Journey of Legends

Chapter One: The Plan

***

Death has a way of catching up to you when you least expect it, or maybe we do. Expect it I mean. Harry had. He'd been expecting to die since he was eleven years old. Maybe it had been sooner. And at the time of the beginning of his death fixation, the world would have thought it so sad to have some one that young thinking about death so often but after numerous near-death incidents, people got used to the idea. He was no normal child; it is only natural he does not worry about what would be considered normal for an adolescent.

We as a society would have pitied Mr. Harry Potter as he spent years haunted by death for five years before succumbing to it. But he finally had. It was warm where he was but now he was surrounded by an all-consuming oddity; it looked almost exactly like where he had come from but the feel of it, it was so different. More peaceful, less hectic, this was closer after all. It was nothing like he had ever imagined it should be. Which was so very sad in a sense. He had spent the past seventeen years thinking about dying, even dreaming about it and now he was finally here. Dead.

Harry began to wonder when it was that he first began to envisage the hereafter. Had it been after he had first met Voldemort when he was in his first year? Or did it go back to before that? Had there been some part on his sub-consciousness as a child that always thought about it? He knew that it wasn't until he grew older that his fixation with death became an obsession. It had been after Cedric's death. Or maybe it was after the event of his sixth year. Nobody really knows, not even Harry himself.

What ever it had truly been, Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed anything strange about him then. Sure he was a little depressed but who wouldn't be? He had witnessed death of a friend before his eyes. Nobody minded his behavior, they all said it was to be expected it wasn't until they were in their seventh year that they even perceived that something was amiss.

Hermione had first asked him about it. She was concerned that he had begun to listen when the Divination professor predicted his death every week. He had begun to let his studies slip and only really paid attention in class when they were learning about the different killers in potions. It was quite alarming to her, was he going to poison himself? But Harry had shrugged off her inquires. He hadn't even realized what he was doing. How far he had fallen.

Ron was next to say something. "What were you dreaming about last night? Sounded like you were laughing at something"

"Oh," Harry had answered with a wave of his hand. "It was nothing. I was at this funeral, but it was fun." Harry had continued down the hall but Ron stopped.

Next it was the two of them together who finally convinced him that it wasn't normal. Teenagers shouldn't be inviting death. But he excused it. "I always knew I was going to die. Ever since I first learned what happened to my Mum and Dad. I just knew way deep down that it would happen." And he was right, not that Ron or Hermione would admit it to him.

Now he was dead but this nothing like the golden city he'd pictured. He was alone but it felt like there were others just out of his reach. He wondered if his parents were here. Who would he know? Who would he meet? This new heaven he found himself in held promises of a long and hope filled future, but of course eternity was long. As he sat there wrapped in the warmth of nothingness figures and shapes began to emerge as if from a very dense fog. He smiled to himself, he knew whom the wanted it to be and sometimes when you want something so bad you know that it is what will happen.

And the longer he sat there, the clearer the images became. A man with Harry's unruly black hair and sparkling emerald eyes leaned over so he was looking the dead teen straight in the eye. Harry knew that face. He knew every line and every smile; it's one of those things you never forget even if you were exposed to it for only a little while. It was his father. Suddenly arms surrounded him from everywhere engulfing him in love. His mother sat beside him, as did his grandparents, whom he'd never met before. From almost every angel he was showered in hugs and kisses, affection that he had never knew before. It was every dream come true for Harry, he was loved, he was with his parents, and he was happy. The world seemed so simple, so perfect. But not everyone was as content with Harry's death as he himself was.

Back in wizarding world headlines screamed of the rising of the dark lord and all the chaos that would come of it.

"The Boy Who Lived, Dies!"

"Muggles Find Wizard World: The Cat's Out Of The Cauldron"

"Dark Wizards Raising, the End is in Sight!"

"Unstoppable Wizards Force Muggle-Borns Into Labor Camps"

"War is Declared on Dark Arts"

"Faith Vanishing Fast for Light Wizards"

"Hogwarts Declared Only Neutral Ground In War"

"Future uncertain as more Dark Wizards take over White House"

"Meeting To Be Held To Solve War Problems Today"

And the world began it's slow decent into hell.

***

Divin Japelle was the quiet and unassuming man who sat in the corner. He was in his 40s but looked at least a decade older. His face was filled with the scars of his hard life, wrinkles and dull eyes. Even when he smiled, which was quite rarely, his smile looked tired. But with experience comes knowledge and he did know things that the others in the room did not, simply because they had fought all their battles from behind the lines. But Divin had been there on the front of the battle for the past twenty years. He had spent six of those years in a prisoner of war camp before he escaped back into the torment of the army. It was a miracle in the eyes of the world that he was still alive, but to the tall man it was a curse. He was the closest thing the world had to a hero right now. And yet he was the one sitting alone in the corner of the crowded room, silent without anyone to tell about all his struggles.

People avoided looking in his cold black eyes instead focusing just above them on his short black hair if they spoke to him and the wall behind him if they weren't. They admired him beyond anything but they feared him, years of war had made him cold and callous, the smallest mistake could set him off. How could any one have survived the things he had? How had he not gone utterly and completely mad? They watched him with pity and fear they didn't even know a human was capable of; but none of it meant anything to him.

