Ch. 1 - Dreams and Demons
Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail to most these days, cowered in the corner of the massive throne room quivering in fear (as usual), but this night his jittery behavior could also be attributed to excitement. All of the top level Deatheaters were standing along the walls of a large circular room adorned with skulls and grotesque models of trolls, like art would be placed in the homes of normal people, all practically drooling at the prospect of what this experiment would bring to their order and not at all minding their morbid environment. The focus of their attentions was their precocious leader in the center of the damned chamber. Lord Voldemort was standing with arms raised facing the north wall of the room, with a look of insanity in his eyes that made even the most loyal death eaters wonder at their lord's state of mind.
Lord Voldemort was the greatest of the Dark Wizards to ever grace – or disgrace – the earth. He had undertaken many arcane and esoteric experiments to become the half human, half monster being that he was now. What Voldemort craved, what drove him, was his unquenchable thirst for absolute power over everything and everyone. 14 years ago, he was on the path to achieve his sinister goal but through some cursed twist of fate, a baby reflected the Avada Kedavra spell, and reduced Lord Voldemort, the heir of Slytherin, to a mere shade. Voldemort inwardly scowled at the memory of the 14 years spent as a ghost like entity. 'Soon, Lord Voldemort will not be the laughing stock of the wizarding world. The boy will soon have no chance against me and neither will anyone else. I will become invincible!'
With this thought he focused once more on the task at hand, facing the dire visages that adorned the wall in front of him. It was not these images that the Dark Lord was seeing as his loyal Deatheaters were. He was seeing something far beyond the current realm, and his red eyes became somewhat dulled and glazed. Wand in his left hand, he stood tall and commanding, and one could literally see a purple-black cloud of darkness trailing him like a cloak of despair.
Briefly Pettigrew recalled the details of what happened in the previous year in his head. The cursed Potter and his friends had survived their 6th year under the care of that fool, Dumbledore, and had escaped his master's righteous wrath yet again. The plan would have worked to perfection if that traitor Snape had done his part correctly. Instead three death eaters had been captured and put into the new high security wizard prison created after the dementors returned to their rightful master. If that was not enough, Sirius Black was found innocent by the efforts of his godson and Dumbledore. But the loss was not without gain. Four of the Ministry's aurors were given the Avada Kedavra curse, thanks to the dimwitted actions of the fool ex-Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Because of this, Wormtail thought with a sneer, Lucius Malfoy was able to take control as the Minister of Magic and serve Lord Voldemort's will through the office.
Incantis morime fastide the Dark Lord muttered under his breath and a magnificent purple light shot out from his wand and expanded into a portal. The dark portal swirled and a black mist began to emanate from it, spreading a chill making Pettigrew and the other Deatheaters shiver despite themselves. Voldemort fell to his knees and put his head to the floor playing the part of the unworthy pilgrim paying homage to an icon of some god. But this was no icon he was about to be facing, he knew, nor some false god. 'I had hoped I would never have to use the power of the Abyss to aid me in this life,' he thought with shivers running down his spine at the mere thought of the Abyss. The Abyss was neither a place nor a person in the rigid sense, but an entity that was a splice between the two. None of this mattered much to Voldemort. What did matter was that this entity offered great power, albeit at a extremely high price.
"Mighty Abyss, Master of all that is dark, hear me now!! I beseech you to lend me your power. Hear me Dread Lord, I offer you these worthy living sacrifices!" he shouted with a manic edge in his voice. With that, he raised his wand once again and coldly whispered, "Accio Homannee Levioda!" and pointed his wand at the unsuspecting Wormtail, sending him flying towards the gaping portal. "Master! Nooooooooooo!," cried out the shocked Pettigrew as he flew through the barrier between realities. Voldemort scarcely paused as he pointed the wand at another unsuspecting Deatheater and sent him flying in to the portal as well.
