Summary: Harry wanders the forest after Dumbledore's funeral so that he can think. But instead of a solution to his problems, he finds a Dryad who ensnares his mind and uses him as her servant. But what if in exchange for his servitude, she will teach Harry "the power he knows not?"
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the other characters contained herein. I am not selling the stories I write and am not gaining or losing any money from their continued existence. In addition to the previous statement, I am a broke-ass, mostly jobless college student with nothing worth suing for anyway. I further disclaim that this story will not contain any H/G, (save mentioning the break-up from canon) H/Hr, Slash (or Yaoi), relationships where one character is old enough to be a parent of the other, (exceptions: are things that don't age at a normal rate. Vampires, angels, gods, immortals, ancient magical beings etc.) incest, sex with animals, (magical or non) or anything else I feel like banning for an arbitrary reason. If you don't like it: tell me why in the form of a flame, or leave. "You are a shitty writer" isn't remotely helpful so enlighten me so that my fics are just that much less terrible. Thank you for your co-operation.
Ghostwheel
Servitude of a Peculiar Sort
Chapter One: Revelations
Harry Potter had a wonderful final afternoon with Ron and Hermione on the last day of his sixth year at Hogwarts. Considering the circumstances (Dumbledore's death, breaking up with Ginny, etc.) the good did its best to outweigh the bad.
Together, the trio talked about their esteemed Headmaster, plotted about how they would act against Voldemort in the future, and finally sat down for several amusing games of exploding snap.
"I'm done with this rubbish!" Ron exclaimed in fake anger. "I want to play something I can actually win at!" The cards had exploded in his face in three of the last four games, singeing his recently regrown eyebrow.
"Not chess!" Harry responded. "I can't handle the emotional pain of watching my pieces get brutally murdered. Not today."
After some bickering, it was decided that Harry and Hermione would play chess against each other while Ron watched from under a silencing charm. It was getting close to a draw when Harry moved his bishop to defend his king and unwittingly put Hermione in Checkmate.
After dinner, the trio separated. Ron followed a handful of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to the Quidditch pitch for a pick-up game (they were short a keeper). Hermione had a few books that she wanted to check out from the library for summer reading. Bored, and not really sure what to do about it, Harry followed Ron out to the pitch to watch the game. Even if he had his broom with him, he wouldn't have played. He simply wasn't in the mood.
Ron and the Hufflepuffs (and a single fourth-year Slytherin playing chaser. Harry didn't now his name) were beating the predominantly Ravenclaw team by a good fifty points when Ginny showed up at the other end of the pitch. Harry decided it was time to take a walk in whatever direction his feet would take him. The last thing he wanted was to talk with Ginny some more. He knew she would attempt to convince him to take her back. He wasn't sure he had the guts to turn her down for the second time in the same day.
Harry's feet seemed to be in the mood for a forested setting, and Harry didn't feel up to refusing them. So, he walked, and thought. Subconsciously, he turned in the exact opposite direction of the centaur part of the forest. He wasn't in the mood to deal with them right now.
Like every other time he was depressed, the first thing that came to mind was Sirius's demise last year. He replayed the scenario over and over in his head and looked pointlessly for something he could (or should) have done to save his Godfather. While he still accepted some of the blame for the incident, his friends' assurances had broken through to him over the year and the bulk of the guilt had been redistributed to Sirius (for being cocky), Bellatrix (for killing him), and Voldemort (the reason she was at the department in the first place).
His thoughts drifted in a darker direction, as he strayed farther from Hogwarts. He saw Cedric dying in a sudden flash of green light. Harry had revisited the scene a thousand times, and he found the same two things he always found that he could have done differently. The first was to have taken the cup when Cedric offered it. The second was for Harry to have let Sirius kill Wormtail in his third year like he should have. Both problems were caused by the same shortcoming.
'This is a war.' he thought. 'There's no place for nice guys here.'
At last, his mind came to Dumbledore. While his last name was but a single word, the accompanying thoughts made it feel more like a paragraph. The prophecy, and the fact that he hadn't been told until it was too late to prepare. The summer isolation at the Dursleys. The subtle manipulations all throughout the his years at Hogwarts (like the last minute points in first year that won them the House Cup. It was the reward given to his little first year puppet to let him know he was "doing the right thing." It had influenced his growth more than he had realized.). The training (if one could call it that) where he learned about Voldemort's history, and his secret weakness.
And yet, after all these wrongs he'd been dealt by his headmaster, he knew that he wanted to forgive the man. Especially after his death. He still harbored some anger and mistrust, but he knew that now was the time to let it go. He took a deep breath, and it was gone. The resentment, the anger, the frustration. He forgave his mentor and vowed to speak of nothing but the good things he remembered of him henceforth.
