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Heir of Gryffindor
Heir of Gryffindor
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, etc.; J.K. Rowling and other people do. Also important: All fanfic ideas, spells, characters, and plot devices mentioned in this story are all my own unless otherwise mentioned, in which case, they have been borrowed by the authors and their stories, who will also be mentioned, since they have so generously let me refer to them and use some plot devices. (This was originally posted on www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net.) If anyone wants to swap ideas with me, I'm open to ideas.  Any resemblance to other HP fanfics not cited in this work is PURELY COINCIDENTAL, since I have meticulously cited every fic I borrowed these little things from.

This is new and improved, so new readers will benefit, and hopefully, old readers will enjoy it all just the same. The last story raked up about 1460 reviews, let that be remembered, even if it's no longer around. All the same, this story's for all of you who have helped me reach my dream of going beyond 1000 reviews.

THE BEST OF THANKS to everyone whos helped me over the course of the past year; Ill mention you all with acknowledgements after the end of the final chapter!

So, let's start the ride!

The Heir of Gryffindor

By Quillian

(originally named Kraeg001)


Quibus e spatiis cumque ignes lumina possunt adicere... From whatever distances fires can throw their light... -Lucretius, de Rerum Natura (5.566f)

It was a beautiful summer day in mid-July at Hogwarts. All the teachers except one were away from the castle. They had gone on a brief vacation, were doing business for the Order of the Phoenix, or working with the Ministry of Magic, regarding Lord Voldemort's return.

The one still inside the castle was Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. He was going over reports from Order members, such as Severus Snape, who was infiltrating Voldemort's circle of Death Eaters. A couple of the devices on his desk were functioning like they should, while others remained turned off. His pet phoenix, Fawkes, was standing on his perch, whistling a tune by the Weird Sisters. The Sorting Hat stood on a stool next to the red and gold immortal bird, bobbing around to the music, humming along to the beat and grinning a little. The hat had a taste for music, since it was his annual job to think up a new Sorting Song for the beginning of each school year, so maybe he was listening to the swan-sized bird to get some new ideas. The portraits hanging around the wall of the former headmasters and headmistresses were chatting with their neighbors, although there was the occasional sad note in the conversations.

Dumbledore sighed. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus was empty, showing only the Slytherin banner he normally posed in front of. Ever since Sirius Black died, he hadn't showed up much. Maybe he should have gotten to known his last remaining descendant better.

Dumbledore was about ready to get back to reading Snape's report when something odd, even by Hogwarts standards, happened.

The sword of Godric Gryffindor, which Harry Potter had used in his second year, started vibrating to the point where the glass case which encased it shook. It glowed a vibrant, fiery red, such a deep hue that the silver it was made out of looked like it was going to melt, the rubies inlaid into the hilt looked like they contained fire, and the founder's named engraved onto it appeared to be standing out.

At this point, all happenings in the Headmaster's office stopped, except for the couple of contraptions still working. The former Heads stopped babbling immediately, Fawkes and the Hat stopped their little song and dance routine, and Dumbledore glanced up to see what had just happened?

"What's this?" he asked to no one in particular. He got up and went around his desk to examine the fine sword closer. The instruments on his desk were the only sources of sound in the entire office, and one would think it was the gears turning in his eccentric yet genius mind.

The sword continued to do its glowing and humming. It would glow for five seconds, and then stop. It did this about twelve times before it gave off a flash, and then finally stopped glowing for good.

With caution, the crooked-nosed wizard opened the glass case, and gently removed the sword and held it up to observe it. It felt slightly warm.

At which point, the Hat said, "Hmmmm."

Dumbledore turned around and asked, "What is it?"

The Hat responded, "Well, sir, you remember how Harry Potter found the sword that was hidden inside me while he was facing the Basilisk?"

Dumbledore said, "Yes, please continue."

"Well, to be honest, sir, I remember it was vibrating like that until it dropped out of me. And now I also remember that I could feel it vibrating while I was trying to sort Mr. Potter at the beginning of his first year."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

"You see, sir, I thought that, well, once is an occurrence, twice is a coincidence, and the third time, there must be a certain logic to it. Why?"

"When I succeeded Armando Dippet as Headmaster, he told me about this myth of the Heir of Gryffindor." Dumbledore turned to Dippet's portrait and said, "Why don't you explain it to the Hat, please?"

Dippet cleared his throat and said, "After the Heir of Slytherin finally was done with his first reign of terror, I began to wonder about the descendants of the other Houses. I was never able to find the descendants of Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, but I heard rumors that Gryffindor made a special, magical vow that his descendants would always protect the school from evil. He did this right after Slytherin left the school, knowing that, one way or another, Slytherin's descendants would terrorize both Hogwarts school and the entire Wizarding community beyond."

"Voldemort," Dumbledore muttered.

Dippet said, "Indeed. This vow of his was his best defense against Slytherin's silent threat."

Dumbledore nodded. "The science of war: For every weapon, there has to be a counter-weapon." (1)

Dippet concluded, "I believe the myth is in the History section of the Library, the part of it concerning the school's own history."

Dumbledore said, "I believe I'll go take a look right now."

Dippet added, "Oh, and two other things. The sword would never hurt any of Gryffindor's own descendants if it was being used against them, and that it would always help them defeat evil and survive the conflict. And good luck, Albus."

Dumbledore replied, "Thank you," and hurried out of his office. Normally, he didn't go running around like that unless he was struck by a sudden suspicion. You could say he was struck by a bolt of lightning, shaped like a scar on a certain boy's forehead...

End of Chapter 1.

A/N: Well, it's a start, right?

(1) I remember hearing this line once before on TV, but hey, it's true, right?