The room, in whose corner he sat, was large and filled with seats facing the center of the room, where a raised platform stood. Divin watched as the muggles in their modern suits of lose pants and long shirts took up their seats on one side of the room while the wizards in their robes sat on the other. It had been centuries since the muggle world had believed and coexisted willingly with the wizard but now there were still the old prejudices, which will never go away. Japelle knew that not even cooperation between the two groups could last long. As soon as one had lost its usefulness the other would drop it like a hot stone. But until then they were forced to work together to try and make something of the living hell they had been thrust into.

A man climbed up onto platform and was trying to get everyone's attention with a few gentle taps on the microphone. Slowly the room had settled some and the loud voices had dimmed to just a few mutterings and whispers he began his speech.

"Good afternoon. Many of you know me but for those that don't, my name is Beneyt Pullium. I am headmaster of Hogwarts School. I have asked you all here..." He trailed off as if he couldn't remember quite what he had wanted to say. He seemed flustered. Divin pegged him right off as the kind of headmaster who sat at his desk writing up detentions but never taking an active part in the lives of his students. It would have bothered Divin if his children had lived long enough to go there but that was the past which he spent as little time dwelling on as he could.

Beneyt had resumed speaking though his voice was shaky and unsure. "We all know that in the past few years an alarming number of dark wizards have risen to power. Just this month four of them took the remains of the United States White House, which has been used as a hospital for the past sixty years. It was one of our last safe places left. It was our last hospital. With it gone, we no longer have any place to house the sick, injured, and dying. We cannot fight this war on the broken backs of tired civilians."

We need the hospitals. We cannot win this war this way. We need to heal our armies. We cannot train enough medi-wizards fast enough. Every time a year of students graduates they are killed far faster than when a new group is prepared. We cannot stand for this. We need your help to rebuild our hospitals!" A murmur ran through the assembled guests as his request for money sank in. People were excited. After so many of years fighting a losing battle they finally had a plan. For the first time in almost two years there was the slightest glimmer of hope. Divin had lost all respect for the man; he was leading these people on. Raising their hopes but what if they needed more than just hospitals? What if what they needed was already gone?

"What we need, sir," Divin let his voice drawl along the last word making sure the entire room understood just how he felt. "Is not hospitals or money. Don't delude yourselves. While these things are great and all that, there is only so much we can do. The people are weary. We've been fighting this war since the day we were born if not longer. This war is being fought on the broken backs of civilians because there is no one else. What we need are warriors. Fighters. People who knows how to fight, ones that know how the mind of the enemy works, ones that aren't afraid to die. You're not going to find that here. Every soul on the battlefields is too far gone to be what we need." The room was still and silent as every one twisted around to stare at him.

The man at the front of the room had become flustered again. "Mr. Japelle. If you are suggesting what I think you are suggesting-" But Divin cut him off.

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm simply stating the facts. No one alive today has what it takes to win this war." The atmosphere of the room soon plummeted to a deeply depressing mood.

Mr. Pullium looked down at his notes. A woman on the muggle side stood on shaky legs. "Sir?" Her voice spoke volumes about her fear. "Sir? If I may? Is... is there a way... Mr. Japelle said that no one alive could do this... but what about dead?" Divin raised his eyebrows. What was this woman saying? "Don't mistake my words here. What I'm trying to say is... is there any way to bring back the dead. We could look into it. We've all heard stories about the great heroes of the past. Is there any way we could bring them here?" Every one was staring at her now. Most looked as if the woman had bright pink hair instead of brown. But Divin understood it. Strange as it was, it made perfect sense.

As a child he could remember his grandmother Japelle retelling the legends of Jean-Paul and the vampires and Xira who used to be a dark wizard but turned back to their side and was killed for it. He remembered every detail about Harry Potter who defeated one of the greatest dark wizards when he was only a year old and of Amide White who saved Hogwarts from becoming a school for the dark arts; all of these and more. Surely they could help them. Surely these great legends would give them just the edge they needed to win. Surely...

Beneyt was yelling for order. Every one had broken out into excited whispers of the great legends. Names flew around the room like wildfire. Xira, Harry, Max, Marcus, Alexa, Eliot, Monica... Each of which inspiring a new name to the surface of the mind. "If I could have your attention, Please!" ,Beneyt screamed in exasperation. Divin had not thought the older man capable of such volume.

The room was instantly silent. Divin and the woman both sat as Beneyt began again, "There are rumors of such a spell. But no one knows if it would work or even how to do it. If it were, that we are able to proffer such a spell, whom would we bring back? And how would we do it without the dark wizards finding out? Surely their sensors would pick up on such a high concentration of magic. I beg you all to think this through before you peruse this train of thought."

An old wizened wizard stood up with the assistance of a cane. "If we can not win this on our own then we cannot expect others to win it for us. They are the lucky ones. They're dead. Let them stay that way. We have no right to force them to live in this hell again. They were warriors in their own times but times change. We cannot expect them to be as good or better in a new time. I know I for one will be glad when I die. If you go through with this don't expect any help from me!" The crowd murmured its conflicting emotions about this brass statement.

