AN: Hey guys, I am sorry for the year long disappearance, I had too much of life catch up to me. Now, after a year, I feel like my writing has improved a shit ton so I just sat down and began writing the rewrite of First Gods Rise Again - hope you enjoy!
Magic.
He- Harry Potter, the one who was always bullied — had magic.
Harry just couldn't wrap his head around the idea of him having magic- even though he had lived with the knowledge of him being a wizard for two months now. And apparently, he was a celebrity here just because he survived an attack where he should've died as a baby. For his life, he couldn't even figure out why this person would try to kill him when he was just a mere fourteen months old.
"Why would this guy even try to kill me as a kid? Why?" He pondered as he took a bite out of a piece of steak.
Right now, he was eating his Halloween feast within the mighty candles of the Great Hall — which also happened to be a part of a big magic school- Hogwarts, which just so happened to host literal classes — and that too for magic.
Bloody hell.
Now, as he took another bite of his steak and took a sip of pumpkin juice (God was it delicious), he was thinking about the friends- or rather the people he met here.
There was the Longbottom fellow, the chaotic Weasley twins, the professors, Hagrid, Filch and his dastardly cat, Ron, Hermione….
Speaking of the Granger girl, where was she? Yeah, she was crying in the bathrooms. Maybe he should-
"TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS! TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"
Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the doors of the Great Hall bursting open with their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Quirinus Quirrell, running into the Great Hall, clutching his purple turban and robes billowing behind him, screaming bloody murder.
Then he came to a dead stop, a few feet away from the head table and whispered loud enough for Dumbledore to hear.
"Thought you ought to know," and then he fainted, right there in front of everyone.
Every student screamed in terror while in the midst of the commotion, Harry and Ron looked at each other and yelled, "HERMIONE!"
Seeing the commotion, Dumbledore couldn't think of any other way to silence the crowd other than a well placed Sonorus charm on his voice.
"SILENCE!"
His command immediately silenced the entire student body as every student turned back to look at him, with wide eyes, their hearts hammering in their ribcages as Dumbledore spoke.
"Prefects, please take the students back to their dorm rooms. Not a single child should be out of line. Head students? Assist them to take everyone back while us Professors here will track down the troll. Now go on – get on with it."
Nervous chatter immediately broke in the Great Hall as the Prefects and Head Students were rallying the students according to their houses like sheep, and began taking them to their dorm rooms. And then in the midst of all of this, Harry and Ron slinked through the crowd, undetected.
As Harry and Ron ran through the halls in desperation to reach the bathrooms, their footsteps echoing in rhythmic foreboding, they started to smell a horrible, pungent odour akin to rotting flesh, or eggs, in the air. Their running slowed as the two made it to the bathrooms, they were told Hermione had gone into to cry. Harry and Ron stopped a short distance from the bathroom's entrance, the area around them was as silent as death as the two crept closer, having to cover their noses and mouths in order to battle the revolting smell.
The flooring in front of them was littered with red smears and small cuts and scratches from a thing that, from the looks the two boys gave each other, they knew the Troll was anything but small. The restroom was dark, why weren't there any lights on? In fact, Harry and Ron had just realized that save for a couple of burning candles and torches in the air or on the walls, the entire hallway and bathroom area were near pitch black.
"Hermione." Harry whispered out as the two, what felt like an eternity, finally reached the entrance. The smell of death just got worse as they drew nearer, the two's eyes were almost watering.
"Hermione, where are you?" Harry once again called out, his voice was desperate and scared.
"Who's there?" A timid, frightened voice asked, some coughs followed after the meek question. The two made out some bushy hair peeking out from one of the stalls and instantly recognized it as one Hermione Granger.
"It's Harry and Ron," the shorter of the two answered, he along with Ron coughed as they entered deeper into the dark abyss. "You need to get out of here, there's a Troll nearby." As he and Ron surely made their way through the dimly lit room, they felt some liquid drip onto them, Ron voiced his disgust as he patted the shoulder where the wet substance hit him.
"Gross," he whined out in disgust. "Feels like… slime?" Ron stopped his approach to the end of the room with Harry as he wanted to wipe the grimy sludge off him. The dripping continued.
"What?" Harry absently asked as he helped lead Hermione out of the stall she was in. The two reached Ron where Harry once again asked what he had just said.