Turning back to face the portal as the remaining Deatheaters were attempting to stay out of thir lord's notice, he now heard an evil pounding voice that seemed to fill his head, and also cause the walls in the chamber to pulsate. "Riddle...What do you wish of me?" "Master," said a servile Voldemort, "I wish to have the power to spread your will of destruction and raise your banner on this soon to be conquered world." "Do you know the costs and do you accept the price which must be paid?" the faceless evil voice queried the paler than usual Voldemort, seemingly more out of procedure than any real concern. "Yes Master, I accept" stuttered Voldemort. "Very well," the voice said. "Let it be known that Tom Marvelo Riddle has accepted and the pact is made."
The entire congregation assembled shivered almost collectively at the pronouncement, as the fate of their Lord was sealed, although they could not fully fathom what that meant as Voldemort could. For two minutes a stifling silence dominated the hall broken only by the ragged breathing of Lord Voldemort. A faint rumbling sound that wasn't there before but seemed to have always been there rang through the hall. The rumbling grew louder and the hall began to shake violently, knocking Deatheaters to the ground. Voldemort didn't notice this at all, his attention focused on the portal which was swirling like a vortex faster and faster. A narrow black beam came from Abyss piercing Lord Voldemort through the heart, causing him to shriek in agony. It felt like a Crucious curse magnified a hundred fold bearing down upon him, and as soon as it had began, the pain stopped and the thing that once a man named Voldemort shed completely the identity of the human Tom Riddle, and became the most powerful being on the face of the Earth.
Voldemort began laughing as the beam faded away, as if they had never been. His cackling evil laugh seemed unnatural even by his usual standards. He couldn't help himself. He sold his soul and the souls of two of his death eaters and now he was less human than the dementors in his thrall. He truly became evil incarnate and finally had the powers at the disposal he deserved. His Deatheaters sat shock still, still floored from the rumbling. He turned his grotesque brown-red face to them. Voldemort's face had transformed from the pale white to a sickening red-brown, with grooves like over deep wrinkles everywhere slashing and crossing his visage at every possible point.
Standing up once again, he walked to his high throne he had conjured with a casual hand wave, and turned to face his minions. The once bright red eyes, now glittering onyx narrowed on the terrified Deatheaters, and a hissing sound that could only be his voice sounded. "Come, my servants. Our time has come and none can stop us!" he laughed, sparks shooting from his outstretched hands.
Lord Voldemort raised one gnarled hand and pointed to the swirling portal and shot a beam of energy at it, causing the vortex to collapse upon itself. The Deatheaters overcame the fear of the man - thing - in front of them that was their master at that magical feat, performed so easily. Feeling the Dark power emanating from him like waves, they rejoiced at the rise and rebirth of their Lord and all but forgot the fates of the ever-loyal Pettigrew and the other nameless Deatheater, visions of the wealth and power they would soon be bequeathed with dancing in their heads.
The almost amiable conversation died down to stillness with amazing suddenness as Voldemort sat on his throne and raised his hand to indicate silence. "MacNair, Lucius," called out the Dark Lord. "Come here"
"Yes m-my lord," stuttered the usually bold and silky smooth Malfoy, quickly going up to the throne demurely. MacNair likewise uttered "As you wish my lord." They both knelt in front of Voldemort and kissed the hem of his black robes.
"Potter is of no consequence to us any longer, be he the heir of Griffindor or not" Voldemort stated, getting to the point immediately.
"Bu-but my lord, the proph-" MacNair nervously began
"Quiet you fool," Voldemort harshly interrupted. "My powers are now far greater than either Salazar Slytherin and Godric Griffindor could ever even imagine. Your task is to spread chaos through the world, muggle and magical alike and then we will overthrow the governments and give rise to the new order. My order. The order of Abyss. Be assured you will all be amply rewarded for your efforts. We will begin by taking over the nations with the least stable magical government and defenses.
"Do you mean Africa my lord," Malfoy offered, drawing upon his knowledge of foreign affairs as the Minister of Magic.
"No you fool! The medicine men of Africa are a powerful group that will slow us down. No, we will begin in South America. Draw up some plans of attack by tomorrow.
"Yes my lord," simpered Lucius. "It is how you wish, my lord," MacNair likewise said in a diminutive voice as they both retreated to their positions in the circle.