The brunet woman from before, stood up. She seemed to have gained confidence and Divin noticed that while outwardly she appeared as calm as could be, her eyes were filled with fear. She had not conquered her fears but simply hidden it. "If we don't try then what are our other options? I don't hear you coming up with a new ground breaking plan to end this." The old man snorted but the lady had her fear in check now and turned to Pullium. "If the council agrees I'll back it with whatever I can supply; even if it means re-training the wizards. You have my vote, Mr. Pullium." The crowd was in uproar. Divin sat back and watched the chaos she had created with a simple statement. The lady had brought the council into it. She was serious; more so than Beneyt had been about his plea for money.

A man stood and declared with a loud firm voice, "If Helena's in, I'm in too!"

"And I" said another man. So far the wizards weren't giving in.

"I'll bite." A young witch said. "Who would we bring back?" But no one had an answer for her. Who would they bring back? How many could they bring back?

"Would we bring back any non-wizards?" Asked a young muggle man from across the room.

"Why would we bring back muggles?" An old witch exclaimed. She sat back down muttering about how useless muggles were.

"None worth bringing back lived in a time where wizardry is common knowledge. They would be as quickly killed off by the dark wizards as a untrained wizard or witch." Said a man in the front. Divin couldn't tell weather he was muggle or wizard but he knew he was a wise man.

"Wouldn't we alienate any one by bringing them back from the dead?" Divin asked. But no one heard him. They were to busy carrying on with their own conversations about the rise of the light side again.

"We first need to ask the Council. We can't do any big spells without their approval." A nervous looking boy said from somewhere near Divin but just out of his line of sight. Divin had had enough.

"If we went to the council for every little spell we cast we'd never get anything done. But that is the smallest of our problems. Miss Helena made a very good point. It's not the best plan ever formulated but it's all we've got. I'll back it if we leave the council out of it. They'll want to control everything but this isn't their war. Half of them are spies for this or that dark wizard! Hell, the only place we can be sure there aren't any spies is in the bathroom and that's not even a certainty. My point is that if we do this we do it just us. No council. No one else."

A great cheer went up from the assembled. They began to stand and stomp their feet. And through it all Beneyt gave him a glare that shot daggers into the soul. But Divin didn't have to worry about that. He had no soul. Not any more.

***

Adela Hudson sat in the empty Hogwarts library with books spread out in front of her. She appeared to be talking to herself. "I swear that if she really thought anyone would do it she'd assign the whole book for homework. Bloody hell! Where the hell was the part about the dragons?" She leafed through the book so fast a page ripped causing the young Gryffindor to swear under her breath.

Another youth chose that moment to enter the library. Sean Milo grinned at the sight of the tall black girl bent intently over her book. She glared at him as he walked in but that expression was soon overwhelmed by a mischievous look "Sean! Just the guy I wanted to see!"

The Gryffindor looked at her nervously. "I don't like that look. That's the look that says the best witch in the school wants help from little old me," Sean replied with a grimace.

Adela just laughed good naturally at her friend. "Sorry. You know I hate history of Magic. All we do is study old wars. Why can't we study this one? The most modern thing we've ever studied in that class was the muggles finding out about us in 2405. That was like 1316 years ago! Shouldn't we be learning about our own wars?"

Sean looked at her. "How can we understand what is happening now if we don't
know how they fixed similar problems in the past?"

"Hey look, we all know you're the best student Professor Binns has ever had and probably the best with history any ones ever met, but don't start getting all philosophical on us, Sean!"

The boy laughed. "You know, I think I'm starting to understand what my brother sees in you." It was a well-known fact at the school that Adela and Sean's brother Richard were going out.

Adela blushed at his comment and hit her friend playfully on the arm. "Shut up," she giggled.

"Hey, I'm not trying to move in my little brother's girlfriend but, ah, if he ever... well, you know where I'll be."

Her laughter had stopped. "And where would that be?"

He gave her a sly lazy smile. I'm an enigma. I'll be... around." And she watched him walk out of the room with a sly smile on his face. She watched the door a little, without a clue what she was looking for. With a shake of her head though, she went back to work.

"What am I thinking?" she asked herself. "I'm going out with his brother! I can't be thinking about Sean like that!" She blushed at her thoughts. "But he does have a nice smile..."

From behind a bookcase Milana Knight watched the exchange with interest. The boy left the room with a glide in his step that made him appear to float. Milana waited until he had vanished into the hallway before turning the corner and began to look at the books on the shelf looking for the one she needed. A cold voice came from behind her.

"Last I heard, Slytherins didn't come to the library. They didn't do school work."

Milana ignored the other girl and fought the urge to turn and scream at her. "Last I heard you didn't care about school and the only reason they haven't kicked you out is because you have nowhere else to go. Of course, I could have heard wrong." Milana turned to see Adela sneering at her from the table.

"Oh? Is that it this time, Hudson? No more 'what ever did happen to dear old mom and dad?' huh? No more taunts and jeers about me not having the perfect family? Come on, we both know I'm not as perfect as you so just say it! But it's just too bad. I think you're losing your goody-two-shoes touch, Gryffindor." She sneered, "Last I heard you were going steady with Richard Milo and now I find you flirting with his older brother alone in the library? So very interesting. Tsk Tsk Tsk. Some one may find out." She sent Adela a smirk.

