Journey of Legends

Chapter Two: Failed Beginnings

A soft white sheet covered his face and he had no idea where he was. He slowly pulled the sheet down and sat up only to see that about nine other people were doing the same. But where were his parents? Where was he?

It was then that he noticed the people all sitting in chairs staring at him. A man on a table next to him sat up and looked Harry right in the eye. He wasn't the only one who had no idea what was going on. Looking around some more, Harry found to his amazement that he was dressed in his green dress robes that Mrs. Weasley had brought him last year for the Triwizard dance.

People began to whisper frantically while a girl on a nearby table began to cry. "Where am I? What's going on?" Her face was horribly scared but her gray eyes were clear and filled with piteous tears and Harry shared her confused sentiment.

Looking around with calmness he didn't know he possessed, Harry realized that every person on the tables were as panicked as he was. A man stood facing them wringing his hands and muttering. He began shouting things out in such a fast manner that Harry wondered if he was even speaking English.

Some boy that looked around Harry's own age rushed to close the curtains cutting them off from the highly unusual crowd. This brought some complaints but not many. But as Harry looked around him in fascination and a very controlled panic, questions began to worm their way out of his jumbled thought:

Why was he here? Where was here? Last thing he remembered was... no. He wasn't going to think about that. A woman sitting in a chair next to him began to ask him questions very cautiously as if afraid he might kill her.

"Do you know your name, sir?" Harry looked at her. Her accent was one he had never heard before, but she was clearly speaking English. He just stared at her. What the hell was going on? He heard her repeat the question. Still he gave no response. "Sir?"

"Harry Potter. Where am I?" he asked offhandedly. She looked at him queerly as if his accent was as alien to her as hers was to him.

They looked at each other for a moment before she answered. "I don't think I'm the right one to tell you that, sir." She quickly cast her eyes down. Harry took the moment to glance around. Why was he wearing these robes? They were the ones Mrs. Weasley had brought him. His bright green ones. Hadn't he been wearing his normal school robes when... No! He wouldn't think about it. He would do what he had done all last summer after fourth year when Cedric died. He just wouldn't think about it.

The girl near him who had been asking about where she was earlier was in a full panic now. She was on her feet and swinging around looking every where at once. "I can't remember. I can't remember. I can't remember..." She kept repeating it over and over like a mantra. Slowly she sank to the ground and curled into a tight ball still muttering. "I can't remember... I can't remember..."

The woman sitting next to him along with every one else was staring at her like she was crazy. Her long brown hair covered her face but Harry could see tears falling through the veil.

He slowly climbed off the table and stood only to find his legs shaky. The woman (damn, what was her name anyway?) seemed to come to her senses right then in time to catch him as he spilled on to her. He was embarrassed. Why couldn't he stand?

Another man on a table nearby tried to stand also and gave Harry a weak smile as he too slid to the floor. Harry smiled back. Another man sitting in a chair nearby helped up the other man as the woman in the chair next to Harry helped him to stand on his feet.

They were a little less shaky but not much. She helped him into her chair and went to talk to the man who had ordered the curtains closed. A voice near his ear startled him.

"Do you have any idea what in the blazes is going on here?" Harry turned to find himself face to face with a man who could not have been more than twenty-five or so.

Harry shook his head. "I was hoping some one could tell me." The man nodded.

"I have this strange feeling like I'm not supposed to be here. You know? Like it isn't right. Listen to me. I'm going crazy. Mary always said I would." He grew silent.

Harry had no idea what he was talking about, but it made sense. He did feel like he wasn't really suppose to be there. "By the way, my name's Max. Max Harrison. I have a feeling we're going to be spending a lot of time together."

Harry nodded dumbly. He really didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He had no idea what was going on and from the looks of things no one else did either. And the people that did seem to know what was happening didn't seem to want to tell them.

"Well I, for one, am going to find out what's going on here." Harry and Max both looked up to see a woman in her early forties, late thirties, stalking towards them. As she swept past them, Harry realized she was almost six feet tall and her eyes were hard and cold blue.

The two males watched as she marched up to the group of people who had gathered at the front of the room. They all moved back as if afraid to touch her. The man who seemed to be in charge jumped back and began stuttering. She hadn't even spoken yet.

