Hey all. I wanted to address some comments and concerns from the reviews. So first and foremost some people have said that Harry should be stronger or doing more and that Voldemort seems fairly brutish in his efforts and too transparent. So while I wanted to write a story where I could focus on the interactions of four of the most powerful wizards of their time, Harry in time, Voldemort, Gellert, and Albus, I do think it's important to try to keep the people grounded in this high fantasy world. Harry Potter will be powerful, but right now he's a twelve-year-old boy who didn't know magic existed six months ago. There just doesn't feel like there is a believable way to expedite him to power this soon.
I have, hopefully, portrayed each of the characters in a more grounded realistic way. Gellert is willing to do the most heinous of acts, not because he is a mustache-twirling villain, but because he thinks he is the hero of his own story. Same with Tom Riddle, and the same will apply to Albus Dumbledore.
I know some parts of the story can also feel a bit slow but I think some of it is necessary to build upon for the future. Once again thanks for reading, and I welcome any and all constructive feedback.
Also, I can not say how blown away I am by the amount of follows and favorites. I never expected this much support for a story that I didn't even know id to be able to write in the beginning. Thank you all.
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Gellert waited patiently at the table. His eyes roamed the runes carved into the sides and lip of the great stone bowl. It had been a great many years since he had last seen a pensive. The old fool Albus had one of course. Gellert had never felt the need to procure one. He never had been the sentimental type.
The woman returned after a few long minutes. Her face was still dour. Seating herself, she stared into Gellert's single eye. That single eye he had for so long thought to be touched by magic. To have indicated him as the chosen one in his own right. He wondered now what exactly he had been chosen for.
"What have you come to ask." She spoke. Her voice was still cold. These people held grudges it seemed.
"I need to know what method HE used to remain among us, and how to stop it," Gellert said truthfully. Lying now would only serve to gain him their ire.
She studied him for a moment then reached out a long bony hand expectantly. Gellert held out the book and vial to her. He was surprised however when she took the vial and pushed back the book. He raised a single eyebrow at her.
"We do not need your paltry knowledge. We know most of what is in your book anyway. Now let me see about this prophecy." she spoke as she opened the vial and upended it into the stone basin. With a sharp snap of her wand on the bowl, a cloud rose from the bowl. Gellert watched as his visions of before were played out again for the woman.
He saw a house and a boy under a staircase. He saw a train and a surge of magic a child couldn't control. He saw a stone and a mirror and the reflection of a snake. He saw then a man with no face standing in a book store. He saw the faceless man in a classroom. He saw a snake in a pipe slithering. He saw a child wielding a sword. He saw soulless wraiths prowling the ground. He saw a black dog following a bus. He saw a hippogriff chained to a post. He saw a shining silver stag. He saw a rat and a dog and a wolf, all fighting under the full moon. He saw a goblet and the raging inferno within it. He saw a graveyard surrounded by mist. And finally, he saw the shadow of death that loomed over the graveyard.
The old crone watched the vision back twice more before she returned her attention to Gellert. "Are you aware of what this all means?" it struck Gellert now that she had sounded almost fearful. "Some, not all." again Gellert opted for the truth.
She took a long moment to consider his words. "It would seem that the hands of fate are not yet done pulling your strings. Your fate is tied with the fates of others, which we can not deny. We will assist you with this. Our goals align. There are several ways of attaining immortality. Flammel continues to live with the help of his elixir of life. We doubt that's the case as the elixir's recipe changes with each cycle of the moon, and does not prevent death in the case of the body being destroyed.
Next might be perhaps a method of forcible reincarnation. That would be needed to set up beforehand with rituals but can't be the case here. He would need to kill himself as part of the ritual to be immediately reborn. It was once believed that Salazar Slytherin himself performed that ritual but we doubt it.
Finally, the only other known way for us to attain true immortality is the unknown method of Herpo the Foul. What we do know is that Herpo has tied his soul to this mortal plane and in the event, that his body is destroyed his soul remains until he finds a way to create himself a new one.." she stopped there and allowed Gellert to think.
Of course, it would be some convoluted scheme brewed up by some insane wizard from centuries ago. Magic seemed to enjoy tormenting him, but who was he to deny its will. This was what magic demanded of him. So be it. None would ever say Gellert and shirked from his destiny.
"So how do I find out more about the methods of Herpo the Foul, and how do I stop HIS return," Gellert asked.
