ATTENTION ALL: I DO NOT THREATEN, DEMAND, OR ASK OTHERS TO THREATEN OR DEMAND, REVIEWS FOR MY WORK. THE INDIVIDUAL BEHIND THIS ('ThranduiI Oropherion Redux') IS A TROLL USING THE NAME OF ANOTHER USER ('Thranduil Oropherion Redux'). THEY ARE TRYING TO START FLAME WARS. IGNORE THEM AND THEIR EMPTY THREATS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen and others, at last it is here. The Phoenix and the Serpent, the third full book in this saga (even if Unfinished Business probably qualifies as one in its own right…), and the other side of the mountain of Harry's titanic fourth year (I mean, good grief, it's taken long enough). This is the downhill side, where everything starts to pick up, and things happen faster and faster. It's going to be a wild ride, readers one and all, and I hope you enjoy it. In the meantime, enjoy a few little snapshots of what is to come – some of which may be more accurate, or more deceptive, than others.
"Okay," Harry said slowly, looking around the mist-shrouded mountaintop courtyard. "I'm guessing that this would be the next part of my lesson."
The answer came in a voice as deep as an ocean, as inexorably powerful as the grinding movement of continents, rumbling up through the earth itself.
"The next part of your education. All your wanderings, all your trials, all your travails through suffering and fire, through wilderness and war… all have led you down this path. I am the next step."
Something brushed through the mist, undulating, glimpsed almost as a distant ridgeline. Something swift. Something huge.
Something strangely familiar.
Harry set himself, eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"I am He Who Is Undying. I am He Who Holds The Burning Heart. I am He Who Said 'No More'."
There was a crash like thunder, and a gale like a hurricane, and darkness as the sun itself was blocked out by a colossal shape of green and gold, an organic mountain with wings as broad as a glacier.
"I am the Last Test of The Iron Fist, the Judge of the Worthy. I am Life, and I am Fire. I am Shou-Lao, little Phoenix."
His battleship sized head snaked down, with a thunderclap of displaced air, until it could look Harry in the eye.
"And we have much work to do."
There was a dead silence.
"I have to admit, I was expecting someone a little smaller."
There was a disgusted sigh like a winter's gale. If a canyon could sound exasperated, it would sound like this.
"Asgardians."
"Just the one, actually."
OoOoO
"Are you sure about this, Majestrix?"
"I am desperate, Cerise, my empire is desperate, and my brother is so desperate that there is no telling what he will do," Lilandra, rightful and exiled Empress of the Shi'ar said. "These creatures, these 'dragons', are destroying our the Imperium, not out of any strategic aim, but simply because it is there. Because it is convenient. And because it amuses them. I will not abide this, but I will also not abide my brother's madness. At this rate, these monsters will not destroy the Imperium, even if they intended to in the first place. Rather, he will have burned it down to spite them."
She shook her head.
"D'Ken cannot accept anything less than total victory, so he fights hopeless battle after hopeless battle, and his wounded pride gushes with the blood of our people," she said. "The weapons that we know he is testing are bad enough. Now, rumours of this, something so dangerous and so important that it instead of deploying the cream of the Imperial Guard to the battlefield, he has them guarding… this. I shudder to think of what it might be, but if D'Ken thinks it can turn this insane war."
"Majestrix… what if… what if he is right?" her companion asked, hesitant but serious.
Lilandra paused, drawing herself up to her full height. It was not all that great, but there was power in her grace and in her stare. "Then we should dread it all the same," she said quietly. "Because there is no telling who he will use it on next."
"Of course, Majestrix."
"Have you found the mercenaries?"
"Yes, Majestrix. Though I must admit, I have my doubts."
"I do not," Lilandra said firmly, as she entered the audience chamber, and signalled her guards to summon those awaiting her. "Strange, they may be," she continued as the small, mismatched group filed in. "Unconventional, uncouth, and perhaps even unpleasant, yes. But when it comes to find, retrieving, and neutralising objects of power, I would be hard pressed to think of a better group to turn to than the Guardians of the Galaxy."
