Harry Potter and the Dark Sigil
Chapter Thirteen: An Ancient Foe
By: Harry's Mum Lily
Disclaimer: I own none of this story except the plot and some new characters that are introduced in this chapter. Thanks for being such loyal readers! It makes me glad to know that some of you like the story as dark as it is. Thanks again! Reviews are always welcome. HML
…tell Dumbledore…Harry Potter…the Dark
Lord…stronger…Harry Potter…
Bartemius Crouch Sr
Chapter
25
Harry
Potter and the Goblet of Fire
The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's
aid, greater and more terrible than ever before.
Sybil Trelawney's second "true" prediction
Chapter
16
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
A month passed so quietly that it was hardly noticed.
Harry stood once again at the window, watching the students below him who were
flying on broomsticks throwing what appeared to be a Quaffle at one another. He
watched them in silence, his eyes fixed on the three who were passing the red
ball between them. Several other students watched the trio, who had now begun
to do tricks on their brooms, still throwing the Quaffle as they did so. Harry
longed to be on his Firebolt, the wind whistling in his ears and whipping his
robes, his troubles for a moment forgotten. His wished that he could be out
there with the others doing loop-the-loops, flying at top speed and maybe doing
a spectacular dive or two. He smiled and for brief moment his eyes lit up with
joy in life. He loved flying; it was the one thing he did well, and Quidditch.
He couldn't wait to be astride a broomstick again.
Harry sighed as he turned away from the window and
his face sobered. The truth was that he couldn't join them. He was still very
weak and, even without Lady Helga telling him so; he would have known it was
true. Even now, some activities still left him out of breath, dizzy and in need
of a long rest. Lady Helga said it would take another month or two before his
insides would be completely healed and he believed her. He was too weak to fly
just yet and was almost afraid to try it for fear that Voldemort would capture
him whilst he was airborne again. Harry shivered and tried not to think of
Voldemort for the thought only brought fear to him.
"This is stupid!" he thought fiercely as he hugged
himself. "Voldemort is not here. This room is protected and he can't
touch me."
Even as he thought this, another voice was saying
in his head: What if you leave this room though. Harry tried to shake
off the feeling but it lingered, like a poison in his body.
Harry turned back to the window to watch the flying
students again. He tried not to think about why he was still so weak nor of the
reason his body was now covered with multiple and deep scars. He also tried not
to think of the nightmares he'd been having for the last month; dreams that
were full of horrible screams, voices pleading for help, flashes of green
light, glowing Dark Marks that tinged the sky above a vivid green, Voldemort's
evil laughter and mad red eyes glowing in an impenetrable darkness and
everywhere, hooded and cloaked, Dementors spreading fear like a plague before
them. Harry shivered although he stood in bright sunlight and two tears traced
their way down his cheeks. He leaned his head against the windowsill and
pounded his fist against it, suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of
hopelessness and helplessness.
He wanted, no needed, to help his friends. The
pleading voices and screams he heard in his dreams were theirs. They were
calling to him in voices full of fear, wanting him to return to his own time.
He closed his eyes but that failed to block out the images from his most recent
nightmare. The ground was littered with bodies and crimson with split blood,
Voldemort's laughter echoed all around him, the castle was a heap of smoldering
ash and the air was full of smoke and tortured screams. The Dementors and Death
Eaters surrounded him, trying to prevent him from completing some spell and
striving to take him down. There was suddenly a brilliant flash of pure white
light and then nothing. Harry, his eyes streaming tears, trembled with a cold
that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. This was some new
torture Voldemort had devised for him, this being able to see what was going to
happen to his friends but to not be able to do anything to help them or to even
take any action. He could even hear Voldemort in his dreams whispering of the
destruction of everything he held dear, whispering words that undermined the
fragile hope that had begun to grow in his heart: You are trapped…helpless
to prevent what prophecy says will come. I will win, Harry Potter and there
will be nothing left of the world you knew.
"NO!"