Lord Voldemort grasped his hands together. "You are dismissed, Deatheaters," he said at last. As they disapparated, he chuckled to himself, eager to begin testing the limits of his new found powers. If the old legends were even half true, the entire world would be kneeling at his feet within the year.
*****
*****
Far away from the fortress where all the dark events were transpiring, a boy two days away from 17 staying in a room at number 4 Privet Drive woke up with a start in the dead of the night, sweating profusely. He looked outside at the full moon, which seemed to possess a red tint as its eerie light shined in through his small window. The boy blinked and placed his round black glasses on the bridge of his nose and the moon reverted to its normal pale white color. He clutched his head once again becoming aware of the pain that had woken him up in the first place resolving to remain silent in order to avoid a beating at the hand of his uncle.
Shivering at the chill, despite the fact it was the middle of summer, he got out his bed knowing that he would get no more sleep that night. Recalling the promise he made to his godfather three, almost four years back, he took out a roll of parchment and his quill from underneath his bed and jotted down the details of his dream on the small table he used for all purposes, though mainly a desk. Normally he would not have liked to frighten Sirius like this, but he had never felt the pain so acutely before, except perhaps the time Voldemort had touched his face in the private Riddle family graveyard. It was like waking up to a crucious curse. It was quite remarkable that he managed to wake up without making a sound, even with all the practice he had over the past years trying to save his roommates and foster family sleep and worry.
Briefly removing his glasses and rubbing his tired green eyes, the boy turned and looked outside for his owl, Hedwig. He was still living in the small room in his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's home because Professor Dumbledore thought that the wards there were stronger than any protection that could be offered in the wizarding world, including Hogwarts. On the plus side, he had special permission to use magic during the summer, as it wouldn't be prudent to leave him defenseless. With Voldemort still remaining free, there was no room for lax safety at all, especially where Harry was concerned.
Harry sighed briefly at his lack of a normal life, but quickly shook himself back into reality. He didn't want to go down that dismal road of thought again. It only brought him more grief. He accepted Dumbledore's decision to keep him at the Dursleys eventually, though he remained in close contact with Sirius. Ron and Hermione, his two best friends had 'gotten together' in their fifth year, and Harry didn't want to be the third wheel, though they insisted he was always welcome.
Turning his attention back to the present, Harry realized, 'She's probably hunting for food.' Held prisoner here in the muggle world, Harry Potter didn't really have any means to get the recommended owl food from the Apothecary, so he let his snow white owl out to hunt for small rodents. Not seeing the bird outside, Harry resolved to wait until tomorrow to send the message. Sitting back down on his bed with a sigh brought about by tiredness, Harry relaxed on his back for an instant. 'I might as well get on with my Potions reading,' Harry thought, as he ascertained that sleep was not going to come again, 'Merlin knows Snape is out to get points out of me as it is.'
With that thought in mind, Harry took out a book hidden beneath a loose floor board and began studying it. Twenty minutes later, Hedwig swooped in through the window, content with a fulfilling meal, and gazed upon the sleeping boy. The owl hooted softly and hoped that her young master was alright, concern mirrored in her amber eyes.
Harry was pulled into yet another dream, but this one was stranger than any he had experienced before, though in a good way. He was in small circular stone room with warm torches lit up in four perpendicular places. He didn't feel any fear here, but rather a sense of peace and fulfillment. The place gave Harry almost the same feeling he got from school, Hogwarts, except there was more energy vibrating in the air that was palpable to his finely tuned magical senses. He never had this sensation of being overwhelmed by magical power before. As Harry looked around the room, he became aware of an old man sitting on a bed in front of him that he could have sworn wasn't there earlier.
The old man reminded him of Dumbledore, though he was clearly not his headmaster. He was shorter and more stooped, and definitely older, but he had a twinkle in his eyes not unlike the headmaster of Hogwarts. He had a flowing white beard of pure white, though under his hat some black hair could still be seen poking through among the white snowy tresses. He wore a plain set of sky blue robes and the matching hat was placed precariously atop his head. He smiled in a gentle grandfatherly like way that made Harry feel inexplicably... happy.
