Categories > Books > Harry Potter
Caretakers of the Realm
0 reviewsHP/Black Jewels x-over just an idea on how to combine them DON'T OWN ANYTHING!
4Insightful
“There are things worse than death.”
These words rang in the ears of one fifteen year-old Harry Potter as he lay on his bed in his aunt's home. Not his home. It has never been that for him and never would feel right to himregardless of what the headmaster thought. That old man proved to be wrong in so many instances where his – Harry's – life was concerned, but he didn't want to think about that now.
At the moment it were the wisest words of that old man that made him ponder. There were things worse than death indeed, as he cruelly had to find out first hand. Loosing a loved one, a man who had felt like family - /was/family in the truest meaning of the word, because of /his/stupid mistake had to be more painful than anything Hell could throw at him.
He would gladly offer his life – his very /being/– if it were required to bring back Sirius, the man who had been betrayed by the “Light” and had come to mean so much to him in the short time that they had known each other. But that was not the way things worked, was it? A lost life could not be restored by sacrificing another; a sad truth he was sure had broken many good people.
It just wasn't fair that his mistake should claim Sirius' life; but then he had found out at a very young age that life was many things, but never fair – never that. Otherwise he was sure the Dursleys would have gotten their comeuppance a long time ago.
It had been three weeks now since the “rescue attempt turned catastrophe” and he hadn't cried in the two weeks since he had arrived here on Privet Drive. The death of his godfather was another heavy burden he had to carry from now on - would have to carry for the rest of his life - but not something he allowed himself to cry over; not any longer. This was one of the things that had changed after the last time he had exited the headmaster's office: he now had a firm hold on his emotions.
Finding out that he was the only one who could rid the world of the monster known as Voldemort, made Harry grow up even more than he had already had to after all his adventures in and around of Hogwarts. It made him realize that he couldn't effort to be too emotional, to quell his temper on those undeserving of such treatment. He was now determined to leash his red hot anger, his anguish and to use these emotions to keep going until he had fulfilled his destiny. So for now he acknowledged his emotions, but wouldn't loosen his hold on them even for a second until such a time it was beneficial for him. Though in the deepest recess of his mind he could already feel a change in the“flavor” - for lack of a better term – of his anger; it was slowly changing from the red hot anger that he had become accustomed to, to something more calculating – afreezing cold that chilled him to his core, made him wonder if he wasn't too angry for his own good. It had, however, a welcomed side-effect: it helped him concentrate on what needed to be done; and that was what he needed to not drown in his sorrow.
I suppose it is time to stop being a whiny little bitch, he thought as he noticed the time displayed by the old alarm-clock that sat on the nightstand next to his worn-out bed and wiped away he last of his tears.
It had been the message that had arrived two days ago that had shattered his newfound self-control.
It had been from Gringotts stating that he was to appear to the reading of Sirius' Will – today – via the portkey enclosed. It was an unwelcome reminder of his godfather's death, the only /real/proof that Sirius was well and truly gone. Of course he had seen him stumble through that damned veil, had listened to Remus' and the headmaster's explanation of what the veil actually was, but there hadn't been a body, not even a funeral that would have been proof of the loss. No, the letter that had arrived two days ago had been the first tactile proof of his godfather's demise. And it had pushed him over the edge.
Two days he had spent grieving for the loss, before he was able to get ahold of himself again, leash the grief that had slipped his control.
Now he stood up and stretched. He could feel his muscles protesting after two days of disuse and winced slightly. Sighing softly he took the two steps that were needed to reach his trunk in this too-small-to-live-in room and fetched a robe to wear for the reading.
It's odd, that Ididn't get a letter from Dumbledore stating that I was to stay at home; that the reading was a trap or something like that.
Indeed Harry didn't have any contact with anyone from the wizarding world -other than the Gringotts letter - since he arrived at his aunt's house. No letters, no visits, hell, he hadn't even seen - nor smelled in the case of Dung - any of his guards from last year. It was curious, but nothing he would loose sleep over.
/Well, here goes,/he thought as he tapped the portkey with his wand.. to reappear in aroom of white marble that could only belong to Gringotts. Another detail that pointed to this was the goblin that was looking at him somewhat oddly. Most likely he hasn't seen too many wizards landing on their asses, Harry thought grimly as he stood up.
“Hello,” Harry greeted, somewhat embarrassed to have someone witness his less than graceful landing.
“Mr. Potter,” the goblin responded, inclining his/her head. “You have been expected. If you would follow me..”
Hurrying to not loose the goblin, Harry rushed to catch up to the surprisingly fast little creature.
Half an hour later he followed a different goblin – who thankfully set a slower pace – to a different destination, his mind going a couple thousand miles a minute.
I am his heir.. He wrote his Will on his seventeenth birthday which was as soon as he legally could without giving his family a reason to contest it – gotta hate technicalities. Surprisingly Sirius did not state that James was to be the heir, but rather “the eldest living Potter”. Dunno why he did that; my parents had been engaged at that time and my existence hadn't even been planned, I'd guess. All his friends had still been alive, so why did he write that? Had he feared he wouldn't be able to change his Will again? Was that a typical procedure for purebloods? Especially at the time of Voldemort's first rise? Damn, Sirius, you left so many questions unanswered..
