Post by Beloved Fool on Dec 5, 2004 4:34:51 GMT -5
Title: Harry Potter and the Valley of Shadow.
Author: Beloved Fool
Summary: Working title. The race is on to get the friendship of the Vampires before Voldemort. No romance, just action.
Author’s Note: This takes place in Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts and all is how it was when the fifth book left off. It begins quarter of the way into the school year.
Rating: This chapter is G-rated but it’s going to be PG-13 or R later when the real fun starts.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue - The Rolling of the Dice[/i]
Birds rose above the treetops in alarm as a cry sounded throughout the great forest as if someone was in pain. Animals watched warily from their hiding places as the bedraggled human stumbled and cursed his way through their territory. The men on horseback escorting him, watched with grim eyes and expressionless faces as he staggered onwards. They would remember later the strangely excited grin on the man's face despite the pain in his curious light grey eyes as they neared the place they were taking him. The place of execution.
The edge of the forest was apparent here as the trees grew sparser and the loud roar of a waterfall indicated the river nearby. One of the soldiers dismounted and drew his sword from its sheath and advanced on the prisoner, who regarded him calmly. Drawing close, the soldier prodded the man's chest with the point of the weapon and forced him backwards, towards a tree stump that was situated near the middle of the clearing. Backing away, the man was still staring and the soldier was getting suspicious and uncomfortable. He shouted in an incomprehensible language and the other grinned humourlessly back. Then everything happened at once.
Just as the soldier reached out a gauntleted hand to take a fistful of the man's filthy black hair, a stick of wood was pushed in his face and the prisoner shouted something. A jet of bright red light that caused the horses of the other soldiers to rear up and neigh loudly emerged from the end of the stick and hit the dismounted man between the eyes. He fell and lay unmoving on the grass. His colleagues, still trying to bring their mounts under control could do nothing but watch as the prisoner, without looking back to see if they were following him, ran flat out towards the waterfall beyond the trees. The next thing the bewildered soldiers heard was a loud splash. One dismounted, with barely a glance at his fallen comrade, and ran towards the river. A quick look at the ripples in the water's surface removed any doubt where the man had disappeared to. Cursing, the soldier threw down his sword and kicked a stone for good measure. The prisoner had gone; the commander would be most displeased.
As they left, a low sound, like the rattling of bones reached their ears – or the rolling of dice.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Harry Potter squinted in the sunlight and put an arm across his forehead to shield his eyes. Ron Weasley, his best friend, shouted up to him from the ground.
“Behind you, mate! It’s behind you!” Harry turned and caught a glimpse of gold shining brightly in the sun and raced for the Snitch before it could get much further away. He and Ron had come back to Hogwarts with low spirits, Harry’s were lower but if the Quidditch season returning after almost two years away from the sport, (thanks to the most unpopular Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts had probably ever had), couldn’t cheer him up even slightly then nothing could. The loss of his godfather, Sirius Black, the end of the previous school year, had come with the revelation to the rest of the wizarding world that Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard thought to have been dead by most of the population (except for Harry, his friends, Ron and Hermione, and the Order of the Phoenix), was returned and stronger than before.
His fingers closed over the struggling Quidditch ball and he flew high into the air, looping once before returning to the ground where he sat down next to Ron on the grass, taking in the last rays of sunlight before evening. Hermione was inside, doing some Potions homework that the boys had foregone in order to be in time for Quidditch practice and she would no doubt give them some pointed looks when they returned to Gryffindor Tower.
So they could put this off for as long as possible, they stayed, sitting there and talking about the particularly uneventful day they had had, avoiding the topic for which they had the most opinions – Voldemort. Only when the sun had set and they could see the tentacles of the giant squid trawling the surface of the lake where it reflected the dim moonlight did they go inside.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The dark hall was cavernous and spoke of ancient times, ages that had seen countless things and witnessed spectacular events. The windows, tall as they were, were nothing more than slits in the black stone wall. The only light came from the few candles on tall black candlesticks at the bottom of the dais, leaving the figures enthroned at the top in complete darkness. That was best – they preferred it that way.
The hunched figure standing just outside the dim pool of light that was hungrily eaten by the shadows raised its hand and made a sharp gesture in mid-air that was just visible to the others. Two hulking shades detached themselves from the black walls and knelt, heads bowed, before the dais, waiting. The hunched figure didn’t move from its darkness, but spoke in a reedy, slightly nasal voice that identified itself to be a man, or at least something of the male persuasion.
“My most noble majesties, Lord and Lady of the Valley, most serene – “ He or it was cut off by a low snarl that came from one of the figures on the thrones above. It spoke of impatience and pain – lots of pain – if the speaker didn’t get a move on. The hunched figure swallowed and continued hastily.
“These two worthless creatures saw the man who reeked of death on the edge of Witherwoods earlier this morning. He joined two comrades before the Gate, hooded and masked men in black who laughed and cavorted with him. They spoke of a war and a downfall loudly before another man, coming through the Gate, hushed them. Then they disappeared.”<br>
“Where did they go?” This voice was female and came from the dais. It was low and quite breathy but enough to strike fear into the hearts of many including the hunched figure below.
“They say they disappeared into thin air.” The hunched figure gave a short snort of laughter. “Impossible.”<br>
“Disappeared?”<br>
“Yes, Your Highness,” said the hunched figure, bowing low. There was silence for a long moment then,
“Very well, we will continue to investigate this matter. Set a ward on the Gate so we may monitor who comes through. Though who comes into the Valley is decided by the power of the land itself, we still may need to protect it from...bad influences.”<br>
“Majesties, what about Dumbledore?”<br>
“When he comes, we will talk with him. I’m sure that what he has to say will be interesting.” The hunched figure bowed and left through a small door next to the dais, the kneeling shapes rose and followed.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Author: Beloved Fool
Summary: Working title. The race is on to get the friendship of the Vampires before Voldemort. No romance, just action.
