Summary: Link, the Hero of Time, has been given the chance to protect Earth and it's one he will not pass up. And so, he will travel through time and blood to keep the darkness at bay and protect the children of the goddesses from annihilation. But this comes at a price. Three times the Hero was called to action.
Previously in Golden Valor: The goddess Farore gives Link a choice after he fails to defeat Ganondorf. He could move on to the afterlife or save Earth from an unnamed danger. He chooses the latter and Farore grants it. In another village a little green-eyed boy is born.
+++++++Golden Valor+++++++
"Success is never final, failure is never fatal." – Winston Churchill
Chapter 1:
The children attending Little Whinging's primary school all knew that little Harry Potter was the fastest kid ever. He can outrun a cheetah, one little girl would claim in an awed whisper during gym. Don't be daft, another would argue, he runs faster than a jet plane! Another kid sitting near them would nod before thoughtfully asking, do you think he can fly? The general consensus of the class was yes; yes Harry Potter can fly. Therefore, when the fifth grader had jumped onto the school's roof, none of them were surprised although one unlucky child pouted as he handed over his lunch money to a boy who bore a shark-like grin as he took it.
When the children heard that Dudley would be going to Smelting's along with a couple of his friends in the fall of 1991, they were ecstatic. Many would have liked to be friends with the Boy-Who-Flew but none were brave enough to face Dudley's gang of bullies. They considered waiting for a change as the smart thing to do and it appeared to have worked. That's why those who began attending Stonewall High in the same year were stunned when Harry Potter didn't appear. If he doesn't come, one former classmate asked, who will join the track team? Another shook their head. A better question, she said, is where did Harry Potter go? That question was never satisfactorily answered. Their mother's reply - "the scoundrel is in St. Brutus's School for Incurably Criminal Children. He never did give Petunia any rest." - didn't ring as something true. Not for the quiet boy, whose only offense was to turn a substitute teacher's wig blue, but maybe his cousin.
Although the children were right in saying Harry Potter had not gone to St. Brutus's, their assumption that he was drafted into the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen for his ability to fly and his speed – He's like a cross between Flash and Superman – was also incorrect. In reality, Harry Potter woke up on 2 September, 1991 in between the crimson sheets of the most comfortable bed he'd ever laid on which stood proudly by the window of the second tallest tower of a great stone castle.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, according to the book he'd gotten his familiar's name from, was built approximately 1,000 years earlier by four of the greatest wizards (and witches) of the time. Godric Gryffindor, the brave; Helga Hufflepuff, the loyal; Rowena Ravenclaw, the wise; Salazar Slytherin, the cunning, ambitious, and by all accounts, the evil. Harry, who didn't like to be called little even if he was vertically challenged, breathed a sigh of relief that he'd convinced the Sorting Hat not to place him in Slytherin. That could have been the most disastrous event in his life right after Voldemort murdering his parents and going to live with the Dursleys. As fate would have it, he wound up in Gryffindor instead. It was the house the where the brave at heart dwell.
Harry flung the covers off of himself and began to get ready for the day with his new friend Ron Weasley by his side. Together they charged through the halls of the exorbitantly large castle and burst through the doors of a classroom, ready to battle a rampaging dragon.
"Whew! We made it!" Ron said happily. "Can you imagine the look on McGonagall's face if we were late?" At that moment the cat which had been sitting on the desk, jumped off and turned into none other than the stern Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor, Minerva McGonagall. Harry would rather have faced a fire-breathing dragon.
Those existed, right? "Weasley, Potter. Perhaps I should transfigure one of you into a pocket watch, so you won't lose track of time?"
"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry started. "We got lost."
"A map, then." McGonagall turned and walked back to the front of the room. "Take your seats; I trust you don't need a map to find them."
The rest of the class proceeded without any incident although Harry did learn that the bushy-haired girl was named Hermione Granger (he didn't know how he'd forgotten such a unique name as Hermione in less than twenty four hours) and that she had photographic memory. He wasn't sure if that translated into intelligence but it certainly was going to help her loads in Transfiguration. He also discovered that it would not help him in the least and resolved to read his school books more thoroughly. He would have to if he had any hope of understanding what Hermione and the Ravenclaws they shared Transfiguration with were saying. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall was a good teacher and managed to decode.
The first year Gryffindors had Potions next with the Slytherins which immediately set Ron off in a tirade against the snakes. Harry agreed with his friend absently. After dealing with three of the kids who wound up in Slytherin on the Hogwarts Express, he could honestly say they were not endearing. They did, after all, insult Ron without being goaded. Well, Malfoy did at least. The other two were thicker than Dudley on a bad day. The Gryffindors filed into their seats after the Slytherins and waited for their professor.
