The Alliance of Magic

By: Marie-Claire

            Well, here it is! Totally unexpected, but still! The new and *hopefully, with fingers crossed* improved version of When Magics Collide. Well, all I can say is, it really is a whole lot different from my previous version. Anyways, read on!

Brief quotation thingie:

"…Tell us of the secret hosts of evil, o Cimon"

"Their names may not be spake aloud

lest they profane mortal lips,

for they came out of the unholy darknesses

and attacked the heavens,

but they were driven away by the rage of angels…"

                                                                                    -from Dialogues of Chios

           

                                                                                    -Sidney Sheldon, Rage of Angels

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I don't own the setting, and I sure as hell don't own the quotation. The plot is mine though.

Chapter One:

'They say I know the answer to everything… yet I can't even find a way to bring him back to us,' Hermione Granger thought sadly to herself. She held back a sigh as she watched the boy she had known for years, with whom she had shared every adventure and joy and disappointment with, who had been her best friend in her five years at the institute of magic known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

During those five years, at any given time, if someone had asked her whether she knew everything about Harry Potter, for that was the name of the boy, she would have said yes without a doubt. But now, it was a crushing blow to find out that she was wrong. For to her, the person whom she was now looking at was nothing like the Harry Potter she had known and treasured.

She looked at her other friend, Ronald Weasley, popularly called Ron by those who knew him well, and almost shook her head in hopelessness. Even now, as he argued with Harry over some impossibly trivial thing, she couldn't understand how he failed to see that in spite of his heated arguments and smart retorts, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was dying.

Oh, she could only see it in brief glimpses, during those times when just for a moment, he let his guard down, but she knew she was right. Emerald eyes, once capable of rivaling the sparkle of hundred jewels, were now emotionless. Once those eyes had been what she most loved about him, and she knew it drew people to his side, for their openness had been prized in the world where secrecy and lies prevailed, but now, they were shuttered to the world, dimmed by all those things which he had seen and burdens which should never have been his. Her heart cried out, 'It's unfair! To suffer for those who will never, ever understand the weight of what he does for people who do not even care. Why him?!'

But, smart girl that she was, she already knew the answer. It was his burden, because he was Harry Potter, destined to lead, to help, to fight. It was his calling, his fate, his life, and sooner or later, be it his choice or not, the time will come when he will be called to battle, just as ranks of wizards and witches before him have been called, to protect the world which they all loved and lived in.

She knew that a lot of people envied him his destiny, for they would have all loved the glamour of being the one to save the world of Magick-wielders, but they would never know the price that destiny had collected from Harry Potter. As payment, something inside him had been killed. And whatever Hermione Granger told herself, there was only one truth.

Deep inside, she knew that there was no force in the Magical or Mortal World that was capable of repairing what had happened to her friend. For you see, dear readers, she had seen it, during that dark, evil moment when Harry Potter lost the last person he loved as family. She had seen the death… of his  Innocence.  

                                                ~*~

            'She's looking at me again, and she thinks she knows…' Harry Potter looked up at his friend, pausing for a moment in the verbal battle with which he was engaged with his friend Ron Weasley. "Something wrong, Hermione?"

            It flustered her for a moment, he saw, but she was as quick as ever to reply. "Nothing whatsoever, Harry. Why do you ask?"

            He raised one dark eyebrow at her and she flushed with uncertainty. It was something he had learned over the years, that silence and gestures could get the point across as clearly, if not better, than heated words. He needed no answer, however, for he knew what was bothering her. It haunted his thoughts and dreams, every single moment…

            The Dark Lord.

            "Oh, very well then, I'm thinking about 'it'." She finally relented.

            There was no question what 'it' it was, of course. The summer had gone by in a flurry of panicked news and furor. Everyday, news of more and more attacks trickled into the anxiously waiting ears of the public, no matter how hard the Ministry of Magic tried to stop it. Those people who had ridiculed him during the earlier years on how he was supposedly making up news about how Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, or You-Know-Who as he was more popularly known, was back, now sent him tons of panicked letters saying that they believed him now and would he please protect them because they thought they had seen him in their backyard or their kitchen or the neighboring house and so and so and so and that it was his duty to save them because he was the Boy Who Lived etc. etc. It was enough to make him sick, for now he could see how easy it was for them to change their beliefs so long as they could save themselves.

"What about 'it'?" He asked pleasantly, a smile curling his lips. In his peripheral vision, he could see Ron wrinkling his forehead at him in obvious confusion, probably wondering how he could bring himself to smile at a time as if they were discussing something light and simple.

"What could Dumbledore be doing about it? And the teachers? And the Order? Are they still alive?—" Hermione asked in a rush, her auburn hair seemingly becoming even more frizzed because of the rising tension.

