Return of the Heirs

Harry Potter and the Return of the Heirs By J.C. Vascardi

Disclaimer: All characters and places featured in this story that relate to Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling, various publishers, and Warner Brothers. I am not profiting from this story and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The only things about this story that I own are the storylines, places and characters that are not in the books.

• • • Chapter Twenty-Two * * *

Draco's Journal -- Saturday, November 2, 1996

Blaise has suspected it for awhile, but earlier this evening he finally got the proof to back up his suspicions: he knows that I like Harry Potter.

Our dorm room was empty and we were both in a lustful mood, so Blaise and I lay down on his bed, charmed the curtains shut, put up a silencing charm, stripped and went at it. As usual, the sex was good. I admit, of course, as has become a habit for me, I was also not thinking about Blaise while doing it.

I suspect that Blaise doesn't think about me when we're doing it either, but I've never been able to get even the slightest hint out of him as to whom he might be fantasizing about. On the other hand, Blaise has always suspected that there was something more to my feelings for Harry then just hate. He told me once that I was so passionate in my hatred of Harry that he had to wonder if it was actually love that I was feeling and was misreading the emotion as hate.

He also even asked me once if his physical characteristics were the reason that I chose him as my lover, considering that he has the same hair and eye color as Harry. I told him at the time that it had absolutely nothing to do with it. He doesn't believe me anymore though. Not that I blame him though, because unlike all the other times in the past that I've fantasized about Harry while having sex with Blaise there was a distinct difference this time: I said Harry's name when I came.

I suppose the knowledge that their lover was thinking about somebody else while having sex with them would hurt most people greatly, but Blaise just grinned and accepted it like it was nothing. He told me that he was fine with it because we aren't in love with one another and he wasn't going to hold it against me because he admitted that he doesn't think about me during sex, though he again dodged the question of who he does think about.

I really don't know why I let him, considering that he was being less than forthcoming with his own thoughts, but I let him give me the third degree and gave him all the juicy details of my fantasies about Harry. Of course, I've kept them bottled up inside for so long, that maybe it just felt good to finally talk to someone about them. Someone I knew wouldn't think I was a blood traitor for loving a half-blood.

Very few people in the Slytherin dungeons would be okay with the idea of a pureblood and a half-blood getting together, because the pureblood ideology is a very strong in Slytherin house. I can't help but wonder though if such ideology actually existed before Godric Gryffindor amended the Sorting Hat's memories to malign Salazar Slytherin's name. Rowena and Helga both insist that there is no difference between purebloods, half-bloods, and muggle-borns, that each of them has the same magical ability as the others. If that was common knowledge, then I fail to see where the pureblood ideology of the others being inferior came from. I can only imagine how everyone on the Dark Lord's side would react if they knew that they were actually clinging to an ideology created by Godric Gryffindor, rather than Salazar Slytherin.

I've gotten off track here, haven't I? Of course, it's probably because I simply am trying to avoid writing what is floating through my head, as if writing it will make it even more real. I love Harry Potter, but I have always thought that there is no way that he could love me in return. Now, I'm even more convinced of that fact. Of course, his name is actually Aarik Potter, as I've recently found out, which gives me even more reason to believe that he could never return my feelings. He's the heir of Godric Gryffindor and as such, a member of one of the most powerful and famous wizading lines in existence, how could he ever love me?

Back in Salazar's quarters, everyone stood in silence for several minutes, not sure what to say. Of course, it was quite a shock to be sure. Finally, Nick broke the silence by asking, "Rowena, could you go and tell the Headmaster that we're coming?"

"Of course, Nick," Rowena said as she disappeared from Salazar's frame.

"Helga, if you could please go to the guest quarters and get my father, I would really appreciate it. Tell him to meet us at the gargoyle."

"My pleasure, Ryan," Helga said as she too left Salazar's frame.

"I'm going to go float somewhere," Alaric said, as he looked at his parents, who were doing their best to act like the other didn't exist. "I don't like seeing them act like that. It's not as bad as when they were alive, when they could barely even see each other without wanting to kill one another, but it's still painful to see. At least now they can't kill each other."

Alaric sighed and floated up through the ceiling of the room and disappeared.

"Godric, Salazar," Harry said. "We're going to the Headmaster's office, if you would please join us? It's in the original Astronomy Tower, the one with the gargoyle that Helga charmed."

Godric and Salazar both nodded and then marched out of Salazar's frame in opposite directions.

"You think those two will ever make up?" Nick asked.