"This stuff feels like slime." Ron said with a frown that was barely visible in the dark.
"Well, we can deal with that later, we need to get back to the dorms before the Troll gets here—what is it Hermione?" Harry turned to her when he felt himself be tapped on the shoulder.
"What's that on the ceiling?" Hermione rasped out in utter fear as she stared up, the two boys turned around and looked to where she was staring at. Two glowing orbs of fire were just aimlessly floating above the area to the bathroom's entrance. The lights in the restroom began to flicker on as if life was being returned to them, the trio was able to make out a silhouette of the figure on the ceiling. Six appendages were sprawled here and there on the walls and roof of the room, the glowing balls of fire were actually its eyes, the face was lit, yet dimly, it was scrawny and thin, one thing for sure, the creature was massive.
A thump sounded as the hulking figure dropped from the ceiling in front of the bathroom's entrance. The lights flickered brighter as the beast rose from its kneeling form, why at its full height, it had to be at least nine feet tall, it was slouching as the top half of its back hit the ceiling. The beast had skin that looked to be bruised and littered with various shades of purple, pale white, veins of green, and black.
The creature's legs were unnaturally long and thick, about five feet; it had two feet on each leg that pointed away from the other. The left leg was bleeding, a bone was sticking out of the bottom half, but the creature still stood fine without it. A loincloth draped a foot between the front and back of the legs. A disproportionate body and chest, muscular it was, but it was missing part of its side. Claw marks from another creature had taken a sizable chunk of flesh from the Troll's left ribs as one could see parts of the intestines, there were also strips of exposed flesh that looked to be forming rot, some of which even had fungus and mold growing on it.
It wasn't the creature's size that scared the children, no, it was its characteristics and body that induced fear. The upper half of the face of the Troll was burned from its eyes, its jaw was unhinged, only half was connected to the skull, the tongue was hanging freely like a dead fish. But that was not all, when the ungodly creature's neck dipped the back of the Troll's head had a second face, just as, if not even more ugly than the one the three were already staring at.
The Troll had four very long arms that looked to be at least five feet long, two of which had struck themselves into the ceiling, grasping at crushed tile. The other two hung lazily to the ground, one of which held the trunk of a sapling tree that had been beaten down into a club.
The three children were frozen in terror, their breaths caught in their throats as none of them dared to move.
The Troll was just absently staring into a void as Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked around. The bathroom was much more spacious now that the lights were on, they had about twenty feet of room, seven of which were between the monster and them.
Without warning the Troll lurched forward and released a hollow, bone-chilling screech, the sound which came from its throat sounded that of a woman screaming and a person who was desperately trying to breathe. It was hollow and it was terrifying.
"Run!" Hermione managed to get out and the three split, Ron went and grabbed a vanity mirror on the sink's table, throwing it at the monster's face before running away in fear with Harry and Hermione. Harry had drawn his wand when Ron threw the mirror at the hulking beast, retreating with the other two, narrowly dodging the swing of its club.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry quickly shouted, the spell shot from his wand barely stopping the swing of the club from hitting him and the others. The Troll looked at his still club and growled, grabbed the weapon with both hands and yanked the weapon violently from the confines of Harry's spell. The Troll snarled at Harry and the others before raising its club to strike again, it then let out a yelp of surprise as it collapsed forward, smashing its front face against the floor. The three looked up to see Professor McGonagall with her wand pointed at the beast, a stern and hard look adorned her face.
She cast another spell, dragging the Troll out, the creature's other head looked past its second body and roared at the witch that stopped it from killing its prey. McGonagall moved out of the bathroom, forcefully towing the Troll as it scraped and pushed against the floor in a bid to finish off the children. Professor McGonagall yelled and then a heavy thud before the elderly woman entered the restroom again.
"Of all the foolhardy, rash, and reckless things I've seen in my lifetime," the woman's Scottish accent came on thick. Sounds of blasting and roars echoed into the bathroom, someone else was battling the Troll while McGonagall befell her judgment on the children. "This has taken the cake! What on earth were you three thinking?" She admonished, and rightfully so.
"Severus, put out the flames." A hard voice said in the background.
"Well?" The three's attention was brought back to the hard look McGonagall was giving them.