Professor Snape was dubbed, by the majority of the Hogwarts populace, the Dungeon Bat. Harry understood why when the professor stormed into the dungeon, fashionably late, with his long black cloak fluttering open behind him. Harry was momentarily reminded of Meatloaf's song, Bat Out of Hell. Then Professor Snape began to speak. "There will be no foolish wand-waving in this class…" Harry's vision of Meatloaf dashed on the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. Ron was already muttering about the "greasy bat" but Harry was now latched firmly onto the idea that Snape was more like a panther; an admittedly greasy panther. He spent the period prowling between the cauldrons, growling at unsuspecting Gryffindors, and praising his Slytherins in purrs. All of this was after he'd feasted on Harry's excitement for the class and regurgitated a purely hellish experience.
He had demanded that Harry answer questions that he knew were not in the first year Potions book. Harry knew this for certain because Hermione had mentioned it afterwards. When asked how she knew all the answers then, she had admitted that she had gotten a few extra books to supplement some of the information that might be common knowledge in the Wizarding World ̶ and I was right, wasn't I? She had a point but Harry frowned. Wasn't it unfair for Snape to expect students to know information they weren't yet responsible for?
"No," Hermione answered. "Teachers do it all the time. It shows that a student is taking the initiative to learn. Just because you didn't prepare for class doesn't mean Professor Snape is wrong for asking those questions."
"But I did read," Harry responded. "Those topics weren't addressed in the school books. Well, not in the first five chapters, at least."
Ron was stunned. "You both read?"
Harry nodded.
Hermione also nodded with an expression of distaste on her face as she came onto a startling revelation. "You mean you haven't read at all?"
Ron shook his head. "'Course not. We read the chapters here, don't we? There's no sense in taking away from my summer to do school work. I have plenty of time."
"That's irresponsible and childish. You should read all of your school books before the school year starts so that you'll be prepared for the year."
Harry sighed and walked away as his friend and Hermione argued with each other. Even though Harry didn't like it, he had to admit that Hermione had a point. He had entered an entirely new world full of people that he knew next to nothing about. Did they speak the same way? Did they fall under the authority of the Queen or did they have their own government? What types of work did they do – wizards didn't need maids or mailmen, engineers or taxi-drivers – and how did they decide their career choices? How did they entertain themselves? What type of food did they eat? What other species did they keep as pets? What were there beliefs? Did they have a God?
The boy with sable hair didn't have a god himself – he'd never went to Church with his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley though he knew that they subscribed to the Church of England – but he found himself lingering over this question. It took a certain amount of daring to leave a world that he knew for one he didn't even know the holidays for but to enter it without knowing a thing was foolhardy. Harry should have thought to research a bit more. Hell, he didn't even know about Voldemort and his Death Eaters except that they were bad people and that only through hearsay. Although killing for any reasons is bad so there's really no difference.
His classes for the day were over, so he decided that maybe the best place to go was to the library and find out exactly what this world was about other than the fact that he could do magic – and isn't that wonderful! Surprisingly there were other students sitting around round tabled in the library with their heads already buried in books with stacks piled high next to them. They didn't so much as glance up when he entered and strolled down the aisles in search of answers. He found a promising book in the History Section; The Rise and Fall of Dark Magic in the British Isles: A Brief Overview of the Dark Lords and Their Objectives (950 A.D to 1981 A.D.). The length of the title and the intimidating thickness of the tome defied the idea that it could possibly be "brief," but it covered a wide range of time so Harry figured it couldn't hurt.
He wrestled the book down from its perch and continued perusing the shelves grabbing titles such as Myths and Legends of Magic, Traditions of the Pure, Of Quadpot, Quests, and Quidditch, and his personal favorite Don't Eat with Your Feet, Don't Wink While You Blink: Etiquette for Dummies. Technically, Harry's reading selections wouldn't help him in the slightest with his classes. But, he thought as Madam Pince eyed him critically before checking out the books, at least I'll know a little more. If not, then I'll be entertained. Why does Hogwarts lack weekend activities?
Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor tower stopping only to give the Fat Lady the password and climbed through the portrait hole. The common room was filled with students and Harry stopped to listen to two people talking to each other before remembering that eavesdropping wasn't very polite and really, why should he care that Gemma Farley and Terence Higgs were dating? Answer: He didn't. He kept looking for a place to take a seat. The floor looked comfortable – not that there's anywhere else to sit – so Harry plopped onto the ground by the window and began reading. Fifteen minutes later Ron joined him muttering all the while about know-it-alls, nightmares, and chess. Harry ignored him until he heard something strange.
