.
The woman closes the door behind her, deep purple nails immediately making the door seem unpolished in comparison. She smirks.
"Sorry I'm late." Her hair is cut short and styled elegantly to go with her outfit. Her purple stilettos click against the hard floor as she walks over to the others, ultra-modern suit showing off her slim legs and class. She comes to a stop and looks down at the Malfoy on the floor with a smirk.
"Oh- thought I'd almost stepped in some crap." The blonde looks almost downtrodden.
"I am Apocalypse. I'm afraid that my last name is. Well. Undisclosed. I would say it's a shame but I don't think you have long to remember it anyway." She smirks at the man.
"It happened again! I'm not mad!" Harry looks around, wide-eyed, magic frying any creature within twenty metres.
Luckily there are none.
He shudders, trying to calm his breathing rate down.
Maybe it was this place?
He will get out of there soon. All he has to do is-
Rapture tears the book in half. The undead section of Voldemort's soul screams in semi-eternal teenage angst.
"Why was I so preeeettttttyyyyyy?" Lucius looks somewhat disturbed.
In the next moment the four are gone, leaving the room empty.
Harry screams- glad that he has somehow memorised the next layer of the locking mechanism- and tears himself from the room as quickly as possible. The boy literally flies through the trap door and races past the confused cerberus. He charges through corridors and staircases and hammers on the door to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyles look on in shock, one remarking to the other about the rudeness of young people.
The door opens.
"Headmaster Dumbledore! Time keeps freezing!" Both men in the room turn to him.
"Harry?" Say both at once in different kinds of disbelief. Before Harry can ask who the man is he is swept up in a bone crushing hug.
"Harry! I would've recognised you anywhere!" The boy looks at Dumbledore worriedly.
"Er- what?" The man releases him, tears spilling down his face.
"It's me- Sirius. Your dogfather." At that moment Snape bursts in through the fireplace.
"Albus- there has been word that the Malfoy's ancestral home has been burned to the ground!"
Dumbledore sighs, resting his face in his palm.
This was turning out to be one of the most irritating evenings of his life.