Harry was startled out of his thoughts when he heard the goblin cough to get his attention – he succeeded though be the widening of its eyes and its fast backing away from Harry, it was apparent that it hadn't expected to find a wand pointed right into its face – though to be fair, Harry hadn't consciously reached for his wand either.
Quickly sticking his wand back into his pocket, Harry mumbled ,“Sorry for that; you startled me..”.
Muttering something about “crazy wizards” under its breath, it inclined its head in acceptance and explained its interruption of his thoughts, “This is the Black Vault. You need only push against the doors, Mr. Potter.”
Doing as he was told, he stepped up to the vault doors and was about to push, when he heard a strange sound. Turning around to the goblin again, he saw it staring back innocently, until he frowned suspiciously at it – for about two minutes. It must have figured out that Harry wasn't about to push against those doors until it explained itself – /intelligent little bugger –/it said, “That was just the signal to lower the protection spells for a moment. If you don't push within the next half minute someone will come investigate; most likely with a dragon not too far away. Now, Hurry!”
It seemed not too fond of the idea of meeting the dragon, confirming Harry's suspicion about its IQ. Quickly pushing against the doors, he wasn't disappointed when they opened for him, granting him a view he hadn't expected. Instead of a big vault filled with money – similar to his trust vault – the Black Vault was a misnomer it seemed, as Black Vaults would have been more fitting due to the many doors that lined the walls of the empty room Harry stepped into.
Deciding to start on the left hand side, he pushed against the door..
It was the last door unopened. All the others had revealed treasures that were mind-blowing. Worth more than enough to allow generations to live off of the interest. Even if the family was even bigger than the Weasleys and the yearly interest rate was somewhere around a ten thousandth. Yes, the Blacks had been loaded.
Now, pushing against the last door, which was of the darkest black he had ever laid eyes on, expecting it to open as the other doors had, all he got for his troubles was a slight twinge in his hand.
“Goddammit!Stupid door!”, he exclaimed, kicking it for good measure. Sucking his right thumb – for he noticed it had started bleeding slightly – he glared at the door; which was when he saw the mesmerizing, strange silvery lines on the door that, glowing slightly, slowly moved to form.. /something/.
Forgetting about his lethal wound, he slowly stroked the lines with his thumb in an attempt to make it somewhat easier to read. It seemed to work as the the lines were now glowing a little brighter and he could make out an actual sentence. It read, “and the Blood shall sing to the Blood.” As he spoke those words he could feel that they held a special meaning, could feel them setting things in motion that would change everything – and not only for him. This phrase, spoken by him, had monumental consequences that would rock not only this world.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the door in front of Harry opened and again he was surprised by what he saw.
//AN: the following passage is awfully near to the original (Heir to the Shadows 16, 3) [up to the next //]
In front of him – in the dark – were wide, descending steps.It's so dark, I'll break my neck trying to go down without lights.As soon as that thought was completed, little sparks embedded in the walls began to glow, growing brighter and brighter, like those lamps Vernon had tried and failed to install into the hallways last summer.
It took some time for him to reach the bottom step – the stairs didn't seem to want to end – but when he did, he saw a set of double doors slowly swinging inward and the midnight-black chamber slowly lightened, the dark giving way to the dawn. The back wall began to lighten from either side. Filling the wall, as high as the light reached, was a highly detailed bas-relief. Sadly, WTF?, /was the only thought that crossed Harry's mind as he watched the scene, i/t looks like animagi having an orgy.
When the light had finally illuminated the whole room – or at least as much as it seemed to want to enlighten – the sight was shocking. There, in front of him, was a huge dragon's head. The detail was stunning. He, who had come face to face with a dragon before, could tell that the sculptor of this masterpiece must have been a master of his art, though, of course, the head was way bigger than the Hungarian Horntail that had been used in theTriwizard Tournament. The scales, however, were even more breathtaking than the high level of detail. They were an iridescent silver-gold that were harder to take one's eyes off of than the Mirror of Erised.
No wonder it is so deep underground. It must be the most expensive thing in the vaults. If I didn't know any better I'd say it was the real deal, opening its eyes any minute now..
Imagine his surprise when that was exactly what it did. Eyelids slowly opened. Midnight eyes pinned him where he stood, bereft him of his breath.
As the dragon slowly raised its head, its whole body slowly becoming alive, he was able to see its silhouette. It was /huge. /If he had the choice he would have much rather faced the Horntail again than this giant of a dragon.
He tried backing away, sure that no spell he knew would help him get out of this chamber alive. Thing was, he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, his legs didn't seem to want to listen to him. He was rooted to the spot, standing in front of this gigantic dragon feeling complete helplessness and total fear envelop him like a blanket.
//
Sso you have arrived, he heard an ancient voice thunder somewhere in his head, scaring him even further. Do not be afraid, young one. If I intended to kill you, I would not be speaking to you right now.
Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid, my ass!!! Here is a gigantic behemoth of a dragon standing in front of me – while I am incapable of even pissing myself – and it tells me to not be afraid!
