Wow…The response to this story…I'm astonished. I figured it would get a mild response, or none at all,but the first day alone…thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed or favorited. It really means a lot to me. It actually inspired me to update sooner. To those who asked about the sword, answers are in this chappie. ONWARD!
"In sleep he sang to me,
In dreams he came.
That voice which calls to me,
And speaks my name."
"The Phantom of the Opera", The Phantom of the Opera, Andrew Lloyd Weber
Disclaimer: No.
Book One, Chapter Two: Somnia et Ensis
30 May, 1993 Hogwarts Castle
Harry groaned softly as he climbed into bed. It was eight in the morning, and a Sunday, so the students had all simply went back to their dorms after partying until the break of day.
It had indeed been a party to remember. The tables had been covered with food, and all decorum thrown aside, as students celebrated in their pyjamas. For Harry, the best part had been when Hermione, fully revived, had come charging into the Great Hall, yelling "You solved it!", and thrown her arms around Harry and Ron. At that moment, the voice that Harry had been hearing since the Chamber had rumbled in satisfaction, and Harry found himself in agreement with it. Ron and Hermione were his friends
Pride
and he would happily risk his life for them over and over. Right around three in the morning, Hagrid had come strolling into the Hall as well. The massive gamekeeper had bags under his eyes, and looked just a little bit thinner (although with Hagrid, it didn't make much of a difference), but had been smiling like Christmas had come.
The apology from Justin Finch-Fletchley had been nice as well, but Harry honestly wished the general school population would make up their mind whether to hate him or worship him like the bloody second coming.
The curtains had been drawn on the windows, and Ron was already snoring away. Harry lay back, and stared at the darkened ceiling of his four-poster. The night hadn't been without its surprises, either.
The storytelling had lasted for nearly half an hour, and Harry had held everyone present rapt with attention. At long last, the story had finished, and Professor McGonagall and the Weasleys had all left.
Dumbledore faced Harry, his eyes twinkling and an unmistakable expression of pride on his face.
"It is a magnificent thing you have done tonight Harry. I daresay you would be hard-pressed to find a grown wizard who would be willing to face a millennial basilisk alone, never mind actually surviving the deed."
Harry flushed. "It was really only because of Fawkes, sir. If he hadn't healed me with his tears, or brought the Hat, or dropped the book on my lap –"
"And the mere fact that you were able to face down the basilisk and dispel the shade of Tom Riddle on your own is truly remarkable, Harry."
The mention of Riddle dragged a niggling doubt from the depths of Harry's mind.
"Professor…Riddle said I was a lot like him."
Dumbledore's calm expression didn't change. "And are you, Harry?"
"I…I don't know. I'm in Gryffindor, not Slytherin, but…we can both speak Parseltongue –"
"Ah, Harry. You can speak Parseltongue because Lord Voldemort can speak Parseltongue."
"Sir?"
"I suspect that when Voldemort tried to kill you, some of his power transferred to you."
The Gryffindor recoiled. "What? Some of Voldemort is in…me? Then…is that why the Hat thinks I should have gone into Slytherin? Because it saw that I had that power?"
"Mayhaps, Harry. But then, why are you in Gryffindor if you truly belong in Slytherin?"
Harry's heart sank into his feet. Any moment now, Dumbledore would have him put the Sorting Hat back on his head, and it would shout "SLYTHERIN!" and he would be told to immediately move all his belongings into the dungeons, and he would spend the next five years parading around in Slytherin green-and-silver.
For a moment, a mental image of himself, green eyes cold and wearing Slytherin robes flashed in front of his eyes, sneering in a very Malfoy-esque manner at a shocked Ron and Hermione.
"Harry?"
The Headmaster's voice broke the Boy-Who-Lived out of his thoughts, and he looked back at the much older man.
"Sorry, sir?"
The Headmaster's eyes twinkled kindly. "Why," he repeated, "Are you in Gryffindor if the Hat said you belong in Slytherin?"
Harry swallowed. "Because…because I told it I didn't want to be in Slytherin."
Dumbledore smiled widely. "And that, dear boy, makes all the difference."
In that moment, Harry's heart leapt from his feet back into his chest, and he felt an approving rumble from somewhere inside him. Strangely, the rumble was answered in the outside world with a light humming. As one, Dumbledore and Harry turned toward the sound.
The ancient sword on the desk was vibrating ever so slightly, and the sound made the warmth in Harry's chest grow in response. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again
"Ah yes, the sword. If anything, Harry, the fact that this sword presented itself to you is the highest proof that you, who holds a piece of the power of the Heir of Slytherin within, truly do belong in Gryffindor."
And Dumbledore picked up the ancient sword, and tilted it so that Harry could see the runes engraved onto the blade, just above the hilt.
"This sword, Harry, has not been seen for a thousand years. The last, and only, person to wield it…was Godric Gryffindor."
