Rising Darkness

By Lady Nimrodel

Characters, settings, and situations recognizable from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I own… uh, everything else. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter One: Awakening

Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, their gazes fixed heavenwards. Stars twinkled like tiny diamonds scattered on the blue-black velvet of the sky. Moonlight bathed the world in its silver glow, and an occasional gust of cold wind rustled the treetops. It seemed like an ordinary night, but the two teachers knew that one of the most momentous events in history was about to take place.

They could only hope that they were ready for it.

"How much longer, Albus?" Minerva inquired tersely.

Albus pulled out a gold watch from his pocket. It was a strange watch, with twelve hands and, instead of numbers, little planets moving around the edge. He understood it perfectly. "The Chosen Ones will Awaken," he replied, putting the timepiece back in his pocket, "in exactly five seconds."

Minerva shivered, not from the cold but from a mixture of anticipation and dread. "I wonder who they will be."

"Yes," said Albus, stroking his bearded chin, his thoughtful gaze fixed once more on the stars. "I wonder who…"

Five seconds later, in the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, a boy named Harry Potter was jerked out of a dreamless sleep by a horrible, burning pain clawing at his insides. He stifled his cries of agony as he writhed and clutched his stomach, not wanting to rouse the peacefully snoring Dursleys. Hedwig, obviously sensing something was wrong, gave a loud hoot and flapped her wings, rattling the cage.

"Quiet," Harry managed to gasp. The snow-white owl calmed down, but looked at him with concern.

Just when he could have cheerfully killed himself to stop his suffering, the pain disappeared, replaced by a tingling sensation in his right hand. Breathing heavily, Harry stared at the ceiling, wondering what had just occurred. Maybe it had something to do with Voldemort… but his scar hadn't hurt one bit…

The tingling intensified until it was almost painful. Harry spread his fingers and raised his hand in the air, trying to distinguish it in the dark.

What happened next caused his heart to slam against his ribcage, then skip several beats.

His hand was glowing.

A cry of surprise escaped from his throat. He sat up in bed and, reacting by instinct, gave his hand a vigorous shake.

Suddenly the entire room was flooded with brilliant, unearthly, almost blinding white light.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Ron Weasley groaned as he stumbled out of bed, his entire body consumed by mind-numbing pain. His stomach was churning. Maybe he'd eaten too much strawberry pudding at dinner.

Steeling himself for the worst effects of stomach trouble, Ron went into the bathroom. Another spasm of pain ripped through him, and he clutched the doorknob to prevent himself from falling to the floor.

And then the pain disappeared, as quickly as it had come.

Ron stared at his pale face in the mirror, a million questions running through his mind. What in blue blazes is going on here? he wondered, almost angrily.

That was when he noticed something strange about his reflection. Ron went closer until his nose was pressed against the mirror's clear, cold surface, and then he jumped back in shock.

His eyes, normally dark blue in color, were now a luminescent sky blue shade, glowing as brightly as the moon.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" Ron screamed.

Water gushed out of the faucet with such force that it splattered his pajamas. There was a gurgling sound, and then the shower turned on, wetting the hard tiles.

Okay, this is really creeping me out, Ron thought, backing up against the wall. "Stop it! Stop it!" he yelled in a sudden rush of panic.

And the faucet and shower, immediately, inexplicably, turned off.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Mrs. Granger asked, her forehead wrinkling in concern when Hermione cried out, doubling over in pain. Mr. Granger looked up from the hearth, where he was trying to get a fire started, and inquired, "What's wrong?"

"It… hurts…" Hermione muttered, panting.

"Where?" said Mrs. Granger, letting Hermione lie down on the couch. "Where does it hurt?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "Everywhere," she whispered. She was burning. The blood flowing through her veins felt like boiling magma.

Mrs. Granger covered her daughter with a blanket, then turned to her husband. "Don't just stand there! Get her some aspirin!" He immediately dropped the matches in his hand and ran up the stairs, abandoning the bare fireplace, and she could hear drawers being pulled opened and objects being thrown this way and that. "Where the hell did you put the aspirin?" he thundered.

"It's in the medicine cabinet, you bloody idiot!" she yelled back. "God knows why I even married you in the first place!"

The only reply she got from him was a noncommittal grunt.

Suddenly Hermione's whimpers ceased. She arched her back and her eyes opened wide. Mrs. Granger gasped. Hermione's normally brown eyes were now shimmering gold. "Oh my God, Hermione! What's happening to you?" The girl didn't answer. She sank down into the couch, breathing heavily, and her eyes gradually returned to their normal color. Mother and daughter stared at each other, incredulous expressions on both their faces.

"I found the aspirin!" Mr. Granger cried, and they could hear his footsteps as he hurriedly descended the stairs.

A crackling sound turned Mrs. Granger's attention to the other side of the room.

Red, yellow, and orange flames were merrily dancing among the pinecones and apple wood in the hearth.

Draco Malfoy's ear-piercing screams rang throughout the entire manor. His parents, clad in expensive designer bathrobes, came running into his room, where he was convulsing on the bed, an expression of intense agony on his face.

"Draco, what's the matter?" Narcissa demanded, rushing to her son's side.

"I'm cold… it hurts…" Draco complained. A dull, throbbing ache had begun in his stomach, and spread like wildfire throughout his entire body. He felt as if he were encased in layers of ice. "Mother! Make it stop!"

"For the love of God, stop that pathetic whining," Lucius snarled. "Take this like a man!"

"Lucius!" Narcissa said admonishingly, shooting him a warning look.

The blond Death Eater drew the curtains aside, staring at the sky. His lips curved in a satisfied smirk when he saw fifteen burning red stars, larger than their sparkling silver brethren, forming an entirely new constellation in the heavens.

So, my son is one of the Chosen… How very lucky for our side… but I wonder what his element will be?

His question was answered less than a second later, when the windows became coated with ice.

"Look, Fleur," the Dark Lord hissed, gesturing to the fifteen red stars. "The constellation has been formed. The long-dormant powers of the elements are starting to awaken…"

An expression of intense pain crossed Fleur Delacour's lovely face. She cried out and dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. "Master… what is this? What's happening to me?" Her question ended with a scream. "Mon Dieu! It hurts!"

Only the slight widening of Voldemort's red eyes showed his surprise. His bloodless lips twisted in a gruesome caricature of a smile. "So… You are one, too…" He laughed in triumph as a translucent shadowy mist wrapped around Fleur like a blanket. "How very convenient, my dear. How very convenient."