His expression must have expressed his sentiment, because the dragon seemed to sigh, before it spoke again, I do not intent to harm you, young one. I will give you the control of your body back, but do not try to run. We have too much to discusss for you to wasste our time.
The next thing Harry knew was that he fell flat on his ass – again. So it hadn't been just fear that had kept me rooted.//Does that mean he is some kind of magical dragon? /Looking up to the dragon, he knew his answer. And based on the glint in its eyes Harry suspected that it hadn't been his expression that had betrayed his thoughts. /Even a dragon can just ignore my occlumency.
Are you ready to lissten now, young one? Seeing Harry's reluctant nod, the dragon was somewhat satisfied. *Good. I am Lorn, the lasst of my kind and I have been alive for sso long, that I, mysself, can barely remember my early dayss. I wass once called the Prince of the Dragonss, but I guesss that title hass become obssolete nowadayss. You are wondering why you are here, sso let me tell you a little story. Back then there have been ass many of my kind ass there are now of yourss – and I am talking about the wizardss. We were the caretakerss and guardianss of all that wass in all three Realms.
Each Realm is a separate "reality" of one world, and they're connected to each other by three Gates per Realm. There is Terreille (the Realm of Light), Kaeleer (the Shadow Realm), and Hell (the Dark Realm). While all the Realms follow the seasons in the same way, the land (and the landscape) is different, due to the people (even if "people" doesn't necessarily mean human) who live there and the events that happened in that Realm.
The Realmss themsselvess are further divided into Territoriess – basically, they are the countries in each of the Realmss.
However after many, many generationss we were forced to realize that we were too different from thosse we were to protect. Sso we retreated and passed the gift down to the humanss sso that protectorss and protected could coexist in harmony. I wass the only one who stayed behind; all the otherss of my kind moved on. I wass the one who chosse to keep on guarding the Realmss – albeit from the background. I watched ass the Blood – thosse with the gift, liken them to wizardss if you will – ruled honorably and well. The Blood themsselvess divided by casste, their Jewelss and the court they sserved in.
You ssee, every Blood went through a Birthright Ceremony when he or sshe iss about ssix yearss old; depending on character, sstrength – emotional and physsical – and sso many more sspecificss, he or sshe might have come out of thiss Ceremony with a Birthright-Jewel, an indicator of the power wielded. Ass ssoon ass they reach adulthood they made their Offering to the Darkness to determine their mature sstrength. I will tell you more about the Jewelss – thosse repertoiress of power – themsselvess later, though.
Furthermore every Blood was born into a certain casste which determined hiss or her very nature. You will learn about the sspecific casstess ssoon enough, too.
Bassed on thiss, they created a matriarchy. A sstrict order of rankss. The Blood villages within a Disstrict would look after, and treat fairly, the landen villages that were bound to them. The Disstrict Queenss would sserve in the Province Queenss court. The Province Queenss, in their turn would sserve the Territory Queen, who wass chossen by the majority of the darker-Jeweled Blood both male and female, becausse she wass the sstrongest and the best.
They had a sstrict guideline on the acceptable behavior within acourt, sstrict, but with ssufficient leeway to keep it flexible enough – Protocol.
It went well for centuriess, but ssomehow, along the way, the Blood forgot their dutiess to the Realm and ssaw landenss and each other as their playthingss. They forgot Protocol, they forgot the “Old Way” and took what they wanted. More centuriess passsed. In time the prayerss of the oppressed were ansswered when the living myth wass born. Dreamss made flesh, Witch, was able to resstore the Old Wayss, heal what had been torn assunder, but that, too wass not to lasst forever .
Even more centuriess after Witch ssaved the Realmss, morale wass sslowly declining again. It sseemed ass though humanss weren't meant to be caretakerss after all – /couldn't/be the caretakerss the Realms needed.
Sso with a heavy heard, Witch made a decission; she built a permanent connection between the Realmss of Terreille and Kaeleer – as she knew there soon wouldn't be anyone left to operate the Gatess – and evacuated all those who sshe trussted, all those of pure heart, to the Realm of Light after clearing it of the tainted Blood. Then sshe descended into the abysss ass one of her predecesssorss had been forced to before and unleasshed all her dark power, sshattering every Jewel in Kaeleer and Hell, while sshielding the Light Realm; thuss broking the connection of the Blood and the gift and in time the Blood were no different from landen. Only thosse immigrantss in Terreille still held the gift, though ssomehow it had changed – or perhapss it wass that they had changed and the power had adapted – I can't be too ssure.
Ass you have no doubt realized, we are in Terreille now and witchess and wizardss are the desscendantss of the Blood. They do not wear Jewelss, they ssomehow made them part of themsselvess, only ussing their own bodiess to sstore their power. Thiss obvioussly lowered the amount of accesssible power, forcing them to usse ssilly ssticks for the mosst bassic Craft – that iss what your “Magic” is actually called. Sstupid humanss, making up ssilly namess..
You bear witnesss to the sselfishnesss of thosse who are meant to protect at leasst thiss Realm. Even though only the purest Blood had been relocated, been allowed to live ass they had been meant to, they or rather their desscendantss, too, forgot their dutiess.
