Disclaimer: I own the plot, I apologize if it's been done before.
The Harry Potter Series belongs to J.K. Rowling.
The Chronicles of Chrestomancibelong to Diana Wynne Jones.
AN: Hi! This is a crossover between Harry Potter The Chronicles of Chrestomanci by Diana Wynne Jones. I've only read the first volume of the series, so that's what this crossover is based on. I can't say anything for any of the following novels, but I definitely recommend Volume 1, it's fantastic! I realized a little while ago that the story could very easily be altered to tie into the Harry Potter fandom, so I decided to give it a try.... I'll probably talk more at the end (of this 'chapter'), but until then; Enjoy!
Harry Potter and the Chrestomanci
by Jess S
"There are thousands of worlds, all different from ours..."
Some are "full of people working magic -
Warlocks, witches," wizards,
"thaumaturges, sorcerers, fakirs, conjurors, hexers, magicians,
shamans, diviners and many more -
From the lowest certified witch right up to the most powerful enchanters.
Enchanters are strange as well as powerful.
There magic is different and stronger
And many of them have more than one life..."
"...The very strongest enchanter... has nine lives and is known as "the Chrestomanci".
He has a very strong personality as well as strong magic.
~A slightly altered version of Diana W. Jones'
It was a hot and humid on this summer day, even though the light of the sun had not pierce the dark clouds that spanned across the sky in several days. And this was also before the sun had technically even risen to start the day...
This fact didn't seem to register in the mind of the irate near-fifteen-year-old boy who sat on his bed in the smallest bedroom at number four Privet Drive. No, he seemed to be far too preoccupied with the letter that he held in his hand, and was currently glaring at with incredibly green eyes. Another letter, written on the same, yellowish parchment as they one he held, rested on the pillow beside him.
This boy was none other than Harry Potter, known to the Wizarding, and much of the Magical World, as the Boy-Who-Lived. He was glaring at a letter from one of his best friends, Ronald Weasley, the other letter was from his other best friend, Hermione Granger...
Both said essentially the same things, almost word for word, and following the same line of thought as every other letter they'd written to him this summer. No matter how much he pestered or hinted, he always got the same responses;
We can't say much about you-know-what, obviously...
We've been told not to say anything important in case our letters go astray...
We're quite busy, but I can't give you details here...
There's a fair amount going on, we'll tell you everything when we see you...
That about summed all of their letter's up, although they were often filled with multiple apologies and unexplained complaints (in Ron's case)... So Harry was, more or less, furious...
It was obvious that they knew at least a few things they weren't saying... probably on Dumbledore's orders... And he couldn't find anything any other way either... The hadn't been any strange occurrences in the Muggle news, from what he could tell, for his relatives never really let him listen... And there'd been absolutely nothing worth reading in the Daily Prophet! All it had was jokes about him and Dumbledore and their friends... constantly discrediting them....
Harry's attention suddenly brought back from his thoughts, as the letter he was holding burst into flames...
Startled, he dropped it... It was reduced to ashes long before it hit the floor...
He stared in surprise for several moments afterwards before blinking, as he realized what had undoubtedly happened. This realization caused him to groan.
There were times when a witch or wizard might lose control of their magic when they were extremely angry, frightened, or sad... It'd happened to him before. The most recent time being the summer before last, when his Uncle's sister, Marge, had come to visit. When she'd started insulting his parents, Harry had simply lost control of his magic, turning her into the equivalent of a human balloon that rose towards the ceiling as it slowly inflated.
That wasn't really what bothered him... the sight of the flaming letter had actually made him feel a little better... But he wasn't allowed to do magic away from school, because he was underage...
And while it had been accidental, the Minister would certainly love the chance to expel him from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Which was undoubtedly the reason for the screech owl that swept in through his window a moment later, a rather official looking envelope in its talons.
Harry quickly caught the letter as the owl swept over head before sweeping back around and perching on the end of his bed. His heart pounding, the Wizarding teen quickly tore the envelope open and retrieved the letter it contained. He quickly read through the letter, his insides getting colder and colder with each word.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that an ignition charm was performed at your place of residence at four minutes to five this morning.
You know that underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and as you have already received an official warning for a previous offense, this has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Ministry officials will be at your place of residency shortly to destroy your wand. Any further offenses may result in severe repercussions, such as a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic.
Hoping you are well,
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
Harry read through the letter several times after reading it the first, but it remained the same. Inside his head, all was icy and numb... he didn't notice the air around quickly cooling to match his mood, or the fact that the ominous clouds, which hadn't released a single drop of rain since they moved in three days before, suddenly began to pour...