Harry turned away from the window and flung himself
face down on the bed, sobbing as if his heart was broken, the pain overcoming
his spirit again. All the grief, all the pain, and all the fear he had locked
within his heart returned to him tenfold. Voldemort was right. He was powerless
to stop any move Voldemort might try and he was trapped. But, even as he
thought this, he felt something inside of him rise and an image floated to the
surface of his mind, calming its ruffled waters until they lay still again: the
image of himself surrounded by his friends with his parents hovering
nearby. They all smiles at him and he
felt strength flowing into him and, after a moment, he was able to push aside
the memories of his ordeal and the nightmares so that they no longer controlled
his emotion or his reactions. He would get through this somehow and he would be
able to face Voldemort again. He would survive.
Harry felt his body stop trembling and he lay there
for a moment, weak and a bit lightheaded. After a few minutes he pushed himself
up on his elbows and looked up to find Fawkes and Sir Godric regarding him.
Fawkes was perched at the foot of the bed while Sir Godric was standing in the
doorway, a look of sadness flitting across his bearded features for a moment
before his face settled back into calmness. Fawkes cocked his head to one side
and looked intently for a moment at Harry.
"Harry strong. Harry survives. Harry lives."
Harry sat up and wiped his tears on the back of his
hand.
"Harry worried for friends. Harry sad," Fawkes
continued, his eyes bright. Harry nodded, a look of surprise on his face.
Sir Godric strode into the room and sat down on the
edge of the bed. He picked up a roll of parchment that was lying there and
began to read it through, his face paling.
"Another one, then?" he asked softly.
"Yes." Harry replied in an almost expressionless
voice.
Godric's face paled more as he continued to read it
closely. Sometimes the gift of seeing into the future was a great and heavy
burden for you never knew whether what you were seeing would come to pass.
Harry looked at Fawkes and stretched out a hand to stroke his feathers.
"Harry nice. Feels good," Fawkes nipped at him
playfully on the fingers.
Harry stopped scratching the phoenix's back for a
moment and gazed once more toward the window, wishing he could go outside even
for a moment. Fawkes fluttered his wings and brushed Harry's outstretched hand
with the tip of one to get his attention.
"Not say stop scratch," he protested.
"Sorry, Fawkes," said Harry distractedly.
Shaking his head to clear it, Harry looked at Sir
Godric, who seemed to be staring into the flames of the fire that burnt
brightly in the fireplace, the roll of parchment in his hand forgotten.
"Why am I able to understand Fawkes now when I
couldn't in my own time?" he asked.
"It is a very rare gift that is passed down in my
line. It is one of the things that will mark the true Heir of Gryffindor. Just
as the heir of to the House of Slytherin will be marked by their ability to
converse with snakes so too can the Heir of my house speak to phoenixes. You
are beginning to come into your full power now. You power will grow by the day
and you will begin to discover new abilities as time passes."
Harry nodded in understanding and wondered what Sir
Godric would say if he were told that Harry could also speak Parseltongue.
Deciding that he really didn't want to find out, Harry turned his attention
back to the window and rose to look out of it again.
"I wish I could go out for just a few minutes,"
Harry sighed and turned back to Godric, who was smiling broadly.
"Lady Helga says you should be allowed to go out
and bids me tell you that you now have permission to move freely throughout the
castle. I believe she is tired of seeing you mope at that window."
" I…can…" Harry smiled, his eyes sparkling with
life again, for a moment an ordinary fifteen year old that has been inside too
long.
Godric smiled and nodded. Then he handed Harry a
piece of parchment, which Harry looked at curiously.
"You will join the rest of the students in regular
classes tomorrow. We have tutored you so you should have no trouble in keeping
up with the rest of the class. I will be announcing you at dinner in the Great
Hall tonight."
Harry's heart pounded with excitement and a little
fear at the thought of meeting people from this time and at the thought of
leaving his sanctuary. He looked at the timetable in his hand for a moment and
then looked back at Sir Godric.
"I will be happy to join you at dinner," said
Harry, not really knowing what else to say. "Do you think it would be alright
for me to go outside now?"
"Of course but don't forget your cloak and be
careful. You are not yet fully healed and any injury now could be a lasting
one."
He held out the fur-lined, black cloak to Harry who
took it and swung it over his shoulders. He gave Fawkes another scratch and
then departed, smiling and with a spring in his step that had not been there
before. He stopped at the door and turned.