"I have no idea," Harry answered. "Anyway, let's go see Dumbledore."

Dating a professor had certain advantages, one of them being that unlike the last visit to the Headmaster's office, time did not have to be wasted trying to guess Dumbledore's password, because Bill knew it.

Arriving in the Headmaster's office, everyone sat down in the chairs that Dumbledore conjured and, as usual, the Headmaster made his normal offer of tea or lemon drops. Nobody accepted.

"I'm sorry Corelian couldn't make it," Asheera said. "He was busy talking to Erevan about some important matters of state when Helga came, so I didn't want to bother him."

"It's okay," Ryan said. "I was just hoping that my father might be a bit more knowledgeable about the topic at hand."

"Corelian is indeed a very smart man," Asheera said. "Of course most Atlanteans are. We're very studious by nature and when you live as long as we do, you have plenty of time to cram tons of information into your brain."

"So, if I may ask, what brings you to my office, tonight?" Dumbledore asked.

"Some interesting information has come to light," Nick answered, as he relayed everything that Alaric had told them.

"Tom Riddle and Voldemort are not the same being?" Dumbledore asked, clearly shocked.

"Hmm, seems Teryn was right," Asheera commented.

"Who is Teryn?" Ryan asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry," replied Asheera. "I'm referring to my brother-in-law, Lord Teryn, the Master of the Death Sphere. He commented a few months ago that there was a lesser devil born in the Fourth Hell roughly three-thousand years ago named Voldemort and wondered if your Dark Lord was one in the same. We just dismissed it though when we realized that Tom Riddle's full name spelled `I am Lord Voldemort' by rearranging the letters. We thought it nothing more than a coincidence."

"So, there really is a devil named Voldemort then?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, there is," confirmed Asheera. "Demonology is one aspect of the Death Sphere, so if anyone would know about all the devils in the Hells, it's Teryn. Of course, as Mistress of the Life Sphere, I also know quite a bit about the Death Sphere, as it is common practice for Circle members to master their own sphere but also to study their opposing sphere."

"So Voldemort is trying to turn Earth into a Hell so he can take over the Hells?" Zach asked.

"Yes, that would be a common goal among the devils of the Hells," Asheera said. "Devils are a power-hungry bunch and there isn't a devil in existence that hasn't at some point in their life thought about trying to overthrow the King of the Hells and take over."

"How would one go about turning Earth into a Hell?" Justin asked. "Is such a thing even possible?"

"Oh yes, it is definitely possible," Asheera said. "Evil sown on the Mortal Plane by a devil is very potent and when enough evil has been done, the Mortal Plane will begin it's descent into the Hells, before finally, it ceases to be the Mortal Plane. That's why there are Nine Hells, because the Mortal Plane has been turned into a Hell eight times in history. Earth is the current Mortal Plane and has been for millions of years, but before Earth, the Mortal Plane was Nessus, which is now the Ninth Hell, ruled by Asmodeus, the King of the Hells."

"What do you mean the Mortal Plane?" Bill asked.

"The world that is inhabited by mortal beings," Asheera answered. "There's only ever one of them at a time and Earth has been the Mortal Plane for a longer period then any other. Of course, that's mainly because one of the first things that Asmodeus did as King was to chain all of the other Archdevils of the Hells and the greater devils who he judged as being a threat to their native Hells."

"Chained them?" Harry asked.

"Well, cast very powerful binding magic," Asheera said. "Magic that would make it impossible for them to leave of their own free will the Hell that they're the ruler of in terms of the Archdevils, or the Hell they were born in for the greater devils. I can only assume that Asmodeus did not view a lesser devil like Voldemort to be enough of a threat to him to bind him."

"So, why did Voldemort create a fake Tom Riddle?" Dumbledore asked. "Why would he take the time to possess anyone?"

"Well, he possessed a fake Tom Riddle to prevent Asmodeus from finding out he was on Earth," Asheera said. "Anytime any devil is summoned out of the Hells to the Mortal Plane, the King will know about it in a matter of a few minutes. He won't do anything if he senses that the devil is encased in binding magic to force them to do someone's bidding, but as Voldemort summoned himself to Earth, he can't appear in his true form or Asmodeus would find out and force him to return."

"So he will always have to possess someone?" Nick asked. "He can never appear in his true form?"

