DISCLAIMER: I DONT OWN NOTHIN, ITS ALL SOMEONE ELSES
Thanks again everyone for all the support, favorites, follows, and reviews. It really does mean a lot.
Hey, all sorry for the delay. Long story short my desktop exploded and I had to wait to be able to buy the new parts, have them arrive, and then install them before I could do any real writing.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
Harry sat alone in the rookery, presented with perhaps his most unique challenge to date. What would he do with Rana? The great white raven he had purchased on a whim was a remarkably intelligent creature. While perhaps not strictly within the rules of pets allowed at Hogwarts no one had seemingly cared to give it a second thought. Not surprising really when you considered the fact that the Headmaster routinely allowed his phoenix to fly the halls of the school to stretch its wings. But that lead him to the issue with Rana. She seemed to resent being in a cage and was attacking all those that neared her cage, human, bird, or elf.
The headmaster had approached him and asked him kindly to try speaking to his bird, and while that seemed ridiculous at first, Harry was starting to feel a lot like the bird might be too smart for its own good. The bird had cawed as if in response to his words and they were now pitted in a staredown. After a few minutes without any luck, Harry decided to try reaching a middle ground.
"Okay look, how about this. I'll find some reason for you to be out and flying, ill order some books or candy or something, and if you take your sweet time coming back then how could I control that. Sound good to you? Not a lot of other options here." Harry asked. He felt silly directing negotiations at a bird. Rana seemed to consider it a moment before giving a caw of affirmation.
"Negotiating with birds now are you Potter" Harry didn't need to turn to recognize the voice of Draco Malfoy. Turning to look at his visitor and to make room for Draco to use the rookery Harry nearly fell over when he saw Draco.
"Say Draco, have you done something different with your hair?" Harry said through a grin. Draco looked confused before pulling a small mirror out from his inner pockets and looking at himself. The girlish scream that followed was something Harry was sure he wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.
"THOSE DAMN WEASELEYS!" Draco shouted seemingly to no one. "Ah, so I take it they're still pranking you over the fake duel you set their brother up with?" Harry knew the answer already but asking would annoy Draco.
"Yes, I'll be writing father. They'll be expelled within the fortnight." Draco sounded far too smug that this plan of his would work. Leaving the newly red-haired Draco to his own devices Harry quickly scribbled a note on some parchment asking about a book of useful household charms for cleaning and such and handed the note to Rana with directions to take it to Flourish and Blotts. It was a spectacular sight Harry had to admit. To watch the great white raven spread its wings and climb so effortlessly into the sky. Perhaps he would be able to fly to one day.
Heading down for the dinner Harry was reminded of what day it was. While some celebrated the day for its candy and costumes, still others celebrated it as the day of You-Know-Who's defeat. To Harry though, it was the day he was robbed of his future. He tried not to dwell on it too much, but he often wondered what his life could have been. A mother that loved him, a father to be proud of him, no fame, no Dursleys, and a fair chance at creating his own story. Didn't mean he had to enjoy it though, and if it was up to Harry he would just spend the day studying or reading.
So far he'd been annoyed to learn that people seemed to think today was a good day to thank him for something he supposedly did at the age of one to stop the darkest lord England had ever seen. It concerned Harry that the man could receive a title like that, have all of his crimes left ambiguous because of the vulgarity or graphic nature of them, and still somehow die at the hands of a one-year-old.
Harry had to wonder if perhaps these wizards weren't too bright and maybe Voldemort had slipped and taken a nasty tumble down the stairs? Harry found humor in the idea of asking Dumbledore about that.
The great hall was decorated more lavishly than any had seen it before. Streamers hung from each of the sconces along the walls. Hundreds of candles floated around the room brightly illuminating the hall. Carved pumpkins were strewn around the hall on tables, chairs, and corners of the room. Along the far end of the hall, the school chorus was singing Halloween-themed songs to celebrate the evening. The smell of treacle tart and pumpkin juice overwhelmed Harry's nose entering the room. The school body all seemed to be in uplifted spirits. Loud cheers and laughs echoed around the room, regardless of house or age. The only people not enjoying themselves looked to Harry to be Professor Snape who had his normal sour-faced look, and Professor Quirrell who was missing from the hall.