He had been expelled from Hogwarts... That was the only thing that his mind could grasp... everything else was fleeting and vague. He couldn't go home come September...
Well... he most certainly couldn't stay here!
And that thought brought him back to full conscious thought as he began to quickly pack all of his belongings into his trunk...
After barely a moment's hesitation, Harry waved his wand at Hedwig's currently empty cage, murmuring, "Minuere," and causing it to shrink, before he threw it into the trunk. After removing one of his semi-Wizarding outfits and putting it on, he used the same charm to shrink the trunk, and quickly pocketed it. He slipped his wand into his pocket. His outfit was Wizarding because, one, he'd bought it in Diagon Alley, and two, it was a little too formal in appearance for ordinary Muggle attire...
With a quick glance around the small bedroom, to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything, he sighed. "She can find me wherever I go... " He reminded himself, remembering the time he'd run off before third year, and Hedwig had reached the Leaky Cauldron before he had.
Harry shook his head before quickly turning towards the door.
~ * ~
As the Dursleys hadn't yet awaken when he'd left, Harry didn't bother trying to say goodbye leaving a short, none-telling note, before exiting the house. Now he found himself making his way down Privet Drive in the early morning light. The sun had probably just risen, but you couldn't really tell, mainly because the clouds blocked all the light.
It didn't really matter to him though. All it meant was he'd be harder to follow; no witnesses. He wasn't however entirely sure that assumption was true, so he did glance around several times along the way. He did so again as he vaulted the locked park gate and set off across the parched grass, making his way to the swing set. Of course, it couldn't really be called a 'set', as Dudley and his gang had broken all but one of the swings. It was that swing that he now sank down onto, wrapping his right arm around the chain as he glanced around again. The park was as empty as the surrounding streets...
So why did he feel like he was being watched?
'Great,' Harry shook his head in disgust, 'Now I'm really getting paranoid... at least the media can't put any 'creative' spin on that... they around thought I was paranoid before... although I'm not sure that's the right term....'
"You are not paranoid...." a rich, baritone came from behind him.
Startled, Harry quickly jumped up and spun around.
There stood a tall man with dark, smooth hair and garments to rival a Malfoy for fashion. The man did not seem the least bit bothered by the fact that he looked extraordinarily out of place in the vandalized Muggle park, with his shiny boors placed firmly on the dehydrated ground. Nor did he seem the least bit bothered by the temperature...
"Who are you?" Harry demanded, after a moment's pause.
The man offered a pleasant smile, "I highly doubt someone your age will recognize my name, face, or title, but in answer to your question; I am Christopher Chant, the Chrestomanci."
Harry blinked, "The what?"
The older wizard's - for he had to be a wizard, his magical aura, which Harry had only began able to notice sometime within the past year, rivaled Dumbledore's - smile did not fade. "As I said, you probably wouldn't have heard of me.... My position is known only to a select few within the Wizarding community."
The Boy-Who-Lived stiffened, "Are you a Ministry official?" he demanded, cursing himself. He shouldn't have thought of that sooner! Who else but a highly ranked Ministry official - or a Death Eater, perhaps, if Lucius Malfoy was any example - would be so regally dressed on a daily basis?
"Not exactly," Mr. Chant replied with an amused glint in his dark gaze. "I work with the Ministry, yes, but I do not work for the Ministry of Magic..."
Harry shook his head; that didn't make any sense! "I'm sorry, sir," he shook his head, "but I don't understand... Why are you here?"
"I am the Chrestomanci." Mr. Chant replied, his demeanor suddenly becoming much more serious. "And I've been meaning to become acquainted with you, Harry Potter, for quite some time."
"Why?" Harry demanded, his hand going down into his pocket to wrap around his wand.
"You have no reason to be alarmed, Harry." Chant replied, "And, actually, I may be able to help you..."
"I have a great deal of influence within the Ministry..."
Harry's heart leapt, "You could stop them from expelling me and breaking my wand?" he asked, his magnificently green eyes shining with hope, pleading...
"Oh, easily..." Chant nodded, "If you wish..."
Harry frowned, why wouldn't he want to go back to Hogwarts? "Wait... why would you want to help me?"
Chant looked at him for a moment, his dark gaze searching, before amusement shone through. "Not much gets by you..." he smiled, "That's good...." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I have a preposition for you..." he held up his hand to forestall any protests. "You don't have to agree to anything yet, but if you're willing to hear me out, I give you my word that you will be able to return to Hogwarts."
