…Stonewalls, tapestries and torches on the walls guided the way through corridor after corridor. Harry recognised the layout and décor as Hogwarts almost immediately. He also realised that his feet were carrying him swiftly towards the Gryffindor common room. From what he could tell he was in his own body, though he had no control over where he was going.
Eventually he approached what should have been the Fat Lady, but there was no trace of her…in her place stood a large portrait of a lion's golden head. It was held within a gold frame and was set on a red background. If no one knew where the Gryffindor common room was, this made it blatantly obvious.
The lion tilted its head slightly to look at Harry, its sharp, golden eyes fixed on him.
"Password?" it growled.
Harry felt his mouth open, and his lips form the word that came out in a whisper, "Sophos."
The eyes shut momentarily as it inclined its head to Harry, and the portrait swung open.
The common room, unlike the entrance to it, was not entirely different to how Harry knew it. The furnishings seemed more…fresh, as though they were newly carved. A large desk was near one of the windows, it was medieval looking, with huge wooden legs and designs were carved meticulously down the sides. Everything in the room was red and gold, naturally, and the large fireplace currently had a roaring fire inside, and two comfortable armchairs that were not usually there stood in front of it. A small table separated them, and there was a chessboard on it.
"I did wonder about your arrival, Mr. Potter. I have been awaiting your visit for some time."
If Harry could have, he would have started at the voice, though only his mind did so. The voice came from the occupant of one of the armchairs in front of the fire, the one facing him.
The face of the speaker was shrouded in darkness as he sat back in the armchair, though after speaking, he leaned forward slightly, and the burning fire threw his face into light.
Harry felt wary. He had learned the hard way not to trust anyone or anything that appeared to him in dreams; it would usually turn into a nightmare or graphic vision.
The man had wavy, sandy-brown hair, and Harry could see his eyes were a deep, soft and dark brown. Those eyes were fixed on the chessboard currently occupying the small table. He had one arm rested on his knee, with his chin resting on his open palm. He spoke again, though his eyes remained still.
"There is no need to feel suspicious, my boy. I am here to offer help, not inflict harm. You obviously do not know who I am, and from this I shall presume you do not recognise me. I am Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders of this school, and founder of your house, I believe. Am I correct in my knowledge that you are the son of James and Lily Potter?"
Harry nodded mutely.
"I am supposing your curiosity is about to reach its peak, for I have not told you why I have met you in this dream. Take a seat."
Harry walked closer to Gryffindor, feeling awed that the man who had once been so influential and phenomenally powerful, much like Dumbledore, was sitting a few feet from him. Harry dropped into the chair opposite him. But through the wonder, the suspicion still remained at the back of his mind.
After a few minutes silence, Harry felt himself shifting uncomfortably, eager to break the silence.
"Do you play chess Mr. Potter?"
Harry blinked, "……sometimes."
"An intriguing game," only when he began to speak of the game that had enthralled him before did he look up, "It seems strange that the aims and tactics of the game are similar to life…light fights dark, as good fights evil, some moves and miscalculated decisions result in the loss of a piece…loss of a life. The different pieces have different purposes, a hierarchy, much like people."
He passed his open palm over the chessboard slowly. The pieces immediately moved into action. The white tried desperately to protect and save its own, but the opposing side was ruthless, sacrificing its pawns and other pieces, and moving further forward on the board, whilst the bigger, more flexible white pieces advanced forward to protect the smaller pieces.
Gryffindor sighed, and passed his hand over the board once more, making the pieces return to their starting positions. He then picked up the two kings and placed them in the middle of the board.
"These are the power source of the game; each side must fight to protect their own king, but must also fight their opponent. It is strange that such a protected figure can do little more than the lowly pawns of the game…the king cannot rule without protection and assistance. Do you think this is what causes worlds to collide? Defence, anger, greed, insanity, belief, or just pure evil? You must remember that the good fight and take lives too, even if it is for protection. Why is there always a constant battle between the two? Unlike chess…the evil of this world sees no rules and will not consider the less important figures that are sacrificed."
Gryffindor stood and walked closer to the fire. He stared into the flames, and he placed both hands on the fireplace, turning his back to Harry. For his part, Harry noted how big Gryffindor was, and he vaguely wondered if he had once played Quidditch.
"I imagine you have enemies, everyone has that misfortune. I know that it is no secret that Salazar Slytherin and I do not agree on many things, if any. He has firm beliefs, and I have mine. Generally wizards of the light and dark do not share much in common, as we do not. I know of your enemies, Mr. Potter…you have many, most if which you have not met and are not aware of. There is one, however, one dark wizard whose soul is consumed by darkness, just as his ancestor's was."