Neither of them said a word. They simply glared at each other. Milana turned back to the bookcase at the same time Adela went back to her homework. The large room was filled with an uncomfortable silence that was thick enough to shake your very soul. Milana found the ancient book on a shelf. Why it wasn't in the restricted section was beyond her, but she did not question her luck. With a secret smile she headed to the front of the library where the Liberian sat reading a new book to approve it for the children.

The Liberian looked at the book Milana handed her for a moment before she looked up at the girl inquisitively. "New hobby?"

"No." She didn't elaborate. Professor Dixon watched her with knowing eyes as she marked in her book what Milana was checking out. When she was finished, the pale Slytherin grabbed the book and ran back to her dorm without looking back. She paused in front the portrait of a tall man with oily hair and black robes only long enough to give him the password. She ignored his remark that "Some things never change" and ran up to her room to spend her precious little time alone before her roommates came back from watching the boys practice broom ball.

Broomball had replaced Quidditch in the past few centuries and no one even remembered how to play Quidditch any more but like the old professor's painting had said, some things never change. Thank what ever controlled the universe for that.

Back in the Library, Adela had gathered up her books having finished her homework and picked out two she wanted to read later. As she approached Professor Dixon she had a sudden burst of inspiration. "So, what was Milana checking out?" she asked in what she called a nonchalant manner. The woman looked at her over the tops of her glasses as if she wanted to know what the girl was planning on doing with the information. "I mean, I think that it was one I read and I just loved it so I was going to ask her what she thought of it but only if it's the right book," she lied while praying it wasn't a schoolbook.

Professor Dixon handed her the two books and set her glasses down on the desk with a sigh. "She was checking a book about art history in the muggle world. Is that the one you read?"

To say that Adela was shocked as akin to saying she was tall. Everybody knew it, but she quickly covered it up. "Umm no. It must just have a similar cover. Thank you." And she picked up her books and left as fast as she could without running.

When she got outside the library she burst out laughing causing several passing third years to look at her questioningly. A boy stood against the wall on the other side of the hall looked at her as if she were crazy and then frowned. "What did you do?"

Adela looked up and began to giggle again. "Me? Nothing."

"Then what's so funny?" Richard looked just like his brother, just a little younger.

"Nothing. I'll tell you later. Let me go drop these books off and then we can hang out." He nodded.

"I'll be right here." And she ran off. She spent no time at all putting her things away and she rushed out to meet her boyfriend. All thoughts of his brother pushed from her mind.

They wandered hand-in-hand down the hallway towards their special place. It was a secluded tower that hardly anyone ever used any more. The rumor was that it used to be the divination tower, but that when one of the teachers had died up there. People stopped going and soon rumors that it was cursed soon sprouted. Along with the tower. they could no longer hold a teacher in the defense against the dark arts job because a DADA teacher killed a teacher up there. So they moved the class to it's current location and had never been able to hold a teacher for DADA for more than a year. It then became Adela and Richard's spot. They had redone a few things. Gotten rid of the dust and grim of centuries and added a few chairs and an old couch. It was perfect. Old painting snoozed in their frames looking down on them.

Adela's favorite was a painting done in the muggle style and she had reason to believe that one of the boys in it was the famous Harry Potter. He was a normal enough looking boy with black hair and glasses. He smiled like any seventeen-year-old boy but something seemed to be off. The artist had captured so well how the black haired boy seemed to be thinking of other things as he watched his three friends as if it were the last time he would ever see them. The red headed boy sat holding hands with a girl with curly brown hair and another girl who looked like the red head's sister smiled at them as if to say 'It's about time.' But the black haired boy haunted her dreams. Was this the Harry Potter that had died right out on the lawn? And who were his friends?

If the picture affected Richard the same way it did her, but he never said anything. That afternoon as they sat on the couch Adela decided to ask him, she'd always wondered what he thought of it. "Richard?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you think that one picture doesn't move?"

He smiled a lazy Milo smile at her. "Because it's muggle."

She groaned. "But why?"

"Are you always this curious or is this new?" She didn't reply so he continued. "I don't know. Harry Potter. Didn't he grow up with muggles?"

Adela snuggled closer to him. "I don't remember. We should ask your brother. He's the history person."

Later," Richard responded. "Right now I'm enjoying it being just us." Adela smiled as his arm snaked around her waist.

"Yes. Later..."

***

Helena Jon sat in her chair with her knees shaking. People around her were shouting and clapping her on the back. But she sat there in a very controlled state of shock She had started something that day, but she didn't know what. She had spent her entire life being afraid of the magical people but now she sat among them and was helping them.

Why?

She raised her head and her eyes locked with another set of eyes. His were dark. Stormy almost. He was one of them! Helena stared at his eyes. She'd heard about him. Every one had. Whether they were muggle or magic. Every one knew about Divin Japelle. He was the one who had spent so much time in a death camp before he escaped last year. Why was he here? Last any one had heard he had gone insane and was living as a hermit in the forests around that British wizarding school, Hogwarts.

The man rose slowly to his feet and began to walk towards her. Helena cast her eyes down. Don't make eye contact... don't make eye contact. The crowd flowed around him like water and he slid gracefully into the vacated seat next to her.