Harry thought about it a moment, and then nodded.
The older wizard smiled. "Thank you. Now," he glanced around, "this isn't exactly the best place for this, so would you mind coming to my estate?" he requested, holding out his hand.
After a moment's hesitation, Harry nodded, and took the proffered hand.
There was no loud, echoing crack that accompanied their sudden disappearance. Only silence, which continued to reign throughout the empty park for quite some time afterward...
~ * ~
'The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black' located on number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London wasn't really the type place you would expect to find a gathering of some of the finest witches and wizards of the age, who were dedicated to the preservation of the Wizarding World. It's battered front door, grimy windows and dirty walls would lead most people to believe it to be quite deserted.
It was also currently home to (almost) the entire Weasley family and Hermione Granger. While several many members of the Order did occasionally spend the night, the Weasley, Hermione, and Sirius Black; the house's owner, were the only regular occupants. It was a rather rare occasion that one might find the entire Order present... And that occasion was now, the second full meeting since this group's second formation in session, located in the Black dining room.
"Well... Has anything worth telling happened lately?" Nymphadora Tonks, one of the youngest members of the Order, who had always preferred to be known by her surname only, inquired, her pale, heart-shaped face curious.
Headmaster Dumbledore smiled, shaking his head slightly, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement at the young witch's bluntness. "Order, order." He called, eyeing the other members who were crowded into the room. "Now, in answer to Nymphadora's-"
"Tonks!" she insisted, not looking the least bit perturbed as interrupting the ancient wizard, who continued as if she hadn't said anything.
"-question... I believe there has been very little as of late."
Emmeline Vance complained, an elegant lady in her late fifties, nodded drawing her deep green shawl back up around her shoulders. "There has been nothing in my area." She agreed, referring to the high-management level that she worked at within the Ministry, supervising the government along side the Minister. "Aside from more talk of 'Fudge's brilliant campaign'..." She scoffed, this time referring to the heavy pressure Fudge had been 'secretly' placing on the Daily Prophet to turn it into a complete 'rumor mill' to discredit Dumbledore, Hogwarts... and Harry Potter.
Professor McGonagall's beady eyes narrowed in agreement, and she almost nodded, but not quite.
"Same in my department," Kingsley Shacklebolt agreed. The tall, black wizard, clothed in flawless Ministry robes was a semi-high ranking member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Nothing but gossip, and Fudge's people constantly insisting that nothing is wrong... There has been a slight increase in Dark activity as of late, but it's a very small one..." He sighed, "You'd only see it if you were looking for it."
"Has Voldemort said anything to you, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired of his Potions Master.
"Not at all," Severus Snape, Potions Professor at Hogwarts and Death Eater Spy, sighed. "He doesn't really discussed his plans with any of us... He doesn't really trust us. Although, he has expressed interest in taking Azkaban prison and freeing his 'loyal followers'..."
"Oh dear," Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts Transfiguration Professor and Deputy Headmistress shook her head at her colleague's statement. "That isn't good..." she looked at the Headmaster, "The Dementors wouldn't put up much of a fight..."
"And that's if they put up any..." Alastor, or 'Mad-Eye' Moody put in. "Which they aren't likely to."
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, "Which is why-"
Loud pounding on the door interrupted him. Everyone turned toward it, several half-drawing their wands before realizing what it was.
After a moment Mrs. Weasley sighed, rising to her feet and crossing the room. "I'll go see what it is." She offered, smiling apologetically at the Headmaster.
"Thank you, Molly." Dumbledore nodded.
Then Mrs. Weasley closed the door behind her, but the room remained silent, as everyone waited to see what the 'children' had thought to be important enough to risk Molly Weasley's temper. And this was after she'd already lectured them on 'not interrupting the adults' and they were 'too young' and 'not part of the Order' (because they were too young)...
They were more than a little disturbed when she returned, her red-hair making her pale face seem almost unnatural.
"Molly?" Mr. Weasley asked, rising from his seat to help her to hers. "What is it?"
Silently, she handed him a letter, which was currently folded in half, though the seal had already been broken. It was clearly either a Ministry notice or a single edition of the Daily Prophet, if the fine quality of the parchment and the elegant script were any clue.
Mr. Weasley frowned, but nonetheless waved his wand, murmuring "Tralatum," to make several copies of the document. Each of the copies quickly flew over to each person in the room. There were more than a few gasps from around the room as the copies were unfolded.