He turned suddenly and stood over Harry, his eyes had a strange light.
"This wizard, the Dark Lord of your time…he has struck despair and hurt into the lives of many, including yours. I see most of your life is as it is because of the actions of this wizard. You want to stop him from doing more?"
Harry's head raced. His lips moved slightly as though he wished to speak, but could not think of the words. This was more than a dream.
He nodded slowly, "…… if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be who I am…and I do want…need, I need to stop him. I just don't know if I can. Everything is fading; I can feel it all starting to fall apart already. I mean, what can I really do? I'm not even of age…and even if I was…" he trailed off, "…perhaps even Dumbledore can do nothing, maybe no one can."
Gryffindor moved and sat back in the chair, he stared at Harry intently for a few moments and sighed.
"Even in the darkest of times, the darkest of worlds, there is always a flicker of hope. It may be small and hard to discern, but it remains…it remains to be used and enforced until it becomes stronger. You must make use of it."
Harry stared hard. What did it all mean? Everyone around him had always tried to tell him he was something special, relied and assumed he could be some sort of saviour, since the day he got his scar. An unexpected surge of anger and frustration coursed through him, and his breath caught.
He felt his mouth moving to form the thoughts he was thinking.
"How can I do that if I have no idea what's going on? I know next to nothing about my family…people are always saying I'm this and I'm that…the great Boy-Who-Lived who did something so great, something I can only remember when a Dementor is near. Voldemort made one mistake and I spend the rest of my life paying for it, he keeps coming at me again, relentless until he gets me, all out of spite for his own mistake. People think I'm so great? Yet because of me all of this is happening. Maybe when they start gushing about what I did that was so wonderful, they should look at the rest of it…see what I've really achieved."
Harry paused and looked into the fire, when he looked up he saw Gryffindor was watching him with a strange expression.
"Has anyone ever told you what they find when they look in your eyes?"
Harry felt his eyebrows knit together in question.
Once again Gryffindor rose, he strode towards Harry and stopped in front of him. He reached out and pressed his finger against Harry's chin, lifting it so he met his eyes.
"You have an intricate mind, Mr. Potter. You are good at masking what you feel…you are well experienced. Nevertheless, when you were speaking, it all came pouring out and everything you truly feel was reflected in your eyes. Pain, anger, loneliness, uncertainty…strength, nobility, determination and honour. A dangerous mix, one that must be carefully handled.
"Every day a battle rages within you. Ever since you were a young child it has done so, but the choices you have made helped you develop into the person you are today. The power of the light is extinguishing the darkness in you…do not look so surprised. You think everyone is purely good or evil? People are more complicated than that, Mr. Potter, we must forge are own beliefs and choose the side we deem to be right. We are not born with that ability."
Harry frowned again, "Why am I having this…dream. Why did you want to talk to me?" he whispered.
"The sorting hat," he steered from Harry's question slightly, " What did it tell you when you placed it on your head?"
"That I would do well in Slytherin, it could lead me to greatness…but I chose Gryffindor."
"Yes," Gryffindor looked away from Harry and tapped his chin as he spoke, more to himself than Harry, "Damn Slytherin, damn him," he spat.
"There's more to it…isn't there?"
"You are going to wake soon. You want these questions answered…you know to whom you should speak with. Ask about the trees. Goodbye, my boy…I hope we will meet again."
He placed a hand on Harry's head and touched his scar lightly with his thumb.
"The symbol of union," he whispered darkly to himself.
Darkness engulfed Harry and his body lurched back into awareness. His eyelashes fluttered against his skin, and he opened his eyes.
The headache had gone, and the now fully awake Harry looked outside the window…the sky was turning orange and beginning to darken.
Vivid images of the dream raced through his head. Gryffindor's words struck him as though he was standing in front of him once more, and Harry blinked as he realised exactly what Gryffindor had told him to do. Knowing who to turn to with questions was no problem, Dumbledore was the most obvious choice.
He felt disgruntled that he had woken up at the peak of his conversation with Gryffindor, and on the way to Dumbledore's office, Harry wondered with slight unease whether the dream really had any meaning to it. Could it have been simply that…a dream, invented inside his own head to reflect his own thoughts? Could the reason he awoke at that exact moment be because his own mind did not know the answer to the question he had asked, so could not invent an answer?
But the voice in his head told him to stop being so cynical. It wasn't the first time information was passed to him when he was asleep, and would not be the last. He did exactly what Dumbledore was always telling him to do…trust his instinct.
. . . . . . . . X. . . . . . . . .
He paused in front of the Gargoyle, his mouth opened but he swallowed whatever he was about to say when he realised he had no idea what the password was.