Thiss iss about to change. I will no longer sstand for thiss and you are going to be my witnesss: I will take from them what they think makess them sspecial.*
Harry was trembling. The story he had just heard.. The range of emotions in Lorn's voice as he told it.. It told him that it was the truth, told by an ancient being who had seen too much, /lost/too much. A feeling deep inside of him reinforced this. It felt as though his magic was singing in him. Singing a song of regret and honor, of joy and suffering; it made him feel ashamed.
How could we have let this happen?
They had been meant to protect the Realm and what did they do? They had founded their own towns, hid from those they ought to have protected, removed themselves from everything that did not seem advantageous.
And now they had to pay the price – their magic. This made him wonder, “Will we survive this? When we loose our magic, will we loose our lives along with it?” I can't let this happen. If we have to loose our magic, so be it, but if it means the death of my friends.. He had better find a different“witness” for this genocide.
Most will ssurvive, seeing the fire in Harry's eyes, he explained, not willing to alienate the major player in the events to come,Thosse who depend on their magic to ssurvive, will die. But thosse are the oness who have already lived longer than normal livess for your race. Do not expect anyone above the age of 100 to ssurvive thiss. Ass for everyone elsse.. they will withsstand the sshock, that I am ssure of, but if they will be able to ssurvive as landenss, only time will tell.
That is more than I could have hoped for. Hermione will be furious when she finds out that she wasted five years of her education.. No more magic..
“What does that mean for all the magical creatures? What will happen to them? .. And Voldemort! What of him? I have to be the one to kill him; that's what the prophecy says.”
*Voldemort.. he sshall sstop exissting. Fear not, young one, the prophecy you sspeak of hass already been fulfilled. After all, wass it not the encounter with you, that had 'vanquished' him? He cheated death; he had been ssuppossed to die that day. Turning himsself into an abomination, however, he ssurvived as a mere sspecter for a while. Hiss magically created body sshall cease to exisst and he will become a mere whissper in the Darknesss.
The magical creaturess.. It will depend on their origin. If they were created by your kind, they will perissh. Thingss like those Dementorss have never been meant to walk the land and have no right to exist. Unicornss, Ssceltie, horsess.. all the Kindred will share the fate of the wizards.*
“We created Dementors? And what do you mean 'Kindred'?” Harry asked, baffled. Why on earth would anyone create Dementors?Hell, even Voldemort would be unable to control them if not for the feast he must have promised them.
*Indeed, it wass a wizard who created the Dementorss. They were to be the end of the world, killing all live, becausse he thought humanss couldn't be allowed to live on...
Kindred are those Blood, who were born animalss. There are few left and even fewer who do not hide like the wizardss.
Now, there is one last thing for you to hear before I descent into the abysss in preparation to vanish the magic from these landss: the Realmss need their caretakerss.
I have seen the decline in Kaeleer and Hell. After thesse centuriess without guidance they have become even lesss sstable than even under the tainted Blood. Ssadly, humanss are the only beingss left who are numerouss enough to fulfill thiss duty. For thiss reasson and thiss reasson only, I will repair what the lasst Witch broke; will not heed her order and reesstablish the connection between humanss and the gift. There shall be true Blood again and you, young one, you will be the firsst. The one to learn the Old Way and teach them.*
“ME? Why me? Can't you do that? Who's to say I can do this? I know nothing of the Old Way,” the green-eyed boy asked, swamped by the depth of the chore that Lorn wanted him to fulfill.
You will learn. I ssaw thiss in a tangled web, young one. To help you with your tassk I will awaken a losst part of your heritage. I will turn you into that which you sshould have become. The dormant genes of the Eyrienss in your blood shall become the dominant oness. You will enjoy the changes, young one; after all you just love to fly, do you not? At the dumb not from Harry, he continued. Good. This will alsso lengthen your lifesspan conssiderably; up to 4500-5000 yearss, to be precisse. This ought to be a long enough time to esstablish the Old Way and if not... there are /other/wayss to prolong your lifetime. Now it iss time for me to prepare. You will find enough food for the next week in the alcove to my right. Iss there anything else that needss to be taken care of right now?
“There is just one more thing, Lorn. How come you are in this vault?”
*Why, indeed. The dominant family in the time of the lasst Witch wass called SsaDiablo. Most of thiss family wass brought to thiss Realm – thosse who weren't did not wish to leave Witch.
Not feeling worthy of the name SsaDiablo any longer – ssince they left two Black-Jeweled Warlord Princes and even worse, Witch – behind, the immigrants decided to change their name to 'Black'; still trying to honor those who were left behind.
Back then I had closse tiess to that family and decided to come with them. Thuss I am here, in the place I later foressaw to be our meeting place.*
Nodding in acceptance – though still baffled by it all – Harry lay back and tried to mentally prepare himself for the things to come.
Imagine his surprise when, after his genes had been modified, he had been schooled in the Old Ways and learned the Protocol, Lorn told him to go to the Ministry of Magic, down into the Department of Mysteries and leap through the veil in the “Death Chamber” - the connection to Kaeleer.