"I'm... I'm sorry.... I...." He looked around and a man near by whispered her name to him.

"Xira." This stopped her in her tracks.

"How do you know my name?" she asked turning her icy gaze on to him. But the nervous man answered for him and "Xira" turned back to glare at him.

"Xira... Ms. Newt...ma'am...Well, let us wait for the others to join us and we... we'll answer any... questions you may have."

"Damn right you will."

The man turned to face the small room. "Please, if you could move in just a bit I'm sure you all must be wondering what's going on here." He let out a short nervous laugh but everyone moved their chairs closer to him. Harry and Max found themselves at the back of the group but Harry didn't mind.

"Now then, My name is Professor Beneyt Pullium. I am headmaster of Hogwarts school..." Harry missed what he said next because he was still trying to figure out where Dumbledore was, but he lost that train of thought in a hurry when he heard what Professor Pullium said next. "We have brought you all back from the dead..." Again words were lost on Harry as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Harry was floored. He had no idea... He knew there was something off here but... he hadn't been dead had he? Had it really killed him? Dead. Was he really alive now? Was this some kind of dream? Would he wake up to find Ron and Hermione? Would they laugh when he told them about this dream?

Around him he noticed the others having similar reactions. Max had tears leaking out of his eyes, which were tightly shut. Xira had sunk to the ground in shock. The girl who had said she couldn't remember had changed her chant. "I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead... I'm not real. I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm not really here. This is some sick joke... Oh God oh God oh God oh God..." Another man nearby stared straight ahead as if he had not heard but his eyes were watching every thing and everyone at the same time as if waiting for some one to say it was a joke. But there was no joke. It was real. He had really been dead... Right? He didn't know. He was so confused! He remembered nothing but perhaps he had not been dead that long. Perhaps... then where were his friends? A young woman had obviously thought of this at the same time as Harry had for she asked, "What... what year is it? How long have we been gone?"

She sounded like she didn't really want to know. Harry didn't blame her. Around him the faces all stopped their grief for their mortality, such as it had once been, and listened to hear the answer.

Professor Pullium looked uncomfortable and Harry began to worry. What if he'd been dead for a long time? What if there was no one else left? "Miss. Kindell, thank you for... for bringing that up. Um... it's..." He looked panicked like a trapped rabbit. He drew his eyebrows together and looked around. He cleared his through. "It is the year 3721, Miss Kindell."

The room broke into a panic. People began to cry and two of the men tried to attack Pullium. Max sat next to him crying openly now. Sobbing. Tears welled up behind Harry's own eyes.

That long? How long was it even? Thousands of years. There was no chance any one he knew could be left. He was alone. He was too confused to try and figure out the exact number.

Ron would never play chess again. Had anyone ever beat him?

The sounds of grief and anger rose around him and became like white noise. There, but unable to be heard because there was so much of it.

Hermione would never study for another test. Had she ever failed even one?

The girl who could not remember had pulled herself into a sitting position and was humming silently to herself and she hugged her knees close and rocked back and forth.

Harry could sympathize.

Draco would never tease another Muggle-born. Had he ever become a Death Eater?

Harry knew the answer to that but didn't want to think about it. Maybe if I don't it will all go away he thought.

If I pretend it never happened...

But it did happen and he was here now. Here in this new world with no one left but his memories that would haunt his dreams and every waking hour.

An hour later he found himself walking in a very subdued group up to Hogwarts castle. He had learned so much but none of it had penetrated the single thought that he was all alone now. There was nothing left. After this much time not even the pictures that had lined the halls in his time would remember him. The ghosts would have all moved on.

There would be no one left.

Looking up into the rainy night sky, Harry saw the castle looming down on him. It was just a bit bigger here and that tower was not there before was it? It was almost unrecognizable but when he squinted he could see the castle that had stood for so much to that tiny first year he'd been so many centuries ago. It was so hard for him to think of it like that but he knew it wasn't just last month that Ron had asked out Hermione.