Walking over to the Slytherins table Harry noticed it mostly empty, today had been a free day and while some food was being served early dinner was still a few hours away. Most students still wandered the grounds in groups doing whatever it was they each did in their own free time. Harry decided to ignore the few Slytherins at the table and grab a small apple, an orange, and a handful of roasted chestnuts for a snack. Harry had found he loved fresh fruit, something the Dursleys had never afforded him or cared for much themselves.
With his snacks in his bag, Harry set out for the library for some peace away from the festivities. More people stared at him as he passed them in the halls always looking for his scar. A mark branded onto him that seemed to both identify and define him in the eyes of the magical world.
Entering into the library finally afforded harry the respite he'd been looking for, the place was seemingly abandoned except for the curly-haired girl sitting at one of the front tables and a group of older students in the back who seemed to be working on a group project. Harry claimed one of the small study rooms in the back and closed the door on himself so that he wouldn't be disturbed
Sitting down Harry pulled out a "The History of Magic" and began to read. It had only taken two classes of History before Harry had given up ever learning anything in the class from the ghost who taught it. The man had spent an entire double period talking about the goblin rebellion of Fang-Ridge. While not normally one to turn from the teachings of others, Harry was still eager to learn more about this new world he had been pulled into. The book was certainly captivating in its own right. The book had been a recommendation to him by the headmaster when he had bumped into him one day in the hall and had asked about a good book on the history of magical Britain (Britannia the book called it).
While the very origin of their world was still somewhat unknown, such as how people came to wield magic as they did, there were many amazing subjects covered by the book. The rise and fall of Merlin and his consort, lover, and finally enemy Morgan le Fey, The construction of Hogwarts itself, the discovery of the Den of the Druids, the Statue of Secrecy, or the cancellation of the TriWizard-tournament. It was amazing the historical events that had happened in the roughly three thousand years covered in the book. It was quite the lengthy tome, however, and by the time Harry felt like he had just barely scratched the surface, Harry realized he had been here for several hours.
He figured he should probably go down to dinner before Tracey got too annoyed with him hiding the entire day and took it upon herself to find him. Gathering his things and tucking them into his bag Harry made for the great hall, walking slowly in hopes that he might just barely catch the end of dinner.
He had just made it to the wandering staircases when he heard it. A scream. Harry felt his blood go cold. The voice was screaming for help. Did he have enough time to go get help? Should he go and do what little he might be able to do? Harry stood frozen in insecurity at the top of a staircase as it swung around towards the screaming.
"Hel... Help me! Please" the voice screamed from down the hall. It was growing fainter and wasn't very loud now. It sounded like the voice was having a hard time breathing. Harry finally willed his body to move. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't just do nothing. He would do what little he could. It wouldn't be hard to find the cause of the screaming. Harry ran down the corridor before him to the turn in the hall, and when he turned he felt himself freeze again. There was blood. Large splotches covered the hall in a bloody trail towards the bathroom door several feet away, but what froze him was the footprint in the blood. Bigger than one of the boats they had used to cross the black lake, a large five-toed bare footprint tracked through the mud following the source of the splatters.
With great trepidation, Harry approached the door with his wand raised. He could hear the soft whimpers of someone coming from beyond the door. Pushing to door open Harry was greeted by the sight of a seventh-year Ravenclaw holding his wand in the air while slumped against the wall inside of the shattered remains of the stall. The seventh year was holding up what looked to be quite the powerful golden shield made of magic. Harry might have been impressed if not for the cracks rapidly forming in the magic shield, and the nearly thirteen-foot tall troll was slamming its club into the shield repeatedly.
The massive creature was swinging with reckless abandon at the glowing golden aegis separating it from the boy. Harry knew there would be nothing he could do for the boy, he just hoped there would be a teacher nearby he could bring here to hopefully save the boy's life. Before Harry could attempt to back away a domino effect of things happened. The door he was holding open creaked. That broke the boy's concentration, causing him to look over, which lead to the shield dropping. The troll noticed that disappearance of the shield, and in a moment of sudden genius, it noticed that its prey had looked away from himself, and so the monster's head turned and his eyes found Harry Potter standing in the doorway.