OoOoO
Harry took a deep breath, a thousand-thousand ideas coalescing into his mind, revealing one dreadful, truth.
"Ideas spread, like viruses, by jumping from one person to another. You want to know what I said? 'The image of Angel is itself an Angel'. Or, given the context... the image of a Jeff Goldblum is itself a Jeff Goldblum. And that includes the images inside your head."
OoOoO
"What are you all staring at?" Noriko asked. It was a pleasant Spring evening and her classmates - in fact, most of the students at the Xavier Institute - were crowded round a window, looking down at the grounds.
"Jean's got a date," Kurt said cheerfully.
Noriko sighed. "Another one?"
"Another vun," Kurt agreed.
"She's got a guy who thinks he's a date," Kitty corrected, before turning to Noriko. "Officially, it's a study date."
Noriko rolled her eyes. "So, he hasn't met anyone," she said.
"He's from another school," Lorna chimed in.
Noriko shot a cursory look out the window. "Hot?"
The girls shared a look, before nodding. "He's cute," Kitty said.
"Odds of him surviving first contact?"
"Slim," Lorna said frankly. "I wouldn't bother learning his name, Nori, he's not going to last. He'll probably survive Scott's jealousy, if he even notices, but that's it."
"Lorna," Kitty scolded. "That's mean."
"Probably true, though," Jono observed. "I mean, he's new. Which means he hasn't met us."
"Hey!" Kurt and Kitty said in indignant unison.
"Which," Jono continued, ignoring them. "Also means that he hasn't met the family yet. Which means Maddie and Harry, who, lovable as they are..." He trailed off pointedly. All the former Red Room prisoners nodded soberly. The others looked confused.
"They aren't that bad," Kitty said. "I mean, both of them can be a bit... weird, but they're nice. Right?"
"Oh yeah, they're nice," Jono said. "Usually."
"Kitty," Noriko said, noticing the other girl's continued incomprehension. "We are talking about a guy with more power and more issues than all of us put together, and the girl who once literally told one of Jean's previous dates that if he upset her, 'I will find you, and I will kill you.'"
"B-but she was joking, right?" Kitty said, uncertain.
Jono laid a kindly hand on her shoulder. "I rather doubt it, love."
OoOoO
"No more," came the whisper, from the eye of the storm, an endless howl of crimson darkness.
Two words were spoken.
And the world changed.
OoOoO
"Okay," Carol said, looking around at the assembled young heroes, people of power, embodiments of courage. All wore very serious, attentive expressions. "You all signed up for this, and you know the risks, and requirements of what's coming. You're up for it anyway, and I could not be more grateful. You know the players. You know the situation. And you all know your roles." She met each gaze, one by one. "'Operation: Get Steve A Date' is go."
OoOoO
Rain sheeted down onto cold, unforgiving stone. Darkness had fallen, a darkness so deep that even the stars seemed to hide from it.
From the heart of that darkness, a voice emerged from a pale face with eyes like coals. Like the face from which it emerged, the lips from which it poured, it was stretched and twisted, elongated and inhuman, soft, sibilant, and hypnotically cruel.
"I told you once, I told you again, and now I tell you for the third and final time, Harry Potter," said that voice of ashes and shadows. "There is no 'good' or 'evil'. What matters… all that matters… is power. There is power…" A hand of darkness reached out and caressed Harry's jaw, before flicking it and sending him sprawling. "… and those too weak to seek it."
Harry looked up from where he had been driven, and forced himself to his knees; beaten, bloodied, and defiant. Always defiant. He smiled with his teeth, not his eyes, and spat blood.
"And I tell you now, Tom," he said. "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."
There was a soft chuckle. "Now, Harry," came the almost fatherly reply. "We both know that isn't true."
Lightning flashed. Thunder rolled. And as the brightness faded, there was nothing.
Yep, hints of what is to come, some ominous, some amusing, some a little bit of both. Mood Whiplash – my favourite. And believe me, this merely scratches the surface. I'll see you soon, after a well-earned break. And lots, lots more writing.