Next to him walked the others. They all shared this unspoken bond that the ones who had brought them back could never hope to understand or share. It was not something that could be explained in words. But as much of a bond they shared walking in the light rain that night, they did not know any one.

They had learned each other's names but they did not know them any better then that. Beside Harry was a short woman with black hair and exotic purple eyes. Harry searched his memory of the last hour for a name. Alexa. She didn't speak English and no one here spoke her language to act as interpreter but one boy had stepped forwards. He knew a little bit of her language. She had been almost as scared as the girl with no memory had (Elyzabel, Harry had found out) until she heard the boy talking to her. He'd been so nervous. He had no idea if what he was saying was right or what this great warrior would think of him. Now she walked next to Harry with her interpreter next to her they still did not know why they had come back.

Every time they asked, the people would say that this wasn't the place to talk about it. And so here they were walking in the rain to the place Harry had once called home.

Max walked next to him on the other side. He stared up in wonderment at the castle, as did a few of the others. It was so obvious who had not gone to school here.

Harry realized that as his time at Hogwarts had passed he had come to take more and more of it for granted. Now he felt nothing. He was too numb. There was nothing inside him to feel. Max let out a low whistle and Xira glared at him. But there was silence as the approached the dark palace.

When they reached the door, Professor Pullium opened it without a sound. And they all walked silently into the hall. They did not what to expect. They knew nothing and for Harry, that was a perverse comfort. Nothing more could shock him tonight, but he had a feeling that there was a whole lot more that would make it smite him even more.

Beneyt opened his mouth and announced that he was going to tell them more about what had happened since they died but thought better of it. "Tonight, I think, we shall get to know each other. It will be a long road and we will... Well, we will all need to know each other."

"The hell! Why the fuck are we here?" a very tall man with dark brown hair demanded. He glared at every one as if daring them to challenge him.

"Mr. Walsh, I assure you that I will explain everything in the morning."

"No. Now." Walsh's voice was deep and loud. It left no room for disputation. But some one decided to challenge that.

"No. I think it is right that we first get to know each other. We may have to rely on that later."

"Well, Marcus was it? I don't give a shit about who the hell any of you are! I want to know why in God's fucking name I am here!"

Marcus stood up and every one moved back as one. The schoolboy who had been translating the whole thing for Alexa jumped up to stand between them. Weland glared at him but Sean swallowed his fear.

"Sir. This will accomplish nothing. Perhaps we could talk for a while?"

Both men glared but sat down grumbling. Harry watched in silent fascination as

Professor Pullium slipped out of the hall with a look of pure perplexity on his face.

Beneyt walked out. The whole plan had hardly begun and it was already falling apart. Maybe he should have gone to the magic council and been shot down gracefully. It seemed hopeless. How could these warriors possibly accomplish anything if they hated each other?

It was his mistake, taking the advice of a Muggle indeed. Why did things have to be so damn complicated? He should have thought it out. Never plan something without doing more planning he told himself.

And now this whole fiasco was his fault. Not that little Muggle woman who had actually said the words out loud, or that accursed Divin Japelle who hinted at it. He had said yes because he knew that it would be just what he needed to make people see him as the hero who brought the world its warriors back. But now he would be remembered as a fool who had messed it up. As always.

"One of these days, I'll get it right." he told himself. He just hoped it was true.

Meanwhile, the two people who had put the plan into words for the first time were wandering slowly around. It had been such a crazy evening thus far and both Helena and Divin needed a break. She had caught up to him as he was leaving the meeting room in a huff. "What's wrong?" she'd asked with concern in her eyes.

Divin had looked down at her small frame noticing how fragile this Muggle was. He couldn't help it. He smiled at her. "It's nothing. I need to think." But seeing the look on her face he relented. "Why don't you come along? I could use some company tonight."

It had made her honey-brown eyes light up.

And so here they were. They had not spoken but the silence spoke volumes. It hadn't worked. Their plan had failed. After so much hoping and praying that they might finally be able to see their way clear to the other side of this very long and very dark tunnel, the light turned out to only be a passing train that had forced them back to where they had begun. Helena broke the silence first.