"Thank you, Sir Godric, for everything," then, with
a smile that showed no trace of worry, he was gone.
Sir Godric watched him go, glad to give Harry some
respite from his troubles if only for a moment. Harry was so young but he
carried the burden of one who was much older, the fate of his world rests on
his shoulders
"Why, good Lord? Why burden one so young?" he
thought, shaking his head.
Fawkes was right. Harry was stronger than he looked
and he carried all of the gifts of his House and lineage within him. His power
was great and would continue to grow stronger if he was able to survive long
enough to complete his training. The amount of power Harry carried far exceeded
his own and frightened him though he strove to hide that from Harry.
"So your Heir grows stronger now does he?" a
sneering voice said behind him, interrupting his thoughts.
Godric rose and turned to face Lord Salazar
Slytherin, who stood glaring balefully at him.
"Leave the boy be, Slytherin!" Godric said coldly.
"If I hear you have done him any harm…"
Slytherin snorted: "Why would I want to harm the
boy. He has done nothing to me."
"He fights your Heir in his own time."
Salazar waved away Godric's words as if they were
unimportant and grinned maliciously.
"No matter. The boy carries great power, that is
true, but part of that power belongs to me."
Godric paled and looked stunned. Then the image of
Harry's magical aura flashed across his mind: the scarlet light of Gryffindor
marred by a darkness tinted with green.
"Yes, Sir Godric," Slytherin said mockingly, his
eyes glowing for a moment. "He too carries my blood in his veins and so you see
a part of my powers resides within him as well."
"That's impossible!" Sir Godric leapt onto Salazar
and grabbed his robes.
"I speak only what is the truth and you have seen
proof of this with your own eyes," said Slytherin smiling again. "His mother's
family are direct descendants of me, though of course they no longer carry my
name."
Godric's eyes grew wide and he let go of Salazar's
robes numbly. Salazar straightened his robes and went to the door.
"So you see Godric, I would never hurt the boy. He
still has a role to play in his own time and has yet to make the choice all
those in balance must make. The evil within him is strong and growing stronger,
even as the good is."
With that Slytherin left the room, an evil grin
playing about his thin lips. Godric stared after him in shocked silence.
"Harry…" he thought, a look of stunned disbelief on
his face and fear in his heart. It was not possible. Harry was not evil and
could never be turned. Godric stared into the fire unseeing and wondered.
~
Harry stood at the great oaken doors that lead out
to the Hogwart's grounds, slightly out of breath. He leaned against the portals
for a moment and breathed deeply as Lady Helga had told him to do, trying to
catch his breath but not quite managing too. He stood there for some minutes
wondering what he would find beyond the doors and wishing for once that he had
read Hogwarts: A History as Hermione had done for it would have told him
what to expect beyond the portal. He closed his eyes and pictured the grounds,
as he knew them, neat and trim with the forest off in the distance. He sighed,
realizing suddenly how much he missed the others and his own time. He opened
his eyes, took a deep breath and then pulled the near door open, finding that
it opened easily and quietly. Cautiously, he peered around the door and was
instantly struck by how untamed and wild the grounds looked beyond it. Ancient
trees towered overhead at the end of a short expanse of lawn. There was a high
wall made of carefully piled stones at the end of the only pathway Harry could
see. This pathway seemed to correspond with the drive, which lead from the main
gates to the castle itself in his own time. There was a small wooden gate set
were the path ended instead of the largely ornamental gate he remembered.
Harry step outside the door and saw a bridge before
him that crossed a wide trench full of water. Looking up he saw chains, which
connected the bridge to the castle and a huge portcullis that at the moment was
raised to allow people to pass through. Harry began to cross what he now
recognized as a drawbridge over the moat. For a moment he paused to see what
creatures might dwell in the moat. Looking in to the slightly murky waters he
thought he saw a grindlylow and several large fish. There were also several
smaller fish swimming in the water whose bodies flashed silver, gold and
blue. Harry continued to cross the
bridge and soon found himself on the somewhat smooth lawn beyond it looking at
Hogwarts Lake, which at least looked like he remembered it looking, although
there seemed to be more trees near it. Harry decided that the lake was as good a place as any to think and made
his way toward it. The sun came out from behind the clouds causing the lake to
shimmer as Harry sat down on a rise near it. He watched the sunlight dance
across the lake's surface, all thought forgotten for a moment, as he allowed
the beauty of the scene to farther calm his troubled mind.
