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Paintbrush · 09-30-2008, 10:16 PM

Here goes a fanfic which mostly focuses on action and adventure, but holds some romance in it too (think Dramione

)

Five years have passed since Voldemort's defeat, but it seems that he has not been vanquished completely. And so, foes and friends alike must join in order to get rid of his evil once and for all.

_______________________

Courtesy of Daffy and Nat - Thank you!

Prologue - Part 1

Sybil couldn’t sleep. Try as she might, her whirling mind would not allow her to sink into the desired blissful ignorance, and she tossed in the bed, unable to find a comfortable position. She had just experienced (if her assumptions were correct, that is) her third ever true vision. The Hogwarts Divination professor seriously doubted that what she saw could be classified as a prediction, as it clearly related to the past, rather than the future, yet that didn’t change the fact that her Inner Eye had seen once again…

Salazar Slytherin laughed aloud at the sight of his three old friends, now enemies, who faced him across the meadow. The shadow of his ghost floated in the air, unmoved by the raging wind. It was late spring, the time for sudden and strong showers that would momentarily dispel the lingering humidity. It was also the fifth anniversary of Salazar’s death.

“You killed me once, Godric, I shall not let you do that again!” He yelled, his voice carrying over the open space between them.

There was no response as the scarlet-clad man opposite gripped the feathers of his hippogriff tighter, his jaw clenched. He had promised himself he would not rise up to Salazar’s taunts, but this was proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

The last time he had encountered his fellow school-founder, they had been about to fight an honourable Wizards Duel. The quarrel which had led to it had something to do with Salazar’s treatment of the Muggle-born students admitted into Hogwarts, and they’d decided to settle the matter once and for all. Unfortunately, things had gotten out of hand as the curses illuminated the school grounds, and after a severe dose of Crucio which Godric had been subjected to, the bearer of the lion’s crest had cast the third and most terrible of the Unforgivable Curses himself; Avada Kedavra.

Godric Gryffindor had regretted losing his temper that day ever since, but there had been nothing he could do to fix that. Rowena convinced him that turning bad time could have dire consequences and was too dangerous a choice in the circumstance. She had always stood by his side – unlike Helga who, since that day, had been less open towards him than ever before.

What neither of the trio knew then, however, was that Salazar hadn’t just died. He had divided his soul into Horcruxes, and so had remained in this world for weeks before they realized what had happened. Once they did, of course, they set off to destroy what still remained of their corrupt companion.

They spread the rumour that Salazar had simply decided to leave the castle, after disagreeing on exactly which students should be admitted to the school, and set of to destroy the three Horcruxes. This was the version of events recorded in the vast majority of history books years later, and only the selected few found out the truth about what really happened.

Their job had been accomplished, but now, five years later to the day of his ‘death’, Salazar was back to make his final stand, to fight for his life one more time.

The ghost’s eyes blazed with a sudden light of determination, their emerald depths glowing eerily as he swept across the ground towards the trio facing him. A maniacal laugh escaped his lips as he neared them, and the trees bent under the power of the wandless magic the human founders of Hogwarts were suddenly attacked by. Salazar had mastered this art to perfection, and despite having no solid form, he fought as well as he ever could.

“Stupefy!” Helga shouted, aiming her wand at the silhouette which brushed past her, but her spell only evaporated through it, causing the shadowy form no harm.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Godric had attempted to repeat his phenomenal victory from five years ago, but failed miserably. Nothing happened.

Horrorstruck, he stared at the soaring figure of his old friend. How was he to be defeated?

“Normal spells won’t work on him!” Rowena bellowed against the growing wind. “We need to combine our powers, and that of…”

But whatever else her wisdom had whispered to her, it was swallowed up in the cackle of Salazar’s voice as he passed right through her and her hippogriff, enveloping the witch in a thick layer of milky mist for an instant.

When the mist dispersed, Helga and Godric were left alone. Where Rowena had been seconds earlier, was now naught but a black hole filled with dust.

“You cannot destroy me!” Salazar circled them, obscuring the sky. Godric and Helga’s mounts rose into the air, too, but the shadow only floated higher, out of reach.

“He’s right, and we don’t stand a chance without Rowena,” Helga muttered, teeth clenched against the fury and grief clutching at her.

“No, we have to win this!”

Even Godric’s faith quelled, however, as the figure they were craning their necks to see began to divide into identically leering faces. Now, three forms flew above them, taunting and smirking. Then, without warning, they dived.

Nothing but blackness surrounded the duo for what seemed like infinity. Then slowly, very slowly, this began to give way to a dawning light, out of which grew the solid figure of Godric Gryffindor.

There was something different about the way he stood, however, and it would have been obvious to anyone who had known him well. His mouth was twisted into a sneer uncharacteristic of his features, and his once-brown, warm eyes were now a deep, emerald green.