"You know, when I first heard about you I thought you would be an ass. And when I first heard myself suggesting this plan I was so scared that I had the guts to say something in front of so many wizards! I remember as a kid, my mom would tell me not to play with the wizards at school because they were why we were all alone. And you know something? I used to believe her. I grew up afraid that some witch was going to curse me somehow if I stepped out of line. So I grew up to be afraid of you and now..." She stopped and looked up at the tall man. "I'm sorry... I was never very good with talking either. I always... I didn't mean to insult you." She looked like she was about to cry. It almost brought tears to his eyes. The young woman looked so like Her that he could hardly bare it.

Her brown hair was so much like his dead wife's that he found himself about to murmur the wrong name. "Don't worry about it," he said coldly. "I wasn't insulted. I know what you meant."

She gave him a weak smile. "I just say these things; I can't believe I said them and..." She shook her head. "It's like this whole thing with the warriors. I can't believe I said it, you know? Like it wasn't me. And now the whole thing's falling apart when it's hardly begun. One of them can't even remember her own name and another doesn't speak English. It's a godsend that that boy can speak Gaelic! Nothing's like it should be. They were our last hope and it didn't work." Her small form gave way to sobs that racked her body. Divin felt uncomfortable. He'd never had to be the sensitive guy before. Mary had been a very strong woman. But Helena was nothing like that. She needed someone to hold her when she cried but he wasn't the right person to do that.

Hell, for all Divin knew she was married with a kid or two, or ten. But he was the only one out here so he put an awkward arm around her. "I feel so sorry for them. Everyone they loved is gone. They have no one left. Even if I did become that famous I'd never want that to happen to me. I couldn't live knowing that every one I knew was dead. Everyone I love... and even those I hate..." She was murmuring against his shoulder now but he still stood there like a schoolboy who was on his first date.

She looked at him to ask a question and in that second she was Mary. And Mary was all Divin could see. She was as she had been in the weeks before their wedding. When everything was bright and she smiled just for the hell of it. Before he started to spend more and more time working and less and less with her. But it was too late to tell her that he was sorry. And before he knew what he was doing, Divin leaned in to kiss the small brown-haired woman in front of him. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Dimly he heard her: "I said..." But it was lost. He was sorry and now Mary knew that. With a smile he pulled back from her only to find himself face to face with the Muggle girl from the meeting. Helena. She looked at him with a mix of confusion and excitement on her strangely familiar features. Stumbling back he almost fell in his frantic attempt to get away. He turned and ran, but looking back he saw her face fall into a hurt mask that shattered, and broke into tears that ran free as summer rain. And all he could hear was one thing.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..."

The library was alight with whispers. It had finally happened. All the anger and hate that Adela Hudsin and Milana Knight had had broken. Well, it would be more accurate of the storyteller to tell you that Adela's anger broke its flood gates. Milana simply sat there crying over her art as the younger girl insulted her.

"And we all know that you're stupid. Oh! You try and hide it with the way you butter talk the teachers but you're nothing but a dumb Squib. Come on, Milana! Say something! Or is your art more important than speaking up for yourself? I swear! Slytherins may well be clever but have no sense of honor!"

The assembled crowed let out a ripple of interest. Richard tried to pull his girlfriend back but she shoved him off. "Adela. Come on."

"No, Richard. I want to know what the freak has to say! Well? Do you really care more about some piece of shit art than people? She always spends her time locked away in her room. Why the hell is she so anti-social?"

She was ranting now but the occupants of the room had left their books at their tables to come watch. Here was Adela Hudson, the smartest girl in school, cussing out a Slytherin. It didn't seem right, but it just went to prove that even if you were smart, you weren't perfect.

Milana made no response to the other girl's toughness. She just kept on drawing. The picture was rough around the edges because she was still sketching it but Adela's mind stirred at the sight of it. The faces were vague but still some how familiar. Like she saw them every day. But in her ranting she ignored the feeling. She ignored the silent tears that had begun to force their way out of Milana's eyes and down her pale checks. She ignored Guy St. Cloude, the Ravenclaw, who had forced his way to the front of the crowed and reached out to touch Milana on the arm. She just kept spouting hot air.

Milana's head jerked back at Guy's touch. Her eyes were wide with pain and fear.

