In The Hall Of The Mountain King: A Harry Potter Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.
Key Pairing: Harry/Fleur
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
'Mental Speech'
/Parseltongue/
{Dwarfish}
Chapter 1: A Secret That Only Fire Can Tell
Harry was out of options.
He'd only just managed to outrun and outmanoeuvre the Basilisk as it chased him through the tunnels in the Chamber, each of which felt more like a mass labyrinth and not a chamber full of Merlin-knows-what sort of secrets. Now, the giant snake was slithering away, its blindness at Fawkes' hands…err…claws stopping it from noticing Harry hiding there, while having to rely on its hearing meant that it had fallen for Harry's trick.
But now, Harry didn't know what he was going to do.
He had to get back to the main annexe; that much he knew.
Ginny's life depended on it.
Taking off at a quick, but, as he hoped, quiet run – since the sounds of his footsteps might alert the Basilisk to his position and start the trouble all over again – Harry found himself back in the main body of the Chamber, emerging on one side of the statue of Salazar Slytherin.
There, as he had been when Harry started running, the shade of Tom Marvolo Riddle – of Voldemort, not that Harry could still believe it was the guy who was supposed to be dead – looked from his downed, near-dead victim to the boy who emerged from the tunnels. For a tiny moment, what looked almost like an air of being impressed with Harry's efforts flashed across Tom's face, before he steeled himself again, once again becoming the cold, dark, aloof spirit of darkness he was as Harry reached Ginny's downed body.
"Yes," drawled the youth, a note of amusement barely lacing his words. "It's true, Harry; the process is almost complete…and in just a few short minutes, little Ginny Weasley will be dead…and I will cease to be a memory…"
HMK
Caught in one of the biggest mistakes a villain could make – namely monologing before his victory was 100% guaranteed – Tom didn't notice the way Harry's hands tightened in rage as he heard the spectre crowing. Neither did he notice the look of unexpressed fury that also flashed across Harry's face as he screwed his eyes tightly shut, unable to fully grasp what it was that was going on.
He…he'd failed!
He knew what Tom was saying, even as he said it.
Soon…an innocent…another innocent…would fall…
And then, with her death, the impossible would be possible…
Lord Voldemort…the man…the monster that had destroyed so many lives, whose death and destruction people attributed to Harry – but Harry knew who was really responsible…and yet, he'd failed her – and the creature from many a witch and wizard's darkest nightmares.
Soon, he would return…
Very…
Much…
Alive!
As Harry thought on that terrible possibility, as well as feeling the weight of an entire world, both living and dead, crushing his soul into more pieces than he was sure he could count, he felt something else whispering in his ear.
'No…' it was saying, its voice soft, but eerily like Harry's own; it was like a whisper of an imaginary friend he'd long-since forgotten, and now, that same lost friend was back, and sharing his thoughts with their own.
'This…this cannot be…this will not be the…the end…there must be something I can do…'
Suddenly, as the voice's determination echoed that of Harry himself, the young boy felt a spark light up inside of him.
A spark that was accompanied by a whispering hiss, almost like a gas leak that had suddenly sprung up from nowhere.
Now, all that was needed was…a spark…
An ember…
A flame.
HMK
"Lord Voldemort will return…very…much…alive!"
"G-G-Ginny…" hissed Harry.
Before he could say anything more, however, he gasped in alarm, as well as horror, when a loud rumbling sound filled the Chamber; seconds later, the Basilisk burst from beneath the pool of water in front of Slytherin's statue, spraying the stagnant liquid everywhere whilst letting out a low, sinister hissing sound that chilled Harry to the bone.
As he looked up at the snake, already trying to work out what he was going to do, Harry snapped his head around again when the same voice from his thoughts now whispered to him from…wherever they were coming from.
'The hat…'
As he looked at the Sorting Hat, which was laid near Ginny's downed body, Harry's eyes widened for only a moment when he saw something sparkly ripple and shimmer into view, forming a shape that seemed to be weirdly-familiar, but he couldn't remember where from. All he knew was the sight of the finely-polished steel-silver object, which was inlaid with blood rubies that shone in the low light of the Chamber of Secrets, their hidden light drawing Harry's attention away from the Basilisk and towards the hat.
If that was what he thought it was…
"This is it…goodbye, Harry Potter…"
As Tom opened his mouth again, undoubtedly to hiss one final command to the blind Basilisk, time seemed to slow down; in the space of what was only seconds, it felt more like hours passed, and in that timeframe, Harry ran from Ginny's side, extended his hand to the object glittering beneath the folds of the Sorting Hat and, with a mighty pull on the steel object, he drew it from within the hat with a forced, desperate cry.