"Hello." His voice was softer than it had been when he was talking to the crowd.

"H-Hi," Helena stammered.

The man smiled. "I must say, I admire your courage. I've seen you at a lot of these meetings and you never say anything. Why the change now?"

So he'd noticed her? Helena felt her heart jump just a little and blushed. "Oh. Well, I...I always feel, you know, like they'll laugh at me. And I mean it's because you are all so...so..." She had no idea where she was going with this train of thought but she rode it anyway. "I-I." The wizard looked slightly amused by her stammering.

"You know, you're a much better speaker when you're talking to a lot of people." She blushed at the almost insult.

"What I'm trying to say is as scared as I was, I had an idea that I wanted to see if some one who... knew more about... that could help fill in the gaps."

His laughter drowned out the crowd. "I see," he said with a smile. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. "I think they're starting to calm down," he said of the crowd. And so they had. People had begun to calm down and were sitting. But the former segregation of the room has dissolved.

Beneyt was speaking again. "I beg you all, if we go through with this, not a word to any one until it is time to reveal our warriors. We cannot risk them being found out. They will be confused and vulnerable. There is indeed a spell that can bring people back but we can only bring back so. I don't know how many." He looked like it hurt to say these words. The old man who had earlier disapproved of the plan sat in his chair and glared. Divin and Helena waited while the Hogwarts headmaster collected his thoughts. "We'll need... umm... unicorn's blood, the wands of the warriors and some other personal effect... Like clothing. I have this stuff for some people up at the castle but we'll need it for any others we plan to bring back. We'll meet back here in one week to determine who we can bring here." He looked as if he should say more, and the audience waited for him to continue, or at least say thank you, but he walked off. Divin turned to the woman next to him.

"Will you be here next time?" he asked.

"I'll be here and backing this plan until the day I die." Her voice was confidant this time.

***

Beneyt Pullium sat at his desk at Hogwarts School of Magic. The school had been renamed in the early 2090s because it was thought to be more politically correct. As he sat there with every pervious headmaster snoozing in their frames, he stared at the two large
trunks on the floor. He knew they contained things that would make any sane muggle shiver and any halfway competent wizard quiver with excitement. It held the personal belongings of some of history's greatest wizards.

Xira Newt's wand and hat sat in that one along with her robes she wore the day she was killed. Marcus Cabot's wand was in that other trunk along with his journals, which detailed how his family had died. Professor Pullium had never read it nor had he really seen these things but they lay in the trunks just waiting for him. Harry Potter's wand and his parents' wedding rings lay wrapped in Elyzabel Petty's scarf and her wand lay beside that. But Beneyt didn't know where these things lay only that they were real. He'd heard tales about them. He wondered if Alexa McRyan's dress would fall apart or if Max Harrison's wand would disintegrate if he touched them. There was only one way to know.

Slowly he stood and walked over to the two seemingly harmless trunks. The larger one looked older and more fragile. Most of the contents of both boxes were ancient by now. He did not know how long a photograph would last. Was the trunk airtight or did they have some kind of preservation spell on them to keep the items contained within safe? He wouldn't know unless he opened one. His hands shook as he reached for the clasp of the smaller trunk.

Behind him he heard some one snort awake in their frame, but he had swallowed his fear and the lid sprang back revealing a neat mess of robes wands and pictures. The pictures still waved and smiled at him and the robes still seemed new if not a little dusty. He sighed with relief. This harebrained plan might just have the feet it needed to stand on in these boxes.

He reached in and with drew a long wand that looked like redwood from a bundle. He could smell the sweet sent of the well-worn wood as if it had been cut yesterday; nothing smelled like fresh cut wood. It lay nestled on a long dark green velvet robe and was tied with a thick satin ribbon. A necklace was tied to the ribbon as well. The pendant of the necklace was a small emerald set in gold. The small parchment tag attached to the string that held it all together declared it the former property of Monica Kindell. The years of her life were printed in green ink below her name. 2379-2406. She had been killed in those first horrible years after the muggles found out when wizards were skinned alive and parts of them were sold or worse. She was only twenty-seven.

Beneyt's hands shook as he held the beautiful gold chain in his hand. He remembered the story of this one. She had been one of the best public speakers ever born. When muggles found out she went to the nation's council to plead their case. She won over more people than anyone else before and anyone probably could now. She was one of the most intelligent people of her time with the strength to stand tall in the face of discrimination and hate. Every year when the students wrote about what historical figure they'd most like to meet, Monica Kindell was second in the number of essays only to infamous Harry Potter.

The next bundle he pulled out was labeled to be Amide Langa's: 1221-1238. She had been 17. The girl's wand was pine and it lay wrapped in her wedding dress that she never got a chance to wear. Her wedding ring fell out of a pocket and into his hand and seemed to burn reminding him how young she had been when she died. Seventeen. She was a ghost hunter. That meant she could see ghosts no one else could. She had the rare ability to be able to send a ghost on to whatever came next. She had been engaged to a young man and they were planning the wedding for the week after their graduation but the plans were shattered on the rocks when she was killed by a dragon a month before the end of term. Beneyt sat the bundle of dress, ring, and wand down next to Monica's belongings and reached in for the next bundle.