She laughed at him. Like he had asked something stupid. "Why not go ask him yourself? I don't have the rest of the answers. What I can do is offer you his location in trade for your vision. Or you can leave empty-handed. We have everything we wanted either way", she spoke with apparent smugness.
Gellert cursed himself and magic for continuing this wild goose chase. "Very well, the address please." Gellert just wanted to leave this abysmal desert and the unsettling woman before him.
She laughed again and waved her wand behind her head. Moments later a book flew off of a shelf and into her waiting hand. Flipping through it she found the page she had been looking for.
She pulled from somewhere below the table a long gray feather. Presumably from an eagle or other bird of prey. She tapped the feather with her wand and laid it on the table before him. Looking up at her Gellert found her waiting expectantly. "Well go on the then young one. Grasp your destiny before you. Be gone from my home. We will of course be moving once again after you leave. We will not meet again. All I can offer you now is a prayer for the magic to guide your way. That, and this small token." She spoke without her usual mocking tone or the previous anger suddenly genuine.
From her sleeve, she pulled a single golden band. Unadorned and simple to look at. Gellert felt his blood go cold at the sight of it. He had seen that band before. Once he had even held one for a time. Without it, he was sure he would be dead now. He knew what it meant to be given one of the Bands of Azela. They might not have said so, but Gellert knew this meant he would have the full support of the Sahir in his efforts to destroy Voldemort before he could return to life.
Sliding the golden band over his severed wrist he felt the cool wash of magic cover him. The Bands of Azela were sought after by the world around for their protective and restorative magic. Enchanted by the daughter of Merlin herself they were thought to be only a myth. Gellert knew better. If not for the one he had once sworn he would have died in his duel with Albus. He knew not how many existed, but Gellert wondered if perhaps he was the first to ever wear two in his life.
With those thoughts swirling in his mind Gellert reached out and seized the feather turned portkey and felt pulled towards whatever hideaway Herpo the Foul would be living in.
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Christmas had not often been a joyous holiday for Harry. So often he had been locked in his room or completely forgotten while Dudley was showered with gifts, or worse he'd be made to cook and clean while the others lounged and enjoyed their holiday.
Sitting in the common room looking down at the presents under the tree Harry could not believe that several were addressed to him. Sure he had expected Tracey and Daphne to get him something, but there were at least a dozen gifts under the tree labeled with his name. He also noticed the only other first-year present and receiving gifts was indeed Draco Malfoy. It still creeped Harry out that the boy had for some reason elected to remain at Hogwarts for his holiday.
While the other boy was nowhere to be seen Harry set about gathering his collection of gifts and occupying a table with them. He set the few marked from Tracey and Daphne aside for last. The first was from Professor McGonagall. She had gifted him a book titled "Applying Transfiguration Theory for Beginners". Harry set that aside for future reading. He was sure it'd be helpful. The idea of the head of Gryffindor buying a first-year Slytherin a Christmas gift made him chuckle as he reached for the next gift.
From Theodore Nott, he had received some miniature Trickle Tarts. Unsure how the boy had known those were his favorite treats Harry made a note to send the boy some candy and an apology note for not thinking to get him a gift. Harry had only thought of Tracey and Daphne for gifts. Blaise had also gotten him some assorted candies. Two people he would need to send something and an apology note.
It was then that Draco walked into the room looking more somber than usual, and being far quieter than Harry had ever thought possible for the blonde menace. Draco pointedly refused to acknowledge him, and instead gathered the several packages from the tree and retreated to his room.
Returning down to his gifts Harry reached for the next one that had no signature, instead only marked by a weird symbol that seemed familiar to Harry but eluded his memory at the moment. On the tag was a single triangle, and within it was a line within a circle. Opening the package he found two small books and a folded leather strap. Turning the books over he saw one was on dueling etiquette and customs, and the other was a list of beginner spells for dueling. But why had someone gotten him books on dueling? Sure the sport seemed interesting to Harry, but the teams were unavailable to try out for until the second year, and he hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet that he had wanted to learn more. That was kind of creepy.
Setting those uneasy thoughts aside he turned to the last two that weren't from his friends. The first was tagged from R.H. He reached for that next, pulling open the wrapping paper he found a note and a framed picture. Moving the note covering the picture aside Harry would have dropped the picture had he not been seated at a table.