The old man recovered first and shook himself back to the present, and his face became serious. "Harry," Merlin started, "I am Merlin and I am visiting you from the past to warn you. The world is soon to come to great danger. The dream you had of the Demon Lord is a rendition of the truth of what transpired this night although some of the darkness was veiled by me for your own protection." At this, Harry had to shiver because if what he felt was only a part of the darkness, he was very afraid of what the full thrust of it would feel like. "This one you call... Voldemort", Merlin said as if he had something extremely bitter or sour in his mouth, "he has unlocked the forbidden powers of Abyss. By the pacts of the Olde ones with mortals, it was decreed that the portal should never be opened and the knowledge of doing so be forgotten. You must learn as much as you can this year at the wizarding school whilst I tutor you. Seek the Olde Ones, therein you will find the secrets hidden in your blood. The magic therein must be awoken from its dormant state, as you are no longer in the times of relative peace and a need for the Olde Ones – or perhaps one even greater than they – has arisen. You, my true heir, must seek my Staff. It will help to unlock the powers of light and the old magic that lie within you. It is in the place that was once Camelot castle, now your school Hogwarts." The old man coughed violently. Merlin began to get fuzzy, along with the entire room. "Harry... My time grows short. Be my heir. I cannot help much more until you find the staff. Keep your friends close to you, but do not reveal your heritage yet to anyone. Use your powers of the Dreamseeing wisely" He picked up his wand and pointed it at Harry and muttered some words. "Remember..." The old man said at last as he faded to nothingness, and Harry heard the shrill shouting of his aunt Petunia calling him downstairs to do chores.
'Great' Harry thought to himself as he jolted out of bed. He couldn't help but worry. He had already faced many dangers and took many risks these past two years, many of which would leave even the most stalwart afraid to leave the confines of their safe beds. 'I wonder what it would be like to be normal and have normal friends' he wondered again as he made his way downstairs, to waiting day below. 'It would probably be boring,' he decided as he went down to serve breakfast as he pondered what normal was, exactly.
Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail to most these days, cowered in the corner of the massive throne room quivering in fear (as usual), but this night his jittery behavior could also be attributed to excitement. All of the top level Deatheaters were standing along the walls of a large circular room adorned with skulls and grotesque models of trolls, like art would be placed in the homes of normal people, all practically drooling at the prospect of what this experiment would bring to their order and not at all minding their morbid environment. The focus of their attentions was their precocious leader in the center of the damned chamber. Lord Voldemort was standing with arms raised facing the north wall of the room, with a look of insanity in his eyes that made even the most loyal death eaters wonder at their lord's state of mind.
Lord Voldemort was the greatest of the Dark Wizards to ever grace – or disgrace – the earth. He had undertaken many arcane and esoteric experiments to become the half human, half monster being that he was now. What Voldemort craved, what drove him, was his unquenchable thirst for absolute power over everything and everyone. 14 years ago, he was on the path to achieve his sinister goal but through some cursed twist of fate, a baby reflected the Avada Kedavra spell, and reduced Lord Voldemort, the heir of Slytherin, to a mere shade. Voldemort inwardly scowled at the memory of the 14 years spent as a ghost like entity. 'Soon, Lord Voldemort will not be the laughing stock of the wizarding world. The boy will soon have no chance against me and neither will anyone else. I will become invincible!'
With this thought he focused once more on the task at hand, facing the dire visages that adorned the wall in front of him. It was not these images that the Dark Lord was seeing as his loyal Deatheaters were. He was seeing something far beyond the current realm, and his red eyes became somewhat dulled and glazed. Wand in his left hand, he stood tall and commanding, and one could literally see a purple-black cloud of darkness trailing him like a cloak of despair.