Without a backward glance she vaulted out of her chair and left at a flat run. No one even noticed the picture still lying on the table for all the world to see.

Adela watched her leave, surprised that she had run away. "You see? She can't stand people," she sneered at the assembled. They began to murmur and drift away. But Guy wasn't going to let that happen. He couldn't leave it like that.

"What gives you the right to do something like that? It's not like you're perfect either," he spat. Adela looked coldly at him without flinching.

The audience had regrouped to watch as round two was beginning. The Ravenclaw ignored the muttered questions about what was going on, but they seemed to distract her housemate. Guy let his guard slip for just a moment as he turned to glance at the assembled and Adela took advantage of his distraction to nail him soundly in the jaw. It certainly got his attention focused right back on her where she wanted it to be.

"You ever speak to me like that again, Guy St. Cloud, I make it a living hell for you in Ravenclaw tower."

He took one look at her face with it's cold contempt and hatred and leaned over so he was right in her face. "Rot in hell, bitch." And he walked away with anger boiling in his veins.

Adela stood fuming and sputtering while Richard patted her comfortingly on the back. Professor Dixon came bubbling out of some back room with her hair off-kilter and her robes being straightened by her very shaky hands. "What is going on here? Get back to work!" she huffed at the children. And with that, went bubbling back to whatever dark corner she had crawled out of to whoever had shared it with her. The children all went back to whatever task had occupied their time before the interruptions. Adela and Richard huffed out to their secret tower while Guy went to see if he could find the object of his secret affection. And all the while, Milana sat in her room alone with not the slightest inkling of what had transpired after her abrupt departure. She still believed in her heart of hearts that no one even cared...

Sean had never been so terrified in his life. What had he been thinking? Stepping between these two huge men? Both of them full-grown with the ability to crush his thin frame as if he were nothing more than a twig? Damned good question. But he got no answer to his silent inquiry and thanked his lucky stars for that.

The men had both sat down and he was left standing there. He began to shake in fright. A soft touch brought him back to reality. Alexa gently led him over to a chair. Her hands shook badly, but still her kind heart sat him down and she sank into the chair next to him.

The room was silent as the grave for a moment. No one so much as breathed, but the tension in the room was so thick it could have held water suspended in mid-air. Sean sat warily. Every muscle in his body was tense with fright and the wonder of being around so many legends.

He'd learned about each and every one of them in class and now he was here, in their midst. Every hope and idea he'd ever had about them was being smashed into thousands of pieces. Weland Walsh and Marcus Cabot were ready to snap each other's necks and Sean sat helpless as the scene unfolded before him. Finally some one spoke.

"Come one, everyone. We don't need to be fighting. We're stuck here so we might as well figure out why." Dane Irish brushed his blue hair off his face and turned his cold brown eyes on the room at large.

"I don't need any one telling me what to do or why, so go find yourself some guy and fuck him!" Sean had already decided he didn't like Xira Newt. Her wild red hair was as loud as her voice. Sean watched Dane's face harden. Sure it was a well known fact that he was gay but he was still a great legend.

"Fuck you, bitch." His voice was cold and hard. It sent chills up Sean's spine.

"Whoa! No way in hell am I going to be doing anything with some fag!" spat Max Harrison as he rose to his feet in one boneless movement. "Either he leaves or I do." Sean knew he should step in, but could not find the strength to move a muscle. So Max Harrison was homophobic. Damn.

Harry Potter rose on shaking legs. "Maybe... maybe we should all just calm down-" But Marcus cut him off.

"Why the fuck is he here? He's just a kid. What in hell could he do?" Sean watched as the young wizard sank back into his chair. Monica Kindell wrapped her arm around his thin shoulders as his eyes fixed on the wall above Sean's head.

"Has the whole of the wizarding world gone to seed! How in God's name could you all have let it get this bad?" He looked around. "And where is that Beneyt fellow? Isn't he supposed to be controlling all of this shit?" Sean sat quaking under Marcus's triad. His knees knocked together as his mind searched for an answer. Where was the headmaster?