After sifting through the rest of the box of belongings he closed the lid. A small plume rose into the air but after it settled nothing in the room stirred. He sat there silently, his heart heavy. His mind filled with pity for the brave witches and wizards, all of which dying at such a young age.

He heard a soft knock on the wooden door. "Come in," he called.

The door swung open and Sean Milo came in. He almost jumped into the chair and quickly blurted out, "Is it true? A little owl told me we're bringing some people back from the dead. Is it true?"

Beneyt stared at the seventh year. The young Gryffindor would be graduating that year and the boy knew everything you could want to about history. If he didn't get drafted for the war, Pullium was going to ask him to replace the ever ancient and dull professor Binns. What should he tell the boy? Should he let him in on it? The teenager sat waiting patiently as if he had all the time in the world.

Beneyt sighed. "Yes. It's true. I..." He had a sudden burst of inspiration. One that might save the young academic's life if he played all the right cards. "I was just going to call you in. We need you. We need your help sorting out the fact and fiction about all of the people we plan on bringing back. For some of them it has been centuries, most of them actually, thousands of years for some. Stories get told in different ways and lines get jumbled. Do you think you could help us?"

Sean sat in shock. It had just been a rumor. Something that was supposed to be a secret but how could it not be a rumor? Bringing back the dead? And to top it off, the headmaster wanted his help. Sean looked up into the hopeful eyes of the man he so admired. And they needed his help... The thought was almost beyond comprehension for the youth. Almost. "Yeah... Yeah I'll help." Beneyt smiled.

***

The following week was a blur for Sean. He went about his normal routine during the day; going to classes and taking tests. In the evenings he went out to watch Broomball practice while he did his homework. But at night he spent his time in a tiny room where Professor Pullium had set up tables for him to do his research on the old warriors. There were boxes upon boxes of old books and pictures. Sean loved going through the two trunks, which held their wands and most treasured possessions.

And so the week past, he had learned so much in that time, that the young Gryffindor had trouble keeping the myths from the facts he was learning. But when Professor Pullium came in one night to tell him it was time to go, Sean would never feel more ready.

The two of them made their way silently across the lawn towards the shadowy forest. When they had reached the edge, Professor Pullium pulled out his wand and tapped a nearby tree. He muttered something that Sean could not hear and the tree's branches pulled back to reveal a large stone room filled with seats. It was like a stadium with the seats all facing the front where down below, a raised platform held a podium. Behind the podium was a curtain made of crimson red velvet.

The room was already filling with people who entered from several entrances. A few spilled out of the tree entrance behind them but most entered through a similar entrance on the other side of the room. There were both muggles and wizards and while the majority of them sat apart from the other species like there was some invisible wall that separated them, a few brave souls sat mingled in the center of the room.

Sean picked out the face of Divin Japelle sitting next to a muggle woman with brown hair. The other man took no notice of anything but the woman who was talking excitedly about 'the plan'. That was one phrase that kept popping up in the conversations around him, "The Plan."

Professor Pullium led him down towards the front of the room and told him to sit in a chair in the front row. Sean sat in the center of the row and sat back to watch with fascination as the room filled. People took no notice of him and the man who sat on his left didn't even see him until he'd already accidentally sat on him; but Sean didn't care. He was here and here was where they were going to make history and he would help change history. It was an overwhelming thought, but Sean thrived on it.

The room began to quiet and every one sat down. People whispered their excitement and a single giggle echoed in the otherwise silent room. Beneyt stood at the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen. You have returned and therefore show your support of this plan. If I am mistaken in my assumptions please leave now." No one moved. This was a very different man from the one who had presided over last week's meeting. This man was stronger and more collected. Even Sean saw the difference in the man from his work in Hogwarts. The room was silent as they waited for him to go on.

"Indeed. Now then, I have been doing my homework along with some help and have figured out the best way to go about this. We will bring back ten warriors from different times. Most of you have heard of all of them, but for those who have not I will explain a bit about why I have chosen to bring back these ten.

"First. Alexa McRyan. Born in 951, she is the only one of our chosen heroes not to die a violent death. In her life she was able to talk to the reining dark lords and tricked them into signing a peace contract. At the age of 36 she died of an unknown illness in 987.

"Second of our heroes. Amide Langa was a ghost hunter who died in 1238 at age 18. Since she was a ghost hunter she will be able to help us dispel Sholto who has plagued us for centuries." The room looked hopeful at the thought of ridding themselves of the evil spirit who had begun the whole mess by bringing the dark lords together and joining them as one entity.

"Third. Marcus Cabot, who was a vampire hunter. He will help us slay the undead armies that attack our cities and towns.

"Next is Weland Walsh who head up the anti-dark-arts campaign in the 1959s and very early '60s until his death in a muggle accident. He was one of the world's most intelligent war leaders. He will help us reorganize our armies.

"In 2001, at the age of 15, Harry Potter killed a dark wizard. He had defeated the same wizard when he was one year old." At this, the crowd "ohhh"ed.

"In 2010, Elyzabel Petty killed one of the world's greatest dark wizard with no magic at all. She died later that same year at the age of 19 when the slain wizard's supporters killed her and her family and friends during a party in their home.