Staring back at him was a small framed picture, and bound within the prison of its edges were the same two smiling faces from the mirror. His parents smiled back at him. His father's smile was large and proud, and his mothers almost sad. He stared back at them and felt the tears pooling in his eyes. Blinking them away he pulled over the note. The note made Harry want to laugh, the handwriting was awful, and in several spots, it looked to have ring stains from someone placing a mug onto it.
"Hello Harry
I know we haven't had a chance to talk yet but Dumbledore asked me to pass something along to you I still had in my possession. Your parents were good peoples. Friends o mine for a long time. Ive got some other pictures and knick nacks of theres if youd like em. Come on down to my home and ill be happy to give you whatever I might be able to find of em.
Happy Holidays
Rubeus Hagrid"
Harry smiled and made a note to also buy something nice for the giant of a man he had often seen wandering outside the school near the forests. He would certainly have to go visit the man as well.
The last package he saw was from the Headmaster himself. Pulling it open he found an iridescent silver cloth. The shine in the light seemed almost ethereal to Harry. Atop it was a small note "Your father left this in my possession some time ago for study. I believe it has been kept from its rightful owner for long enough. Please be responsible with it."
Harry wondered what it could be if the headmaster was warning him? Standing up Harry held up the cloak to its full length. It didn't seem special. Deciding to wear it to see if that would trigger anything Harry was almost disappointed in the lack of anything noticeable happening. Looking down he didn't see anything. Wait. He didn't see anything at all... where were his legs?
Looking around he saw a mirror along the far wall. Walking over he was amused to see he was entirely invisible. Well, that could be handy.
Walking back over to his little table Harry folded up the cloak and set it aside: surprised at how small the folded-up cloak had become. That was rather useful, but why had his father had such a thing? Was it a family heirloom? It must have been unique for Dumbledore to have wanted to study it. Another quick note was made to investigate invisibility cloaks in the future.
Opening Tracey's gifts first Harry found a rather large assortment of candy, far too much for any one person to eat he thought. The other he found to be a book. Harry recoiled in disgust seeing the title. "Harry Potter. Boy Who Saved Us All". Someone had written a book about him it seemed. He saw a slip of paper within and opened the book to find a small note from Tracey.
"Happy Holidays! I saw this and couldn't resist, I know you'll hate it hahaha. Turn me over for your other gift!"
Harry Turned over the note and found taped to the back a tiny photo no bigger than one of Uncle Vernon's id cards. It was a picture of Tracey and Daphne. They were seated together in what looked like a lavishly decorated drawing room of some estate, sitting in chairs side by side facing outward. Tracey was grinning like a lunatic and holding up a peace sign, while Daphne held a much more lady-like pose and smiled kindly at the picture.
Harry smiled and set it with his picture of his parents. He'd move them someplace very safe as soon as he could. Grabbing the final Harry opened it to find again, a small leather-bound book and a small note.
"I know Tracey got you that horrid book. Perhaps you should write your own? Tell them the true story of Harry Potter"
The neat flowing cursive he imagined couldn't be from anyone but Daphne. Picking up the leather-bound journal Harry was surprised to see it was a rather fancy-looking journal. Opening it he found on the first page a leaflet about the journal. It was enchanted to always add more pages when needed and was made from genuine dragon scale, as well as being enchanted to be water and fireproof.
Harry wasn't sure if he wanted the attention of ever telling his story, but writing it down didn't sound too bad.
Gathering his new items Harry returned to his room and went straight to open his trunk. Looking back at the door to see no one was there he tapped the secret pattern on the side of the trunk and watched the floor melt away to reveal stairs. Descending into his trunk Harry saw his little secret hide-away safe and secure. A soft leather couch sat in the corner, bookended by two small tables one with a lamp and the other empty save a smalls tack of books. Three of the walls of the rooms were covered in bookcases, still mostly empty.
Harry placed his new books on the table by the chair, and then turned and strode toward the doorway at the end of the room. There was no door, just a simple curtain hanging in the doorway. Pushing it aside he entered the small makeshift bedroom. On the wall were several picture frames opposite the bed. Most of them were empty save for a single picture that was hanging of Rana. When he had sent her to get some picture frames she had returned with a framed picture of herself.
he still didn't know if it was just the merchant's kindness or if she had somehow arranged it herself. Selecting two appropriate sizes he framed side by side the picture of his parents and his friends.