As Dumbledore spoke the name, the strange heat built up in Harry's chest again, the rubies set into the sword seemed to glow with an inner light, and the runes warped and shifted until they were in perfect English.
I am Gryffindor, forged of the fallen star, and cooled in the blood of dragons. He who carries this blade, let him also carry my will.
Dumbledore and Harry both stared at the sword for a moment. Then, before their eyes, the sword began to fade away, becoming transparent and immaterial, before fading away utterly.
"What…?" Harry tried to say. Dumbledore chuckled.
"Magic truly is infinite in wonder. Fret not, Harry. I daresay that if the blade is ever needed again, it will appear. And now, off to the feast with you! I have a letter I must write to the Ministry immediately. After all," and here Dumbledore's eyes took on a hint of mischief, "We do need them to give us back our gamekeeper."
And that was when Lucius Malfoy had barged in.
Harry's lip curled at the thought of the blonde-haired man. Something about him brought a feeling of disgust to Harry's mind.
At least Dobby had gotten his freedom, Harry reflected. The look on the elder Malfoy's face had been absolutely priceless.
Harry fell asleep chuckling at the memory of Dobby hurling Lucius Malfoy down a staircase.
Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying on his back, in what appeared to be long grass. The sky above him was a clear blue, no clouds in sight.
The Gryffindor stood up, noting as he did that he was wearing his Hogwarts robes. Shading his eyes from the sun, he looked around.
As far as the eye could see, the yellow waist-high grass grew, interrupted occasionally by what looked like trees.
"Where am I?" he wondered aloud. "The last thing I remember is falling asleep… is this a dream?"
"Not quite, cub."
Harry whirled, then stumbled backwards with a strangled cry. Not three feet behind him was the biggest lion he had ever seen. It was a tawny gold, easily as tall as Hagrid, and probably taller. The paws were as big as dinner plates, and were tipped with claws so sharp that they looked like they could cut through metal.
Harry frantically reached for his wand, but his hand scrabbled at an empty pocket. Inwardly, he cursed.
The lion took a step forward…and chuckled. Then he spoke, his mouth moving as if he was a human.
"Rest easy, Harry. I will not hurt you."
Hearing the lion's deep, calm voice, something clicked for Harry.
"You're the voice that helped me in the Chamber!"
"Correct." The lion smiled.
"Where did you come from? Are you like Riddle from the diary?"
The lion's golden eyes narrowed. "I would thank you not to compare me to that…abomination again, Harry."
Harry nodded quickly. Whoever this lion was, he didn't want it angry at him. Frankly, if he had been asked to bet on which would win, this lion or the basilisk, he would have laid his money on the lion.
"I'm sorry."
The lion's eyes softened again, and he nodded in acceptance of the apology. Harry, feeling a little safer now, manage to get out his next question.
"Where is this place? The last thing I remember is falling asleep in my bed at Hogwarts."
The lion stared at him for a moment, before turning and padding away.
"Come with me, Harry."
Harry followed, trotting quickly to keep up with the massive feline.
They walked for what seemed like no time at all, and at the same time, seemed like hours. Abruptly they stopped, and Harry stared at the sight in front of them.
A massive tower of reddish rock thrust upwards into the sky, surrounded by boulders and a tight clumping of trees. On the side of the rock that Harry and the lion were on, a second spar of rock thrust outward. Harry gaped, while the lion chuckled again.
"Magnificent, isn't it? Come. "
Harry followed the massive lion up the formation, until they reached the lower outcropping. The sun glinted off of something laid on the ground. At an encouraging nod from the great lion, Harry walked out to the edge of the rock spar.
His eyes widened. Laying against the bare rock was the Sword of Gryffindor. With almost-reverent hands, Harry picked up the sword.
"What is this doing here?"
"It is here because I am here. I am here because it is here."
And then, Harry understood. The voice had started when he had picked up the Sword in the Chamber.
"Are you the Sword of Gryffindor?"
The lion smiled. "You can just call me Gryffindor. Now, to answer your other question Harry. Yes, you are asleep. But this place isn't a dream. It is very much real. This, Harry Potter," The lion gestured slightly with a forepaw, "Is your mind."
Harry eyes widened slightly. "If this is my mind…what are you doing here?"
Gryffindor seemed pleased by the question, and laid down on the sun-warmed rock like the world's largest housecat.
"Sit. This explanation may take awhile."
Harry promptly sat down, holding the sword on his lap.
