Don't own Harry Potter nor Naruto, just the odd fantasies that pop up in my head… like magic.
No beta or checking yet. I wanted to get this on the site to let it rest before I would get obsessed with writing it … seeing as I have an exam tomorrow. Yikes.
Attempt at a change of writing style... more mature (compared to MIBI) or something. I try...
Summary: Less afraid to die than to live forever, an haunted older Harry Potter took his first step towards the Veil in an attempt to get rid of Death's immortal curse and to figure out the lasting mystery of Sirius's death. Oddly enough, this next great adventure was not quite was Harry had speculated. At all.
Hollow Fire by Dreamyin
Prologue: First step
0 0 0
The space seemed lifeless – yet not.
It was certainly cold though. Bits of frost covered the rough upturned stones that had once formed, what one could assume, a steep hill in the center of the room.
It was quiet, with the exception of those nearly silent whispers that echoed within the large space and the occasional breezes of the wind.
If one were to strain their ears in an effort to find the source of the whispers, he or she would eventually - after a careful climb around the rough and upturned stone surface - end up at the source. In the center of the hollow room - on the nearly only intact surface of the floor - a grant hallow archway stood.
Its presence was mesmerizing.
At the same time, a feeling of melancholy lingered near the ancient relic, which seemed to originate from the questionable light, wispy and mysterious substance filling the large opening.
Every so often, another sound would join the soft melody of whispers and breezes.
Scrunch - Thu-dud.
Tiny bits of debris fell to the ground from the growing amount of cracks and lines that covered many walls of the room.
In the center of the high ceiling, different sizes of holes were starting to form between the cracks. A couple of larger ones in particular grew over time, allowing the cold winter wind to invade this ancient hidden place.
In time, the whole room froze. Sometimes, tiny flakes of snow would swirl down to eventually touch a surface. As the cold softened the formed ice would melt ever so slightly, before the cycle repeated itself.
Oddly enough, the arch remained spotless.
This odd feeling of haunted peace had remained for a few decades now. The last people that had entered the room had long since disappeared. Judging from the state of the room, it was easy to tell that they had battled – vigorously and venomously – before they had moved on to the next location of their continued fight.
But not all of them had been able to do so…
The evidence of the battle was still clearly present. The roughly upturned ground that had once formed a hill, blasted boulders, scorch marks – a particular large one near the currently-collapsed exit of the room seemed to have a humanoid shape within the shadows let behind – and traces of old and dried blood here and there. If one looked closely enough behind a particular rock, they would find the ashes and remains of one of the participants. A shriveled broken piece of wood lay not far away. At the other side of the room, hidden within a specific large crack in the stone, only a heap of clothes was left.
Should one pay even closer attention, one could find traces of old blood. Most obviously, an unmistakable dark surface trailed towards the old arch, accompanies by scratches here and there.
The person had struggled alright.
This haunted atmosphere had filled this room for many years- decades.
Then something changed.
The first sign was foreboding within the room – sparked by the increase of whispers. It nearly sounded as excitement.
The second sign was an increase of wind and water that started to drip into the room - drip… drip…- a storm approaching.
The peace and darkness was pierced by a flash of light, flames appeared near the collapsed entry of the room. It appeared mid-air and expended until the flames seemed to be soaked up by the darkness. Ice melted within a few feet diameter. Though small in comparison, the fiery and colorful figure brightened the room considerably.
A soft croon echoed in the room as the source's intelligent eyes took in its surroundings. It didn't take long for its eyes to fall upon the hallow portal. A small croon filled with lingering memories, compassion and sadness. Its emotion seemed tangible for the surroundings as the heavy atmosphere lightened ever so slightly.
The whispers seemed to moan in relief and neediness.
Scrunch - Thu-dud.
The soft sound of flapping wings added to the melody of the room as it circled the room a few times before it headed to the large structure in the center. The moment it touched its claws made contact with the stones on top, a pained sound escaped its owner. The variation of emotions in the room had been controllable before, but now – in contact with its source – it was overwhelming.
Drip… Drip… Drip-Drip-Drip.
The Phoenix cried.
It cried for them. For it.
It didn't notice the way that the tears fell down onto the archway of the Veil – and were absorbed.
It didn't notice that the whispers slowly quieted – replaced by what sounded like content sighs.