FIN
AN: I myself learned of the BJ-Trilogy via a fanfic at fanfiction .net. I hope that, perhaps, this has made you somewhat curious of the series. Do give it a try, it is a great work. ^^
These words rang in the ears of one fifteen year-old Harry Potter as he lay on his bed in his aunt's home. Not his home. It has never been that for him and never would feel right to himregardless of what the headmaster thought. That old man proved to be wrong in so many instances where his – Harry's – life was concerned, but he didn't want to think about that now.
At the moment it were the wisest words of that old man that made him ponder. There were things worse than death indeed, as he cruelly had to find out first hand. Loosing a loved one, a man who had felt like family - /was/family in the truest meaning of the word, because of /his/stupid mistake had to be more painful than anything Hell could throw at him.
He would gladly offer his life – his very /being/– if it were required to bring back Sirius, the man who had been betrayed by the “Light” and had come to mean so much to him in the short time that they had known each other. But that was not the way things worked, was it? A lost life could not be restored by sacrificing another; a sad truth he was sure had broken many good people.
It just wasn't fair that his mistake should claim Sirius' life; but then he had found out at a very young age that life was many things, but never fair – never that. Otherwise he was sure the Dursleys would have gotten their comeuppance a long time ago.
It had been three weeks now since the “rescue attempt turned catastrophe” and he hadn't cried in the two weeks since he had arrived here on Privet Drive. The death of his godfather was another heavy burden he had to carry from now on - would have to carry for the rest of his life - but not something he allowed himself to cry over; not any longer. This was one of the things that had changed after the last time he had exited the headmaster's office: he now had a firm hold on his emotions.
Finding out that he was the only one who could rid the world of the monster known as Voldemort, made Harry grow up even more than he had already had to after all his adventures in and around of Hogwarts. It made him realize that he couldn't effort to be too emotional, to quell his temper on those undeserving of such treatment. He was now determined to leash his red hot anger, his anguish and to use these emotions to keep going until he had fulfilled his destiny. So for now he acknowledged his emotions, but wouldn't loosen his hold on them even for a second until such a time it was beneficial for him. Though in the deepest recess of his mind he could already feel a change in the“flavor” - for lack of a better term – of his anger; it was slowly changing from the red hot anger that he had become accustomed to, to something more calculating – afreezing cold that chilled him to his core, made him wonder if he wasn't too angry for his own good. It had, however, a welcomed side-effect: it helped him concentrate on what needed to be done; and that was what he needed to not drown in his sorrow.
I suppose it is time to stop being a whiny little bitch, he thought as he noticed the time displayed by the old alarm-clock that sat on the nightstand next to his worn-out bed and wiped away he last of his tears.
It had been the message that had arrived two days ago that had shattered his newfound self-control.
It had been from Gringotts stating that he was to appear to the reading of Sirius' Will – today – via the portkey enclosed. It was an unwelcome reminder of his godfather's death, the only /real/proof that Sirius was well and truly gone. Of course he had seen him stumble through that damned veil, had listened to Remus' and the headmaster's explanation of what the veil actually was, but there hadn't been a body, not even a funeral that would have been proof of the loss. No, the letter that had arrived two days ago had been the first tactile proof of his godfather's demise. And it had pushed him over the edge.
Two days he had spent grieving for the loss, before he was able to get ahold of himself again, leash the grief that had slipped his control.
Now he stood up and stretched. He could feel his muscles protesting after two days of disuse and winced slightly. Sighing softly he took the two steps that were needed to reach his trunk in this too-small-to-live-in room and fetched a robe to wear for the reading.
It's odd, that Ididn't get a letter from Dumbledore stating that I was to stay at home; that the reading was a trap or something like that.
Indeed Harry didn't have any contact with anyone from the wizarding world -other than the Gringotts letter - since he arrived at his aunt's house. No letters, no visits, hell, he hadn't even seen - nor smelled in the case of Dung - any of his guards from last year. It was curious, but nothing he would loose sleep over.
/Well, here goes,/he thought as he tapped the portkey with his wand.. to reappear in aroom of white marble that could only belong to Gringotts. Another detail that pointed to this was the goblin that was looking at him somewhat oddly. Most likely he hasn't seen too many wizards landing on their asses, Harry thought grimly as he stood up.
“Hello,” Harry greeted, somewhat embarrassed to have someone witness his less than graceful landing.
“Mr. Potter,” the goblin responded, inclining his/her head. “You have been expected. If you would follow me..”
Hurrying to not loose the goblin, Harry rushed to catch up to the surprisingly fast little creature.
Half an hour later he followed a different goblin – who thankfully set a slower pace – to a different destination, his mind going a couple thousand miles a minute.
I am his heir.. He wrote his Will on his seventeenth birthday which was as soon as he legally could without giving his family a reason to contest it – gotta hate technicalities. Surprisingly Sirius did not state that James was to be the heir, but rather “the eldest living Potter”. Dunno why he did that; my parents had been engaged at that time and my existence hadn't even been planned, I'd guess. All his friends had still been alive, so why did he write that? Had he feared he wouldn't be able to change his Will again? Was that a typical procedure for purebloods? Especially at the time of Voldemort's first rise? Damn, Sirius, you left so many questions unanswered..