Briefly Pettigrew recalled the details of what happened in the previous year in his head. The cursed Potter and his friends had survived their 6th year under the care of that fool, Dumbledore, and had escaped his master's righteous wrath yet again. The plan would have worked to perfection if that traitor Snape had done his part correctly. Instead three death eaters had been captured and put into the new high security wizard prison created after the dementors returned to their rightful master. If that was not enough, Sirius Black was found innocent by the efforts of his godson and Dumbledore. But the loss was not without gain. Four of the Ministry's aurors were given the Avada Kedavra curse, thanks to the dimwitted actions of the fool ex-Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Because of this, Wormtail thought with a sneer, Lucius Malfoy was able to take control as the Minister of Magic and serve Lord Voldemort's will through the office.
Incantis morime fastide the Dark Lord muttered under his breath and a magnificent purple light shot out from his wand and expanded into a portal. The dark portal swirled and a black mist began to emanate from it, spreading a chill making Pettigrew and the other Deatheaters shiver despite themselves. Voldemort fell to his knees and put his head to the floor playing the part of the unworthy pilgrim paying homage to an icon of some god. But this was no icon he was about to be facing, he knew, nor some false god. 'I had hoped I would never have to use the power of the Abyss to aid me in this life,' he thought with shivers running down his spine at the mere thought of the Abyss. The Abyss was neither a place nor a person in the rigid sense, but an entity that was a splice between the two. None of this mattered much to Voldemort. What did matter was that this entity offered great power, albeit at a extremely high price.
"Mighty Abyss, Master of all that is dark, hear me now!! I beseech you to lend me your power. Hear me Dread Lord, I offer you these worthy living sacrifices!" he shouted with a manic edge in his voice. With that, he raised his wand once again and coldly whispered, "Accio Homannee Levioda!" and pointed his wand at the unsuspecting Wormtail, sending him flying towards the gaping portal. "Master! Nooooooooooo!," cried out the shocked Pettigrew as he flew through the barrier between realities. Voldemort scarcely paused as he pointed the wand at another unsuspecting Deatheater and sent him flying in to the portal as well.
Turning back to face the portal as the remaining Deatheaters were attempting to stay out of thir lord's notice, he now heard an evil pounding voice that seemed to fill his head, and also cause the walls in the chamber to pulsate. "Riddle...What do you wish of me?" "Master," said a servile Voldemort, "I wish to have the power to spread your will of destruction and raise your banner on this soon to be conquered world." "Do you know the costs and do you accept the price which must be paid?" the faceless evil voice queried the paler than usual Voldemort, seemingly more out of procedure than any real concern. "Yes Master, I accept" stuttered Voldemort. "Very well," the voice said. "Let it be known that Tom Marvelo Riddle has accepted and the pact is made."
The entire congregation assembled shivered almost collectively at the pronouncement, as the fate of their Lord was sealed, although they could not fully fathom what that meant as Voldemort could. For two minutes a stifling silence dominated the hall broken only by the ragged breathing of Lord Voldemort. A faint rumbling sound that wasn't there before but seemed to have always been there rang through the hall. The rumbling grew louder and the hall began to shake violently, knocking Deatheaters to the ground. Voldemort didn't notice this at all, his attention focused on the portal which was swirling like a vortex faster and faster. A narrow black beam came from Abyss piercing Lord Voldemort through the heart, causing him to shriek in agony. It felt like a Crucious curse magnified a hundred fold bearing down upon him, and as soon as it had began, the pain stopped and the thing that once a man named Voldemort shed completely the identity of the human Tom Riddle, and became the most powerful being on the face of the Earth.
Voldemort began laughing as the beam faded away, as if they had never been. His cackling evil laugh seemed unnatural even by his usual standards. He couldn't help himself. He sold his soul and the souls of two of his death eaters and now he was less human than the dementors in his thrall. He truly became evil incarnate and finally had the powers at the disposal he deserved. His Deatheaters sat shock still, still floored from the rumbling. He turned his grotesque brown-red face to them. Voldemort's face had transformed from the pale white to a sickening red-brown, with grooves like over deep wrinkles everywhere slashing and crossing his visage at every possible point.
Standing up once again, he walked to his high throne he had conjured with a casual hand wave, and turned to face his minions. The once bright red eyes, now glittering onyx narrowed on the terrified Deatheaters, and a hissing sound that could only be his voice sounded. "Come, my servants. Our time has come and none can stop us!" he laughed, sparks shooting from his outstretched hands.
