Chapter 5
The domed circular chamber was lit only by four torches, that seemed much too small to be able to light up the large area. Each torch was positioned above an ornate door decorated with images depicting destruction and infernal flames, which were in four equidistant corners of the round room going north, south, east, and west. All around the room there were men, heavily cloaked in fine and expensive black garments, all standing with arrogance and pride at being allowed into the dark and dank cavern. At the exact center of the room, there was a raised platform upon which rested a throne, carved from a single piece of black stone, which was darker than the dead of night and seemed to absorb light, heat, and even happiness. The horror of the throne was not only matched, but dominated by the person who rested upon it.
Lord Voldemort sat on his throne, carved meticulously from a single Abyss rock by skilled magical artisians in one of the slave camps his Deatheaters set up in Brazil. He sat back and relaxed, satisfied with his accomplishments so far. His forces had taken almost all of the magical strongholds, including the capital, but were still opposed by guerrilla warfare from the Shaman that lived in the vast forests of the Amazon. His will was not to be thwarted, however, and he already had several spies and agents in the Shaman tribes, and even turned two of the seven tribes to his side. The artifacts that these Shaman owned were said to be of great power, as some of the old civilizatons of the Ancients were located here, and their legacy was lying around for the misuse of the bumbling and unsophisticated tribespeople. Once he conquered this land he would search out for the magical items. He looked around now, to all of his most elite and high ranked Deatheaters from around the world who were in his throne room to attend him.
Voldemort raised his gnarled left hand slightly and the low whispers ceased leaving complete and utter silence.
"Sanchez," Voldemort intoned in a hollow and resounding voice, "What have you to report on the issue of renegade Shaman tribes"
"My Lord," a silky voice responded with a distinct but not unplesant accent, "As you had foreseen they are recieving no aid from any foreign wizarding powers. The scum are all trying to fortify themselves and have no effort to spare for the sake of the tribes. The Zylimba and Minumbee are on our side and have strategically maneuvered to be able to attack the others from behind when they attempt to launch a counter attack. We will attack with the new moon, when the power of the destructor del alma becomes strongest.
Voldemort smiled to himself grotesquely at the good news, his face contorting in such a way that even the most stalwart of his Deatheaters looked down to hold their meals. The destructor del alma, or dementors were gathering in force for a final seige on the magic users in this country. Then the Abyss forces, led by the Dark Lord, would turn its eyes on parts of Africa. The fools didn't realize that with the Portals, it was possible to attack from anywhere to anywhere else. It is not necessary to attack exactly conjoining nations as in muggle fashion. Let them prop up their defenses however they liked. In the end, nothing could save them from oblivian or a life of servitude to the rightful masters of the earth.
"What of the artifacts and the Portal?
"My Lord, we are combing the rain forests with the aid of our tribal allies. So far we haven't located any evidence of the Olde Ones other than some roughly carved stones, which seem to indicate that the Portal is in fact somewhere in the rain forest. It seems as though the land itself is fighting our efforts.
The foreign Deatheater was discomforted by this news, but did not dare to lie because the wrath of the Dark Lord for telling untruth was even greater than his fear of telling the bad news. He grew even more discomforted when the torches all flickered out in unision, plunging the hall into a darkness blacker than night. Eerie enough as this one, the presence of a sound of scratching, like steel on stone brought up the level of nervousness among the Deatheaters to a palpable level because they all recalled Nagini, Lord Voldemorts most trusted servant was among them. Nagini had grown stronger since Voldemort came to his new powers, making the dark green scales into pure midnight black ones, running all over the body. On the back of the great serpent there were intricate and unfanthomable designs of green, striking out eerily as they glowed in the dark. The glowing allowed the Deatheaters to follow the movement of the great snake with their eyes, while the rest of their body stood shock still as if afflicted with rigor mortis.
Sanchez beyond all the others was mortified as he was standing in front of the Dark Lord immediately, and there were tears welling up in his dark brown Brazilian eyes contorted in fear, as he dropped to his knees to beg forgiveness from his lord. His mouth opened to beg protest but he couldn't manage any sound. It seemed to him that the darkness swallowed the sound before he could even get a peep in, but it may have been possible that he had unwittingly swallowed his own tongue at this point.
Voldemort looked down on his frightened minions, as they controlled their breathing in fear of exciting Nagini into attacking them, or worse being tortured by the Lord of the Abyss. He knew each of them plotted against each other subtlely in order to gain favor, and he allowed this. He just enjoyed watching them sweat and remember that their Lord was still the absolute master. Raising one finger almost casually when a full two minutes had passed, the torches again in unision flickered back into existance, crackling maliciously. To the humbled Deatheaters, the dim torch light now seemed brighter than the midday sun as it contrasted sharply with the ebony darkness that had engulfed them. They were too diciplined to raise their hands to cover their eyes, a sure sign of weakness though some clenched their eyes such to keep from the burning glare.
"Very well, enough. Leave me," Voldemort said after several long moments of silence, Sanchez still quivering on his knees in front of him. At the words, all of the Deatheaters hurriedly scuried to evacuate the building, with a pale Sanchez leading the way.