Salazar’s soul chortled to itself through Godric Gryffindor’s body. He had won.

Sybil sat up, her large eyes wide with fear, breathing hard. She had never known… never suspected even that something of this nature could occur…

And how could it possibly have been kept from the public, from any history recordings? How could nobody have known about it? A battle of such importance should have been recorded somewhere, surely.

A memory flashed across her mind, then – this time her own. The Ministry of Magic’s private library, to which the entrance was heavily guarded at all times, by the same goblin tricks which Gringotts back was known for… only the privileged could enter there.

And none ever disclosed the information kept hidden in the secret chamber.

No wonder nobody knew.

evanna11 · 10-01-2008, 01:48 PM

Yay, very nice! Write more soon!

hpObsessed · 10-01-2008, 08:12 PM

Wow! That was great!

PAMS!! I want to know what happens next!

prongs1295 · 10-01-2008, 09:26 PM

Wow! That was awesome! Great job, Mia!

Hm... wonder where you got that awesome banner...

PAMS!!

MsMorgan · 10-01-2008, 09:41 PM

This is pretty interesting... I'd like to see where you're going with it.

nymphadora_nat · 10-02-2008, 01:43 PM

PAMS PAMS PAMS>>>

Great MIa...

I'll be checking this everytime for updates...

~nat~

Paintbrush · 10-02-2008, 05:43 PM

Thanks, guys

Glad you like it.

I'll be posting more very soon - hopefully before the weekend, or during it anyway. Just schoolwork on top of my head the whole time...

Anyway, thanks again

Gryffindoll · 10-03-2008, 03:09 AM

PAINTBRUSH!
This is amazing, keep more coming, I can't wait to see what happens next!

Paintbrush · 10-04-2008, 05:55 PM

Hehe thank you.

OK, here's the second part of the Prologue. There will be more coming, of course, though I'll have to manufacture some spare time to write, and that could be a bit difficult, so... patience shall be appreciated

Anyway, enjoy!

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Prologue - Part 2

Minerva McGonagall paced her office impatiently, a deep frown of worry creasing her brow as she tried in vain to determine the reason for her insomnia. She had been dozing off when a disturbing feeling awoke her, a sense of foreboding which she simply could not ignore. She had gone to her office in the hope of finding some inspiration there, and tiring herself out enough to be able to sleep, but so far she had had no luck.

“Still pacing, I see?” a familiar voice spoke up from the wall.

“Apparently,” the elderly witch replied testily, glancing at Albus for less than a second. “I still don’t know what it is. Something’s wrong, I can feel it, but curse me if I know what…”

“Perhaps a short trip to the library may stimulate your brain accordingly,” the white-bearded wizard suggested kindly.

“The library?” she rounded upon him so fast that her spectacles wobbled on her nose precariously. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for! There’s nothing special about today, what could there be? No anniversary of anything!”

She almost sighed as she felt the warm weight of Fawkes alighting on her shoulder. He always seemed to appear at the moment when she most needed calming down – and, somehow, the phoenix never failed at distributing peace to those needing it. Except this time, her uneasiness remained. Shaking her head once, she glanced at Dumbledore’s painting, which had now quirked a silver eyebrow at her expectantly.

“Oh, very well, I shall go to the library,” she agreed, heading out of the Head’s office and down the spiral staircase, Fawkes still balancing on her shoulder.

The corridors of the school were silent and cold as she crossed them, her footsteps echoing in the darkness. Rubbing her upper arms, Minerva wished for the hundredth time that winter that spring would come soon; she simply couldn’t stand the falling temperatures.

The door was locked, but a swift “Alohomora” did the trick, and Minerva closed the door behind her. As soon as the lock clocked shut, Fawkes spread his wings and flew up, turning his head as he momentarily hovered above his mistresses’ head, before slowly flying off into the darkness of the library. Frowning, Minerva followed, suspecting that the unusual creature had something to show her.

Her assumptions were, of course, proven correct as she observed the phoenix landing lightly on the top of the shelves containing History of Magic books. An expression of consternation crossed her features as she stared up at he bird, wondering what all this was about.

By way of answering her, he flew right by her, cawing as he passed a new-looking book, one that stood out against its ancient companions.

The Reign of the Dark Lord, Minerva read, whispering the title aloud to herself.

“But what does this have to do with him?” she wondered aloud. “He’s been gone for almost five years now, all the pieces of his soul vanquished, and…”

Minerva stopped, realization dawning upon her as she stared absent-mindedly up at the phoenix. The bird, in turn, regarded her with an intelligent look which held the hint of self-satisfaction at having delivered the hint successfully.

Not many people realized just how vain and proud phoenixes could be.