Sure enough, a long, thick-looking sword followed what Harry now saw was the hilt of said blade, its steel-silver form extending from the hilt into a long, sharp weapon, which sang with magical strength as Harry swung it around, holding it up in his right hand as he stared down at the blade with awe, fondness and no small amount of disbelief.
'Why do I suddenly feel like King Arthur?' he thought, his sarcastic choice of words barely overpowering the fear, dread and horror he felt as he stared up at the lunging Basilisk, and the smug-looking spectre who called himself its master.
"So that's the best you can do, is it?" sneered Tom, laughing incredulously at the sight of Harry holding the sword in his hand. "Stupid little Mudblood's spawn; what do you think this is? Camelot? You think you can just draw a sword and you'll solve all the world's problems, beat the bad guy, get the girl and live happily ever after? This isn't a storybook, Potter! This is real…and so is this…kill him!"
The last words, hissed out in Parseltongue, caused the Basilisk to rise up, fangs bared and blinded eyes oozing blood and venomous intent as the King of Snakes lunged again.
Harry raised the Sword…
'Two hands…'
…and froze as The Voice inside him whispered an instruction, which, for a brief moment, seemed impossible to imagine, especially since, last time he checked, he didn't exactly know how to fight with a sword.
Tom was right.
He was a fool.
'Two hands, Harry.'
'Here goes…everything…' thought Harry, moving his free hand to the hilt of the sword, a small part of him still asking why he wasn't running, much less trying to fight off the spectre's taunts, much less the threat of the Basilisk.
Nevertheless, he wrapped both hands around the hilt of the sword…
And a very loud booming sound flooded the Chamber, while the sword in Harry's hands suddenly crackled and sparked, like electricity was running through it before, to the alarm of the disembodied Dark Lord, a plume of flames enveloped the blade, the sudden burst of magic startling the Basilisk, as though it could see the flames, even through its blindness, while Harry's body went tall, stiff, focused and less-naïve or childish.
Instead, as the flames burned along the blade – all of which were a powerful shade of emerald-green in colour, eerily similar to the colour of Harry's eyes, if not the curse that had made him famous to begin with – a sense of dominance seemed to overwhelm the Boy-Who-Lived, causing his green eyes to burn brighter than should have been possible.
At the same time, Harry didn't notice how his legendary lightning-bolt scar also shone with the same green light, before Tom's eyes widened in horror as the light from the scar, or perhaps the flaming sword in Harry's hands, caused a second, high-pitched, malefic scream of primal rage, terror and dark intent to fill the main annexe.
"What…" gasped Tom, looking from Harry and his sword to the scar on the boy's forehead. "No…it…it can't be…I couldn't have…no…that…that's not possible! No…you can't be…not one of them! Why…why would I be so foolish? So…so suicidal? NO!"
As much as Tom was screaming no, however, the answer was clearly yes, judging by how, with an audible crack and an explosion of fiery magic, the green light within Harry's scar suddenly split open, revealing a large, ghostly shadow of a figure that tried to flee from the green light.
"Oh no, you don't!"
Harry's voice came so suddenly, even Tom couldn't fathom how any of this was happening; all he knew was that Harry's once-lighter voice had taken on a fierce, commanding and deep tone, which made him sound like he was almost snarling at the darkness, like…like…
Like a sleeping dragon tickled – and no, the irony was not lost on Tom.
Suddenly, the fire that surged over Harry's sword reared up, oddly resembling Fiendfyre as it did so, taking on a large, winged shape that flew straight and true at the shadow that tried to flee from Harry's mind and body. As the winged shape – which Tom was almost certain resembled a dragon in shape, if not a very large, unique-looking phoenix, or possibly even a thunderbird – reached the shadow, it opened its green-coloured jaws before, with a resounding snap that shook the Chamber, and most of Hogwarts, to its foundations, the shape crunched down on the shadow, causing a second, wailing, agonising scream to tear out of whatever it was that had been inside Harry's head.
At the same time, Tom's own eyes widened as he fell to his knees, clutching at his chest; as he looked down at the source of the pain, the spectre's eyes widened when he saw green, fiery-looking blood oozing out of his chest, each impossible drop of the flaming elemental material dribbling down from where he saw bite marks appear on his chest.