"Over a thousand years ago, the Four Founders of Hogwarts – Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Godric Gryffindor – forged the haven of Hogwarts out of an inferno of steel, magic, and blood. After the Great Barrier, which protects Hogwarts and its lands from the Muggle world, was erected and bound to the bones of the land it protected, magical beings of all races found sanctuary here. It was then that the Four determined that they would establish a school of magic. Before that, however, they made a pact to travel the world and learn everything they could of magic, and return to Hogwarts in ten years' time. Helga traveled into the depths of the Dark Continent – which is now called Africa – and learned from the witch doctors and the wise men of the Great Desert. Rowena traveled to the lands of Araby, Egypt, and Aryavarta – now called India – and learned from the scholars in the great cities. Salazar roamed the forests and mountains of Europe, seeking out the hidden masters of sorcery. Godric journeyed east, through the harsh mountains and bleak plains of the Orient. He learned from the nomadic tribes of the steppes of the great nation at the edge of the waters of the east. He traveled to this empire called Chong-gwoh, and there Godric heard tales of the land at the rising of the Sun, home to powerful warriors. He found a ship willing to take him to this land, called Nihon.
While he was there, Godric encountered a clan of powerful magical warriors, so feared in battle that others called them shinigami. Death gods. These warriors were capable of casting powerful spells, even without wands, and their combat prowess was unmatched by any he had ever met. Their greatest weapon, however, was the knowledge of creating swords that were the manifestation of the wielder's "fighting spirit". These blades, known as "Soul-Cutter Swords", held myriad and mysterious powers, different for every wielder. Godric spent two years with these death gods, learning their arts and fighting alongside them, and at the end of his time with them, they offered him the honor of giving him his own soul-cutter."
Gryffindor's gaze fell on the sword in Harry's lap.
"That sword was gifted to Godric by a Goblin craftsman as payment for a life-debt. Rustfang the Swordsmith was renowned by both wizards and his own people for creating swords of the highest caliber. When he presented Godric with that sword, he stated without any hubris that it was the finest sword he had ever made. It was Godric's companion in both battle and peace, and never failed him. He could not find a better weapon to be his soul-cutter."
The great lion's face grew pensive.
"I do not know what happened during the forging process; one of the conditions that was set down was that Godric allow all memory of the secret of creating the soul-cutter to be erased. The end result of the process was that the sword became imbued with the part of Godric's soul that existed for battle, and became a weapon more powerful than he could believe. The remaining five years of his travels could fill volumes, and you wouldn't believe half of it."
Gryffindor paused in his storytelling to give a smile to the rapt Harry.
"Godric eventually found his way to Aryavarta, where he met up with Rowena. They returned to Hogwarts, where they reunited with Helga and Salazar. The rest of their lives are, as they say, history. They founded Hogwarts, and taught there. There were many more adventures, both good and bad, and eventually, one of their number left forever."
The lion's face twisted in anguish.
"They never were the same after Salazar left. Rowena's daughter stole her mother's diadem and fled, and Rowena died of grief soon after. Helga, bless her heart, held on for another five years, and then Godric was the only one left.
"He knew he was not long for the world by that time, and He wanted to leave a legacy. He spent nearly four months communing with his sword, preserving every bit of his knowledge as part of the sword spirit. He left the sword in the hands of Hogwarts, so that when the time was right, the sword would present itself."
Harry interrupted for the first time since the lion had started his tale.
"So, you're the spirit of Godric Gryffindor's sword?"
The lion shook his head.
"Not quite. When Godric Gryffindor died, the part of his soul that inhabited the blade died as well. All that remained was his knowledge and an echo of his personality. There is only one way to preserve a fragment of the soul after death, and it is a most vile art. My form, power, and knowledge are inherited from Godric Gryffindor, but I am part of your soul, Harry. I am the part of you that lives for battle, the part of you that is willing to fight a millennial basilisk with nothing but a sword, the part willing to jump onto a troll's back to save a near-total stranger, and the part of you that would face a servant of a Dark Lord alone."
Harry felt a surge of emotion, of gratitude, but, unbidden, another question flew from his lips.
"Then, why is your name Gryffindor?"
The lion chuckled lightly.
"Every soul-cutter has a name, Harry, a name by which they are called into battle by their wielder. It took Godric three years to learn his sword's name. The name of the sword is the representation of everything the sword spirit is and stands for. You are a special wizard indeed, Harry. You are intelligent, loyal, and cunning. Any of the Founders would have been pleased to have you in their house. But in your heart of hearts, Harry, you are a Gryffindor. You will willingly stand on the front lines, leading and protecting those behind you. That is what you truly are Harry, and that is what know yourself to be. Even if you were not consciously aware of it, some part of you has always known what you are, and it was this part of you that heard my name in the Chamber."
For a while, both Harry and Gryffindor were silent, before Harry spoke, his voice very small.
"So now what?"
Gryffindor turned to look out over the sun-drenched plains.
"I will teach you. I am a repository of the knowledge held by Godric Gryffindor at the height of his power. When we are finished, there will be no opponent you cannot defeat. But for now," the lion laid his head onto his paws, "Wake up."