Harry was startled out of his thoughts when he heard the goblin cough to get his attention – he succeeded though be the widening of its eyes and its fast backing away from Harry, it was apparent that it hadn't expected to find a wand pointed right into its face – though to be fair, Harry hadn't consciously reached for his wand either.
Quickly sticking his wand back into his pocket, Harry mumbled ,“Sorry for that; you startled me..”.
Muttering something about “crazy wizards” under its breath, it inclined its head in acceptance and explained its interruption of his thoughts, “This is the Black Vault. You need only push against the doors, Mr. Potter.”
Doing as he was told, he stepped up to the vault doors and was about to push, when he heard a strange sound. Turning around to the goblin again, he saw it staring back innocently, until he frowned suspiciously at it – for about two minutes. It must have figured out that Harry wasn't about to push against those doors until it explained itself – /intelligent little bugger –/it said, “That was just the signal to lower the protection spells for a moment. If you don't push within the next half minute someone will come investigate; most likely with a dragon not too far away. Now, Hurry!”
It seemed not too fond of the idea of meeting the dragon, confirming Harry's suspicion about its IQ. Quickly pushing against the doors, he wasn't disappointed when they opened for him, granting him a view he hadn't expected. Instead of a big vault filled with money – similar to his trust vault – the Black Vault was a misnomer it seemed, as Black Vaults would have been more fitting due to the many doors that lined the walls of the empty room Harry stepped into.
Deciding to start on the left hand side, he pushed against the door..
It was the last door unopened. All the others had revealed treasures that were mind-blowing. Worth more than enough to allow generations to live off of the interest. Even if the family was even bigger than the Weasleys and the yearly interest rate was somewhere around a ten thousandth. Yes, the Blacks had been loaded.
Now, pushing against the last door, which was of the darkest black he had ever laid eyes on, expecting it to open as the other doors had, all he got for his troubles was a slight twinge in his hand.
“Goddammit!Stupid door!”, he exclaimed, kicking it for good measure. Sucking his right thumb – for he noticed it had started bleeding slightly – he glared at the door; which was when he saw the mesmerizing, strange silvery lines on the door that, glowing slightly, slowly moved to form.. /something/.
Forgetting about his lethal wound, he slowly stroked the lines with his thumb in an attempt to make it somewhat easier to read. It seemed to work as the the lines were now glowing a little brighter and he could make out an actual sentence. It read, “and the Blood shall sing to the Blood.” As he spoke those words he could feel that they held a special meaning, could feel them setting things in motion that would change everything – and not only for him. This phrase, spoken by him, had monumental consequences that would rock not only this world.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the door in front of Harry opened and again he was surprised by what he saw.
//AN: the following passage is awfully near to the original (Heir to the Shadows 16, 3) [up to the next //]
In front of him – in the dark – were wide, descending steps.It's so dark, I'll break my neck trying to go down without lights.As soon as that thought was completed, little sparks embedded in the walls began to glow, growing brighter and brighter, like those lamps Vernon had tried and failed to install into the hallways last summer.
It took some time for him to reach the bottom step – the stairs didn't seem to want to end – but when he did, he saw a set of double doors slowly swinging inward and the midnight-black chamber slowly lightened, the dark giving way to the dawn. The back wall began to lighten from either side. Filling the wall, as high as the light reached, was a highly detailed bas-relief. Sadly, WTF?, /was the only thought that crossed Harry's mind as he watched the scene, i/t looks like animagi having an orgy.
When the light had finally illuminated the whole room – or at least as much as it seemed to want to enlighten – the sight was shocking. There, in front of him, was a huge dragon's head. The detail was stunning. He, who had come face to face with a dragon before, could tell that the sculptor of this masterpiece must have been a master of his art, though, of course, the head was way bigger than the Hungarian Horntail that had been used in theTriwizard Tournament. The scales, however, were even more breathtaking than the high level of detail. They were an iridescent silver-gold that were harder to take one's eyes off of than the Mirror of Erised.
No wonder it is so deep underground. It must be the most expensive thing in the vaults. If I didn't know any better I'd say it was the real deal, opening its eyes any minute now..
Imagine his surprise when that was exactly what it did. Eyelids slowly opened. Midnight eyes pinned him where he stood, bereft him of his breath.
As the dragon slowly raised its head, its whole body slowly becoming alive, he was able to see its silhouette. It was /huge. /If he had the choice he would have much rather faced the Horntail again than this giant of a dragon.
He tried backing away, sure that no spell he knew would help him get out of this chamber alive. Thing was, he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, his legs didn't seem to want to listen to him. He was rooted to the spot, standing in front of this gigantic dragon feeling complete helplessness and total fear envelop him like a blanket.
//
Sso you have arrived, he heard an ancient voice thunder somewhere in his head, scaring him even further. Do not be afraid, young one. If I intended to kill you, I would not be speaking to you right now.
Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid, my ass!!! Here is a gigantic behemoth of a dragon standing in front of me – while I am incapable of even pissing myself – and it tells me to not be afraid!
His expression must have expressed his sentiment, because the dragon seemed to sigh, before it spoke again, I do not intent to harm you, young one. I will give you the control of your body back, but do not try to run. We have too much to discusss for you to wasste our time.