Lord Voldemort raised one gnarled hand and pointed to the swirling portal and shot a beam of energy at it, causing the vortex to collapse upon itself. The Deatheaters overcame the fear of the man - thing - in front of them that was their master at that magical feat, performed so easily. Feeling the Dark power emanating from him like waves, they rejoiced at the rise and rebirth of their Lord and all but forgot the fates of the ever-loyal Pettigrew and the other nameless Deatheater, visions of the wealth and power they would soon be bequeathed with dancing in their heads.
The almost amiable conversation died down to stillness with amazing suddenness as Voldemort sat on his throne and raised his hand to indicate silence. "MacNair, Lucius," called out the Dark Lord. "Come here"
"Yes m-my lord," stuttered the usually bold and silky smooth Malfoy, quickly going up to the throne demurely. MacNair likewise uttered "As you wish my lord." They both knelt in front of Voldemort and kissed the hem of his black robes.
"Potter is of no consequence to us any longer, be he the heir of Griffindor or not" Voldemort stated, getting to the point immediately.
"Bu-but my lord, the proph-" MacNair nervously began
"Quiet you fool," Voldemort harshly interrupted. "My powers are now far greater than either Salazar Slytherin and Godric Griffindor could ever even imagine. Your task is to spread chaos through the world, muggle and magical alike and then we will overthrow the governments and give rise to the new order. My order. The order of Abyss. Be assured you will all be amply rewarded for your efforts. We will begin by taking over the nations with the least stable magical government and defenses.
"Do you mean Africa my lord," Malfoy offered, drawing upon his knowledge of foreign affairs as the Minister of Magic.
"No you fool! The medicine men of Africa are a powerful group that will slow us down. No, we will begin in South America. Draw up some plans of attack by tomorrow.
"Yes my lord," simpered Lucius. "It is how you wish, my lord," MacNair likewise said in a diminutive voice as they both retreated to their positions in the circle.
Lord Voldemort grasped his hands together. "You are dismissed, Deatheaters," he said at last. As they disapparated, he chuckled to himself, eager to begin testing the limits of his new found powers. If the old legends were even half true, the entire world would be kneeling at his feet within the year.
*****
*****
Far away from the fortress where all the dark events were transpiring, a boy two days away from 17 staying in a room at number 4 Privet Drive woke up with a start in the dead of the night, sweating profusely. He looked outside at the full moon, which seemed to possess a red tint as its eerie light shined in through his small window. The boy blinked and placed his round black glasses on the bridge of his nose and the moon reverted to its normal pale white color. He clutched his head once again becoming aware of the pain that had woken him up in the first place resolving to remain silent in order to avoid a beating at the hand of his uncle.
Shivering at the chill, despite the fact it was the middle of summer, he got out his bed knowing that he would get no more sleep that night. Recalling the promise he made to his godfather three, almost four years back, he took out a roll of parchment and his quill from underneath his bed and jotted down the details of his dream on the small table he used for all purposes, though mainly a desk. Normally he would not have liked to frighten Sirius like this, but he had never felt the pain so acutely before, except perhaps the time Voldemort had touched his face in the private Riddle family graveyard. It was like waking up to a crucious curse. It was quite remarkable that he managed to wake up without making a sound, even with all the practice he had over the past years trying to save his roommates and foster family sleep and worry.
Briefly removing his glasses and rubbing his tired green eyes, the boy turned and looked outside for his owl, Hedwig. He was still living in the small room in his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's home because Professor Dumbledore thought that the wards there were stronger than any protection that could be offered in the wizarding world, including Hogwarts. On the plus side, he had special permission to use magic during the summer, as it wouldn't be prudent to leave him defenseless. With Voldemort still remaining free, there was no room for lax safety at all, especially where Harry was concerned.
Harry sighed briefly at his lack of a normal life, but quickly shook himself back into reality. He didn't want to go down that dismal road of thought again. It only brought him more grief. He accepted Dumbledore's decision to keep him at the Dursleys eventually, though he remained in close contact with Sirius. Ron and Hermione, his two best friends had 'gotten together' in their fifth year, and Harry didn't want to be the third wheel, though they insisted he was always welcome.