"I'm waiting." With that, the three, Harry and Ron really, explained everything leading up to their rescue. From Ron making Hermione cry, to them hearing about the Troll and then running to the bathrooms to find Hermione before the Troll did. "And pray tell, why did you not tell one of us about Miss Granger's absence?" McGonagall grounded her teeth at their foolish heroics.
"We… didn't think of that?" Harry meekly offered, to which he received an exasperated sigh from the Professor for his horrible answer. Dumbledore and Snape then entered the restroom, one had a tired look while the other was rightfully annoyed and was scowling. "Headmaster Dumbledore!"
"Hello Mister Potter," Dumbledore said with amusement, something Severus rolled his eyes at. Dumbledore looked at McGonagall, catching her attention before he gave her instructions. "Minerva, please escort the children to bed, the Blackfire Troll has been dealt with."
"Come along children." She said, not waiting for an answer, McGonagall began making her way to Gryffindor's Common Room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hastily followed, passing through the hallway which was now burnt black to a crisp, they spotted the corpse of the Blackfire Troll as well, it looked as if it had been thrown to the corner. It was laying on the floor, sprawled about, cuts and holes adorned its body and blood rolled onto the floor, creating a large puddle of glistening black liquid. The three shuddered as they remembered the face of the beast, knowing full well they were probably going to have nightmares for a couple of days.
Unspoken words passed between them, but one thing they knew – and that was the saving someone from a troll undoubtedly made them your friend.
As the pair slowly trudged their way back to the common room with exchanging goodbye's, Harry's mind immediately wandered back to the troll – shuddering as he remembered it, and thought of the question, "What kind of troll was that? The Blackfire Troll? What even is that exactly?"
—-scene break—-
Months passed and eventually, the question of the troll was put on in the backburner of Harry's mind due to the incoming exams he had and moreover, he was not looking forward to the Christmas holidays.
Yes, one might say that a child of Harry's age has every right to look forward to Christmas but with Harry here, he had nobody to celebrate it with. Apart from the Dursley's, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid, was there really anyone who cared for Harry. Ron and Hermione had their own families to look forward to celebrating with – he wouldn't put it past them and they would visit their families so they were out of the equation, Hagrid would be pretty busy with whatever he does and preparing the Christmas tree – he didn't want to disturb him so there's that – and he would rather not think about the Dursleys.
It would be better if he didn't visit them.
There was another whole conundrum on top of this – and that being Nicolas Flamel.
Who the heck was this guy? As the holidays began, they all had planned to search the library to see who this fellow was – apart from the small tidbit he read from a ruddy chocolate frog card that is.
As he went to bed not looking forward to the next morning as he would very likely be the only one in his house to stay back for Christmas, Harry drifted off to sleep.
Glowing balls of fire, right there near the ceiling of the bathroom – wait, bathroom?
Oh bloody hell, not this dumb bathroom again.
His old memory began to play out. It was just like the entirety of it happened, them transfixed at the troll in horror, said troll roaring but this time, the troll leapt at him and kept chasing him.
It roared in anger as it followed Harry out of the bathroom.
Harry's heart was thundering in his ribcage with each step he took. Sweat beads formed on his forehead, his hands starting to shake due to the adrenaline, Harry kept going on as far as his legs took him. Hearing its loud feet thumping on the floor, Harry quickened his pace and bolted. As he kept sprinting, the troll began running faster and got down on all fours to chase him.
It lunged with its jaws wide open – and Harry swerved left to dodge it – for only the jaw of the troll to snap shut at his robe, tearing a good chunk of it with that action. While spitting the clothing out of its mouth, the troll slowed down a bit to use its hand– which Harry took advantage of and sped up.
Noticing this, the troll leapt and reached its left arm out to grab Harry for only the arm to crash against a wall as Harry swerved right.
Then he swerved left into a deserted hallway.
Slowing down to a stop, Harry leant against the wall to catch his breath and inspect the damage which was inflicted on his robe.
As he bent down to check the damage the troll had inflicted, the eerie silence of the hallway made whatever Harry was feeling, amplify tenfold.
He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, his heart steadily pumping and the shallow breaths he took in anticipation as the silence was only making his anxiety climb higher.
Standing back up, he faced forward to see if anyone was coming but to his relief, he saw nobody. Behind him? No one.
