Harry Potter and the City of Dreams
By Magma

Author's notes:Thanks everybody for the reviews! I'll try to write faster, and write
longer chapters ^_^:

Chapter Three-Memories

Harry took a step into the room, and scanned his new surroundings. The theme of the
room seemed to be the sky, for it was all a pale, sky blue, with fluffy clouds. All the
bedsheets, the floor, the wallpaper, all blue. The room was designed in such a way that
the sky and clouds appeared to be 3-dimensional, and the wallpaper moved constantly, so
it gave you the sensation of flying through the air. A huge four-poster bed was in the
center of the room, with gauzy white draperies. A wardrobe and a
dresser were across from the bed, and Fawkes was sleeping on the top of the dresser. . .
Wait a minute! Fawkes?

Harry did a double-take, glasses almost falling off as he whipped his head around to
stare at the sleeping phoenix. Dumbledore arched an eyebrow in question, then saw
Fawkes also.

"Well," commented Dumbledore,"that is curious. I suppose he sensed you coming."

Harry's face scrunched up into a look of confusion, but then a light bulb went on.

"Oh," he said suddenly." Then I suppose that he knew I was coming, and came to the room
I would be staying in?"

"Yes," replied Dumbledore."That's correct, Harry. Now, why don't you unpack your
things and take a nap. I'm sure the day has been stressful for you." Then, he left, and it
was as if he had never been there.

Harry started to unpack, pulling out clothes, his invisibilty cloak, the sneakoscope Ron
had gave him, the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermoine had got him, old birthday cards, and
put Hedwig's cage on the dresser. He unlocked the cage door, in case she woke up and
wanted to go out. Then, he paused. There was a little brown wooden box at the bottom of
his suitcase. It looked entirely ordinary, but Harry had learned long ago not to judge
things by their appearance. Harry pulled it out, holding it gingerly in his hand, as if
holding something potentialy dangerous. Then, he decided, what the heck, and opened it.

A small scrap of parchment lay in the silk-lined interior of the box. It looked very
battered and worn, for the years did not appear to have been kind to it. Harry could
make out faint, spidery lines of flowing script, written in tiny words and letters. Harry
didn't know why, but this little piece of paper reminded him a song, a song sung by a
gentle, sweet voice.

// hands holding him, a warm sensation of belonging and contentment, and a lullaby sung by
a gentle, sweet voice.

The nightingale sings,
sings with sorrow,
the church bells ring,
on this day.

One day we will die,
but until that day,
listen to the world sigh,
and hear the birds fly away. //

Harry wiped hot tears from his face with his hand, and remembered his mother, the
person he could never meet again. He blinked back his tears, and squinted at the little
peice of paper, trying to determine if it was of some importance. His eyes widened in
shock as the words began to reform thmeselves, changing into readable words.

He who's wand is now gone,
seek for what is lost forever.
Merlin, he who was the greatest of us,
and you who are of his line, be clever.
Find out what he used back then,
not a wand, but something in the Lion's den.

Harry's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "The Lion's den?" he thought in confusion."Is it
talking about Gryffindor's lion? And if it is, what was Gryffindor's home?" Harry didn't
know where Godric Gryffindor had lived, he never payed any real attention to Proffesor
Binns classes, but then, nobody else did, except for Hermoine.

"I'll ask Proffesor Dumbledore tomorrow about that peice of paper," he thought, as he
lay on the bed. "I'll just go to sleep now," he thought drowzily, and his eyelids shuttered
shut.

* * *

A moment after Harry opened the box, 1500 years earlier(I might have gotten the time
wrong) during the time of King Arthur, the advisor of King Arthur paused in the action of
making a speech to the court. The advisor was an old man, with a long, white beard,
solemn grey eyes, and bony features. But his personality reflected that he was not as
frail as he seemed. He was dressed in flowing blue robes, embroided with silver halfmoons
and stars, and clutched a wooden staff as tall as himself in his hand. This man was the
advisor to King Arthur, Merlin Emrys, though only he knew his last name.

"Is something wrong, Merlin?" asked Arthur worriedly. He sat in his throne, dressed in
gold plated armor and a royal purple cape that touched the floor.

"It is nothing, Arthur," responded Merlin, though Merlin knew that it was of great
importance.

King Arthur nodded in response, though he knew Merlin was telling him the truth. It could
wait until later, he decided. Preferbaly after this speech.

"As I was saying," continued Merlin, though his thoughts were elsewhere. "We -"
But as Merlin spoke, he faltered yet again, and Arthur gave a worried look at his past
tutor.

"I apologize," said Merlin,"but it seems that I cannot make this speech, ladies and lords.
Perhaps tomorrow?" And then he walked out of the throne room, lords and ladies parting
to let him pass, his robes trailing on the floor.

:I'll try to type more! I'm already working on the next chapter!: