Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter and the Path of the Mystics

Chapter 5

by Cisefice78 3 reviews

Taken at a young age by the ancient Elven magus Faeron, Harold "Harry" James Potter was raised away from mortal England in Celdrasyl, the last bastion of Old Knowledge..And the last Kingdom of Old ...

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: R - Genres:  - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2012-02-10 - Updated: 2012-02-10 - 1615 words

Harry Potter and the Path of the Mystics
Chapter 5
Disclaimer: Why would I write fanfiction if I owned it?
Despite his grandfather's fears, nothing happened after the discovery of the Philosopher’s Stone and it's binding to his staff. When he returned back to Celdrasyl he spent all his time telling his Satyr friend Archemus about Hogwarts, the young Satyr listened happily as he played his pan flute his eyes wide in amazement as he told him about his studies.

However the innocence of his life was closing during the summer, the Dwarven Warrior-Prince Golm Huffarsson was told by his father, King Huffar to train Harry in battle, unsurprisingly truly. He was fond of the young human; When the boy first came to Celdrasyl, the old Dwarf had been the first to agree to his being there and took a special interest in his upbringing.

While the Dwarf-King admitted it to none...The Human reminded him of his lost son, Tora of the Coal Hair who took the Silent Kin's oath and abandoned name and title to be a Silent Kindred; Mute Dwarven Assassins in service to the King.

Even if he knew which of the masked Dwarves was his son...There was nothing he could do and it hurt the Dwarf King's heart daily to know his eldest could never speak to him again. He covered this pain by taking a interest in Harold Potter.

He'd train Harry himself but the King was getting on in age at five hundred years old, he was ancient for Dwarves. So the King-To-Be took it on himself to train his surrogate brother: “Now Harry.” The Dwarf man said in his rumbling tone as he tossed a wooden sword to the boy.

“Do not hold it with both hands, it's not a greatsword.” Harry frowned, trying to hold the training sword with one hand. “But it's too heavy.” The Dwarf smirked and shook his head. “Nay, lad. It's as heavy as it needs to be, now humans fight in a different way then Dwarven Knights. Your bones are thinner and bodies less stout; So turn to your side.”

The lesson went on for some time, the boy had some natural talent but hardly a swordsman yet...But potential existed to build a proper warrior out of the boy. Harry on the other hand was believing he was hopeless along with getting his bruises nursed by a Dwarven woman.

He was sitting down unfortunately chest high with the averagely built Dwarf woman...In other words, damn busty if compared to the average human female. The boy was bright red, keeping his eyes straight ahead while he was healed much to the amusement of the Dwarven woman.

“You can look, boy. I won't be insulted.” Her accented tone met his ears with amusement filling it, succeeding him to do a good impression of a fire elemental. The Dwarf laughed heartily, which did -not- help things when the thing his mind was currently focused on decided to bounce with the laughter.

The human groaned, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes tightly as her soft hands were replaced with a large and rough hand clapping his shoulder he looked up to see Golm looking at him in amusement. “Lad...You'd best get used to it, you got maidens interested in you all over this land.”

The human shook his head, scowling. “Don't remind me, the Veela like to giggle every time I pass them.” The Dwarf gave a hearty chuckle. “And I'm sure if father had a daughter she'd be set to marry you after a long argument with Faeron.”

The boy groaned in response, glaring at him. Golm patted his shoulder, grinning and stroking his crimson beard. “Don't worry lad, I won't tell the others you were looking at a Dwarf woman. I think they'd fight hard to get you to look.”

Harry just sighed and pulled the Prince's beard.

Faeron stroked his beard thoughtfully, puffing on his pipe as he looked over the various bonding requests. They were getting impatient for responses and he feared denying them, the ancient elf dropped in his chair turning his eyes to a hourglass on his desk; The grains of sand slowly but surely running out.

The Elf breathed a low sigh, he did not have much time left in this world and when he did take the Eternal Sleep he feared Harry wouldn't be ready for the responsibilities that come with the titles he'd inherit from his “Grandfather”.

The elf tapped out his pipe, his eyes weary as he stared out at the setting sun. He'd only hope that he'd live long enough to see Harry grow into the man he should be, shaking the cobwebs from his head he turned on his chair and looked at the requests...With a determined nod he started signing agreements and disagreements.

One such agreement...Was to Matriarch Adelia Delacour for her two granddaughters. Along with a Dwarven Noble Woman who was quite taken with the human boy and his charge's young elven friend Arielle, Princess of the North. The Old Elf gave a delighted chuckle at seeing the title in her father's hand writing. Though he doubted in a elf's hand the Lordship of modern day Scotland is much use.

Sending the requests back, whether accepted or denied, the ancient man grunted pushing himself up and approaching the window to stare out. He lit his pipe once more, his eyes scanning the forest that had been his home for over three thousand years before giving a content nod and retiring to bed.

Harry frowned, adjusting the glamours on Archy a bit...The Satyr and Arielle were joining him this year in Hogwarts, Bella sat on his shoulder pointing at Archemus. “How 'bout that beard? He's way too young to have facial hair if he's pretending to be human.” The Satyr's eyes widened as Harry made his goat beard vanish.

He grasped at his bald chin, whimpering a bit. “Oh relax, it's just hair.” Arielle said a bit irritated with his whimpering, she felt odd herself. Elven faces were built bird-like...Now she felt pudgy with round ears, if this is how Harry felt all the time maybe they should considering a ritual turning him into elf.

Harry nodded his approval with his work, grinning crookedly before stuffing his wand away. “Come on then, we'll be late.” Turning he guided them through the pillar, unaware of a Ronald Weasley following after only to be stopped by the pillar instead being solid.

Somewhere, a House Elf is beating his head into a wall for his bad timing

On the train, Harry chatted pleasantly with Neville as he and Archemus played chess and Arielle talked about...Girl stuff with Hermione. The raven haired boy really wasn't that interested in whatever they were whispering and giggling about.

The Welcoming feast was just as uninteresting, though a blonde girl with a mystical look in her eyes caught his attention. Her eyes never left Harry which made Harry a bit on edge, though not uncomfortable...Just a bit curious of who this young girl is.

When Dumbledore started talking, he was rather annoyed by the giggly whispers around the hall at the mention of Gilderoy Lockhart as the new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher. He wasn't even that good looking...Or intelligent looking, he was particularly annoyed when even -Hermione- gave him googly eyes.

He had no idea what this feeling was...But he felt the sudden urge to turn Lockhart inside out, unknown to him on the outside his eyes were glowing dark green and dangerously, making people worried to catch his dark glare.

However, the soft touched of the Elf-in-disguise Arielle calmed him almost instantly his eyes returning to normal though he still wanted to beat Lockhart with his own book...Especially after the first lesson...Or rather -personality- quiz.

Pointedly, Harry Potter went out of his way to insult him.

“What is Gilderoy Lockhart's Favorite Colour? Hot Pink.”

“What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition? To be Severus Snape's little bitch.”

“What is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date? Talking to his mother without getting hard.”

And other various insulting questions. Harry would later be amused by the interesting shade of red his teacher turned when he shrieked in a high pitched voice. “Mister Potter! Twenty points from Ravenclaw and two weeks of detention!”

Worth it though!

Harry sighed, his shoes squeaking softly on the floor as he walked down the hall from his second week of detention with Lockhart, he rubbed a scratch mark on his cheek from a Cornish Pixie attacking him during class today.

“Death....” Harry froze mid-step when he heard the hissed word, he looked around suddenly feeling like he was being watched. “Feed.”, it came again...From the walls. Harry grabbed his head as the two words kept repeating in his mind.

He gave a snake-like his running down the hall in a attempt to get away from the mysterious voice and return to his common room when he froze in fear...Floating before him was a frozen cat, Mrs. Norris...Filch's cat.

He stared in horror, looking down at the floor in confusion...Water was all over the floor, walking past the cat he saw in pure horror, written in blood. “The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.” Hearing footsteps approaching, he casted a invisibility spell and ran away...As he ran he heard a angry and sorrowful cry, likely Filch finding his cat.

He didn't know what could of caused this or what this chamber was...But he had a feeling he should find out.
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