Author’s Note: This takes place in Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts and all is how it was when the fifth book left off. It begins quarter of the way into the school year.
Rating: This chapter is G-rated but it’s going to be PG-13 or R later when the real fun starts.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue - The Rolling of the Dice[/i]
Birds rose above the treetops in alarm as a cry sounded throughout the great forest as if someone was in pain. Animals watched warily from their hiding places as the bedraggled human stumbled and cursed his way through their territory. The men on horseback escorting him, watched with grim eyes and expressionless faces as he staggered onwards. They would remember later the strangely excited grin on the man's face despite the pain in his curious light grey eyes as they neared the place they were taking him. The place of execution.
The edge of the forest was apparent here as the trees grew sparser and the loud roar of a waterfall indicated the river nearby. One of the soldiers dismounted and drew his sword from its sheath and advanced on the prisoner, who regarded him calmly. Drawing close, the soldier prodded the man's chest with the point of the weapon and forced him backwards, towards a tree stump that was situated near the middle of the clearing. Backing away, the man was still staring and the soldier was getting suspicious and uncomfortable. He shouted in an incomprehensible language and the other grinned humourlessly back. Then everything happened at once.
Just as the soldier reached out a gauntleted hand to take a fistful of the man's filthy black hair, a stick of wood was pushed in his face and the prisoner shouted something. A jet of bright red light that caused the horses of the other soldiers to rear up and neigh loudly emerged from the end of the stick and hit the dismounted man between the eyes. He fell and lay unmoving on the grass. His colleagues, still trying to bring their mounts under control could do nothing but watch as the prisoner, without looking back to see if they were following him, ran flat out towards the waterfall beyond the trees. The next thing the bewildered soldiers heard was a loud splash. One dismounted, with barely a glance at his fallen comrade, and ran towards the river. A quick look at the ripples in the water's surface removed any doubt where the man had disappeared to. Cursing, the soldier threw down his sword and kicked a stone for good measure. The prisoner had gone; the commander would be most displeased.
As they left, a low sound, like the rattling of bones reached their ears – or the rolling of dice.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Harry Potter squinted in the sunlight and put an arm across his forehead to shield his eyes. Ron Weasley, his best friend, shouted up to him from the ground.
“Behind you, mate! It’s behind you!” Harry turned and caught a glimpse of gold shining brightly in the sun and raced for the Snitch before it could get much further away. He and Ron had come back to Hogwarts with low spirits, Harry’s were lower but if the Quidditch season returning after almost two years away from the sport, (thanks to the most unpopular Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts had probably ever had), couldn’t cheer him up even slightly then nothing could. The loss of his godfather, Sirius Black, the end of the previous school year, had come with the revelation to the rest of the wizarding world that Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard thought to have been dead by most of the population (except for Harry, his friends, Ron and Hermione, and the Order of the Phoenix), was returned and stronger than before.
His fingers closed over the struggling Quidditch ball and he flew high into the air, looping once before returning to the ground where he sat down next to Ron on the grass, taking in the last rays of sunlight before evening. Hermione was inside, doing some Potions homework that the boys had foregone in order to be in time for Quidditch practice and she would no doubt give them some pointed looks when they returned to Gryffindor Tower.
So they could put this off for as long as possible, they stayed, sitting there and talking about the particularly uneventful day they had had, avoiding the topic for which they had the most opinions – Voldemort. Only when the sun had set and they could see the tentacles of the giant squid trawling the surface of the lake where it reflected the dim moonlight did they go inside.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The dark hall was cavernous and spoke of ancient times, ages that had seen countless things and witnessed spectacular events. The windows, tall as they were, were nothing more than slits in the black stone wall. The only light came from the few candles on tall black candlesticks at the bottom of the dais, leaving the figures enthroned at the top in complete darkness. That was best – they preferred it that way.
The hunched figure standing just outside the dim pool of light that was hungrily eaten by the shadows raised its hand and made a sharp gesture in mid-air that was just visible to the others. Two hulking shades detached themselves from the black walls and knelt, heads bowed, before the dais, waiting. The hunched figure didn’t move from its darkness, but spoke in a reedy, slightly nasal voice that identified itself to be a man, or at least something of the male persuasion.
“My most noble majesties, Lord and Lady of the Valley, most serene – “ He or it was cut off by a low snarl that came from one of the figures on the thrones above. It spoke of impatience and pain – lots of pain – if the speaker didn’t get a move on. The hunched figure swallowed and continued hastily.
“These two worthless creatures saw the man who reeked of death on the edge of Witherwoods earlier this morning. He joined two comrades before the Gate, hooded and masked men in black who laughed and cavorted with him. They spoke of a war and a downfall loudly before another man, coming through the Gate, hushed them. Then they disappeared.”<br>
“Where did they go?” This voice was female and came from the dais. It was low and quite breathy but enough to strike fear into the hearts of many including the hunched figure below.
“They say they disappeared into thin air.” The hunched figure gave a short snort of laughter. “Impossible.”<br>
“Disappeared?”<br>
“Yes, Your Highness,” said the hunched figure, bowing low. There was silence for a long moment then,
“Very well, we will continue to investigate this matter. Set a ward on the Gate so we may monitor who comes through. Though who comes into the Valley is decided by the power of the land itself, we still may need to protect it from...bad influences.”<br>
“Majesties, what about Dumbledore?”<br>
“When he comes, we will talk with him. I’m sure that what he has to say will be interesting.” The hunched figure bowed and left through a small door next to the dais, the kneeling shapes rose and followed.
-------------------------------------------------------------
especially after seeing the third movie twice...or more