"No, actually now he probably could," Asheera answered after taking a moment to think. "In order to appear in his true form, Voldemort would have to bind himself to the Mortal Plane. I could be wrong, but I think his way of doing that is through the Dark Marks that he placed on the Death Eaters. Those Dark Marks bind the Death Eaters to him, which would prevent Asmodeus from forcing Voldemort to return."

"How would that stop him?" Dumbledore asked. "Isn't the King of the Hells supposed to be nearly omnipotent?"

"Yes, as King, Asmodeus is definitely a force to be reckoned with," Asheera said. "He's one of the very few creatures in existence who would stand a chance, however slim, of actually winning a duel with one of the Lesser Gods. However, no matter how powerful he is, he is still required to follow certain rules imposed by Zeus. One of those rules is that he cannot force anyone into the Hells that was not born in the Hells.

"According to the scrolls in Atlantis, Zeus made that rule about three thousand years ago. The Lord of the Seventh Hell is constantly at war with the Lords of the Second and Eighth Hells, so as a means to try to keep his army of souls replenished, he created a powerful artifact resembling the veil that a widow might wear to a funeral. Anyone who fell through it would be cast down into the Seventh Hell to serve as a member of his army. Zeus then put the Archdevils of the Hells on notice that any future activities of that kind would not be tolerated, but for reasons known only to him, he allowed the Lord of the Seventh to keep his veil."

"Veil?" Harry asked, as he looked at Dumbledore. The old man instantly knew what Harry was thinking and asked, "Is it known what happened to the veil?"

"They aren't sure," Asheera said, "but many of the Atlantean scholars think that it is actually now in the possession of one of the European Ministries of Magic, they don't know which one though."

Dumbledore, Hermione, and Bill all cast concerned looks at Harry at this revelation, because if it was true, then that meant...

"Sirius is in the Seventh Hell?" Harry asked and it was obvious to everyone present that he was clearly very sad and fighting back tears.

"Sirius?" Asheera asked.

"My dead godfather, Sirius Black," Harry said. "Last year, there was a battle in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic, and during the course of that battle, Sirius was dueling with a Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange and he fell through a veil in what is known as the Death Room."

"Describe the veil," Asheera said.

"It's like a tattered black curtain," Harry said. "I suppose it could be made of the same type of material as a widow's veil. It hangs from a crumbling stone archway. It flutters ever so slightly as if there was a breeze blowing it, but the air in the room is cold and still. I could hear voices from beyond it when I got close to it."

Asheera visibly paled and then laid her hand on Harry's in a comforting gesture, before she said, "Then I am sorry to say, that the veil your godfather fell through is indeed the Veil of Baazlebul, created by the Lord of the Seventh Hell."

Meanwhile, in a corridor on the sixth floor, Draco Malfoy was on patrol as a part of his prefect duties. Normally, he would be with another prefect, but tonight Ron Weasley was his assigned partner. Obviously, the two boys were not about to work together, and they both split up as soon as possible.

What Draco did not know, however, was that instead of doing his patrol, Ron had been shadowing him for the last hour, using Harry's invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map to make sure he wasn't caught. Ron was simply biding his time for the right moment, before he cast the charm that would set his revenge against Malfoy in motion.

"So, Sirius is in the Seventh Hell?" Hermione asked. "Fighting an eternal war?"

"Yes," Asheera said. "Baazlebul has been at war with the Archdevil Mephistopheles, the Lord of the Eighth, for millennia now and by extension the Archdevil Dispater, Lord of the Second, who is allied with Mephistopheles. The war between them will likely never end, unless Asmodeus orders them to end it, and it's doubtful that he would do such a thing."

Harry remained quiet through all of this, but there were still some questions that the group needed answers to, so Zach asked, "How would the Dark Marks prevent Asmodeus from forcing Voldemort's return?"

"Well, as I said the Dark Marks bind Voldemort to the Death Eaters," Asheera answered. "Other than the Veil of Baazlebul, the only way for living people to end up in the Nine Hells is for one of the Lords of the Nine Hells to summon them to the Hells and they can't do that unless the person was born in the Hells. So, since Voldemort is bound to hundreds of living souls not born in the Hells, Asmodeus cannot force him to return to the Hells, without also forcing all of the Death Eaters to come to the Hells, which he can't do because they were not born there."

"What would happen if Asmodeus did it anyway?" Ryan asked.

"He would never do that," Asheera said. "But, if he did, then Mephistopheles would become King of the Hells, because Zeus would destroy both Asmodeus and the Ninth Hell, which would make Cania, the Eighth Hell, the deepest of the Hells."