The next thing Harry knew was that he fell flat on his ass – again. So it hadn't been just fear that had kept me rooted.//Does that mean he is some kind of magical dragon? /Looking up to the dragon, he knew his answer. And based on the glint in its eyes Harry suspected that it hadn't been his expression that had betrayed his thoughts. /Even a dragon can just ignore my occlumency.
Are you ready to lissten now, young one? Seeing Harry's reluctant nod, the dragon was somewhat satisfied. *Good. I am Lorn, the lasst of my kind and I have been alive for sso long, that I, mysself, can barely remember my early dayss. I wass once called the Prince of the Dragonss, but I guesss that title hass become obssolete nowadayss. You are wondering why you are here, sso let me tell you a little story. Back then there have been ass many of my kind ass there are now of yourss – and I am talking about the wizardss. We were the caretakerss and guardianss of all that wass in all three Realms.
Each Realm is a separate "reality" of one world, and they're connected to each other by three Gates per Realm. There is Terreille (the Realm of Light), Kaeleer (the Shadow Realm), and Hell (the Dark Realm). While all the Realms follow the seasons in the same way, the land (and the landscape) is different, due to the people (even if "people" doesn't necessarily mean human) who live there and the events that happened in that Realm.
The Realmss themsselvess are further divided into Territoriess – basically, they are the countries in each of the Realmss.
However after many, many generationss we were forced to realize that we were too different from thosse we were to protect. Sso we retreated and passed the gift down to the humanss sso that protectorss and protected could coexist in harmony. I wass the only one who stayed behind; all the otherss of my kind moved on. I wass the one who chosse to keep on guarding the Realmss – albeit from the background. I watched ass the Blood – thosse with the gift, liken them to wizardss if you will – ruled honorably and well. The Blood themsselvess divided by casste, their Jewelss and the court they sserved in.
You ssee, every Blood went through a Birthright Ceremony when he or sshe iss about ssix yearss old; depending on character, sstrength – emotional and physsical – and sso many more sspecificss, he or sshe might have come out of thiss Ceremony with a Birthright-Jewel, an indicator of the power wielded. Ass ssoon ass they reach adulthood they made their Offering to the Darkness to determine their mature sstrength. I will tell you more about the Jewelss – thosse repertoiress of power – themsselvess later, though.
Furthermore every Blood was born into a certain casste which determined hiss or her very nature. You will learn about the sspecific casstess ssoon enough, too.
Bassed on thiss, they created a matriarchy. A sstrict order of rankss. The Blood villages within a Disstrict would look after, and treat fairly, the landen villages that were bound to them. The Disstrict Queenss would sserve in the Province Queenss court. The Province Queenss, in their turn would sserve the Territory Queen, who wass chossen by the majority of the darker-Jeweled Blood both male and female, becausse she wass the sstrongest and the best.
They had a sstrict guideline on the acceptable behavior within acourt, sstrict, but with ssufficient leeway to keep it flexible enough – Protocol.
It went well for centuriess, but ssomehow, along the way, the Blood forgot their dutiess to the Realm and ssaw landenss and each other as their playthingss. They forgot Protocol, they forgot the “Old Way” and took what they wanted. More centuriess passsed. In time the prayerss of the oppressed were ansswered when the living myth wass born. Dreamss made flesh, Witch, was able to resstore the Old Wayss, heal what had been torn assunder, but that, too wass not to lasst forever .
Even more centuriess after Witch ssaved the Realmss, morale wass sslowly declining again. It sseemed ass though humanss weren't meant to be caretakerss after all – /couldn't/be the caretakerss the Realms needed.
Sso with a heavy heard, Witch made a decission; she built a permanent connection between the Realmss of Terreille and Kaeleer – as she knew there soon wouldn't be anyone left to operate the Gatess – and evacuated all those who sshe trussted, all those of pure heart, to the Realm of Light after clearing it of the tainted Blood. Then sshe descended into the abysss ass one of her predecesssorss had been forced to before and unleasshed all her dark power, sshattering every Jewel in Kaeleer and Hell, while sshielding the Light Realm; thuss broking the connection of the Blood and the gift and in time the Blood were no different from landen. Only thosse immigrantss in Terreille still held the gift, though ssomehow it had changed – or perhapss it wass that they had changed and the power had adapted – I can't be too ssure.
Ass you have no doubt realized, we are in Terreille now and witchess and wizardss are the desscendantss of the Blood. They do not wear Jewelss, they ssomehow made them part of themsselvess, only ussing their own bodiess to sstore their power. Thiss obvioussly lowered the amount of accesssible power, forcing them to usse ssilly ssticks for the mosst bassic Craft – that iss what your “Magic” is actually called. Sstupid humanss, making up ssilly namess..
You bear witnesss to the sselfishnesss of thosse who are meant to protect at leasst thiss Realm. Even though only the purest Blood had been relocated, been allowed to live ass they had been meant to, they or rather their desscendantss, too, forgot their dutiess.