0 0 0
The dripping of the rain increased, until tiny steams of water formed small waterfalls down to the floor. The wind had picked up and echoed in the room – taking the few whispers left behind with it.
Done with its spontaneous mourning, Phoenix finally moved – its tears having slowed down considerably - and hopped down onto the ground in front of the Veil.
The moment its claw touched the ground – it transformed. Fire crackled in support as with a few wisps of fire, its body seemed to grow. Its claw morphed into a much larger, darker and solid boot, which was soon accompanied by a second next to it as the now-humanoid figure regained its balance.
It was a young man – though much older than he looked.
A wizard – maybe the last in London now.
Harry Potter - it had been his name for a long time.
Remaining tears still slid down the wizard's cheeks, one of which contained scars of a large burn that traveled down his neck and under the clothesline of the heavy cloak Harry wore. It was a reminder of the day that he had 'burned' for the first time. The day that he had suffered the most, until his last friend had saved him, with the cost of his own life.
It still haunted Harry, the memory of being unable to move, the screams of his opponent as its fire turned against him, the unbearable pain, the extreme envy he felt as the screams of his opponent eventually died out as he himself continued to burn – unable to burn but experiencing it all the same. It had only been his desperation and his magic to fight against the flames to prevent it from covering his whole body.
All the while, he remembered desperately clutching his burning wand, even though it shriveled until only the phoenix feather had been left.
Even now, the remains of the feather were burned into his hand – part of him so to speak.
The moment the phoenix feather had caught fire, its owner had miraculously appeared. No words had been spoken, but there had been no need and no time. Fawkes couldn't let him suffer any longer, especially when Death wouldn't allow him to die. Surely Harry would have come insane, unstable and dangerous. It would unbalance the scale. Too much darkness for the world. So Fawkes offered him enlightenment and they had burned together.
As it were, after many years of fruitless attempts, the wizard was finally able to accept his other form – his animagus so to speak.
Thankfully both had awoken from the ashes after the Fiendfyre had finally dimmed – its magic eventually exhausted.
Unfortunately, all of this had come with a huge offer from his last companion.
They wouldn't have much time together. They both knew it. Fawkes had grown faster than he had , but this was normal for older phoenixes he was told, and taught the wizard control.. Harry was glad that the phoenix had been able to feel the gratitude that he felt towards it – as he would never be able to put it into words.
The next time they burned together, only Harry had awoken.
Another companion lost, like so many before.
Harry didn't bother wiping the tears away.
The haunted green eyes regarded the veil in front of him with mixed emotions. Other memories brieftly resurfaced. He didn't have to turn his head to know about the scotch mark on the wall on his right. Or the bundle of clothes and the ashes hidden by the rocks. He refused to look at the crusted-blood next to him – the second person he lost to the veil. A choking noise escaped his throat as he tried to contain his emotions that lingered from his Phoenix form, before he pushed the memories to the back of his mind.
As human, everything dulled. His heart would feel so much heavier. Yet, his memories and thoughts would be clearer and more focused.
Currently they were focused on one thing.
The next great adventure.
Harry was sick of being unable to die. He was sick of having no purpose anymore. He was sick of not ageing. There were only few questions that interested him anymore. A certain curiosity born from desperation remained strong.
There was more to it. He could feel it. The magic went deeper than its surface. The phoenix had been sure of it as well.
Where had Sirius gone to? What had happened to him?
So he would enter. Find out. His next great adventure. Where hopefully… he would be able to pass on and join his family.
His haunted and hollow eyes sparkled with hope and determination. Less afraid to die than to live forever, the Master of Death took his first step towards the veil.
With glimmering tears, Harry stretched his right hand out towards the substance and listened to the whispers that seemed to encourage him. For the first time, he noticed a peaceful feeling seemed to settle in the room. Humming gently – like a calming croon – he stepped into the veil. The tears from his cheeks stuck onto the veil as he disappeared as sudden flames surrounded him.
The previous whispers suddenly burst out into sounds and sentences – excited, crying and thankful – as the tears and the spread out over the mysterious substance, intertwining with flames left behind, until everything was covered.
The ground shook briefly. Then a force of magic erupted as blue wisps were expelled from the Veil – flying in all directions with sounds of delight- and its odd substance was no more.
One wisp that hovered near the archway before it too shot up into the sky.
"Thanks Harry. Good luck."
The only thing left behind was empty archway and an echo of a content hiss, before this too disappeared.