"Don't tell me you're reading too?!" Ron groaned. "Honestly, doesn't anyone here do anything fun?!"
"You know, I was wondering the same thing not too long ago. They don't really expect us to sit around the common room all weekend do they?"
Ron stopped complaining long enough to contemplate this question and look horrified by the conclusion he seemed to have reached on his own. "My brothers never mentioned anything that sounded even a little bit fun. Not until third year. Third years and up get to go to Hogsmeade for a few hours on the weekends."
"Only two or three times a year," Hermione answered from somewhere above them. Ron groaned again but Harry looked at her questioningly. "It was in the packet that they gave with the school's information. There are also clubs you can go to during the week but nothing to do on the weekend. It was one of the reservations I had about coming here." She took a seat on Harry's other side, leaving Harry sandwiched between the two, and asked, "What are you reading?"
"Myths and Legends of Magic. It's good so far. The stories are cool though I kind of like the Greek myths better," Harry responded as he turned to the next page. "Apparently, there's this immortal who controls the flow of time and can bring someone back to the past of they sacrifice a part of themselves. I think they're talking about blood but I'm not sure. Anyway, the immortal is said to bring you to your soul-mate if you're soul-mate isn't from this time."
"That's…weird," Hermione said scrunching up her nose. "I can't imagine anyone who would be willing to go back in time just to find their soul-mate though. It's a lot to give up."
"Yep."
After a moment, Hermione pulled out a school book and began to read leaving Ron the only one not reading something. "You're joking, right?" Neither of the other two looked up so Ron sighed and pulled out his own textbook as he grumbled about people taking their studies way too seriously. Across the room, Percy Weasley looked over towards his little brother and his friends expecting to see him playing around. Instead a smile spread across his face. Maybe his younger brother wasn't a lost cause after all.
Harry looked at the last story of Myths and Legends of Magic and was surprised to see that it was written in verse. The book thus far had been composed of mostly summaries of the stories which it referenced (contributing to the reason why the book was so thin) interspersed with very short narratives. None of them though were told in the form of poetry and after a brief questioning of some of the older students he'd found that it wasn't a popular form of literature in the Wizarding World. Shrugging it off as something that was their loss, Harry began to read.
Above the white stone walls of Sages,
Over the rolling hills forever green
Floats a golden treasure in wait
For the one who will reign supreme.
The city awaits its new Hero
As sealed in slumber, all
Stands still in Time
Awaiting one who will make darkness fall
Its people said he could not fail
For in the hands of evil, light
Will fade, its beams too weak and it
Would never pierce the night.
In the end,
Or perhaps the beginning
The Goddess hearing prayers for peace
And joy looked and seeing the evil winning
Rushed to aid her precious ones;
For each of us is her blessed child.
The evil man she sealed away in time
To wait for a new hero to be styled.
Above the white stone walls of Sages,
Over the rolling hills forever green
Floats a golden treasure in wait
For the one who will reign supreme.
The Hero felled by magic most evil
Was caught by golden arms entwined
With green and life, offered him
A second chance to save children of another kind.
Lifting his gleaming sword skyward,
Courage and valiance filled him once more.
His task is to keep the darkness at bay
And twice he has returned to life as before.
Above the white stone walls of Sages,
Over the rolling hills forever green
Floats a golden treasure in wait
For the one who will reign supreme.
"What was that?" asked a sixth year quietly after Harry had finished. He should have known that he would wind up reading aloud. For some reason he always did with poems so he never read them at the Dursleys.
"It's called 'The Ballad of the Goddesses,'" Hermione answered looking over Harry's shoulder. "According to the book it was written about 500 years ago but someone must have translated it into modern English since then. It was probably the editors."
"The Hero returned twice before," Dean Thomas, one of Harry's dorm-mates, whispered.
"Godric Gryffindor and Myrddin Emrys," a seventh year boy who the first years couldn't identify began, "were rumored to actually be the same person reincarnated. A lot of their abilities in the stories about them are similar which probably attributes to the rumor but they also are said to have been marked by a three golden triangles on their right hand."
"The kiss of courage," another responded.
"I didn't know that story came from a poem," Percy said looking crestfallen at the notion of not having known something.
"It's just a story and none of it is true," the seventh year answered with a shrug. "Besides, Beedle the Bard is a much better author, Potter. If you're interested in the stories we grew up with you might want to start with them." The boy smiled at the blushing first year and slowly conversations returned to normal.
"I think I'll do that tomorrow then," Harry said softly brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"Might as well, since you're procrastinating on your homework anyway," Hermione responded absently, once again flicking through her Charms text. Ron snored quietly from his other side as Harry opened his own school book to start on his Potions assignment due next Friday.