It was then for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts looking at the picture of the family he had lost, and the friends he had gained, that Harry let himself cry.
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Albus resisted the urge to leap from his chair and strangle the man before him. Such would be unbecoming of "The Great Albus Dumbledore" he mused.
For nearly five hours he had fielded question after question from the delegation of the Intercontinental Confederation of Wizards. Not to mention the had decided to waste his time on the Christmas holiday answering the same questions again and again and again.
Where was Gellert Grindelwald? How should he know?
What is Gellert Grindelwald after? No clue.
Why has Grindelwald moved after so long in hiding? Not the foggiest.
But of course, none of that was enough for the ICW. They seemed convinced that he was part of some grand conspiracy to aid and abetted perhaps the most wanted man of the last century.
Pulled from his thoughts he was reminded that an angry Italian wizard was yelling at him from the front of the delegation.
"I will say again sir, I have no knowledge of the current affairs of Gellert Grindelwald. All of my time has been devoted to the children of Hogwarts." Albus spoke in a neutral tone.
The mustached wizard seemed to redden in the face, but before a new tirade could begin the man turned and abdicated his seat to the next person who might demand questions of Albus Dumbledore. It didn't take long before another man approached the stands. Ah, the every joyful Barty Crouch Sr. himself had approached the stand. Hopefully, that meant this might be the end.
"We shall recess this meeting until something further can be offered. We shall reconvene no later than four weeks from today. Albus, you shall of course be required to attend that meeting as well. If anything should change you all will be notified with due haste. Until then we shall adjourn this meeting." Crouch spoke with his surly snarl and then turned and stomped out of the room.
Everyone else waited for a second longer then began to file out into the hallway to disembark or mingle. Albus cursed that he would be required to mingle. He wanted to do nothing more than to go back to his office and get some actual work done, but there was too much to learn and too much expected of him. Not the least of which would be fielding more questions.
From the back of the hall, he saw a familiar delegate appear. Setting himself into motion Albus approached the man who not long ago had intruded into his office at Hogwarts.
"Hello, again my friend!" Albus spoke with as much cheer as he thought might be acceptable. If the man was surprised to be approached he hid it well. Instead, he smiled warmly as if he were Albus's old friend.
"Albus! So good to see you. Dreadfully long meeting that was, would you perhaps join me for a moment of respite? I'm sure old bones could use a moment of rest." the man spoke in his same amiable voice. Albus did not miss the subtle insult to his age. Very well then.
"Perhaps another time, I do have such pressing matters and important people waiting for me. Have a nice evening Mr... I'm sorry I've forgotten your name." Albus said. There was a subtle inhale from someone behind him who had been no doubt eavesdropping. Most likely they were wondering why he had insulted the man.
"Forgive me at my age I forget so very much.". If the man was bothered he didn't let it show.
The man dipped his head in feign deference then spoke "It would be my pleasure to introduce myself again. I am Momar Kama, representative to the ICW from the Crescent Council."
"Ah yes of course. I believe I knew another man who carried the name Kama once. Are you of any relation to Yusef Kama?" Albus inquired of the man before him. They did look somewhat alike, but Yusef had been from France? Perhaps a simple coincidence?
"The man you refer to was my uncle. My family on my mother's side have long hailed from northern Africa." the now named Momar spoke amicably. Taking a half step closer he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I have news of your friend, as well as a message to pass along"
"Perhaps a rest will do my old bones some good after all." with a lazy wave of his hand Albus conjured a small table and two cushioned chairs in the corner of the hall. Seating himself without waiting to see what his new acquaintance might do or say Albus was amused to again see half the hall watching him. No doubt either amused or envious of his fine control of magic. Ah, how he so loved to put on a show.
Another lazy wavy of his hand and the room around him and Momar went silent, and on the table appeared a pitcher of cold water and two glasses.
Albus crossed his knees and rested a hand on them and waited for the other man to catch up and take his seat.
Seating himself just a moment later Momar let out an amused laugh and spoke. "You know it's one thing to be told of your power, and a very different thing to see it first hand. All without a wand too. But I'm afraid if that was a show to impress or intimidate I might remind you of who I'm here representing? Anyways I assume they can't hear us?"
He waited just long enough for Albus to shake his head no.
"Very well then. Grindelwald is in Africa, for some unknown reason he has ventured to visit the Sahir. Do you know why? What is he seeking in The Shifting Oasis?" Momar eyed him critically while speaking. Albus sighed.
