Pillars
of Creation: Legacy of Blood
By:
MirrorWheel
Disclaimer:All
characters, and such are the copyrights and property of their
respective owners. I claim no ownership of any character and such in
any way.
Warning:
This story will have many lengthy descriptions and will move very
slowly. If you wish to avoid these, please hit the back button on
your browser and return to your previous page.
(AU): Fifth Year. The Pillar's of Creation tell of many stories in the life of Harry Potter. Today, we explore one of the millions of possibilities in which Harry Potter's world could change. During the time after the Triwizard Tournament, the young Harry Potter is taken by a man to a mysterious place, known as the Pillar's of Creation. There, with the promise of trust, the young Harry Potter learns of Albus Dumbledore's manipulations and trains to protect himself for Lord Voldemort's second rise. What will happen to the Wizarding world and Harry Potter? Will he be successful in destroy Lord Voldemort once and for all, forever removing the Dark Lord's threat? Or will he simply delay Voldemort's take over of the Wizarding and Muggle world once again, sending Voldemort into his corporeal form?
Join me
for an amazing trip of action, adventure, drama and growing love as
we explore the adventures of Harry and his friends as they yearn to
stop Lord Voldemort's rise, once and for all, while dodging
Dumbledore and the Ministry's effort's to stop them.
(Harry
x Hermione)
A/N: Hello there, folks. As many people noticed my disappearance for months, I have finally returned with a revamped version of my Pillar's of Creation: Legacy of Blood. This is different in several ways from the other version:
1. The
story starts out different. Instead of Harry going directly to the
Pillar's of Creation, he meets his mentor first and he takes Harry
there.
2.
Harry isn't a descendent of Bartuc, Salazar or Godric. This time, he
is only the heir, not a descendent.
3.
Harry doesn't ride on the Hogwart's Express, and instead, goes
directly to Hogwart's and meets his friends.
4. In
chapter 2, the scene with Harry's animagus isn't in there or he won't
have an animagus at all. I am still undecided about this. Dan will
still be in here, but the very brief fight scene won't be included.
5.
Harry's sister and mother are not in this version.
6.
Harry will not have two wands. He will only have his Holly, Phoenix
feather, wand.
I just wanted to include a few notes also. Harry does fancy Hermione, but that doesn't mean he'll love her with one kiss. I've seen too many of those cliché's. Their relationship will develop slowly with time, just like any real relationship. No instant, "I love you, were soul mates", crap. With Harry and Draco, a friendship is possible to occur, but just because Harry become friends with Draco, that doesn't mean that Ron will befriend Draco. Same on the Slytherin end.
Now, join me for a trip through the Pillar's of Creation as we observe Harry's fifth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...
Harry
Potter, Quote of the Day:
"Come,
the niceties must be observed... Dumbledore would like you to show
manners... bow to death."
Voldemort
Harry
Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Part 0: And so, it begins... the summer before the fifth year...
London:
Number four, Privet Drive — Little Whinging, Surrey
July:
Calendar Day 7
The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their dribs and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing; the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze.
A young, very unusual boy, that goes by the name Harry Potter sat on his small, thin mattress that rested on his bed, reading a leather book with many dog-eared pages. To most, it would not seem strange to see a perfectly normal teenager reading a book, but this type of book was quite unusual because of the book's title, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded.
He let out a long, slow breath and lowered his leather-bound book and rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He sighed again and stared out at the brilliant blue sky. Every day this summer had been the same: the tension, the expectation, the temporary relief and the mounting tension again... and always growing more insistent all the time, the question of why nothing had happened yet...
He kept listening, just in case there was some small clue, not recognized for what it really was by the Muggles — an unexplained disappearance, perhaps, or some strange, unexplained accident...
He could feel the mounting tension was again... the hope of hearing something that might point to what Lord Voldemort was doing. in the meantime, he had nothing to look forward to but another restless, disturbed night, because even when he escaped nightmares about Cedric he had unsettling dreams about long dark corridors, all finishing in dead ends and locked doors...
Harry shook his head slowly and placed his book down on his small bed and stood, the floorboard's under his bare, pale feet squeaking with every step. He placed his hands on the window sill and leaned outside his small, open window. Bit's of metal raked at Harry's unruly raven locks... part's from the bar's on his windows, long gone... dust in the wind...
He squinted as he felt the sun shine into his brilliant emerald eyes. His raven hair shifted aside in a nonexistent wind, showing off a thin, lightning bolt shaped scar situated into his head, right above his right eyebrow... a curse scar, the only remains of his dark, and terrible past... the past of Harry James Potter — the boy who lived — and Tom Marvolo Riddle, or more commonly known to the Wizarding World, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named — a threat that neither the magical government nor the authorities at Hogwart's can stop...
He removed his hands from his window sill and sighed, turning around towards his chest of drawers. On top of it, stood an iron cage with the gate swung open, creaking back and forth as a unexpected breeze shifted the gates to and fro... back and forth...
His room was small, barely large enough to hold all the necessities he needed. He walked back, the floorboard's quivering under his feet and lay down on his head, his arms crossed behind his head, looking unblinkingly up at the white-washed ceiling...