"Next we have Dane Irish who died in 2095 after a bloody battle to protect Hogwarts. He will help us keep what little land we still hold safe.

"In 2307, Monica Kindell died at the age of 27 from poison in her soup. She had spent the whole of her 27 years fighting various dark lords and helping to kill two of them.

"In 2908, Xira Newt died when a bomb blew up her safe house. She was a spy and the best that ever lived.

"And lastly we have Max Harrison who died seven hundred years ago this year. He was a teacher who taught his students how to fight and when the ministry called up for more soldiers, the people he trained lived longer than any others in their platoons.

"Ladies and gentlemen. These will be our warriors. They will be what saves us."

***

Sean watched in wonder as the room emptied. They had spent the past hour debating what could go wrong and how this plan could fail. But people needed it so badly that they were willing to place everything on the line to help. They had agreed to meet back here in another week's time. It was then that they would perform the necessary spells and bring the heroes back to life.

For now, they exited in pairs and trios talking in excited whispers. Professor Beneyt looked so emotionally drained that Sean wondered if he would be all right. He shook his head to clear his thoughts wondering if it really worked or if it was simply one of those figures of speech that were so common.

He walked on stiff legs over to his headmaster. "Professor? Are you all right?"

Beneyt looked up startled at the sound of the boy's voice. "What? Oh yes. I'm fine. We should get going. We'll need to tell the school. That is where we're going to have to hide the warriors until they are ready."

"Ready for what?" Sean had asked such an innocent question, but it left Beneyt thinking as the two hurried out of the room and back to the castle. What were they preparing the warriors for? Would there be a huge battle? Would any of the warriors survive that long?

As the approached the looming old castle, the headmaster told Sean to go find the deputy headmaster. "Tell Professor Lasky that I need all the students in the Great Hall now."

"But, sir. It's almost midnight. It can't wait until morning?"

"Yes. Yes. You are a smart boy, you know that? You'll really make a good living if you live through this." And with that the older man disappeared into his room leaving a very stunned Sean out in the hall to make his lonely way back to Gryffindor tower in the dark. The next morning when every one was gathered in the Great Hall, Professor Pullium stood up and the room fell silent. Over at the Slytherin table, Milana picked at her food with little interest. Her dorm mates ignored her as always and she went on with her existence not really caring what the headmaster had to say. At the Ravenclaw table, Adela sat with her friends all giggling and wondering in loud whispers what the announcement could be. She looked over at her boyfriend at the Gryffindor table and he winked at her. She smiled and turned to see his brother sitting closer to the front of the room. Sean's eyes were glazed and tired looking but he seemed intent on whatever the headmaster had to say.

"Attention... Attention... Please... please. Settle down now. As some of you may have heard from your parents with the morning post, there are rumors that say the resistance is trying to bring back a few of our legends. I would like to officially say that yes, we are. We are bringing back ten of the greatest wizards and witches who ever lived."

A loud and excited murmur went up from the assembled. Professor Pullium held up his hand for silence. No one paid it any mind. He opened his mouth and a few of the teachers began to tap on their glasses with spoons and other silverware. The Hall's noise level dropped considerably. "Thank you. Now, I must ask that this information not leave this building. You do not talk about with any one outside of Hogwarts. You do not discuss it anywhere outside school grounds. When we bring them back, they will be here on school grounds. They will be staying in your dorms with you until they are ready to go before the council and then before the Dark Wizards."

The Hall burst into excited questions, which the headmaster finally answered by saying, " You will learn more about this in your history of magic class today. I have spoken to Professor Binns and he will be telling you about each of the new warriors."

People all turned to friends to ask, "Isn't it exciting?" and, "I wonder what they'll be like!" A few, "I wonder if any of them will be cute or handsome,'' rose from the older students while the younger one talked loudly about how "I'm related to so-and-so! Beat that!" Professor Pullium smiled warily at Sean. But Sean was too busy being a teenager with his friends asking if they knew anything like the good little actor. Yes, Beneyt thought. That boy's going get very far in life if he makes it.

***

Up in her dorm later on, Milana sat on her bed. The room was empty of her roommates because as was normal for this time of day, they were down watching practice. The heavy green drapes were open letting in a little light. It played across the dark surfaces and Milana watched the dust dance in the single shaft of light. Her pencil danced with them trying to capture the sight. In her mind the room was not just a room, but also a memory. Something she wanted to remember since she spent so much time alone up here.

Tired of drawing dust, she closed her eyes and saw in her mind's eye a picture. It was of four teenagers. They all looked to be about fifteen or so and they all wore the standard black robes with a Gryffindor crest on them. A red haired boy sat in a chair with a girl with bushy brown hair on his lap. Another girl with long red curls looked on in a fit of giggles. Off to the side, Milana saw a boy with messy black hair. He stood apart from his friends as if afraid to get too close.

It was just a flash but in that one instant, Milana set down to draw. Her hands danced across the paper and the image flowed from her hand to the plain white paper. She worked on it for three impossibly short hours until the other girls' footsteps could be heard. It was dark by now and as Milana stashed her art supplies and rushed to close the curtains, she failed to notice the red haired vampire lurking in the shadows. When she turned around to see if she had forgotten anything, Milana saw nothing for the ancient vampire had disappeared with the smallest traces of a smile on her pale face.