Harry Potter - Missing or on the Run?
It was at four minutes to five this morning that Mafalda Hopkirk received intelligence that an ignition charm was performed at Harry Potter's place of residence. As Mr. Potter had already received an official warning for a previous offense, Ms. Hopkirk of the Improper Use of Magic followed Ministry guidelines and expelled the teenager from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
However, when the Ministry officials sent to destroy your wand arrived at his place of residence, they found that the boy not there. His relatives had no idea as to his whereabouts, and were quite insistent that he had not left his room since going up to it after supper the night before. Nonetheless, Mr. Potter was not in that room, nor anywhere in the walking vicinity of his relatives home. The Floo network does not work in the area of his residence, for his own protection, and numerous wards insure that Apparating is quite impossible. Scanning done by a team of Unspeakables proved that no form of transportation passed through the area since twenty-three minutes past ten the night before. And no one had been seen in the area since everyone turned in for the night in the quiet neighborhood.
Was this simply an impossibly well carried out escape by a young wizard on the run, breaking rules as he has so many times before... Or was there a reason for the semi-destructive charm cast early that morning. Was it cast in self-defense?
This reporter wonders just as you and all of the Ministry officials involved do. Could it be possible that Harry Potter, who we all praised for fourteen years as the Boy-Who-Lived and brought about the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was actually telling the truth after the tragic end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament a few short weeks past. Truly, we pray this is not so... But can we afford to doubt, when our young hero may be in the Dark Lord's hands even as I write this article and you read it?
It is with deep regret that this reporter must confess that she will undoubtedly not be permitted to follow up on this story, for this single edition she has issued illegally by that standards set by the Daily Prophet Editors. The Editors agreed some weeks before now to not print "any of Albus Dumbledore's rumors" and nothing that might suggest He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, on the command of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Nonetheless, this reporter knew that this had to be heard, so she overrode the wards placed around the press in order to do so and will undoubtedly be facing charges at a fast approaching date.
Good luck to all, especially to our dear Harry Potter, who this paper has wrong considerably in the past several weeks.
~ Crystal Candida
(Former) Daily Prophet Correspondent
~ * ~
Harry looked around, more than a little surprised when they appeared in what seemed to be the lavatory of a train station.
"Follow me, Harry," Mr. Chant instructed, turning on his heel and leading the way out of the bathroom and into the crowded train station. The crowd didn't seem to bother him in the least, as everyone made way for the finely clad, and friendly, but rather majestic man with an magical aura that Harry could still only compare to Dumbledore's... but something made him think that this man could very well be stronger... but, no... Surely someone would have mentioned something like that!
After a few minutes of walking, the pair reached and crossed the main entrance hall.
Harry was more than a little surprised when his companion then led him to the long, black limousine that was parked directly in front of the main entrance. Nonetheless, he followed.
When they neared the car, the front door opened, as the chauffeur stepped out and hurried to open the back door for them.
Chant nodded to him, "Thank you, Thomas."
"My Lord, Chrestomanci," the young man with pale brown hair and hazel eyes replied with a flawless bow. After the older man had entered the car, the chauffeur then offered the clearly bewilder Harry a half-smile-half-grin that the young wizard found oddly reassuring.
Struggling to return the smile, Harry slid into the high-class vehicle and turned his attention its owner.
"All will be explained shortly, Harry," Christopher Chant offered with smile. "My estate isn't far. Now, would you mind telling me why exactly you have been expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"
Harry frowned, not liking be reminded of the fact. "I... I lost control of my magic..." he replied slowly.
"We aren't allowed to do magic outside of school until we graduate," Harry replied, "Because of 'the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery'..."
"Hmm... yes, there is that..." Chant nodded. "But... you said you 'lost control' of your magic. Now, did you cast a spell, or did you lose control of your emotions thereby resulting in a magical reaction?"
"I... I lost control..." the Boy-Who-Lived replied after a moments thought, "I was angry... after reading some letters from my friends..."
"Ah... I see... well, in that case," Chant raised an eyebrow, "There is no reason you shouldn't be able to return to school, not in the case of the decree, any how. Everyone makes mistakes, granted, it's rare that someone is still capable of losing control so severely after four years of magical schooling, but it does happen... So why have you been expelled?"
Harry frowned, and replied only after a few moments thought, "Because Fudge doesn't like me..." he sighed.
"He thinks I'm crazy... and Professor Dumbledore, too... because he doesn't want to believe that Voldemort is back."
