Harry Potter and the Star of Adara

Harry Potter and the Star of Adara

Chapter 1- The Forgotten Temple

Shadows danced in the flickering glow of the torches, all held high in their wooden brackets. The rugged sandstone walls of the tunnel arched overhead and a strange, bone-chilling wind whistled distantly as a dark, cloaked figure swept through the gloomy blackness.

Faster and faster the figure walked, until, quite suddenly, it stopped as if by an invisible wall. It spun around to find a flash of gold sprinting past. The figure shielded it's eyes against the glare. No sooner had it done this however, than the blur of gold was gone. Instead, it had been replaced by a young girl with shoulder length, golden hair, and piercing green eyes. She was dressed in black, which gave the impression that she was nothing but a head and a floating pair of arms. She was barefoot, but seemed not to notice the cold stone floor.

"You shall not be going any further," the girl said firmly. She held out her arms, producing a slender wooden staff, crowned with a magnificent orange flame, that illuminated the tunnel once more. The hooded figure chuckled dryly, and finally spoke, in a croaky, feminine voice.

"You think you can stop me with that puny toy? Try your luck, but I don't think you'll get very far," she sneered.

The girl's calm features slowly changed to an expression of utter hatred. The flame on the top of her staff suddenly exploded to about three times its original size, hot and raging, as if reflecting it's bearer's anguish.

"You will pay for your impudence!" she cried, "For I am Aila, eternal protector and guardian of the Star!"

With these words, Aila lunged forwards, attacking the figure with the roaring flame. At the same time, a flash of electric blue light flashed through the tunnel, and screams of pain echoed through the cavernous depths of the temple.

**~~**~~**

It was a chilly morning in Little Whinging, in the perfectly normal street of Privet Drive. Behind the doors of number 4 however, yet again, something strange was about to begin.

Harry Potter shot bolt upright in his bed, breathing shallow, eyes wide open. He slid his quivering hand over his forehead, tracing a finger over his throbbing, lightning-bolt scar. Harry felt blindly around for his glasses, and once found, he put them on. His eyes searched frantically around his dark room for some sign of anything strange. He had had the most bizarre dream. A cloaked figure rushing through darkness, a huge, warming flame, a glint of gold, a flash of blue light, screams, and a deep, but unmistakably feminine laugh which was soon accompanied by a cold, cruel, high-pitched cackle-one that he had heard many times before.

Harry was snapped back into reality by a tapping on his window-pane. It was his snowy owl and faithful messenger, Hedwig, who looked like she was weighed down by many packages. Harry sped over to the window and flung it open. Hedwig fluttered in, and landed with a soft thud on his bed. Harry rushed over to her and fell to his knees beside the bed, frantically ripping the bits of parchment from Hedwig's leg. Over the summer, he had written to his godfather and escaped Azkaban convict, Sirius Black, and his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Harry opened the first piece of parchment-a note from Sirius,

Dear Harry,

Hope you're well and keeping busy. Keep me informed on anything unusual

Sirius

Harry smirked to himself. Just like Sirius to keep his notes short and sweet. Of course, he had to, being constantly on the run. Harry shook his head sadly and ripped opened the next letter, a message from Ron. His spirits lifted instantly as he read:

Dear Harry,

How are you? I hope you've been coping with the Dursleys alright. Sorry I haven't written in a while, but I've been tied up with trying to train Pig. He's being right pain in the... oh yeah, mum says that it's alright if you come and stay with us for the rest of the summer. Hermione's already here, and she's keeping Ginny company!

Owl me back soon,

Ron

Harry's heart leapt with joy at the idea of going back to the Burrow. It was by far his most favourite place to be. He still had one more message to read, and it was from Hermione. For some reason, Harry's heart gave a funny jolt in his chest as he read it:

Dear Harry,

Hope you're having a nice summer (well, a nice as possible with those Dursleys around), I've spent most of the holidays with Viktor and revising for those OWL's that we're taking this year. I do hope that I've done enough though because I've heard that they're really challenging. Bulgaria was lovely but I don't think I'll be going back any time soon, Viktor and I have decided to keep in touch as friends which, to be perfectly honest, I'm happy about. Anyway, Ron has invited me over to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. I do hope you'll be able to come, we have so much to catch up on! Take care.