***

For a week, the red haired vampire hid in the shadows and watched as the school busily prepared itself for the arrival of the warriors. She'd heard the names of each spoken in whispers and hushed voices. Always were they respectful now when talking about them. Like talking about the dead. But she was dead too and no one ever spoke of her like that.

They did not speak of her at all.

The vampire had decided to take action. She knew this plan would never work.

She had to stop it. She knew that the plan was to go into effect that night and she made up her mind to stop them before they could perform the spell. But how would they react? She had no idea.

The young Slytherin sat on her bed without a clue as to the dangers that lurked in the shadows. She just drew. It was a picture she knew well but she also knew that this girl had never seen the original or the subjects. Milana just drew what was in her mind as the centuries old vampire watched. She had not been this astonished in years. But there was something about this girl that really made her stop and think. She was what they were bringing these warriors back to protect, this innocent girl.

The vampire had known quite a few of the warriors in their lives. Watched them as they'd gone through Hogwarts and watched as they grew into heroes from frightened first years. She alone knew the true facts from fiction. Even that one Gryffindor didn't know what she knew about the warriors. And she wanted it to stay that way.

***

Divin sat in silence against the far wall of the meeting room. In past weeks they had all begun to refer to it as 'The Chamber'. The curtains at the front of the room were pulled back to reveal a plain room with ten long tables scattered around. Each table was covered in a white silk cloth trimmed in silver. Small lumps lay beneath the cloths. Robes and other such personal articles lay out under there just waiting for their owners to come back.

Next to him, Helena prattled on excitedly about how they were witnessing history. She was so excited and Divin couldn't help but smile at the muggle's happiness. She stirred in him the reminder of his childhood, simplistic and innocent. She stirred in him the long dormant memories of his wife and children. So young, but she knew none of this and went on with her excitement. Divin Japelle turned his attention back to the room.

Every one was in their best clothes. At the front of the room, a boy with sandy blonde hair sat with his back strait and his breathing fast. He was as excited as Helena was and yet he couldn't be out of school yet. Divin saw him as he really was. Not the child who had some of the best grades at Hogwarts but as the man he would be; a man who could never survive this war without killing that boy inside.

Beneyt stood off to one side. He rung his hands and kept calling out questions, asking if everything was ready. Divin just sat back to watch.

But so soon it was time to begin. The supporters would sit where they always had while the people performing the spell would stand beside each of the tables waiting for the warriors to rise.

Beneyt stood facing away from the audience and towards the tables. He raised his hands and mumbled words out of a book on the podium before him. His wand in his hand began to glow a bright fiery red and slowly turned to a wonderfully rich green and then a pure sapphire blue which in turned faded to a brilliant yellow. The light grew until it became a blinding white orb surrounding his hand.

Beneyt let out a scream of pain but no sound came out. He threw his head back and every one sitting and watching collectively flinched as they caught a glimpse of his pale face. His breath came in hard and fast and Divin felt the power running races around the room. Even the muggles present could feel something magical. Beside him Helena had the look of a frightened but excited child who was going to her first haunted house. Divin smiled down at her.

Suddenly a crash shattered the deafening silence of the room. A young woman with flaming red hair stood bathed in white light in the doorway. The light immediately began to dim leaving her skin pale. Every magical soul in the room caught their breaths. This was the Hogwarts Vampire.

Legend spoke of a vampire so old she lived in the very walls of the old school. She would come out every few decades to help a student who seemed promising. And if the rumors were true, she'd helped out every one of the heroes they were bringing back since Harry Potter. She looked angry and even the muggles knew there was something different about her. Divin remembered from somewhere that the only reason she was able to resist the call of the dark lords was her age. She was the oldest vampire in the world as far as any one could tell and here she stood.

She seemed to look at each person separately but she addressed the room at large. "Stop. You have no idea what you are getting into. You have no proof this will even work. Stop now before it blows up in your faces."

Beneyt looked as if he'd been hit. "You....you can't... you can't just burst in here... ma'am.... And expect us to stop..." He stuttered.

She glared at him. But something had changed in her face. "You do as you please. But when this plan fails, I will have myself a grand laugh. One like I haven't had in centuries." and with that she was gone. It was as if it had never happened. Beneyt looked around as if to ask how to go on or if he should.

People coughed and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Divin glared. "Oh just get on with it!"

Professor Pullium raised his wand again and before he had a chance to do say anything, a great silver and gold mist began to flow from his wand. It filled every crevice of the room and every one lost sight of the tables including those standing next to them. Then, the mist simply vanished and people looked around expecting it to have been the vampire coming back. But they found no trace of her. Instead, beneath the ten white cloths, ten figures had formed complete with noses and everything.

***

Harry lay in his mother's arms never questioning why none of his friends were there or why not any time seemed to pass. He simply existed with his family. His mother looked at him and laughed the eerie silent laugh and Harry smiled as his father came into view. But suddenly everything changed.

The arms around him turned from the soft of her skin to cold marble and looking up he saw his mother's face go pale with fright. His father rushed at them but there was an invisible barrier that stopped him. Lily began to scream and Harry felt invisible hands grab him and yank him from her arms.

Suddenly Harry awoke with a gasp.

***

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