"Is there anyway that we could see the real Tom Riddle?" Nick asked, curious about his ancestor, who due to the nature of Tom's prison, he was now technically a year older than. "See him without alerting Voldemort?"

Asheera got thoughtful for a moment, as if thinking, but Salazar beat her to the punch.

"Yes, Nick," answered Salazar. "In my private potions lab, there is a book containing all of my most secret potions recipes. Among them is a recipe for a potion that combined with the right spell would allow us to see Tom Riddle in his prison, without alerting Voldemort. Due to the nature of the prison variant of the Time Suspension charm though, we would need a few drops of blood from someone in Voldemort's service in order to see Tom."

"As luck would have it," Dumbledore said, "my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Severus Snape, formerly the Potions professor and the Head of Slytherin House is a marked Death Eater. Of course, unknown to Voldemort he works for me as a spy."

"Then we just need to brew the potion," Salazar said, "and get Professor Snape to agree to donate a few drops of his blood. Many of the potion's ingredients are very rare, but that is not a problem in my private potions lab, because I charmed it so that it would have an infinite supply of every non-plant ingredient in existence. I relied on Helga's greenhouse for the plant ingredients to ensure freshness."

"If only you could have charmed it so that nobody could get hurt," Godric muttered.

"Don't start, Godric," Harry said, speaking for the first time in several minutes. "We don't have time to deal with your petty rivalry with Salazar."

"Aarik, my son died," Godric said. "I would hardly call that petty."

"I don't mean to sound insensitive," Harry said. "But, Godric, Alaric died over a thousand years ago. For that matter, so did you."

"What is your point, Aarik?" Godric asked.

"My point is that it's in the past and you can argue with Salazar from now until the end of time, but it will not change anything."

"Harry is right," agreed Bill, "Therefore, I propose that instead of arguing with Salazar, you do something constructive, such as helping all of us to stop Voldemort from achieving his goal. Is that really too much to ask?"

Godric sighed and said, "No, I suppose it isn't. I'm only a portrait though; I fail to see how I can be of much use."

"Don't be daft, Godric," Helga said. "We have all of our memories and we still have all the knowledge we accumulated in life. We can help by imparting that knowledge."

"Helga is right, Godric," Rowena said. "Just because we're portraits, doesn't mean we can't help. We're the ones who built this castle, after all, so we know all of its secrets. Secrets, I'm sure, that even Professor Dumbledore, as the Headmaster, is unaware of. We may not be able to offer any physical help, but that doesn't mean that we can't help in other ways."

"Yes, you're right," Godric said. "Aarik, perhaps you can find a use for my private armory and training room. The armory is charmed to have any weapon or armor you could ever want. The training room is charmed so that nobody can get hurt in the room, whether it is from a weapon or by spell. Even the Unforgivables can't harm anyone in my training room."

"You found a way to protect against the Unforgivables?" Harry asked. "Is that why I didn't die when Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on me when I was a baby?"

"Aarik, I have no idea how you survived it," Godric said. "By all accounts, you should be dead, because a one-year-old wizard should not have been capable of rebounding spells. As for my training room, it took almost forty years, but I finally managed to charm it in such a way that offensive spells lose their effectiveness when cast in the room. The Killing Curse will still knock the person hit by it unconscious, but the Enervate charm will reverse it with no major damage; perhaps a concussion and headache, depending on how and where the person landed when they lost consciousness, but that's about it."

"Would it be possible to put similar protections elsewhere?" Dumbledore asked.

"Theoretically, yes," Godric said. "However, it can only be done in indoor areas and then the spells involved get increasingly more difficult and time consuming depending on the size of the area. For my training room, it took me twenty-one hours of non-stop casting to charm it and then even with numerous doses of the magic restorative draft, I was still out of commission for three full days as I recovered from the exhaustion and the drain on my powers."

"Rowena taught some of us how to simultaneous cast spells," Justin said. "Wouldn't it lessen the strain if multiple wizards and witches, for example all of the professors, worked together to cast the spells?"

"It's certainly possible," Godric said. "I probably should have asked at least one of the other founders or professors to help me when I cast the spells on my training room, but then, I wasn't ready to share my spell research with anyone, so I went at it alone."

"Do you think it would be possible to adapt your spells?" Dumbledore asked. "Perhaps, to infuse clothing with the protections on your training room, for example?"

"Possibly," Godric said, "I never tried it or did any research on infusing clothing with the protections, so I can't give a definite answer."