"Ah yes," Chant nodded, "Voldemort's resurrection does put a different spin on things, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded in agreement. And then, he frowned, "Wait... How do-"
"Ah, we're almost there," Chant nodded to the window. "You should be able to see the estate from here, if you wish."
Still frowning, but curious nonetheless, the Boy-Who-Lived turned toward the window, and gasped as he saw the castle they were approaching. And it certainly was a castle, easily comparable to Hogwarts itself. Gray and turreted, the castle sat atop a respectable 'hill'.
He could see many magnificent trees surrounding it; dark, layered cedars and gigantic elms that stretched toward the sky.
The large, flawless lawn that surrounded it was dotted with many flowers. And that was only what he could see from a distance, not including what the wall blocked.
As they neared the gates the wall was basically all he could see: tall and ominous, made of dark gray stone. The large gates that barred entrance were made of all black metal, with the exception of the large and elegant golden 'C' that graced the upper middle.
Once the gates opened and they passed through, Harry could see a long, tree-line avenue that led up the main entrance of the castle.
Harry got a little nervous as they neared this magnificent entranceway, which would undoubtedly be answered by a butler and maybe footmen as well, if his imagination were any guess.
But they did not stop at this entranceway, much to Harry's relief, but instead continued on down the gray-stone driveway and turned off onto another, partially hidden, and smaller drive. This driveway continued down a short distance until it reached a turnaround. The chauffeur went around halfway, before stopping and getting out to open the door again, to let them out at this smaller entranceway.
"I hope you don't mind," Chant offered as Harry made his way out of the limousine behind him. He nodded to the chaffer, "Thank you, Thomas."
"My Lord," Thomas bowed formally again, before returning to the drivers seat of the limousine and driving away.
"I prefer to go in this way," Chant continued to Harry, nodding to the smaller, but still elegant entryway. "I find the main entrance... a little daunting at times..."
Harry shrugged, "I don't mind." Actually, he was a lot more comfortable going in this way. He thought this door looked more homey. He followed the older man inside, into the entrance hall on the other side.
Now, Harry was very happy they'd come in this way... If this was the lower entrance hall, he could only imagine what the main one was like!
The superlatively polished wood floor glimmer in the early morning light, covered partially by magnificent Persian carpets of the finest standard, with large crystal vases of exquisitely arranged bouquets decorated the walls.
The young wizard's attention, however, was drawn to the (imposing) lady, whose midnight-black hair was piled atop her head, stood by the side of a large doorway that probably led the hallway. She swept a impeccable curtsy as they neared, drawing her dark purple skirts out slightly as the dark-black robes flowed out behind her. "My Lord Chrestomanci," she murmured.
"This is Miss Bessemer, my housekeeper." Mr. Chant introduced. "Maud, this is Harry Potter."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter," the regal housekeeper offered him a slight curtsy as well. "And welcome to Chrestomanci Castle."
Harry bowed in return, not really wanting to speak, as he wasn't sure he'd be able to.
"Follow me, please, Harry."
Obediently, Harry followed Mr. Chant through the archway, up some stairs and into the corridor.
~ * ~
An aphonic silence hung over the room. It wasn't until the Headmaster decided to speak that that silence was broken.
"It would seem," Dumbledore murmured, his quiet words carrying in the small, noiseless room. "That we owe Miss Candida a great deal of gratitude."
"And an invitation to join the Order," Professor McGonagall nodded. "What she did was very brave."
The Hogwarts Headmaster nodded, "Yes..." he agreed, "It was indeed. We may never be able to repay her, if this story is as effective as I predict it to be..."
"It should be very effective," Shacklebolt offered. "Candida was highly respected, as reporters go..."
"So she may have now accomplished what we have been trying to do these many weeks." Madam Vance nodded, shaking her head.
"Indeed, Emmeline," Dumbledore nodded, "indeed..."
"Voldemort isn't going to like this..." Remus Lupin offered, his extremely pale blue eyes considerate.
"No, he will not." Snape agreed, not appearing to pay any mind to the fact that he was agreeing with the man he'd had a hand in running out of Hogwarts only a little over a year before. "He will undoubtedly be severely displeased, by both aspects of the story."
"Both... what do you mean, Professor?" Tonks inquired, after a moment's silence.
"Well, as it appears all of you have forgotten," Snape replied, "The article will undoubtedly alert the magical community, but that wasn't what it was about."
Everyone stared at him for a moment, clearly bewildered. They then looked back at the article, and upon rereading the title, remembered.
"Oh, Merlin!" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "Harry!"