"No…that…that's not true…that's impossible!"
"So…am…I…" growled Harry, that same eerily-disembodied, speaking-from-a-distance voice causing Tom's body to tremble with what he realised, and didn't like realising it either, but there was no mistaking that was he felt in that moment…was fear!
"No!" snarled Tom, turning to the Basilisk as more fiery rivulets began to form and drip down his body.
But he would not be denied.
/Kill the boy…and EAT THE GIRL!/
The Basilisk's head turned…
Tom smiled…
/Go to hell, Usurper!/
And the shade of the Dark Lord barely had a moment to scream in fury as his will was defied by this…this slave to his whims; before he could make any attempts to get back at the snake for daring to defy the will of Salazar Slytherin's Heir, however, the flaming rivulets that had been oozing down his body erupted into a flashfire inferno that sent him screaming, and spiralling, back into the beyond-death state from whence he'd come.
His primal roar of terror was the last thing anyone heard from him…
Though it was not the only scream.
HMK
In a room many floors and meters above Harry's head, a silvery diadem suddenly burst into Ravenclaw-blue-coloured flames, prompting a second shadow to fly from its shape, screaming in agony. Though not before a blue-flame-coloured eagle-like shape launched itself from the diadem, where it proceeded to swallow up the shadow as easily as if it were gulping down a particularly fat, juicy worm.
Once the shadow was gone, the flames consumed the diadem, but left the room untouched.
With no sign that the diadem had ever been there.
HMK
In a dark, dark house, on a dark, dark street, belonging to a dark, dark family…
A silvery, emerald-encrusted pendant suddenly flew open as more emerald-green flames consumed it too, sending another shadow fleeing in terror.
Though not before a fiery Basilisk devoured it, and like the diadem, then proceeded to transport the pendant away.
Curiously, once it was gone, a long-standing air of darkness and decay that had long-infested the walls of the house, and the spirits that resided within, now lifted, like the house had been cleaned to a degree worthy of Merlin himself.
In a portrait on the stairway, an elderly lady's visage let out a gasp as tears rolled down her cheeks;
"Finally…we are free…oh, my Sons…what did I allow to happen?"
HMK
Deep within the bowels of Gringotts Bank, a single goblet toppled to the ground of the vault that held it.
While this was the cue for the Gemino Curse built into the defences to start multiplying the vault's contents, it didn't stop the primal scream of terror emanating from the goblet as a blackened, frail-looking shadow started to flee to the unknown.
Though not before a large, yellow-coloured badger lunged from under the mass mountain of gold and devoured the cursed shadow, stealing away the goblet as it did so in a burst of flame.
A burst that flew out of the vault and incinerated the poor, unfortunate goblin who investigated the alarm indicating a thief had gotten into the vault.
A poor, unfortunate goblin by the name of Griphook…
HMK
In a rundown shack, a silver ring with a black stone trembled and quivered before it too burst into pure-black flame.
This time, the shadow within didn't even get a chance to flee before a flaming, skeletal hand reached up to the shadow and dragged it back into the depths, screaming in pure agony all the way.
As black fire consumed the ring, a cold, ethereal voice seemed to follow the hiss of smoke that remained.
"Good luck…Lord Peverell…it's about time you embraced your destiny…"
Then, the ring vanished, as had all the previous items, leaving the shack untouched.
HMK
Back in the Chamber, the flames that had erupted from the sword receded back into the blade, leaving Harry's body pale, trembling, but filled with a sense of raw satisfaction, which seemed to be the only thing that kept him on his feet.
"Hopefully…" rasped the boy, a part of him aware of how different his voice now sounded. "This time…you'll stay dead…Tom…"
"H-H-Harry?"
Turning at the sound of the voice that addressed him, Harry saw Ginny Weasley was back on her feet, the diary that she'd been writing in now nothing more than burned, charred bits of paper on the floor at her feet. As for the redhead, she looked at Harry, taking in the flaming sword, the fiery glare and the air of raw, heroic power that washed off of him as he stared back at her.
She saw it…
And she cheered, "I knew it! I knew you'd save me! Of course you did; you know that it's our destiny to be together, to have such beautiful babies. Maybe we'll name one after the Headmaster; after all, he is the one who…"
Before she could finish rattling off her delusions, Ginny gasped when the flames from Harry's sword whipped out at her, lashing one side of her face and leaving a painful-looking lightning-bolt-shaped mark on the side.