A stick snapped under Harry's sneaker, breaking him away from his thoughts. It was now dark, or he assumed it was. The sun was impossible to locate through the dense canopy. He had been wandering aimlessly for at least two hours, according to his watch. There were no signs to mark which way the school was in any direction. He was in a completely unfamiliar area of the forest without even the barest of survival materials. He was lost.
In the process of looking about for a landmark, Harry also lost track of which direction he'd come from. Harry kept his cool though. He wasn't particularly daunted by the task of finding his way back to the castle. Actually, he thought of it as a bit of an adventure. With Aragog dead, and Grawp getting more civilized by the day, he felt he could handle most anything he found in the forest. He had intentionally turned in the opposite direction of the centaurs, and had walked in a generally straight line, he suspected that he shouldn't be anywhere near centaur territory.
Since threats were a minimum, he felt the only real danger was getting lost. Between Hogsmeade, the tracks for the Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts itself, Hogsmeade station and the lake, he reckoned that he would find a landmark in roughly half of the directions he went.
So, he made a decision. 'If I haven't found my way back by ten-thirty, I'll use a point-me spell and head back. It's not like I'm tired or anything.' he thought. His watch said it was eight twenty-three. Harry picked a direction, and started walking.
The forest was alive with regular summertime noise. Bugs chirping, owls hooting and bushes rusting. It was quite peaceful, and Harry enjoyed seeing areas of the forest he'd never seen before. The thrill of being out of bounds, after curfew in an area known to be dangerous was exactly what Harry needed after Dumbledore's death. The adrenaline banished his depression, and for the first time in weeks, he was able to think without the influence of the dark events of the last three years.
He came to grips with his inevitable destiny and with cool, calculated thought he planned out what he needed to do this summer in order to vanquish Voldemort.
He would have to do research while he stayed at the Dursleys until his Birthday. He suspected the twins would be willing to get him some books from Knockturn Alley if he asked nicely.
After his birthday, he would need to become mobile. Taking the Apparation test at the Ministry and possibly making up with Scrimgeour. He may not like the man, but he wasn't a Death Eater, and he would need support eventually.
He'd also have to pass the DA off to someone els-
'What the hell?' Harry thought. Something didn't feel right. It didn't take him long to place what the change was.
The forest was silent. Not a sound from anywhere. He also knew he felt the temperature rise a few degrees. Cautious, yet curious, he took a few steps forward.
He felt a tingle of magic run down his spine. It was not unlike the feeling of when he stepped through the barrier at King's Cross station. It was closer to what he'd felt when he'd been given the address to Grimmauld place and was welcomed by the Fidelius charm.
Regardless, the brief tingle he'd felt was the last thing that concerned him at the moment. By stepping through that "magic barrier", he'd activated some sort of spell. The forest behind him was simply gone. It wasn't like it had vanished (he could see it quite clearly). It was closer to the sudden awareness that that way was dead to him now. He knew on some level that he could no more walk through that barrier than he could walk through a steel wall. He overcame the fear he had of the magic and whatever it had done with logic. He was in a magical forest. It only made sense that there would be magical places within the forest. There was nothing that said that this magic was hostile. With those thoughts, he began to admire the scenery.
In front of him stood the most enormous tree he'd ever seen in his entire life. It was at least a hundred feet tall, and as big around as the American giant redwoods he'd seen in pictures. He suspected that without the spells surrounding this area, that he'd be able to see it from Hogwarts.
The tree was an oak, as he could tell by the leaves and it sat in the center of the grove, which was more of a grassy clearing than anything. The grass was a deep green, and just tall enough for the strands to start slumping over from their own weight. There was a rock jutting up from the ground. Water trickled out of the rock and ran down it into a pool at its base. The pool was about as big around as the prefect's bathtub, but the water was about ten feet deep. The water was clearer than glass, and he could see the soft clay at the very bottom. A root from the great oak stuck through the wall of the pool near the bottom. Harry imagined it took a large amount of water to supply a tree of this size.
The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end. Not out of fright, but for a much more...sensual reason. Someone was whispering into his ear. A woman, he knew from the tone. Harry could feel her lips just inches from his ear and neck as she spoke. "Welcome to my grove, traveler." the voice said. Harry could feel her breath on his neck, but when he looked, nothing was there. Harry looked about the grove frantically, trying to find the voice's source. She laughed, and it soothed him like phoenix song but without the bit that made him feel happy even if he was not. Instead, it made him feel vaguely sleepy. It was as if her laughter was a calming draught and a dreamless sleep potion rolled into one.
"Rest, traveler and drink of my fountain if you so desire. I will greet you properly in the morning."
And who could argue with such a voice? Harry leaned down gratefully and sipped of the icy cold water from the pool. He felt as if his troubles were being lifted away. Without a doubt in his mind, he brought himself to the soft moss at the base of the tree. He removed his shoes and used his cloak as a blanket. He was asleep as soon as he shut his eyes.
Author's note: Just under 2,000 words. Not bad for a start. I think I have something going here. What do you guys think?