The monster let out a roar that rattled Harry's spine and began to take several quickened steps towards the child while bringing his great club above his head. Harry wasted no time turning and running. Harry didn't need to look back to know the troll was chasing him, he could hear the footfalls behind him. He could feel the vibrations shaking the floor under his feet. Not for the first time, Harry cursed his rotten luck in life.
Not able to think of any cohesive plan quickly enough Harry just ran in whatever direction he could, hoping to find someone competent to stop the troll following him. He wondered if it would be an inappropriate time to cry now. It had been a long time since Harry had cried, but this was probably a good enough reason to do so. As he tried to outrun the hulking shadow of death that chased him through the halls Harry soon found himself before the wandering staircases. Thinking quickly Harry took to the most narrow staircase there hoping it might be small enough for the troll to lose his balance and fall. Crossing the flight of stairs Harry turned to see the troll standing at the top looking down at the staircase and then at him.
Harry would always consider what happened next to be one of the scariest things he would ever encounter. The troll took several steps back and disappeared from view. Harry hood several thumps, and had only a moment to turn and begin sprinting once he realized what was happening. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the great gray-skinned beast launch himself from the floor above. The nearly thirteen-foot several-ton troll didn't so much sail, as it did meteor into the balcony of the floor where Harry now stood. Harry had stopped running a few dozen feet away from the balcony leading to the staircases and had nearly fallen over from the shake of the monster hitting the balcony. He had seen its head bounce off the ground with a sickening thump. He could only hope that would be enough to keep the beast down.
Looking around harry recognized the hall he was in as the hall he had found himself wandering by accident a few weeks ago. Harry wanted to let out an exasperated sigh as before his eyes the troll seemed to shake off the assumed brain damage it should have suffered. Of course, the thing would just stand up as if nothing happened and resume its pursuit. This was Harry Hunting all over again! Remembering his last visit to this hall Harry wondered if the troll was up for a confrontation with something its own size, or if the dog behind the large door at the end had had a good meal lately. Harry hoped he could provide it a troll, and not himself. Looking back again he saw the troll was on its feet again taking staggered steps while it regained its barring. Looking around again there was no one else in the hall to help him, and so lacking a greater plan harry ran for the door he knew housed the dog that was fabled to have once guarded the domain of Hades himself.
Harry knew the door would be locked, that much had been clear last time. Harry pointed his wand at the door and tried to picture it opening as clearly as he could.
"Aberto" he intoned. The door held fast and the troll was looking like it was beginning to return to its former lucidity. The door opening charm wouldn't work.
"Recludo," Harry said, trying the basic unlocking charm for mundane locks. Again nothing changed and the door held fast. The Troll was now beginning to close the distance once more intent on finishing the job Voldemort started. Running out of ideas Harry did the only thing he could think to do, he started banging on the door. After only a moment to his great surprise, the door swung open. Harry noticed two things, first was the sound of harp music coming from within the room housing the Cerberus. The second was the shocked face of Professor Snape, which rapidly morphed into a face of rage upon seeing him, and then back to shock as he looked over his shoulder and saw the monster rapidly approaching them.
Harry wasn't sure what to expect but he was at least glad to finally be in the presence of a competent adult. Now rather or not Professor snap could save them was unknown to him, but he had to hope. It was that or risk trying to get the dog to help them.
Snape pushed him roughly against the wall as he drew his wand from one of his billowing folds in his cloak. Snape stepped forward seemingly without fear and began to flick his wand while intoning spells softly under his breath. Harry couldn't make out the spells he was using but could see the effects happening before him. First, there had been several explosions around the Troll, and then its club had exploded. Then cuts began to appear in the rough tunic the troll wore. Several long hashes and holes appeared in the tunic, but the skin below appeared to be undamaged. He could see that Professor Snape was beginning to sweat from the exertion of trying to beat back the troll, but had had barely slowed it aside from the beast stopping to try to grab the shattered remains of its club.
