Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Heir

Chapter 2

by IrishClover 0 reviews

Harry Potter was taken in by an ancient power and raised knowing his true heritage. To everyone else, Harry has been dead for fifteen years. What happens when the light needs help the most? Complete!

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Fantasy,Humor - Characters: Harry - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2008-01-06 - Updated: 2008-01-06 - 1466 words - Complete

Chapter 2

Unaware of the events unfolding at that very moment, a young man was trudging up the worn path to the great castle. Although he appeared calm, he was nearly giddy with excitement at the prospect of going to the school he had heard so much about. Harry knew that he wouldn’t learn anything that new to him due to his own studies, but the idea of actually having a social life did appeal to him, besides, he felt an obligation to the school his ancestor had built so long ago.

The sound of voices in the path ahead somewhat slowed his pace as a thought crossed his mind, even going so far as to overrule the earlier excitement. Why would someone be out here so late in the middle of nowhere when the fear of Voldemort was so high, and why would they be outside the castle during the opening feast anyway?

Suspicion turned to an ugly shade of reality as the sight of a group of black cloaked, white masked figures gathered in a loose formation. Deatheaters. And the state of careless bantering that they were involved in gave reason for a greater fear. Why would they be so calm and inattentive if they weren’t planning an attack? It just didn’t add up unless they were the lookouts for an attack already in progress.

Narrowing his eyes as he realized the full extent of his suspicions, he quickly slipped behind a tree and slipped into his new battle cloak. Pulling a pair of gauntlets and his prized swords out of his bag, he quickly shrunk the remaining items and stuffed them into his pocket. Taking a second to center his mind, he took a deep breath before stepping out to face the ignorant guards.


The deatheaters had trapped everyone in the Great Hall, while Dumbledore and Voldemort faced off near the teacher’s table. After a long duel, Voldemort was finally able to break through Dumbledore’s defence and had knocked him to the ground at wandpoint. Right when the killing curse was nearly completed, the ancient wooden doors were blown open, leaving them hanging off of the hinges. A few unlucky recruits were caught in the blast and sent spiraling into the unyielding stone walls, going limp upon contact.

A large cloaked figure stood in the entrance, as power rolled off of him in waves. He was easily as powerful as Voldemort, if not more so. Clutched in both of his hands were two monstrous broadswords. One seemed to have flames licking along the blade while the other had a light blue mist rising from it. The figure’s face was covered by the hood of his blood red cloak keeping his features shrouded in shadows. What caught everyone’s eye was the electrical charge emanating from him, electricity seemed to lick off of the walls and the ceiling high above. Where he stood the thousand year old cobblestone floor seemed to break apart and rise up off of the ground slightly, as though the sheer power flowing off of him were splintering the stone itself.

Voldemort was in shock at the sight, something that he could only remember happening a couple of times. The deep, angry voice issuing from the figure was enough to shake Voldemort out of his stupor however.

“Leave them be, your fight is with me now, Voldemort.” The man spoke in a quiet and commanding voice, but everyone in the hall was able to hear every word.

“Why ssshould I wassste my time bothering to deal with you?” Voldemort was barely able to hide the fear in his voice as he observed his new nemesis. He seemed to have forgotten about the crumpled old man lying on the ground at his feet, as he focused all of his attention on the figure in front of him.

“I am the blood heir of Godric Gryffindor, that is all that you need to know.” The man hissed as he began to slowly walk towards the Slytherin heir.

Feeling the threat escalate tremendously, Voldemort motioned for his followers to abandon their frightened captives and attack the cloaked figure.

The man seemed to expect this as he instantly set up a magical barrier between the hostages and the deatheaters. Noticing Dumbledore still on the ground bleeding, he waved his hand causing Dumbledore to slide across the floor and through the barrier.

Just as the deatheaters were within range, the man pulled the broadswords from their sheaths on his back and began to swing the heavy blades around as if they were nothing. As the blades traveled through the air, the elements within streamed in their wake leaving trails of fire and mist. The Deatheaters were easily dispatched with one slice of the massive blades as they whipped through the air. The bodies began to pile up as the expendable followers went first. At Voldemort’s nod, his inner circle advanced; their wands out as they threw every curse they could think of at the man. Nothing seemed to work though, as they were cut down where they stood.

Only Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy were left at this point, and Voldemort was not looking especially well. Malfoy charged at the glowing figure with his own sword and wand drawn. Malfoy put up a good fight, but he was no match for the powerful man before him. After nearly two minutes of clashing swords and trading curses, the heir seemed to grow bored and with one powerful swipe of his fire sword, he sent Malfoy careening thought the air and into the steel-like barrier around the students and faculty. Malfoy was dead before he even hit the ground.

“Is that all you’ve got? Give me your best shot, Riddle!” The man taunted as he advanced yet again towards his goal.

“My name is Voldemort; don’t call me by that filthy name.” Voldemort screeched in his rage as he drew his own sword as if out of thin air and charged.

The sound of the swords clashing together was deafening. The final battle had begun. As the battle progressed, the students had finally been able to rouse Dumbledore back to consciousness. At the sight of the epic battle raging just feet from him, Dumbledore shot to his feet and attempted to join the red cloaked heir in his fight. But when he reached the invisible barrier, the force stopped him in his tracks. He cast several powerful spells at the barrier but to no avail, there was simply no choice but to watch from the sidelines as the two titans battled it out.

In one particularly low slice, Voldemort was able to gain the upper hand by throwing the man back several feet. Twisting his body backwards through the air, the man was able to land on his feet in a backwards somersault. Unfortunately for him, the flip had loosened his cloak so that it was now tangled over his shoulder. Although it still kept his face hidden, it was now hindering his movement.

With a low growl of annoyance, the man’s aura sprang up brighter still as he ripped the cloak off of his shoulders. An unseen breeze seemed to blow his shoulder length black hair around his lowered and shadowed face as he powered up. Tattoos covered his exposed arms in a variety of runes and shapes. He was dressed in a black tank with loose black leather pants and dragon hide boots; he also wore thick black leather gauntlets from his wrists to the middle of his forearms.

Suddenly, he whipped his head back and bellowed in pain as his aura grew even brighter and more powerful. With his eyes still closed, he slowly lowered his head to reveal a legendary lightning shaped scar running down his forehead.

At the gasps of shock from the hall, Harry Potter opened his glowing, emerald green eyes to see a very worried Voldemort staring back at him.

With a smirk that didn’t quite meet his eyes, Harry glared at Voldemort. “Looks like you didn’t quite succeed in your attempt to steal the prophesy did you? If you had, you would have known that I was still around.” Glancing at Dumbledore to see him reluctantly nod, he turned his glare once more on the dark creature before him. “It has always been destined for the two of us to meet in the end, for only one will walk away alive.” Raising Poseidon above his head and placing Aries before him in a defensive position, he stepped into a dueling position, a duel he had no intention of losing. “I have been waiting for this moment for fifteen years. Let’s dance, Tom.”
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