Kid. That was what Marcus had called him. Just a kid. Like when he'd been chosen to be the forth person in the Triwazard tournament. Once again he wasn't Harry Potter, the boy who lived, he was just the "boy." The little kid.

In those last moments he'd been more than that. He'd been... he'd been a god's son. He'd watched friends as close and closer than family die before his very eyes and now he was going down in a final blaze of glory. There would be no time after he killed Voldemort, this was it... He was gone... The child who lived was gone... Replaced by a man who had killed other men. For indeed he had. Harry could not block out that memory...

Helena didn't know where she was going. The kiss seemed like a bad dream.

Something she had wanted so badly that turned out to be a curse once she got it. Her legs did not stop to let her think as they sped her along down the halls towards their secret destination. Secret because their owner did not even know it.

She burst into a room that was normally empty this time of night. But as bad luck would have it, it was full of people. And not just any people but the wizard legends. The ones she heard about her whole life. The one's that had gotten her into this whole love mess.

One of them, a tall man with brown hair rounded on her as she entered the room. "And Muggles!" he exclaimed. "Why in the hell do Muggles know about us? Wasn't all of this supposed to be some great secret? She shouldn't even be in these hallowed walls much less in my presence!" Helena gasped as the very egotistical man kept up his rant.

She couldn't stay there. Her legs got the message of fear and panic from her brain and took off again. But they didn't get as far this time.

Just outside the door she ran smack into Divin. He grabbed her about her arms and looked as if he couldn't decided whether to kiss her or to run as she was doing. She let out a strangled gasp as his hands cut too hard into her flesh and the sounds of yelling from the room behind her broke out. Divin looked up and Helena used his distraction to break free.

She took off like a Roman Candle down the hall. She never looked back. She never saw the look of pain and sorrow crossing Divin's face. Her own pain burned too harshly.

The long silver blade left no marks or blemishes on Milana's perfectly smooth skin as she dragged it gently over her forearm. She wanted to press down. Play the knife game.

See if she really could get to a thousand cuts before she died.

The knife had been a gift from her father. That was a joke. Father. He didn't care about her. All he cared about was whether she would follow in his footsteps and serve one of the dark wizards. He'd given her the knife last year for her birthday. It was the only gift she'd ever gotten from him. Barring the scars and bruises he gave her whenever she was home, of course. They weren't gifts.

The winds ruffled the heavy drapes of her bed and she looked up. When had the window been opened? She was sure she had closed it when she'd come in the room.

Sighing she dragged her wary body off her bed and pulled the glass pane shut.

Back sitting on her bed the knife traces patterns and lines on her arms. Invisible scars that she'd healed after her father had administered them. Her mother never even noticed any of it was going on. If Milana had told her mother about the rape, she'd have just laughed in her face. But it had been so real. So terrifyingly real.

The people at school hadn't noticed anything out of joint either. To them, her hair had always been this long and no one said a word about her loose-fitting robes and few extra pounds. All the steps she'd taken so she'd never look like she had that night. Tears slipped down her face cutting tracks in the dirt and grime that had accumulated there because she'd stopped caring about her hygiene. And no one even knew...

"Give me one good reason," she whispered to the room. "One reason why I shouldn't do it." Her words were harsh and cold. Foreign to her own ears. Her hand trembled before releasing the knife. Her body sank into the blankets and the curtains pulled themselves shut around her. Live to die another day.

The red-haired vampire watched from the shadows. So this had not been the night then? She knew it was coming and that when Milana did get up the courage to take her life, then the lives of the entire population of the world would be changed. But tonight was not the night. And with that thought, the vampire slipped back into the shadows and down to her lair. At home among the skeletons of her past.

They were to sleep in the teachers' chambers. There had always been extra rooms but in past years even more had opened up as classes were dropped or teachers were killed. Many teachers now taught two or three classes. The houses all learned together with all four of them in one classroom to accommodate the abilities of the meager teaching staff.

Each of the so-called legends (Harry was beginning to doubt what he was being told) was to be given his or her own room. Harry looked around his with a wary interest that was only brought on by the curiosity of who had occupied the room in his years at Hogwarts. But the blank stone walls yielded no answer to his silent quandary. With a sigh he fell in to bed and into dreams.

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