Snape drew in a deep breath and pulled his wand back like a whip handle. With a flourish of his hand, Snape snapped his arm forward several times as if to crack a whip in the air. What Harry saw amazed and terrified him all the same. Several long gashes suddenly tore along the ceiling and walls where Professor Snape's wand had snapped forward, and all at once deep black gashes tore themselves into the troll standing only a few feet away from Professor Snape now. Long gashes crossed its chest and face, and with a mighty scream, it took two more steps forward and fell to its knees, covering its face with its hands. Before there was any time for Snape to retreat the Monsters' arm shot out and roughly backhanded snape into the wall on the other side of the hall.
Harry could only watch in terror as his best chance of survival lay crumpled on the floor, clearly unconscious, and whose arm was certainly bending at an unnatural angle. Harry could see the wounds on the monster slowly pulling themselves closed. It seemed trolls were as close to unkillable as anything Harry had ever seen. Harry had lost hope at this point of getting out of this alive. The troll was too strong. There was nothing more that they could do, no way for him to defeat it. He barely knew any spells beyond the first-year curriculum. He had watched a teacher use some of the most powerful magic he had ever seen, and it had failed to do anything to the beast before them. looking back around the hall there was nowhere to run either, the hall turned off to the left, and at the end a dead-end awaited.
Just as Harry had begun to give up hope for the little life he was sure would be snuffed out momentarily, there was a great flash of fire and a high-pitched trill filled the hall. When Harry looked up he saw standing in the middle of the hall the dark indigo robes adorned with starts that seemed to twinkle in the light, of Albus Dumbledore. Standing above him the man stood with wand drawn, one arm stretched out in front of him holding his wand pointed at the Troll. The other arm hooked out at his side hold Fawkes aloft.
"Good Evening Mister Potter. Out for another stroll in the forbidden corridor?" the headmaster asked him jovially.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
It had been nearly half a century since Albus felt as angry as he did at this moment. Someone had allowed a troll into his school. A troll that had brutally mauled the seventh year, had incapacitated his potions professor, and worst of all had set its eyes upon the murder of the child of prophecy. Albus believed himself a forgiving man: open to allowing a second chance for even the most damaged of souls but this was inexcusable. Whoever had allowed that troll into his school had done so in hopes of causing destruction and using that as a distraction. He knew that Voldemort or his followers were responsible for this, and in pursuit of that damnable stone Nicholas had created.
Looking up at the hulking form of the troll that had now regained its full height Albus felt no fear. Fear was a luxury afforded to those who had not seen the worst of the world, had not seen the shadows that slumbered in the dark of the world. For Albus Dumbledore, the troll barely registered as a distraction, but it needed to be neutralized or it might harm others and so Albus set to his task.
With a small flick of his wrist the stone walls and floor of the school itself sung with energy as they pulled up reached for the troll. The troll stepped away several steps as twice more waves of solid stone reached for it attempting to grab its arms or legs. Albus ceased his transfiguration and waited for the troll to make its next move. It took only a moment for the troll to roar and charge forward again in its blind rage. Two more flicks of his wand and a chunk of the floor rose up at an angle to catch the foot of the charging troll. Another flick and a thick wall rose at an angle to direct the stumbling troll into the dead-end that branched off from the main hall where the fighting had happened previously. With a ferocious roar, the troll was on its feet and running at Albus again, who turned to meet the troll from its new direction. After two steps the troll gathered its heft under it and jumped, seeming to avoid being tripped again. Albus had been expecting this, and with a sharp stab of his wand and a small turn of his wrist, there was a great golden shield in the air before him that the troll crashed into headfirst.
The troll hit the ground with a ringing crash but Albus would waste no time waiting for it to recover. Two more waves of his wand and the stone beneath them rose again to swallow the troll. The troll struggled and shook in its stone bonds. Albus watched in mild annoyance as the stone began to crack around the troll. Looking back for a moment he saw the wide-eyed stare of the Potter scion and the still-open door to the Cerberus. With an almost lazy flick of his wand the dog's door slammed shut and locked itself again.
Turning back to the more immediate problem he considered his options. He could try to continue to restrain the troll, which might take some time until the creature tired itself out, or he could kill it and be free of this issue. While it might be true he had killed before, he generally tried to avoid it where possible, only ever killing as a last resort. The opportunity before him did give him pause, however. The could be a moment to impress upon the boy watching just how powerful he could be, and perhaps to get the boy to look to him as a powerhouse he could one day turn to for help. Albus took a moment longer to curse the name of Tom Riddle for the difficulty he had caused for so many.