Harry snapped awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. Through the gap in the curtains, he could see the bright light of midday. Everyone else was fast asleep, but Harry didn't feel tired anymore.
Quietly, he left the dorm room, and climbed down the stairs to the common room. A few other students were sprawled on couches and armchairs, not having made it up to their rooms before falling asleep. Harry made his way over to one of the windows, and sat in an armchair that gave him a view of the outside. Cautiously, Harry reached out with his mind.
Gryffindor? Are you there?
Always, cub. Did you have a question?
You're going to teach me how to use…erm, you, right?
Yes. The sword spirit's voice was amused. That is correct.
So how am I supposed to do that if I don't have a sword?
Call for the sword, and it will answer you.
Accompanying the lion's voice was a sensation of looking at a sword in a sheath. Harry grasped the feeling, and imagined drawing the imaginary sword. He felt his hand clench around a warm handle, and the sword materialized. Harry imagined putting the sword back in its sheath, and the sword vanished again.
"Okay," Harry said after a moment of silence, "That's cool."
Harry wandered the empty North Wing of Hogwarts, relishing in the quiet. Most of the school population was relaxing in their Common Rooms, still sleeping off the party, or enjoying the sunshine on the grounds.
You still haven't told me what you're looking for, cub.
If we're practicing to use a sword, I'm going to need to find a place to swing it without anyone interrupting, so – what's that sound?
Harry cocked his head slightly, listening.
Someone was crying nearby.
Harry crept towards where the sound was coming from – an alcove overlooking the grounds. Curled up in one corner was a small girl with dirty blonde hair and bare feet. Her back hitched with the occasional sob. Harry coughed awkwardly, and the girl's head snapped around to stare at him, her wide grey eyes damp with tears.
"Erm, hello. I'm – "
"Harry Potter," the girl finished, still staring at him with wide eyes.
"Er, yeah. Are- are you alright? I heard you crying."
The girl's eyes seemed to get even wider, and her mouth opened for a moment, and then closed. Harry sat down opposite her, crossing his legs.
"What's your name?"
She wiped at her eyes with a sleeve. "L-Luna Lovegood. I'm in Ravenclaw."
Ah. She did strike me as one of Rowena's.
"What are you doing up here in the North Wing?"
"It's the only place where they'll leave me alone."
"They?" Harry asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"T-the older Ravenclaw girls. They d-don't like me much. They take my things and hide them, and keep stealing my homework the night before it's due."
A furious heat built up in Harry's chest, and Gryffindor snarled in disgust.
"Haven't you told Professor Flitwick? What about your yearmates?"
She looked to be on the verge of crying again. "They say that if I tell Flitwick, it will get even worse. And the older girls are in charge of the dormitory, so none of the other First Years want to be my friends."
At that moment, Luna looked so vulnerable and fragile that Harry couldn't help but feel a fierce protectiveness well up inside him. He reached out and gently took one of Luna's hands in his.
"I'll be your friend, Luna. And I promise you, no one will ever try to hurt you again."
She stared at him in abject shock for a moment. "R-really?"
Harry smiled. "Really."
The next thing Harry knew, he was being hugged tightly by the smaller girl, her face buried in his chest.
"Thank you…Harry."
The Gryffindor smiled. "You're welcome, Luna."
You know, this is the second time within 24 hours that you've been hugged by a distressed younger girl. Is this going to become a pattern, cub?
Shut it.
Harry stood, gently pulling Luna with him.
"Come on," he said, "There're a few other people who I want you to meet."
Luna smiled up at him. "Okay."
The two of them left the alcove, Luna sticking as close to Harry as physically possible. Neither of them looked back, and so neither of them noticed something quite remarkable.
Wherever Luna's bare feet touched the stone floors, patches of grass and wildflowers sprung up, only to vanish a few moments later.
So, a chapter full of revelations, and discussions. How'd you guys like my Potterverse version of the Zanpakutō? I've put a bit of thought into it, and I felt like it was a pretty good interpretation. Free cookies to anyone who can figure out what Harry's mindscape is based off of. Free brownies for what the different parts that have been shown represent.
Godric's journey: will be fun to expand on. Chong-gwoh is a corruption of Zhongguo (China), and Nihon is rather obviously Japan. Aryavarta is an old Sanskrit name for India, and Araby is an old term for the Arabian Peninsula.
Luna: I know she's OOC here, but honestly, I always felt like her behavior was her coping mechanism for all the bullying she received. An eleven-year old being picked on? Yeah, she's going to need to cry sometime. I just made it so that Harry met her at her lowest moment. The repercussions of this will definitely change Luna's perspective on things.
The next update will take a while, because I need to do work on my other story. Sorry, people. But it won't be too long!
Please leave a review, because if you don't, I'll be forced to sic Gryffindor on you. Raaarrrrr.
CracktheSkye, out!