~ * ~
As he followed Christopher Chant down the corridor in Chrestomanci Castle, Harry decided that he had never seen anything so luxurious in his life. A soft, green carpet; like grass in the dewy morning, rested on wooden floor that was polished so finely that it seemed to reflect the carpet and the clean why walls, along with the pictures that hung on those walls. They were clearly Wizarding paintings, as their subjects moved, just like in all of the other Wizarding paintings and photos Harry had seen to date.
Chant led the way into a large, airy room with one wall that one might think was entirely glass, because of the many windows along it, which offered a spectacular view of a lovely lake that appeared to be part of the estate. The table was positioned in the middle of the room took up most of the room, and there were at least sixty well-cushioned chairs around it.
Harry took the seat his host gestured to, and a moment later a large variety of breakfast foods appeared on the table.
One plate bore many stacks of pancakes, while another bore waffles, several others bore eggs prepared in different ways, others bore fruit while others bore bacon and different types of sausage. Syrup and butter were there, as well as jam and marmalade for the toast.
Harry didn't hesitate because of the sudden appearance, he was relatively used to that. He had, after all, been eating meals at Hogwarts while attending the last four years. He simply wasn't sure what to do in this situation... Chant, however he wished to be seen, was clearly a powerful, important person, and not someone Harry wanted to offend.
"Help yourself," Chant offered, seeing Harry's hesitation.
After a few more moments, Harry took a stack of pancakes and two pieces of toast. He didn't say anything as he poured syrup onto the pancakes, watching as 'Lord Chant' prepared his own meal.
"Now," Chant began, after several minutes of silence. "You must be wondering why I brought you here."
"The answer would be simple, if you knew who I was, but you don't. So I suppose a bit of a history lesson is required..." Chant sighed, thinking for a moment, before continuing. "Do you believe in the existence of alternate dimensions, Harry? Parallel universes?"
The teenager frowned. He'd never really though about it... Well, magic existed, so it wasn't too difficult to believe in parallel universes. So, he nodded.
"Good," Chant nodded. "What do you believe keeps these dimensions separate?"
Harry thought a moment, then replied. "Some type of barrier, I suppose..."
Again, his host nodded, "Yes... good, good... Now, suppose these barriers were, essentially, magic. It would be possible for anyone capable of controlling magic to cross them, yes?"
After receiving another nod, accompanied by a slight frown, Chant continued.
"So what keeps them from doing so?"
"The barriers are too strong?" Harry guessed.
Chant smiled, "Well, there is that... but the barriers are only so strong. Therefore, if someone, or someones were strong enough, they should be able to cross the barriers."
Harry frowned, but nodded in agreement.
"So what prevents that from happening?"
"Well... You'd have to know how, and not many people know that there are other worlds at all, let only how to cross the barriers that separate them..."
"Yes." Chant agreed, "But someone's bound to find out sooner or later... What then?"
Harry took another bite of his syrup-soaked-pancakes, chewed it, and swallowed it, before replying. "There must be something, someone, or several someone's that keep that from happening.... A guardian..."
After several moments of silence, Chant nodded, and smiled. "The Chrestomanci."
Harry blinked, "What?"
"There are thousands of worlds, all different from ours," Chant began, his voice strong, and confident, ringing with truth. "Some are full of people working magic; wizards, witches, warlocks, thaumaturges, sorcerers, fakirs, conjurors, shamans, diviners and whatnot. And, of course: enchanters." Chant raised his hand when Harry would have commented. "Enchanters are both strange, and powerful. Gifted with magic that is different and stronger than others. Many of them," he continued, "have more than one life..."
Here, Harry blinked, but stopped himself from commenting, as he wanted to hear more.
"The very strongest type of enchanter has at least nine lives and is known as 'the Chrestomanci'. They have a very strong personality as well as very strong magic, which they agree to use to guard the barriers and offer what protection and guidance they can, to the worlds that need them." Seeing Harry's searching look the Chrestomanci nodded. "Yes, Harry. I am the current Chrestomanci.... Which is why I sought you out..."
End of Prologue.
Minuere - to make smaller/lessen
Tralatum - to copy
Candida - honest, with the suggestion of beauty...."Of time or fortune"
AN: Well, that's it for the Prologue! What'd you think so far? Great, good, ok, bad, really bad? Tell me! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! The more REVIEW's I get the sooner I'll update (of course, that's if the REVIEW's are encouraging...) Anyway, I'll try to update soon! Thanks for reading!
~ Jess S