Steeling himself for the action that would be ahead of him, Albus took several steps away from the troll, never lowering his wand. He would use a spell here that he had not used since the Battle of Klagenfurt during Gellert's mad march across Europe. Albus knew of nothing else that might kill the troll short of the killing curse or spending an hour or two trying to decapitate it. Drawing himself to his full height Albus began to pull softly on the magic that he could feel within the very core of his being and began to move his wand. To any that might have seen, it would have appeared as if he had drawn an eight-pointed star in the air with the tip of his wand.
Barely more than a hushed whisper the old man spoke feeling the weight of his years press down on his bones with the weight of the magic. "Stella interfectorem" Albus whispered, and then a star was born within the walls of Hogwarts.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
Harry did not know what spell the Headmaster had just used, but whatever it was left him unable to do anything but stare in awe before covering his eyes for fear of being blinded. The spell had seemed to pull the very air from the room, and Harry was sure if he hadn't already been kneeling on the ground he would have been dragged down by the new force of gravity that seemed to oppressively shove him down. The worst was the heat. It lasted only a few seconds, but he felt as if he would be burned from across the hall by the intense heat he felt blast through him.
When he looked back up after a moment Harry was sure he couldn't have been more stunned than he was a moment ago but found himself shocked again by the sight of the hall in front of the Headmaster. Or at least what was left of it. The troll was seemingly gone. In its place was only a section of empty hallway roughly ten feet long, ten feet wide, the dead-end turn of the hall scorched black. Every inch of the hall was black. Ash covered every inch and hung in the air like mist, and in front of it all stood Albus Dumbledore wiping his glasses on his robe as if he had just noticed a smudge during his daily reading of the Daily Prophet.
Noticing he was being stared at for the first time the Headmaster began to stroll languidly towards Harry. It was then that the events of the last hour or so finally caught up with The-Boy-Who-Lived, and he fainted. The last thing Harry would remember seeing before unconsciousness took him would be the concerned look on the face of the Headmaster.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
Gellert wondered not for the first time in his life how different things might have been. For example, if he had died mysteriously would he have so many people who had nothing to do with his cause suddenly claiming to have been his right hand? It was rather annoying how many so-called "devoted followers" of The Dark Lord he had hunted down for them to all have been mostly useless. No one seemed to know anything about the man's plans from beyond the grave or his means of returning himself to life.
His most recent visit had been to Walden Macnair. How an imbecile like him had gotten top security posting in the ministry was beyond Gellert. These Brits did confuse him sometimes. The man had indeed been a marked Death Eater and had once been a part of the inner circle. He had avoided Azkaban with a claim of the imperious which Gellert knew to be false. It had only taken a few dozen minutes and he had broken the man's mental defense. Walden hadn't known about the Dark Lords' plans either, and the man hoped he never returned. Useless. Looking through his memories the only people that might know seemed to be dead or in Azkaban.
Gellert sat at Macnair's dinner table, drinking a cup of the man's coffee. He'd decided on a small break before he would obliviate the man, probably imperious him for future use, and then leave this place. One thing did unsettle him, however. The man's arm bore the dark mark. If the man's memory held true, then that mark would disappear when Voldemort died. The mark was still there upon his arm. Faded perhaps, but still there. Voldemort could not be allowed to rise again.
It was true that Gellert had killed more than Voldemort had, but Gellert could not abide the man's views on blood purity and worth. While he might not hold even muggles in high regard Gellert had never wanted to exterminate them all. He had wanted only to pull magical society from the shadows and into the light. Voldemort would see the world burn to sit atop it, and he cared little for his own kind either. There was no less magic in a muggle-born than in those of a noble lineage. To kill other magicials indiscriminately for who their parents were was a crime against magic itself.
Gellert rose to his feet. He had spent enough time here. It was time to set out once more to make contact with others who might know of how Voldemort was staying in the realm of the living. He would settle Macnair in for bed, and then he would leave for Africa and the tribe of shamans who lived within the Sahara desert. The Sahir who lived in the enchanted tents of the oasis paradise of Wahah and the centuries of history they held in secret.