Lots of Love

Hermione

Typical Hermione, thought Harry, always studying or with her nose in a book. Harry brushed away his messy black fringe from his eyes, and suddenly realised that he was quite red. He shoved the piece of parchment away quickly. Ever since Hermione had kissed him on the cheek at the end of last year, he had found himself thinking about her a lot more than usual. Sighing deeply, Harry heaved himself up off the floor and over to his desk, pushing aside the cage in which Hedwig was now silently asleep with her head under her wing. He picked up his eagle-feather quill and rolls of parchment to write back to his friends in the light of the golden sunrise shining in from his window. First, he wrote to Sirius:

Dear Sirius,

I'm fine, and I hope you're well, wherever you are. Nothing too unusual going on.

Harry

Harry didn't feel that the strange dream that he had was anything to get worked up about, so he left it out. Next, he wrote to Ron:

Dear Ron,

I'd love to come, just tell me when and I'll get everything ready.

Harry

Now Harry came to Hermione's reply. He paused, a little unsure about what is brain would tell him to write. Quill quivering in hand, Harry wrote:

Dear Hermione,

Hope you had a good summer, see you at Ron's

Harry

Harry frowned at his hands. "This is stupid, Hermione's my friend!" he growled to himself. Why wasn't he able to write more? Mind buzzing, Harry folded up the pieces of parchment and, waking Hedwig up with a jolt, attached them to her leg.

"Do you think you could deliver these for me?" Harry asked, in his best sucking-up voice.

Hedwig's golden eyes searched him up and down, then, with a disgruntled hoot, she took flight and soared out of the window. Harry watched her disappear into the night, then he turned to his bedside clock-It was 9 am. He decided that now was the time to confront the Dursleys about staying with Ron, and taking a deep breath, he opened the door, and trundled down the stairs.

As Harry turned the corner at the bottom of the staircase, he caught a glimpse of his bony aunt Petunia bustling around between the kitchen and sitting room. She spotted him out of the corner of one of her beady, searching eyes.

"Well?" she snapped, "What are you waiting for? There's toast to be made and eggs to be fried! Go on!" she hissed, like an angry goose, and shooing Harry to the kitchen. He got to work without complaint, too busy thinking about the Burrow, and his strange dream.

When he was finally done, he made his way over to the little kitchen table in the corner of the room, where Petunia was sat fussing over her little piglet of a son, Dudley.

"Aww, how's my little Duddydums?" she cooed, stroking his fat face.

Mr Dursley, however, was sat next to them, buried in the morning paper. Harry sidled into a chair opposite him, and began to eat silently, ignoring Dudley's jealous stare. There was an uncomfortable air around the table now, one that Harry was longing to break.

"Um..." he began. Three pairs of eyes raised to look at him. You idiot! Harry thought, but he pressed on.

"Uncle Vernon?"

Mr Dursley grunted-his way of showing that he was listening.

"Um...my friend Ron-you remember him?"

Another grunt.

"Well, he's invited me to stay round his house for the rest of the summer, like last year. Is...is that OK?" Harry asked, crossing his fingers and toes and praying that Vernon said yes.

"Suppose," Uncle Vernon mumbled vaguely

Harry got up slowly, cleared his plate, and bounded up the stairs. He flung himself into his room, grinning from ear to ear. He peered at himself in his wardrobe mirror. His jet black hair was all over the place, and his glasses were askew, but Harry found that he didn't care. It would be his fifteenth birthday tomorrow, and the Weasleys would be coming to take him away. He had never been happier in his life.