"Lemon drops…?" he tried hopefully.
Nothing.
"Chocolate frog? Fizzing Whizzbies…?"
Harry ran through every sweet he could think of and still could not get any closer to the Headmaster's office. After his many failed attempts, Harry stepped close to the gargoyle and glared at it in frustration. He rolled his eyes, "Okay. This is beyond stupid…how many times have in been here? A hundred? You should be used to seeing me by now. Can't you just…move…?"
Still no movement, so Harry stood back and glared at it again.
"I'm afraid it dislikes persuasion," Harry whirled around to see Dumbledore behind him. Next to him was a stony-faced Severus Snape….Harry just managed to suppress a groan.
"You wish to see me, Harry?"
"Yes, sir," he knew it may be a bad time, but he was going to ask the questions now…Snape was not going to stop him.
The Headmaster did not turn him away, and instead welcomed him warmly up to his office. When inside, Harry accepted the offered seat in front of Dumbledore's desk, though Snape declined and the two men remained in the doorway conversing in low tones.
Harry ears strained beyond their normal reach, and managed to pick out small pieces of conversation.
"---low profile."
"…suspicious, but I'm regaining…."
"…wait a few days…"
Before Snape left, Dumbledore laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently, muttering something quietly to him and offering a smile. Snape nodded in acknowledgment and left in a swirl of black robes. Harry resisted the urge to frown, once more wondering what made Dumbledore so trusting to a man everyone else disliked.
The Headmaster sighed deeply before he turned back to Harry. He sat at his desk and folded his hands on the desk in his lap and leaned back in the chair, asking what he could do for Harry.
"I had a….dream."
"A dream? Unlike the others I presume?"
"Yes. I've never had one like it before…this time I was actually involved, but not in the normal way."
The Headmaster leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, folding his hands together; he nodded his head at Harry.
"I fell asleep in the Library, and dreamt I was walking to the Gryffindor common room. The entrance was different, the Fat Lady wasn't there, instead it was a big lion head. When I got in there was a man sitting by the fire….Godric Gryffindor."
Harry paused so he could judge the Headmaster's reaction. If he had blinked he would have missed the twitch in Dumbledore's mouth, but he caught it. After a short pause he relayed the details of the conversation he had had with Gryffindor.
"He told me I would know who to come to for all the answers…and to ask about the trees," once again Harry was bewildered by this.
Dumbledore stared hard at Harry for a few moments, his eyes not flickering or moving. Abruptly he stood up and walked over to the large window that overlooked the Hogwarts grounds.
"Gryffindor was a very great wizard, Harry….very powerful and extremely wise. He told you that the good in you has dominated, and he is correct. You must always remember that, Harry, always," he said with sudden urgency, "…no matter what, you have chosen the right paths and must stick to it."
He turned back to Harry, "Do you know much about the founders and their heirs?"
Harry shook his head.
"Helga Hufflepuff never had children, her husband was murdered by a group of dark wizards, and she never remarried. Rowena Ravenclaw had one child, a girl. Her bloodline was continued throughout time, though there were many attempts at the lives of her descendants. The line was continued, that is, until the time of Tom Riddle. He brutally murdered her every last living descendant, the line is cut…and there is now no living trace of Rowena Ravenclaw."
Dumbledore shook his head sadly.
"This means Slytherin and Gryffindor's heirs are the only surviving remnants of the founders. Riddle, as you know, is Slytherin's heir from his mother's side. Gryffindor's, however, is a matter of some…confusion. He had one child, a son. The bloodline was continued throughout time, until recently. Every wizard in Gryffindor's line has been completely pureblood throughout…but the current is not. And so Gryffindor's line has been…somewhat cut in half.
"You must understand something, Harry. Every generation of Gryffindor and Slytherin has followed their ancestor's beliefs, and they have fought fiercely with each other…but neither has managed to cut the line of the other. Now, let me show you something."
He rose and walked in front of the desk, drawing his wand and pointing it in the empty air. Harry began to get a fluttering sensation in his gut, and ignored the nausea that was passing over him.
Dumbledore flicked his wand a couple of times and shouted an incantation Harry didn't recognise:
"Acclaro prosapia cognatus, Gryffindor!"
Lines appeared everywhere; they shot up to the ceiling and stopped just at Harry's eye level. At the top was the name: Godric Gryffindor.
A line appeared under this name, and under that line another name appeared, Leo Gryffindor.
Names began to form in a similar way, though Harry noticed that the name Gryffindor changed a few times down the line, and also that the name of the non-blood relative, for example, Gryffindor's wife, did not appear.
The family tree grew.