At the same time, Harry spun around again when he heard a voice he did not expect to hear, least of all in the Chamber.
"I think, for your sake more than anyone else's, you should keep your mouth shut for now, Ashen!" (1)
Through the tears that stung at her, even if only because of how they trickled down over the wound on her cheek, Ginny shared Harry's disbelief as she saw someone she did not expect to see, least of all down in the Chamber with the boy whom she knew – thanks to Mummy's bedtime stories and many promises that it would happen – was meant to be her doting husband who'd give her such beautiful green-eyed babies with red hair.
Professor Filius Flitwick stared at Ginny in rage, but also looked at Harry with a mixture of homage, awe, wonder and no small amount of inevitability, as though what he was seeing was something he knew was coming.
As Harry looked at the teacher, Filius put a fist to his chest before he bowed his head to Harry, earning a raised eyebrow from the young man.
"Professor? Are…are you feeling all right?"
"I am, my young king," said Filius, earning a surprised look from Harry.
Seeing the look, Filius smiled and held out his hand as he explained, "If you'll take my hand, my liege, I will take you somewhere safe and explain everything to you as best as I can. Regrettably, Your Majesty, I must also insist that your Ashen comes with you, otherwise the humans will learn things that no lower-minded underling needs to know."
"And how do you expect us to get out of here?" asked Harry curiously.
As if in response, a familiar trill of alarm, as well as warming strength, filled the Chamber, earning a knowing smile from Filius.
"Oh, I think a faithful vassal will be more than happy to help you out there, Sire."
Harry only had to look up to Fawkes…
And he, Filius and an alarmed, still-tearful and pained Ginevra Weasley vanished in a burst of red-and-gold flames.
HMK
It would be several hours before anyone found the memory-less Lockhart and a sleeping Ronald Weasley lying next to his broken wand.
When the redhead tried to insist he was attacked, with the only witness being one without his memories, nobody believed him.
Even less when he tried claiming Harry Potter was responsible.
After all, as the redhead kept crowing, the Boy-Who-Lived was his bezzie mate.
What reason would he have to attack his best friend?
Yikes, talk about lighting a fire under things: Harry's become…something beyond the Boy-Who-Lived and, from the looks of things, a certain someone is no longer as immortal as he crows, but…but what happened?
Also, why is Professor Flitwick calling Harry his king and what does Ashen mean for the clearly-still-delusional redhead with only her Mummy's equally-deranged delusions of control for evidence?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Filius has escorted Harry somewhere he wouldn't have thought possible, but if he thinks that's alarming, he's in for a bigger shock as the supposedly-neutral Head of Ravenclaw has quite a tale to spin;
Please Read and Review
NUMBERED ANNOTATIONS (1)
Ashen is pronounced Ahh-Shin
AN: Info
So, in case anyone's wondering, this interesting idea is actually a response to a challenge/prompt set by a fellow writer named 'Corvus M Black' and, for a time, I was intrigued, but then, with some work, I filled in blanks and this idea was born.
For anyone curious, here are the details of the prompt theme;
Millennia ago, when the earth was new and the lands still wild and free, a man of fire blessed the forges of a race known as dwarves- neutral children of Gaea that held great mastery in the forges, but the flames of their forges was small and impure. With the man of fire's blessing, their forges' flame became powerful and pure. From said day forth, the dwarves swore themselves to the man- they would be the sword and shield of himself and his bloodline. But wars with their rivals- the goblins- broke out and with the descendants of the man of fire locked in their own wars, they were pushed back and their forges stolen for all but one, the one that the man of fire blessed and no goblin could penetrate, and the descendants of the man of fire seemed to disappear as their wars came to a bloody end. Then on an All Hollow's Eve millennia later, the man of fire's presence is restored to the world, a beacon of fire that brings the dwarves marching. Too bad for the goblins now, the dwarves have found the last descendant of their king, and his flames are now pure as ever.
Oh Harry, ya not just a wizard. Ya the man of fire's heir, the next King of Fire
So, I hope this taster gives you some insight to the long-term idea.
Oh, and before anyone points it out, in this story, Filius isn't half-goblin; he's a dwarf mage
Dwarves look more like Hobbit/LotR movie style, many with greater strength and magic than humans, as well as how I decided on making Filius one of them because of his more-human appearance played by the fantastic Warwick Davis from PoA onwards,
Goblins, meanwhile, are the crooked-nosed, inhuman-looking creatures I intend to describe them as.