0 0 0
It warned him and nearly made him want to turn around. Yet somehow, there was nothing to return to.
It was Magic. Yet not Magic. Something else, but yet… somehow familiar.
It burned, pushed him back, but even if he wanted to… there was no way back.
It burned, but not him. Fire was an old fear, it wouldn't hurt him now.
He didn't want to be in this twilight forever, so he pressed and he fought.
The fire didn't accept him, unaccustomed with this form of energy that he possessed.
Nor was it familiar with his form.
To become be able to intertwine with the energy, the odd fire, the… something -
Harry burned as well.
Before he knew what was happening, he was embraced and moved along. Faster and faster.
Accepted, he felt his burns being soothed, calmed and caressed. He was content.
Until suddenly the fire disappeared – it left him.
It was cold.
In a different dimension, subtly a heap of ashes burned brightly, transforming into hot and red ashes… before it cooled down again.
The ashes remained still.
0 0 0
With a large gasp, an old toad awoke. Its heartbeat drumming into his ears as its old eyes widened drastically.
Its normal sad dreams of the future had been interrupted by… something.
Never had the Toad Sage felt this before.
Its heartbeat sped up as the new visions that had interrupted his original dream flashed before his eyes once again. He had to take this chance. It seemed to be the only one they got.
It didn't take much time for the Elder to call for his family to move out.
"Bring the Hallow Fire. Be careful. We don't have much time."
They didn't question him.
The graveness and desperation in his eyes told them enough.
0 0 0
It took a while to travel to the location. It was nearly hidden within the mountains – even for them. The travel was difficult and a few of the fires that they had carried along with them had vanquished. As fewer were left, the mood became heavier. Eventually only one tiny flame flickered. They all surrounded it carefully, to protect it against the wind. It slowed them down considerably, but they didn't have any other choice. They could only hope that they would be on time. They hastened as soon as they approached the corner of Mount Myokobu that they had been pointed to.
Luckily, the tactic worked.
Now, they stood, circling the questionable grey heap of ashes in the middle of a clearing. While, odd, it didn't seem special at all.
"Burn the ashes."
A few of the younger toads suppressed their confusion – can ashes burn once more? – but followed the order nonetheless.
They carefully handled the last of their fire and put it on the ashes. Holding their breath, they watched as the fire touched the ashes, they heat up… yet no fire.
"It's not working!"
Luckily, one of the toads pointed to one of his companions.
As fast as possible – just as the heat was dimming – said toad spewed some oil at the heap. They groaned in anticipation, hoping that it hadn't exhausted the fire. Another toad took charge and carefully started waving with a fan that they had carried to protect the flames from the wind. The ashes glowed, encouraging a few others to carefully do the same. One toad used a random stick to try to get it to burn again – it didn't. Seconds went by as the anticipation ebbed away, replaced by disappointment.
Excitement quickly turned into dread as one of the toads cried out.
More cries sounded as fire roared and grew. Luckily, being toads, they jumped back far enough. Some though, barely managed to escape the fire. The shriveled fans evidence of how close they had been.
They watched in awe as the heap of ashes went ablaze. The flame grew in length and then…
It disappeared. The hot red ashes turned white and cooled.
Silence ensued. The toads regarded each other with questioning stares – What now?
"Did it work?"
"I- I don't know."
"The last fire…"
All eyes turned towards the heap of ashes as it moved. Cautiously , but too curious for their own good, the toads approached the ashes again. A few of the younger and inexperienced toads were shushed back. Once again movement caused the toads to tense.
It was unclear whether the sound came from one of the toads or from the creature itself as it finally surfaced from its hiding place. Silence followed. The two different species regarded each other carefully before the odd bird, let out a sound – something that sounded like a sneeze.
All wariness seemed to fall away with the sound. A few smiled.
"Hello little one." A larger female toad welcomed him.
Its head shifted to look at her with large dark eyes, before she got a soft trill and a croaked croon in response.
Slowly, the 'bird' wiggled around on the still warm ashes surrounding him and promptly fell down – alarming the animals surrounding it.
"It's asleep." The female toad remarked.
There was a sigh of relief, before one of the youngest toads bluntly voiced a question that was on everyone's mind.
"So now what?"
0 0 0
So, the toads from Naruto found him. Now, can you guess in which time period Harry ended up in? Ideas?