Where the heck did the troll go?
Nervously gulping, he took a tentative step forward as if to check if the brick beneath his foot would give in or not. He took another step and called out, "Hello?"
As he picked up his pace and began walking towards the end of the hallway, everything went dark. All he could see in front of him was the ink-black darkness and this made him terrified all the more as he had no clue what was in front of him.
Reaching for his wand in his pocket, he took it out and cast, "Lumos."
Nothing.
The light of the wand didn't help him, it only blinded him all the more.
Squinting through the light of the wand, he managed to make out the end of the hall and with a sigh of relief, he began walking towards it.
As he began walking, his blood ran cold.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
He could hear the thunderous steps of the troll echoing all around him.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
His eyes darted all around in their sockets to see if it was nearby or not – but only to be met with the darkness which encapsulated him – surrounded him, like a pair of sharks swimming around its prey in a circle.
His hands began to become clammy, his breathing became even more shallow as he began to hold his wand in front of him to check where the troll was.
He turned around, his wand being pointed like a gun as Harry looked wildly behind him to check if the troll was there or not. His hand was shivering the longer he kept it up. Panting deeply with a wild look on his face, he couldn't see the troll behind him. Besides him perhaps? No. Then where was it?
As he began to take a tentative step further, he felt something wet drop on his shoulder.
He looked up to see where it came from and found those familiar glowing balls of fire on the ceiling, staring back at him as saliva dripped down onto the floor in front of the young wizard.
Rooted in that same spot with fear, Harry was trembling as he saw the troll. The troll let out a bone-chilling screech which sounded like that of a woman screaming and a person desperately trying to breathe, and leapt at Harry with its jaws wide open, ready to bite Harry's head off.
Harry began screaming but to his confusion, the troll phased through him, turning into grey mist as the scenery around him changed into the dead of night in a street where he witnessed a tall man donning a black hood, walking towards a cottage with a long thin white wand in his hand. That wand was the color of bleached bone yet it was as white as snow.
Harry looked around where he was and took in the sight. An empty street with only the man and him walking across. Numerous shops were placed in the streets with the final lights of homes being turned off as the night grew. As they were walking towards the Potter's Cottage, Harry spotted two children in pumpkin costumes, running in the street while one of them ran up to the man and commented on his outfit.
"Nice costume, Mister!"
Harry could only watch on as the man turned his hooded head towards the boy, and the smile from the boy's face falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face: then the child turned and ran away.
Dead leaves and twigs crunched beneath his feet as Harry made his way to the cottage and witnessed the man in the dark robe, open the small white picket fence and enter the premises.
From where they were, Harry could see a man, looking just like him, sat on the couch and twirled his wand around the child which was on his lap, entertaining him. As Harry watched on, before he knew it, his throat choked up and tears began looking underneath his eyes as he took the scene in and realised who it was.
Dad…
His dad, James Potter, watched on with adoration in his eyes as his son, Harry was utterly amused by the glowing lights around him. His father watched on as Lily came in and took their son in her arms, taking him up to bed. Not knowing the fate that befell them, James, Lily and Harry at that moment looked like the perfect little family that they were.
James Potter then threw down his wand on the sofa and stretched, yawning.
The gate creaked a little as Voldemort pushed it open, but James Potter picked up on the sound of it. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open.
He was over the threshold as James came sprinting into the hall. It was easy, too easy, he had not even picked up his wand..
"LILY! TAKE HARRY AND RUN! IT'S HIM! I'LL HOLD HIM OFF-"
Hold him off, without a wand in his hand? He laughed before casting the curse. . . .
"Avada Keda-"
But before Voldemort could finish his incantation, a large metal spear was sent hurling towards him, which narrowly missed his head and embedded itself into a tree.
Voldemort began hurling killing curses, blood boiling hexes and piercing curses as James Potter dodged and blocked each curse. He then erected a marble wall as an emerald green curse tore through the air, crashing into it - breaking it in the process.
Thinking quickly on his feet, James transfigured the debris into flaming arrows - which lit the hallway they streaked through - and bingo one of them clipped Voldemort on his thigh and the other setting fire to the wall behind him.