Turning his attention back to the present, Harry realized, 'She's probably hunting for food.' Held prisoner here in the muggle world, Harry Potter didn't really have any means to get the recommended owl food from the Apothecary, so he let his snow white owl out to hunt for small rodents. Not seeing the bird outside, Harry resolved to wait until tomorrow to send the message. Sitting back down on his bed with a sigh brought about by tiredness, Harry relaxed on his back for an instant. 'I might as well get on with my Potions reading,' Harry thought, as he ascertained that sleep was not going to come again, 'Merlin knows Snape is out to get points out of me as it is.'
With that thought in mind, Harry took out a book hidden beneath a loose floor board and began studying it. Twenty minutes later, Hedwig swooped in through the window, content with a fulfilling meal, and gazed upon the sleeping boy. The owl hooted softly and hoped that her young master was alright, concern mirrored in her amber eyes.
Harry was pulled into yet another dream, but this one was stranger than any he had experienced before, though in a good way. He was in small circular stone room with warm torches lit up in four perpendicular places. He didn't feel any fear here, but rather a sense of peace and fulfillment. The place gave Harry almost the same feeling he got from school, Hogwarts, except there was more energy vibrating in the air that was palpable to his finely tuned magical senses. He never had this sensation of being overwhelmed by magical power before. As Harry looked around the room, he became aware of an old man sitting on a bed in front of him that he could have sworn wasn't there earlier.
The old man reminded him of Dumbledore, though he was clearly not his headmaster. He was shorter and more stooped, and definitely older, but he had a twinkle in his eyes not unlike the headmaster of Hogwarts. He had a flowing white beard of pure white, though under his hat some black hair could still be seen poking through among the white snowy tresses. He wore a plain set of sky blue robes and the matching hat was placed precariously atop his head. He smiled in a gentle grandfatherly like way that made Harry feel inexplicably... happy.
The old man recovered first and shook himself back to the present, and his face became serious. "Harry," Merlin started, "I am Merlin and I am visiting you from the past to warn you. The world is soon to come to great danger. The dream you had of the Demon Lord is a rendition of the truth of what transpired this night although some of the darkness was veiled by me for your own protection." At this, Harry had to shiver because if what he felt was only a part of the darkness, he was very afraid of what the full thrust of it would feel like. "This one you call... Voldemort", Merlin said as if he had something extremely bitter or sour in his mouth, "he has unlocked the forbidden powers of Abyss. By the pacts of the Olde ones with mortals, it was decreed that the portal should never be opened and the knowledge of doing so be forgotten. You must learn as much as you can this year at the wizarding school whilst I tutor you. Seek the Olde Ones, therein you will find the secrets hidden in your blood. The magic therein must be awoken from its dormant state, as you are no longer in the times of relative peace and a need for the Olde Ones – or perhaps one even greater than they – has arisen. You, my true heir, must seek my Staff. It will help to unlock the powers of light and the old magic that lie within you. It is in the place that was once Camelot castle, now your school Hogwarts." The old man coughed violently. Merlin began to get fuzzy, along with the entire room. "Harry... My time grows short. Be my heir. I cannot help much more until you find the staff. Keep your friends close to you, but do not reveal your heritage yet to anyone. Use your powers of the Dreamseeing wisely" He picked up his wand and pointed it at Harry and muttered some words. "Remember..." The old man said at last as he faded to nothingness, and Harry heard the shrill shouting of his aunt Petunia calling him downstairs to do chores.
'Great' Harry thought to himself as he jolted out of bed. He couldn't help but worry. He had already faced many dangers and took many risks these past two years, many of which would leave even the most stalwart afraid to leave the confines of their safe beds. 'I wonder what it would be like to be normal and have normal friends' he wondered again as he made his way downstairs, to waiting day below. 'It would probably be boring,' he decided as he went down to serve breakfast as he pondered what normal was, exactly.