"What can we do to help? Do they have plans? Are the giants in You-Know-Who's side now? Can we still make it?" Ron seconded, finally catching up to their conversation.

Harry looked at them a long time, before giving an indifferent shrug. "Well, at least now you know what it felt like to have a lot of questions and no one to answer them. You certainly put me through a lot of that last summer, didn't you?" He asked them, the pleasant tone never leaving his voice even as Hermione's eyes widened and Ron's face purpled in anger.

This time, it was Ron who spoke up. "We didn't give you answers because we couldn't! We weren't trying to leave you out! I thought—"

"Well, you thought wrong," Harry said quietly. "Regardless, I'm sorry to inform you, but I don't have any answers myself. Dumbledore seems to think that the less I know about the situation, the better, since Voldemort can stroll through my brain anytime I fall asleep," he said angrily. "That's why I haven't written to him all summer!" 

Hermione looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Well, I'm sure it's for the best, Harry."

Harry looked at her for a long moment, before finally turning to look outside the open window of the train compartment instead. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other in helplessness, finally conversing in whispers, glancing furtively at their silent companion once in a while. The lady selling wizarding food from a cart came by around noon, and even though both Gryffindor Prefects rose to buy refreshments, Harry stayed at his seat, his gaze never straying from the passing countryside.

It was late afternoon, almost nightfall, when they were only at least an hour from Hogsmeade Station, that something unexpected happened. The Hogwarts Express, the train that brought them to and fro from Platform 9 and ¾ to Hogwarts stopped suddenly, without warning. Ron, frowning in mild annoyance, (he had been thrown forwards at the train's sudden stop and had crashed to the floor) opened their compartment's door and stuck out his head to look outside. All down the lane, she could see other Hogwarts students looking out their compartments as well, while some people who had been in the hallways picked themselves up from where they had fallen on the floor.

A voice from behind him called, and Ron turned around to look at Parvati Patil's face, a fellow sixth-year Gryffindor. "Hey, Weasley, what happened? Why did we stop?"

"Yeah!" Seamus Finnigan, another sixth-year Gryffindor and his friend Dean Thomas said from their compartment two doors up from Hermione's. "We're still an hour at least from Hogwarts."

Hermione, who was still sitting, had taken out her wand from her bag. She was staring out the window as well, looking at blood-red sky streaked with the setting sun's golden rays. "I don't like this…" She made a move to stand up next to Ron, then spun around in horror when Harry, who up to that moment had remained silent, clutched his head and fell to his knees on the carpeted floor, beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

Even as Ron whirled around at the sound, even as she rushed to Harry's side, Hermione Granger knew in that instant… Something's horribly wrong…

                                                     ~*~

Something was horribly wrong. In his gut, he knew it. His blood thundered loudly in his ears and his head swayed with every movement he made. Harry Potter tried to stand up, one hand clutching weakly at the seat, the other pressed for leverage against the wall, but he quickly found out that he couldn't move. His legs felt rubbery and weak, and he couldn't feel anything at all. He could hear doors opening and closing, the sound of feet rushing from place to place, but all the sounds were muted, as if he had lost his senses. Suddenly, the window of the compartment shattered, and he could hear someone screaming…Hermione?…Hermione, is that you?…  He looked up, and was mystified for a second by the sight of the disappearing sun's rays striking the shards of glass for one beautiful moment, before the fragments of glass and splinters of wood were raining down all around him. One particularly large piece struck him near the eye. He brought up one hand, and the sight of his blood on his fingers came as no surprise… But there was no pain. No pain… only this numbed awareness that he so hated. And then he heard it… laughter… evil, evil laughter, growing stronger and stronger, louder… until all he could hear was that evil sound. It was taunting him, teasing him, and as it continued, his scar began throbbing painfully, unmercifully. Stop it. STOP IT! And then someone was shaking him violently, shouting HARRY! HARRY!

And then the pain came in full force, and with it came full awareness. Looking around, he could see that the window had indeed shattered, and there truly was blood, his own blood, on his fingers. He looked up and met the frightened eyes of the other Gryffindors, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, Longbottom, and the uncanny Ravenclaw Luna Lovegood. As he brought his gaze down to look at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking at him fearfully, e knew that he didn't have to say it, that they already knew.

"They're here."

Author's Note: Oookay… I think I spooked myself a little bit. Guess I'm just having dark thoughts right now, which is why the first chapter came out a little dark-ish. It was meant to be that way, though. I realize that I've made this whole chapter solely Harry Potter-esque, but don't worry, CCS will come, and they will come soon. WAHAHAHAHA! So anyways, if you ain't got anything better to do, (Which I'm sure is the case, seeing as how you're reading my pathetic fic) please spare a few moments in writing one measly review. Please, please, with a sundae and Syaoran-cherry on top? And Eriol and Tomoyo sprinkles? I'm getting kinda desperate here…