The leader of the Deatheaters rose from his dark throne and raised his hands, speaking a single word that caused the four doors of the chamber to close suddenly and to also simultaneously cause the dome to open by unfolding like the petals of a rose bud, to expose an even larger cavern. With one more word, he levitated into the the dark. As he moved upward, large shadowed shapes emerged around him.. Loudly saying the word "LUMOS", his voice resounding with power, a bright light popped into existance from the end of his hand, as he had disposed of his wand. A wand was a weakness, as he had learned three years ago when he was still a lesser being, and concerned about a mere child and an old old man.
Voldemort smiled the second time that night, and faced a small army of Great Dragons of varying colors and sizes. He turned to the biggest and oldest of the Great Black dragons that were said to have arisen from the Abyss, and opened his mouth to speak his true plans for them in the battles ahead.
*****
The image faded out before Harry could see anything else that happened and all that was left was a burning pain that felt like someone had lit the frontal lobe of his brain with a fire and then dumped it into a vat of strong acid. Harry was well accustomed to this and he bore it with stoic and determined silence. He himself was sweating from fear that lingered from the darkness that he had experienced, which he likened to what a center of a black hole would be like. His body still trembled moments after the nightmare from the sight of how powerful Voldemort had become. Never before had he felt such raw waves of ... something come from Voldemort in real life, let alone dreams. It seemed as though the Dark Lord had grown into the powers of Lord of the Abyss.
He noted down the dreams message onto the pad he had next to him as best he could, though his hand shook terribly along with the rest of his quivering body, so that he would remember to send an owl to Professor Dumbledore of the treachery of the two Shaman tribes, the Zyimee and Milooba, though he was sure that he had messed up the names.
Sitting up on his bed in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry leaned back and sighed. The pain, bad as it was, didn't last as long as it had before and he felt the cool reassuring presence of the amulet on his chest. He was about to get up to get himself a glass of water when a wave of dizziness hit him and he was forced to lay back down on his bed. His vision seemed to ripple, similar to how water ripples when a stone is thrown into it though it made him feel rather warm inside, as if he had eaten a box full of the best chocolate at Honeydukes and he was transported back into that room where he had first met his fabled ancestor.
"Harry," Merlin said in a grandfatherly voice. "I see you have discovered the first stone of my staff. Or rather, it found you, it seems.
"Wha," Harry groggily said, still shook up from his last nightmare even though the chocolate had served to calm him down. Harry felt, and probably looked, very confused at this statement causing Merlin to chuckle at the boys discomfort.
"That is a tale of another time, my boy, as time is again limited," Merlin said quickly as he settled in a blue armchair that had appeared in front of Harry's position, which was a chair with fluffy orange cushions, to tell his tale. "I've come to warn you of the Great Dragons such as the one you saw earlier today."
Harry looked up in astonishment, snapping out of his dazed state at the word. Before he could open his mouth, however, Merlin continued on.
"Don't look surprised, I can tell you have seen it from the subtle changes in your body chemistry."
Finding his voice, the scar faced boy quickly asked "How did you do that?"
Merlin just chuckled and gave Harry a small wink, and proceeded onward not answering the question.
"You see Harry, Great Dragons were created as a counter balance to the Olde Ones by the Abyss. As the Olde Ones, from whom you and I directly descend, and can be said to be for all intents and purposes, were made by the Creator, the Great Dragons were made by the Abyss. This is not to say that all of the powerful dragons are evil! I have read of the great Chromatic Dragons, who are said to have been just as powerful as the Great Dragons but for the side of good.
Harry face was scrunched into a thoughtful expression as Merlin paused. Before the silver bearded man could recover his breath, Harry asked, "Have you actually seen them? You said you have read about them only.."
"No Harry, they disappeared before my time. But that is besides the point. What I mean to tell you is that the Olde Ones are gifted with the power of being resistant to Dragonfear. That is why you were able to withstand the fear causing powers of the Great Dragons relatively well compared in your encounter. Again I beseech you, do not tell anyone of you heritage because the Abyss and the Darkside is everywhere, and we must remain discrete. If not, you will be crushed by Lord Voldemort. If your powers were more developed, you would not be affected at all by any amount of Great Dragons. Right now, if anyone untrue was made aware of your .. potential .. you would be helpless to do anything at all in the event of an attack by the powers.
Harry tried to make a feeble protest, but Merlin cut him short.
"Your past accomplishments mean nothing in the face of this new danger! The Abyss is the essence of evil and the Void. If you think that your wand magic is enough to pose a threat, you are sadly mistaken!" the old man said, getting riled up and excited to the point where he stood up.
Merlin paced the length of the room several times, as Harry sat still in awe, and finally put his hand on the boy's shoulder before continuing.