"Gellert has taken it upon himself to seek knowledge of the methods that Voldemort used to ensure his continued survival," Albus said. He was pleased to see no visible flinch from the man at the mention of Voldemort.
"And why exactly, are you speaking as if that abomination is still among the living."
Albus said nothing. There was nothing that could be said.
The African man swore in what Albus thought were at least three different languages before turning back to Albus.
"This changes things. Why Is Grindelwald opposing him? They only briefly interacted previously as far as we know? Hardly enough for a lasting feud." the man asked clearly fishing.
Albus laughed at that. "Why of course that was enough. I have had the very unwanted pleasure of knowing both of the aforementioned dark lords in my life. What I can tell you about both is that their pride is rivaled only by each other. Long ago after my duel with Grindelwald, Voldemort sought him out in hopes of killing him and retrieving an artifact he thought Grindelwald to still be in possession of. Grindelwald no longer possessed that item and Voldemort failed spectacularly to kill a one-armed one-eyed wizard.
Grindelwald will never forgive the attempt on his life, and Voldemort is unable to accept that he ever failed at anything. So yes, their brief interaction is enough to spurn a feud that might set them at odds whenever possible. But you are correct in that there is one more factor at play here. Gellert Grindelwald has always suffered from delusions of grandeur. He believes magic guides his hand. Unfortunately for the world he also possesses the skill and conviction to carry out whatever heinous actions he believes magic to be guiding him towards. Currently, he seems to be under the impression that Magic wishes for him to prevent the reincarnation of Voldemort." Albus stopped his oration there.
It had been a short history lesson but hopefully, it might be enough to appease the questions he was sure were going to follow. Momar seemed to be deep in thought. Albus left him to his thoughts and enjoyed the quiet moment of self-reflection. Thinking back on that short lesson he wondered how different things might have been if Tom had never been foolish enough to try to murder Gellert. Or the horror they might have been able to accomplish if they had ever worked together.
Abruptly Momar stood from his chair. "Thank you for your time, Albus. The council thanks you for your cooperation as well." Momar said and then turned and strode for the exit.
Interesting Albus thought. So they hadn't known about the two dark lords and their grudge match, but what purpose might that information provide for the Crescent Council?
No use in wondering now. Finally, he could be free from this meeting. For now anyway.
With a smile, Albus decided to have a little more fun with the hall of delegates and summoned Fawkes to take him back to his office. The poor bird so often was used as a delivery method. Albus made a mental note to get him a more meaningful way to help. Or maybe a friend.
Albus got a small chuckle out of the startled reaction of several of the wizards in the hall as a fireball burst into life above his arm. With a sharp trill from his lifelong companion and another gout of fire, Albus was deposited into his office before his desk.
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Harry Potter stood in the hallway in front of what should have been an empty class. He had been looking for one to train in when he had heard what sounded like fighting. As he got closer he had thrown on his new invisibility cloak and took a peek into the room.
What he had not expected was for his forehead to explode into pain, and for Professor Quirrell to be destroying the classroom with fireballs and blasting hexes. After a moment to collect himself, Harry put an ear to the door hoping to hear. It sounded as if there were two people in the room.
One was furious, and the other seemed to be trying to calm the angry voice. Oddly enough it seemed like Quirrell was the one trying to mollify the other man. But hadn't he seen Quirrell casting the hexes? Harry began to slowly back away from the door. It hadn't been lost on him that the man had seemingly been trying to murder him at times this year.
Harry hadn't made it more than two steps away before the door blasted off its hinges. Harry had to slam a hand over his mouth for fear he might yell. Out from the room stalked Quirrell. Gone his usual nervous demeanor. Wand held high he turned in a small circle surveying the hall. With a sharp twirl of his wrist he cast a spell Harry didn't hear or recognize. A faint red pulse of light shot out from his wand and coated the hall.
Harry felt his pulse quicken and wondered if the man had done something to detect him. Harry mentally prepared himself to run. Another moment passed. Then another long moment. Several latter and Quirrell turned and left down the hall.
Harry afraid to move stayed there motionless for several minutes. After gathering himself Harry ran as fast and as quietly as he could back to the Slytherin common room and decided that once again he would not be leaving the common room until term started again. This break had been far too dangerous for any twelve-year-old to deal with.