But unfortunately, what happened next to James Potter will only be left to the imagination for Harry as the entire scene began to dissolve into wisps of black smoke, fading from existence as the Gryffindor boys dormitory came into focus.
—-scene break—-
It was Christmas morning and Harry was feeling ecstatic as ever to finally receive gifts. As he cracked one of his eyes open, the first thing he saw was a pile of small gifts by the foot of his bed. He woke Ron up and began to open his presents. He received a Weasley sweater from (the twins and Ron were ecstatic about it while the latter groaned at how his was always maroon), some chocolate fudge, a fifty-pence note from the Dursley's (he was surprised they even remembered to send him a gift), and a roughly cut wooden flute from Hagrid.
Needless to say, he was overjoyed with all the gifts he was getting.
His next present also contained candy — a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.
This only left two parcels. Harry picked one of them up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.
Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron
gasped.
"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd got from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is — they're really rare, and really valuable."
"What is it?"
Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.
"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is — try it on."
Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.
"It is! Look down!"
Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his
reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible.
He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.
"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"
Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never
seen before were the following words:
Your father left this in my possession before he died.
It is time it was returned to you.
Use it well.
Merry Christmas .
There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.
"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"
"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?
And with that thought in mind, Harry bent over to the last parcel under the tree which was in his name.
A small brown box, with the words 'To Harry James Potter' written on top of it.
Curious, Harry picked it up and unwrapped it. Something hard fell on his lap.
Something hard and positively hot.
Yelping at the sudden pain, he jumped up and got as far away from the gift he could. As he backed off, he saw the object for what it was. A burning red ruby - which had embers coming out of it with a note attached to it.
As Harry neared the ruby and touched it again, the ruby began floating and disappeared into thin air in a shower of red sparks as the note attached to it, fell down in front of his feet.
Harry bent down, picked up the note and written in proper pristine loopy letters were the following words:
They will come.
May the power of the red one be with you, Harry Potter.
I wish you a Merry Christmas.
Again with the loopy writing. Who the hell was this person? Again, there was no signature as he turned the card around. Harry stared at the note as Ron read it over his back.
Ron asked, "The red one? Who the bloody hell is this guy? And what even was that ruby all about?"
"Dunno," Harry replied as he kept staring at the note, "all I know is that this has been my best Christmas day ever."
And sure it indeed was his best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it.
Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as
soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.
His father's… this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.
He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking
down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.
Use it well.
Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak.
Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know. Harry felt an overdose of glee as he thought about that.
Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back — his father's
cloak — he felt that this time — the first time — he wanted to use it alone.
He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.
"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.
Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He could also look up the Blackfire troll. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.
The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.
The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.
They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all.
Although, one book certainly caught his attention.
It was a meek looking book. Its cover was dark red in color with the simple words "A Guide to Monsters" written across the front cover. Sure the words were faded and peeling, but most of it was still intact. As Harry kept his lamp down and reached for the book, his hair prickled up.
He immediately froze and looked around.
Nobody was there.
Guffawing at his paranoia, Harry took the book from the shelf and immediately was looking for the word "Troll" on the contents page of the book.
Hmm..where is- ah, there is it. Page 358.
He flipped over to the page about trolls and went into the "B" section. Surprisingly enough, he found more pictures and sketches of it instead of information. Some of the images looked exactly the same as the troll in the bathroom was but some just looked…meaner.
Some had three heads and wicked sharp black claws (heck, they even had two tails), some had a bird-like face while some had no eyes.
They had no eyes!
As he looked on, he came to know that the type of troll he was up against was merely a juvenile. A child. Heck, if that was a juvenile, then what would the grown-up version of it be?
He shuddered at the thought.
He came across an intriguing term that these trolls were given though. Titans. All the information given here was that if a magical animal feeds on radiation and begins to grow off of it, then it was classified as a Titan.
But that still didn't exactly explain what a Titan was, though.
Harry then leafed on over to the next few pages till he found the word Titan. As he began reading, he recalled he was going off track.
He wasn't supposed to be looking up on this stuff.
Stuffing the meek book (he burned the title into memory), he picked up a book that might tell him about famous Alchemists and people in general.
He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.
A piercing, blood curdling shriek split the silence — the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside — stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it.
He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.
As he kept running, he kept thinking about what he just read.
Titans.
This certainly would plague his mind for a good while.