When Harry came back to himself he found the sun
had changed position and was no longer making the lake look like molten gold.
He sighed, enjoying the wild beauty of the place. He has just looked down at
the rolled piece of parchment in his hand, figuring he might as well see what
class he had first, when a shadow fell over the paper. Instantly, Harry leapt
to his feet and thrust his hand into his robes in search of his wand. He saw
someone jump back at his movement. Trying to still the terrified beating of his
heart, he realized too late that this was no attack. A girl with violet eyes
and long dark hair was looking at him in confusion. She had a broomstick in her
hand and there was a slight looking boy behind her looking surprised.
"Er…Sorry, " Harry said suddenly embarrassed by his
behavior.
The girl, who looked about his age, stared at him
for a moment and then smiled.
"No need to apologize good sir. Twas I who startled
you forgetting what I was told,…" she blushed.
Harry scrabbled to his feet and made an awkward bow
as Sir Godric had taught him to. She curtsied back and the boy with her bowed
as well.
"My name is Christlina McKinnon, pleased to make
your aquaintance…."
"Harry Potter," Harry said, looking at the girl
curiously as she curtsied again.
"Hullo Harry," the boy said. "William Prewett is my name but everyone
calls me Will."
Harry bowed again and then looked across the lake,
trying to think of something to say. Turning back to Christlina and William he
noticed the brooms in their hands.
"I was watching you from the window," he said
pointing to the window high above them. "That was some flying you were doing there. I wish I could fly…"
Christlina held out her broom to him and he saw the
name on it: Windrider 1200.
"If you don't have a broom you could borrow mine…"
she said with a smile that made her eyes sparkle
Harry reached out to take the broom and then
remembered his recent injuries, which were not quite healed.
"I wish I could, " and then not knowing how much
the students knew about him, he added. "but I'm not allowed to yet. I've been
badly hurt and am still not well."
As if to help him illustrate the point a sharp pain
went through his back and he winced. His face paled for a moment as the pain
coursed through him and then he found he wanted badly to sit, which he did,
feeling slightly dizzy.
"Are you doing poorly…Shall I fetch Lady Helga?"
Will's concern was evident in his voice.
"No, I'll be alright in a moment."
Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply as the
other two looked on. After several minutes the pain receded somewhat and he was
able to stand once again.
"Lady Helga told us you were gravely wounded…."
Will began looking for a moment at the scar on Harry's forehead.
"William Angus Prewett! Sir Godric told us not to
ask such questions. It is very rude!"
"No, it's quite all right, Christlina…"
She shot him a quizzical look and glared at Will.
"I'm used to people wanting to know all about me
back home." Harry said nothing more not really knowing quite what to say about
his home.
"You shall join us for dinner at our table? We are
in House Gryffindor as well."
Harry nodded and his eyes became bright again as a
longing for his friends overcame him.
"So this is the stranger?" said a cold voice that
reminded Harry so much of Voldemort that he had to restrain the shiver that ran
up his spine. "What are called?"
Harry looked up and saw a pale boy with brown hair
looking at him as if he was some sort of unsavory animal.
"Harry Potter," said Harry, his body tense as a bow
string.
"Another upstart Potter. My father has told me all
about your family. You are the lowest of the low not even of the nobility. You
are nothing but a lowly commoner," the boy smirked, waiting for Harry to react.
Harry's face paled and anger coursed through him
but he did nothing. His injuries were still to recently healed to do what he
longed to do, which was to ram the boy's words down his throat.
"Malfoy…how dare you insult a stranger to our
school. He has done nothing to provoke you." Christlina's eyes were blazing and
she glared at Malfoy as if he were something disgusting.
"That is Lord Malfoy to you! If I were all of you I
would be wary. One day soon your families will all be gone and only mine will
remain. Just a small warning for those of you who have chosen the wrong side in
this conflict."