Thiss iss about to change. I will no longer sstand for thiss and you are going to be my witnesss: I will take from them what they think makess them sspecial.*
Harry was trembling. The story he had just heard.. The range of emotions in Lorn's voice as he told it.. It told him that it was the truth, told by an ancient being who had seen too much, /lost/too much. A feeling deep inside of him reinforced this. It felt as though his magic was singing in him. Singing a song of regret and honor, of joy and suffering; it made him feel ashamed.
How could we have let this happen?
They had been meant to protect the Realm and what did they do? They had founded their own towns, hid from those they ought to have protected, removed themselves from everything that did not seem advantageous.
And now they had to pay the price – their magic. This made him wonder, “Will we survive this? When we loose our magic, will we loose our lives along with it?” I can't let this happen. If we have to loose our magic, so be it, but if it means the death of my friends.. He had better find a different“witness” for this genocide.
Most will ssurvive, seeing the fire in Harry's eyes, he explained, not willing to alienate the major player in the events to come,Thosse who depend on their magic to ssurvive, will die. But thosse are the oness who have already lived longer than normal livess for your race. Do not expect anyone above the age of 100 to ssurvive thiss. Ass for everyone elsse.. they will withsstand the sshock, that I am ssure of, but if they will be able to ssurvive as landenss, only time will tell.
That is more than I could have hoped for. Hermione will be furious when she finds out that she wasted five years of her education.. No more magic..
“What does that mean for all the magical creatures? What will happen to them? .. And Voldemort! What of him? I have to be the one to kill him; that's what the prophecy says.”
*Voldemort.. he sshall sstop exissting. Fear not, young one, the prophecy you sspeak of hass already been fulfilled. After all, wass it not the encounter with you, that had 'vanquished' him? He cheated death; he had been ssuppossed to die that day. Turning himsself into an abomination, however, he ssurvived as a mere sspecter for a while. Hiss magically created body sshall cease to exisst and he will become a mere whissper in the Darknesss.
The magical creaturess.. It will depend on their origin. If they were created by your kind, they will perissh. Thingss like those Dementorss have never been meant to walk the land and have no right to exist. Unicornss, Ssceltie, horsess.. all the Kindred will share the fate of the wizards.*
“We created Dementors? And what do you mean 'Kindred'?” Harry asked, baffled. Why on earth would anyone create Dementors?Hell, even Voldemort would be unable to control them if not for the feast he must have promised them.
*Indeed, it wass a wizard who created the Dementorss. They were to be the end of the world, killing all live, becausse he thought humanss couldn't be allowed to live on...
Kindred are those Blood, who were born animalss. There are few left and even fewer who do not hide like the wizardss.
Now, there is one last thing for you to hear before I descent into the abysss in preparation to vanish the magic from these landss: the Realmss need their caretakerss.
I have seen the decline in Kaeleer and Hell. After thesse centuriess without guidance they have become even lesss sstable than even under the tainted Blood. Ssadly, humanss are the only beingss left who are numerouss enough to fulfill thiss duty. For thiss reasson and thiss reasson only, I will repair what the lasst Witch broke; will not heed her order and reesstablish the connection between humanss and the gift. There shall be true Blood again and you, young one, you will be the firsst. The one to learn the Old Way and teach them.*
“ME? Why me? Can't you do that? Who's to say I can do this? I know nothing of the Old Way,” the green-eyed boy asked, swamped by the depth of the chore that Lorn wanted him to fulfill.
You will learn. I ssaw thiss in a tangled web, young one. To help you with your tassk I will awaken a losst part of your heritage. I will turn you into that which you sshould have become. The dormant genes of the Eyrienss in your blood shall become the dominant oness. You will enjoy the changes, young one; after all you just love to fly, do you not? At the dumb not from Harry, he continued. Good. This will alsso lengthen your lifesspan conssiderably; up to 4500-5000 yearss, to be precisse. This ought to be a long enough time to esstablish the Old Way and if not... there are /other/wayss to prolong your lifetime. Now it iss time for me to prepare. You will find enough food for the next week in the alcove to my right. Iss there anything else that needss to be taken care of right now?
“There is just one more thing, Lorn. How come you are in this vault?”
*Why, indeed. The dominant family in the time of the lasst Witch wass called SsaDiablo. Most of thiss family wass brought to thiss Realm – thosse who weren't did not wish to leave Witch.
Not feeling worthy of the name SsaDiablo any longer – ssince they left two Black-Jeweled Warlord Princes and even worse, Witch – behind, the immigrants decided to change their name to 'Black'; still trying to honor those who were left behind.
Back then I had closse tiess to that family and decided to come with them. Thuss I am here, in the place I later foressaw to be our meeting place.*
Nodding in acceptance – though still baffled by it all – Harry lay back and tried to mentally prepare himself for the things to come.
Imagine his surprise when, after his genes had been modified, he had been schooled in the Old Ways and learned the Protocol, Lorn told him to go to the Ministry of Magic, down into the Department of Mysteries and leap through the veil in the “Death Chamber” - the connection to Kaeleer.
FIN
AN: I myself learned of the BJ-Trilogy via a fanfic at fanfiction .net. I hope that, perhaps, this has made you somewhat curious of the series. Do give it a try, it is a great work. ^^
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