Harry Potter and the Legend of the Twelve
Lewis M. Brooks, III
19 years after Voldemort's defeat, Hermione is given a 1300-year-old memory that will lead Harry and his friends down a path down he thought ended long ago.
As Albus and Rose head off to their first year at Hogwarts, they have no idea what awaits them. Their parents have a secret, and Albus, Rose, and James are about to find out what that is. A chance meeting on the train with an orphaned witch from California will change Albus's life forever, while back in London, in a seldom-used room in the Department of Mysteries, someone from Harry's past has returned to the world of the living.
Are Harry, his friends, and their children The Twelve prophesized by Merlin who will have to face the worst evil ever known to save the world? Could an ancient prophecy mean that the Dark Lord will rise again? Is eleven-year-old Albus really falling in love? Why has an old friend returned from beyond the grave? Can Harry save Albus from the fate that was nearly his own? Harry Potter thought his destiny was fulfilled and behind him. He was wrong.
This is a sequel to "Chapter 37, Picking up the Pieces," which is my take on the unwritten 37th Chapter of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows". I would recommend reading that before reading this, as there are quite a few references to that story.
This story is meant as the eighth Harry Potter story, picking up where the Deathly Hallows Epilogue left off, and should, unless I made a mistake, follow canon, though some canon has come out since I began the story that does not fit into my story. This is the first of two stories.
This is my final revision of this story (I hope). I would like to thank my Betas, XxXV1kk1XxX on , and Rachel, PenguinsWillReignSupreme on the forums, for all their hard work.
Prologue – Beyond the Veil, Part I
Somewhere on another plane of existence, beyond the world of the living, beyond the veil of death, a meeting was taking place. A circular wooden table sat surrounded by darkness. It was bathed in light from no apparent source. Six chairs were placed around the table, five of them occupied by two women and three men, all of them sitting in silent contemplation. The sixth chair awaited the arrival of another.
One of the women at the table had hair of red and bright emerald eyes. She clung to the arm of the man to her left, his hair raven black and quite messy. He wore thick glasses.
To his left sat another man, his hair black and cut short, unlike the way he had worn it later in his life. His eyes were grey, and he possessed the haughty good looks common to his family.
To his left sat another man. His hair light brown, and the look of fatigue and exhaustion he so often wore in life was gone. Gripping his left arm sat a young woman with dark twinkling eyes, and bright pink hair.
"Is he ever going to arrive?" asked the man with short black hair. The tone of his voice betrayed his anxiety and impatience.
"He wouldn't have called us here if it wasn't important," said the redheaded woman. "Try to relax. We'll know what's happening soon enough."
The man in glasses shifted nervously in his seat. "Could the rumors be true?" he asked. "I mean, after all this time…"
"They are most certainly true," said a voice from the darkness.
All of them seated at the table looked, as an older man, tall, with a flowing white beard and bright blue eyes stepped out of the darkness. He wore half moon spectacles, which sat slightly askew on his crooked nose. Upon his shoulder was perched a large bird with scarlet and gold feathers. He adjusted his spectacles and sat in the vacant chair, slowly surveying his companions.
"My friends," said the newcomer, "it is wonderful to see you. I only wish that…it were under better circumstances." His face, on which so often a smile was etched, was dark and expressionless.
"The rumors are true then?" asked the man with short black hair, his eyes flashing. "What does this mean? Will he return? Is there any way to stop him? He can't be allowed to come back. Hasn't my godson been through too much already, more than anyone could expect of him?" He slammed his fist down onto the table and stared at the newcomer, his eyes demanding an answer.
"Patience," said the man with the light brown hair.
"Easy for you to say," sniped the man with short black hair. "You're not likely to suddenly blink out of this existence and back to world of the living, to go through it again…to watch him go through it again. I would really like to know if that's going to happen."
"So you're saying you don't want to go back," said the man with short brown hair softly.
"I didn't say that," snapped the man with short black hair. "You know I would do anything for him. I would do anything to spare him from it."
"We know," said the man in glasses, as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We know."
"Yes, as I said, the rumors are true," said the newcomer to the group gravely. "He will return. I'm afraid there is nothing we can do to stop him. As before, the burden will fall on Harry and those closest to him." A tear rolled down his cheek. "If there were anything I could do, I would."
"How can this be?" asked the red haired woman, as she reached out and took the newcomer's hand. "He has been through so much already, can't he be allowed to be happy? Is he doomed to live like this for the rest of his life?"
"The universe works in mysterious ways," replied the newcomer sadly. "Good and evil cannot exist without the other, and I fear his trials have only just begun."
"When is this to happen?" asked the man with short black hair, a look of determined resignation upon his face.
"Time, as you know, has no meaning for us anymore," said the newcomer. "It will happen as soon as you are ready for it to happen. In the living world, it will happen when it should, many years from now, possibly, or perhaps many years ago. There is no way to know. I wish I knew more about what was to happen."
The man with short black hair nodded. "Will I remember this?" he asked. "Will I remember the world beyond the veil of death?"
"No, you will not remember. Any knowledge of life beyond the veil of death will be lost to you until you return someday," said the newcomer. "You may remember bits and pieces, but it will be as if remembering a dream you can't quite recall. Perhaps a few important things may linger. I can help with that."
"Then I'd better go," said the man with short black hair, standing from the table. The others around the table stood as well, and the table and chairs vanished, leaving them standing in the sourceless light.
The man with short black hair walked up to the newcomer, and extended a hand to him. The newcomer grabbed his hand with both of his.
"Good luck, my friend, we are not supposed to interfere in the world of the living, and so, I am afraid you are on your own," said the newcomer.
"Not supposed to?" said the man with short black hair questioningly, a slightly mischievous smile spreading across his face. "If there were ever a time not to follow the rules…"
"You never know," smiled the newcomer. "Please tell him something for me when the time is right. I think I can make you remember it." Dumbledore waved his hand wordlessly in front of the man. The newcomer's chair reappeared and he leaned on the back of it for support.
"Are you all right?" asked the red haired woman.
"Fine, fine," said the newcomer. "Even with my considerable magic in life, I have little earthly magic left to me, and it takes considerable effort to use it. After that, well, it would take a great feat for me to accomplish anything in the living world…though nothing is impossible."
"What should I tell him?" asked the man with short black hair.
"Please tell him…I didn't know," said the newcomer, sadly. "If I had known, I would have warned him. Tell him…I'm sorry. When it comes time to tell him, you will know."
The man with short black hair turned to the pink haired woman, who put her arms around his neck and hugged him, whispering in his ear, "Be safe cousin, and if you can, please tell my son his parents love him more than anything."
"Of course I will," he replied with a smile, "I expect he's been told that on numerous occasions, but I will deliver the message."
Turning to the red haired woman, she also put her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "Tell my baby I love him, and please take care of him," she whispered in his ear.
"He's not a baby anymore, but you have my word, as you have since the day he was born. So long as I am able, no harm will come to him or anyone he cares about," said the man with short black hair. A sad smile crept across his face. "I only wish I could have been there more for him before, I feel as though I failed him then…as I failed you."
The red haired woman looked into his eyes. "You could have done no more than you did, you lost your life to protect him once, and now you will return to help him again," she said. "I can never thank you enough for that. As for failing us, we've had that discussion. We shouldn't need to have it again."
The man with short black hair nodded with a sad smile and turned toward the other two men. "I guess this is goodbye again," he said, his smile failing him.
"We'll be together again," said the man with light brown hair. The three shared an embrace as only best friends can.
"Tell him I love him," said the man with glasses, "and that I couldn't be prouder of him. Good luck, Padfoot."