Raoul Malfoy left them standing there, staring
after him as he made his way back to the castle. Harry found he was trembling
and he sat down again. Malfoy's warning echoed in his head and a dim memory
surfaced. He could hear the voices of his parents above him and he heard the
names Prewett and McKinnon and heard a sobbing female voice saying: Oh,
James they're dead too. The memory was hazy but unmistakably there. He
looked quickly at the other two and there was a sad look in his eyes. They
looked at him curiously for a moment.
"Are you well?" Christlina asked. "Your eyes glazed
over for a moment."
"I'm okay. Just tired. I think I'll go to my room
and rest for a bit," said Harry not wanting to go into what he knew about the
future of their families. "I'll see you all a dinner. It was very nice meeting
you both.
Harry made a sketchy bow and went back to the
castle wanting some time to himself before dinner. Will and Christlina stared
after him, noticing for the first time that he walked with a slight limp.
"Strange." Christlina said quietly.
"I wonder what happened to him?" Will looked at
Christlina as she watched Harry reenter the castle.
~
Harry looked at himself in the mirror and tried in vain to tame his wild hair. Giving up on being able to do anything to it, he turned instead to straightening his robes, trying to get imaginary wrinkles out of them. Ordinarily he didn't care much about his appearance but tonight he wanted to make a good impression on the others. He brushed some dirt from his dark red velvet robes with fur trim of a light brown. Someone had supplied him with new robes and there was a note on his bed indicating that he should travel to Ollivander's soon in order to receive a new wand. He wondered how he would get there and what Mr. Ollivander might say to him when he did.
"Well, at least he can be expecting me this time,"
thought Harry as he tried once more to make his hair lay flat.
Harry thought about what would happen in the Great
Hall and wondered how much would be different from his own time. The smell of
the feast below caused his stomach to rumble and he grinned. His appetite
seemed to be returning at last and he felt as if he could eat as much as Ron
was known to eat. He fixed his hat on his head and was just about to leave when
something in the mirror caught his attention. He gazed into its bronze surface
and saw an image beginning to appear within it's reflective surface, hazy at
first and then growing clearer the longer he gazed at it. Harry saw the image
of his parents. They were floating above someone who was slumped on the ground.
He could see their lips moving but couldn't make out what they were saying.
They seemed to be trying to warn him of something for their hands were
motioning at something Harry couldn't see, something out of his view and
something that was over their heads. They were waving their arms frantically
and shouting as another image replaced theirs. He saw his parents again but
this time he saw them in their final moments of life, as the stove to protect
him from Voldemort's attack.
"No…" he whispered, anguish in his heart, as he
stretched out a hand toward their images in the mirror.
He looked at them until they faded away and then
the image became one of his first parents who looked to be deeply in love even
though a dark shadow seemed to hover close to the Potter who would become
Grindelwald. He saw his natural mother die defending him from an attack similar
to Voldemort's own.
Harry closed his eyes and willed the hazy images to
go away even as he was trying to divine their meaning. Something nagged at the
back of his mind, something half remembered but the harder he tried to remember
the more elusive the thought became. He opened his eyes to stare into the
mirror again but the visions had vanished. There was nothing reflected in the
mirror but himself, looking pale and scared, Fawkes and a small part of the
room behind him. He laughed at his own foolishness and would have dismissed the
whole thing except that he had a feeling that he was forgetting something very
important. Unable to figure out what was bothering him, he took one last look
in the mirror but saw nothing but himself. Making sure that his robes were
still straight and that his hair was at least presentable, Harry turned from
the mirror and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. The images
he'd seen in mirror were temporarily forgotten in the excitement of the moment.
Thinking no more about them, he made his way to the Great Hall and the feast
that awaited him.
He didn't see the eyes, which watched him from the
mirror, nor did he hear a faint cold voice whisper: Choices have yet to be
made, young Heir to Gryffindor. Be careful lest you fall into the darkness you
want so much to avoid. .
A figure stepped through the mirror and dropped a
rolled up parchment on Harry's bed and with a swish of a dark cloak the
stranger was gone as if he had never been.