Before anyone else could say anything, the fireplace whooshed into activity and Valen's face appeared in the flames.

"Is something wrong, Valen?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, Albus," Valen said. "I just brought young Mr. Malfoy into the hospital wing. I found him in a corridor on the sixth floor, lying in a pool of blood. I don't know what happened, but he's lost quite a bit of blood and he's in critical condition. Madame Pomfrey and Severus are doing everything they can, but we could use some more help," as he said that last part, Valen looked pointedly at his sister.

"I'm on my way," Asheera said as she stood.

Valen nodded and disappeared from the flames, but left the connection open so that Asheera could Floo directly to the hospital wing.

"I assume you are skilled in healing magic?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, Albus, I am," Asheera answered. "Healing magic is a very large part of the Life Sphere."

"Will you be able to help Draco?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, to be honest," Asheera said. "I don't even know exactly what happened to him, but I'll do my best to assist in any way I can."

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Asheera quickly made her way over to the Floo and stepped into the flames.

Twenty minutes earlier, in a corridor on the sixth floor, Ron Weasley decided that the time was right to cast the spell to get his revenge on Draco. The other boy had his back to Ron, as he parted the cloak, raised his wand, and whispered, "Discrucio!"

Almost immediately, Draco grabbed his head, as his mind was flooded with hellish memories and nightmares that he would rather forget. In the back of his mind, he knew that a curse must be the cause of it, but with the horrible images pushed to the forefront of his mind, everything from his father's abuse to watching his mother's death, he couldn't think about anything else.

Draco dropped to his knees and started to cry as the mental onslaught continued in an endless loop, repeating every single bad memory, even memories he hadn't given any thought to in years. Ron laughed softly as he put his wand back in his pocket and slipped behind a tapestry that hid a stairwell up to the seventh floor corridor above.

Arriving on the seventh floor, Ron looked at the map to try and find Harry, hoping that he was not in Gryffindor Tower and thus perhaps wondering where his cloak and map where. Finding Harry in the Headmaster's office, Ron breathed a sigh of relief as he tapped the map with his wand and said, "Mischief managed," before folding it back up and tucking it into his pocket. He then removed the cloak and hid it under his robes as he made his way to Gryffindor Tower.

If only Ron had been looking at the section of the map where Draco was instead of looking for Harry, he would have seen the name of the person approaching Draco.

"I always thought you were a weak little bastard, Malfoy," the voice said. "Finding you here crying your eyes out only proves I was right."

The voice paused for a moment before it said, "You are a disgrace to wizarding kind and I'm going to make you pay for that."

Wand held aloft, the person that the voice belonged to cast a spell which caused a jet of sickly yellow light to hit Draco as he fell backwards to the ground, bleeding. The assailant simply laughed before slipping away.

Arriving in the hospital wing, Asheera rolled up her sleeves and strode forward, ready to help however she could.

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"It appears as though he's been hit by two Dark curses," Severus said. "The Discrucio curse and the Eviscero curse."

"Any idea which of the spells was cast first?" Asheera asked.

"Does it matter?" Valen asked.

"No, not really," Asheera said. "I just can't imagine why anyone would cast both curses on someone. Why cast a spell meant to torture them mentally and then cast a curse that causes their skin to be torn apart in bloody gashes that continually reopen over and over again?"

"I admit it does seem a bit strange," Severus said, "but at the moment I find trying to make sure my godson doesn't die to be a priority."

"Of course," Asheera said as she watched Severus and Pomfrey working feverishly. "That is as it should be, Professor Snape. At any rate, I shall help in any way that I can."

"It might help if you actually had your wand out," Severus said as he looked up at Asheera as he poured a potion into Draco's mouth.

"I don't need one," Asheera said, and at the look she got from both Severus and Poppy, she added, "I'll explain later when Mr. Malfoy's life is not hanging in the balance."

That seemed to placate Severus and the nurse, who both went back to their work, as Asheera stood next to the bed and positioned her hands a few inches above a particularly nasty gash across Draco's chest, she began chanting in an ancient Atlantean dialect. Valen and Asheera herself were the only ones in the room who actually understood what she was saying, but understanding it wasn't important, as long as it helped Draco.

To be continued...

I know you hate me for ending it here. However, I hope you can find a little solace in knowing that there will be some Harry/Draco scenes coming up soon -- like Chapter 23 and Chapter 24 soon. Until then, please review, because I love hearing what y'all are thinking. -- J.C.