"Harry, I wish to impress upon you the need to seek out and know your heritage. While it can be said that many may have blood lines that can be traced to the Olde Ones, or even me, none can be like you." Merlin sadly continued, with a sorrowful light in his eyes, "I know this burden is great, because I myself had it thrust upon me, although I was was a bit older. You must bear the mantle of the Olde Ones and the entire Pantheon of Good for the sake of the future.
Harry thought of all the arguments flying through his head... 'It must be someone else, certainly not me'...'I'm not worthy! There MUST be someone better than me out there!'...'Why don't you leave me alone and let me be normal!
The last one was very resounding through his head, but he knew from his life starting with the Dursleys, nothing was ever easy. The world swirled in his eyes as everything blurred for a moment
"Merlin," the youth said to the old man before him.
Harry's words to his ancestor were hesitant, and still held awe in them. There was no doubt at all that the old man, who was so gentle and caring from Harry's experience, was the great wizard Merlin. It was not by anything that Harry could put into words, but it was in his heart stronger and more eloquent than anything his mind could ever express. This man was like him, more than the Dursleys, more than Ron or Hermione, and even more than Sirius. The old man looked up intently to his descendent. hopeful in looking for understanding. Even though he was captured in a dream essence, he was still able to think and was more intelligent and aware than those in the mortal plane.
"Merlin," Harry queried almost frantically, but with a respectful tone to his voice , "Please, what must I do? Tell me where to find the Staff! Where can I find information about the Olde Ones or the Chromatic Dragons? How am I supposed to find out about everything without anyone's help?
"You will find a way Harry," Merlin said mysteriously. "I regret that I cannot help you more directly, but the world has changed much since the times I lived there. If you could find my library, you would find much information. I know that it is a cursed forest, because I have hidden it well. With the blood of the Ancients in you veins, you need not fear the creatures such as the Brycious there, but I cannot remember much more.
"There is a Forbidden Forest near my school, Hogwarts," Harry put in excitedly. "Do you suppose that is where your library is located?
"I cannot say for certain. There should be centaur guardians. If it is truely the forest in which my library is hidden, you can summon them with the command "Dronack" at the edge of the forest. The centaur will ask you for a password, by the pact, which is "Klycos".
Merlin began to fade away as ripples that had invoked the image reappeared, makeing everything unclear to Harry.
"As it is, my time is up now Harry. Good luck in your ..." Merlin trailed away as the sounds of loud thumping roused Harry from the dream world into reality.
"Harry! Harry!" Ron yelled from outside the door, banging on the door vigorously. "It's almost time to board the Express!"
"Alright already Ron," Harry semi-shouted as he tried to rouse himself. "I'll meet you down for breakfast, go on ahead of me" Harry generously allowed although he was unwilling to open the door and allow the others to see his pale complexion and the dark bags beneath his eyes.
"Okay!" Ron called back, eager as always to eat, and clobbered noisily down the rickety stairs of the inn.
Harry groggily put on his spectacles and went through the motions of getting ready. Another night, another fright, he mused, but he resolutely straighened his back and walked out to meet his friends.
*****
"Hullo," greeted Seamus Finnegan with a grin on his cheerful face. Seamus had grown tall and more solid over the past few years at Hogwarts, but he was not at Ron's height but almost twice his girth. He stood on Platform 9 3/4 with a large blue trunk in tow along with Dean Thomas and Parvati Patel standing behind him, chatting intently with each other.
"Hi Seamus," Ron called back to his long time dormmate and friend. "How was vacation? Good to see you're still in one piece!" he said as he took the arm draped on Hermiones shoulder down to shake hands with Seamus and then Dean.
The Gryffindor friends caught up with each other for a few minutes longer, and then drifted away to find seats on the Scarlett Express train that had just opened its doors to the swarming multituede of students. Ginny waved to her brother and friends as Harry, Ron and Hermione hurried along, dragging their oversized trunks behind them, trying to find a place to sit as they passed her compartment.
Sitting at last in the farthest compartment, Harry put down his cage and new trunk and tumbled onto his seat, weary to the bone. As his faithful companions were settling in, Harry's eyes drooped and he fell into another vision of death and destruction.
Voldemort stepped through green foilage in some part of the vast amazon crushing life underneath him. The very dirt underneath him turned to charcoal as he slowly made his way towards some vague person pressed against a tree by some hex that left him in obvious pain. The Dark Lord relished in the man's suffering and fear, and came within three feet of the shabbily dressed South American before speaking.
"Bruicch" Voldemort said in a form of greeting that managed to withold any concern or respect, but held a definite tone of contempt. "You see your resistance has failed. As I foretold, you were doomed to failure and now so many good wizards are dead..." He laughed, "or soon will be."
In response the man spit at the Dark Lord to find his spittle evaporate a full foot away from Voldemort's face, causing the intended target to laugh coldly enough to make a neophyte Deatheater shiver in the hot tropical rain forest, despite his heavy black robes.
"You refused the offers my men made for the location of the gateway but I am merciful. Give me the location of the Tropical Gateway and I shall let you free."
After a pregnant pause of about thirty seconds, Voldemort again spoke. Only two words.
"Avada Kedrava"
Harry's world turned black