He sat up suddenly as he heard a knock at the door of number four, Privet Drive. He heard his uncle's thundering footsteps. His uncle was a large, neck less man with an enormous black mustache. He heard the door squeak open and quietly got to his feet, tiptoed, slid outside, closed the door and crouched near the top of number four's steps, his knee's bent with his arms resting on them, his hands dangling down in front of them. He peeked down the stairs and around the corner, catching a glimpse of his uncle's large mass, but no sign of the person or creature that knocked on the door...
"Hello —" said his Uncle Vernon at first, but his voice abruptly cut off. The silenced reigned eerily throughout number four before Harry saw his uncle's vein's start to throb at his temple's...he had seen that various time, but only when he was talking about any person or object of magical nature... could the person at his door be magical, or could he simply be mistaken for a magical person...
"Y-You!" he snarled viciously, spit flying from clenched teeth. His uncle grabbed the white-washed door of number four, Privet Drive with his large, ham sized fist and tried to close it, but he suddenly stopped and started to pale rapidly... this confirmed Harry's suspicion's. He saw his uncle fall onto the floor, his mass making the house shudder as pictures rattled and bit's of plaster fell from the ceiling. He uncle backpedaled rapidly, using his large ham-hands to propel himself backwards, making the rug he fell on start to wave as his uncle frantically pushed backwards with his hand's and feet. Harry finally caught his first glimpse of the mysterious man, or wizard that made his uncle backpedal with fear...
He was a thin, but tall man with many wrinkles that reminded him of Headmaster Dumbledore. He wore a simply, wool gray cloak that covered his shoulder and body with thinning gray hair. He was leaning on a long, wooden cane with his right side and in his left hand, he had a thin, wooden wand in his olden, wrinkled hand, grasping it with four long, slender fingers. His eyes were a hazlenut brown that twinkled much in the same fashion as his Headmaster's, hidden behind the thin, square-framed spectacles.
"Hello, Mr. Dursley," he said with a kind, wizened old voice. He stepped more into the house of number four, Privet Drive as Vernon finally managed to get to his feet. He was still quite pale and shaky, but he seemed to regain some of the color to his face. Uncle Vernon's face twisted into a horrible grimace... his temples throbbing violently.
"Hello," said Uncle Vernon in a very, strained voice. "What do you want here?" he asked, trying to be polite as possible, but failing miserably as the word's came out in a semi-snarl... his eyes weary of the wand still pointed towards his mass. The man's eyes shifted towards the stairs, staring directly at Harry's crouched form, his arm's resting on his knee's with his hand's dangling limply in front of them.
"I've come for your nephew," he said pleasantly, not at all disturbed by Vernon's outrage — the purpled face or his throbbing veins. "I come to take him away from your house for the summer. If he returns here or not, I cannot tell you... but, for now, he will come with me and leave you and your family to their silence," he said kindly. At his word's and gaze, Harry stood from his crouched position and walked down the worn, polished, wooden stairs. He winced slightly as he last worn, wooden stair squeaked beneath his feet.
The man turned and smiled at him, his hazelnut eye's twinkling behind his square-framed spectacles. His uncle only sneered at him, but chose wisely to stay silent, watching them interact... it seemed the idea of Harry leaving for the rest of the summer was more then enough for Vernon to be semi-civil to the man, whoever he was.
"Hello, Harry," said the gray-haired man. "I am, as I'm sure you've heard from Dumbledore," he paused slightly, "after you first year as the creator of the Sorcerer's Stone," he explained. "My name is, as you no doubt of guessed by now, is Nicholas Flamel," he said. Harry nodded his ascent.
"Yes...I understand, but why are you taking me for the summer?" he asked inquisitively. He, then paused and nodded. "I... understand," he said. Voldemort. It all came back to Voldemort. Like a violent whirlwind, every event in his life was, somehow, connect to the Dark Lord... what did this all mean...?
Nicholas nodded and pulled out his thin, wooden wand and waved it. Vernon looked at the thin piece of wood fearfully. After a few, tense moments, the sound's of crashes were heard and Harry's trunk, fully packed, along with Hedwig's cage situated onto the top, floated down the stair's gently. Nicholas nodded and put his wand back into his robes. He turned around and grasped the handle of the worn, white-washed door.
"Come, Harry, we depart now," he said in a whisper. Harry nodded and walked out the door after Nicholas, his trunk floating behind him silently. As Vernon closed the door to number four, Privet Drive, there was a flash of light and Harry James Potter and Nicholas Flamel disappeared from number four, Privet Drive's porch.
The sun dipped into the horizon, painting the brilliant blue sky a myriad of yellows, reds and purples...
"But, Mr. Flamel, where are we going?" whispered Harry's voice as the sun began to sink more and more into the horizon...
"Harry, m'boy, we are going to a place known as the Pillar's of Creation. A place where dream's become reality..." said the voice of Nicholas Flamel.
And as the sentence finished, the sun disappeared beyond the horizon and the sky turned dark, the first star appearing in the now, darkened sky...
Fin
Part 0
— And so, it begins... the summer before the fifth year...
"Come with me next time as we explore one of the thousand's of stories crafted by the Pillar's of Creation..." whispered a tantalizing voice. As you turn around, though, there was no one there...