AN.: I haven't updated in… a while? OK, OK more like an eternity, but thanks to all those who reviewed - especially Blue Flame Crystal who complained recently - the story is back. My style has changed drastically though, so please try to get used to it.

Disclaimer: Things from Harry belongs to JK. Rowling and the stuff from Final Fantasy to Square Enix and I'm neither!

You can find the translations at the end of the chapter, but I suggest using an Al Bhed translator.

Harry Potter and the Return of the Summoners

Chapter 4 – Ehdu dra Cduns

After the frightening discovery that the second task would be even harder for Harry to accomplish than all other champions, he spent most of his time in the library. Of course he wasn't alone, he had asked Ron and Hermione for help and he therefore at least didn't have to work be himself.

Naturally since he wasn't as fond of studying as Hermione, after yet another day of spending his free afternoon reading fruitlessly, the tousle-haired boy was growing wary of spending his free periods searching. You couldn't really blame him for beginning to eye the Restricted Section longingly. "What if the answer is hidden in there?" Leaving his dozing male friend and completely immersed female one at their table, the young wizard stood up.

Checking whether Madam Pince was watching, the boy risked venturing a little closer to the foreboding, yet tempting corridor, which housed the darkest books the library had to offer. He eyed the librarian warily, wondering whether her romance novel was just a clever scheme to tempt unsuspecting students into stupid escapades for which she could throw them out. Deciding it was worth it, he crept into the shadowed section, careful to remain in nooks where the woman wouldn't be able to see him, in case she decided to look up from her book.

His fingers traced the spines of the different books in front of him suddenly wondering why he had even bothered to come here. He knew quite well how uncooperative these books were if you weren't allowed to open them. Imagining that there was the chance he was standing in front the solution to the task, yet having it as far out of his reach as it could be, frustrated him to no end.

The black-haired student hurried out of the nook and deeper into the shadows, when he began to have the feeling that someone was watching him. Stiffening he steeled himself for the scolding he would without a doubt receive - none came.

The feeling faded as fast as it had come and risking a glance over his shoulder he discovered that nobody was there.

His hand itched to slide into the pocket of his robes where his wand was hidden, since there was a high chance it had been someone he didn't want to give an easy shot at his unprotected back. He now wished that he hadn't left Hermione and Ron behind.

In this moment he noticed a book he could have sworn hadn't been there before, because he was sure he would have noticed it right away. It was very thin, old-looking and it almost reeked of magic, like some of the library's oldest scrolls, which only survived through the ages because it was cared for by wizards.

Acting before his brain could catch up with his hands, he grabbed the book and went back to his table, this time not even bothering to inconspicuously sneak past the distracted librarian. The small book disappeared in his book bag in less than a moment, put in with sure movements as though it were his own. He ignored Hermione, who had noticed everything and was looking at the other youth quite scandalised. Harry knew that her curiosity and loyalty was greater than her sense of justice.

The young wizard was having a hard time understanding why she was looking at him with such shock. It took all the way to the Gryffindor Common Room for it to occur to him that he had stolen a book from the Restricted Section. Yet he could not bring himself to turn around and give it back – he did not even want to. He was reluctant to part with it and promised his slightly guilty conciousness that he would return it soon... or later.

So after fidgeting nervously for ten minutes, while his friends talked about their daily findings, he excused himself, claiming to be tired. It was a bit too only to retire really, but his friends probably thought he needed some time to himself and those who still believed Rita's lies ignored him anyway. Only one acted completely different. As he went upstairs to his dorm, he could still feel his bushy-haired friend's attentive eyes follow his every move.

Closing the curtains around his bed he lit his wand and opened the book on his pillow. It didn't surprise him too much, that the book didn't scream, as it was likely that whoever put the book there wanted him to find it.

What shocked him was in what condition the book was in.

He frowned when he noticed how very few pages there were. It looked like more than four fifths of the book were missing. To his surprise and unexpected outrage, the pages hadn't just fallen out after decades of fingers leafing through them with little care. They had been ripped out cleanly at their root as though the book's destroyer had been very careful to not damage any of the precious information.

Shaking his head somewhat mournfully, he returned to the first yellowed, brittle page. It was filled with a rather messy, hand-written script that should have made absolutely no sense, but as he scanned the page the same vague understanding he had when he heard the golden egg's song filled him. The only difference was that there were far more words that he wasn't able to translate in this text, as they lacked an English equivalent.

I am the last of the Cissuhanc, remaining beyond the Vynabmyha. I have written this down so you, the Acban will not forget us or each other, after we pass on.

I know you will be the only ones to miss us, so preserve this book.. Please do not let this fall into the hands of anybody but an Acban! The other races wouldn't hesitate to destroy the last evidence of our existence.

He sat back a little annoyed, because the book had just become an even bigger mystery. "What language is this? ...And why can I understand it?"

He began to reread the first page thoroughly and slowly once more taking note of the most recuring word, that he didn't understand. It seemed to be the name of the author's race: 'Cissuhanc'. He spoke the word out loud letting the syllables roll off his tongue and he repressed a slight shudder at how natural it felt, despite it being so different from any language he had ever heard before.

Slowly but surely he deciphered what the author wrote on the next page and he could feel his excitement growing with every word he read, even though he had no idea why.


The Mistress of Ice and one of the oldest Cissuh

Harry raised an eyebrow. He remembered having heard of the name 'Shiva' before. A god if his memory served him correctly.

Although she is quite powerful, she always granted her assistance to young and inexperienced Cissuhanc. She usually preferred level-headed young men, who were beautiful to behold.

We have at last found a suitable location for her temple not too far from her favoured sister's resting place.

Next to this was an almost blank page that at first seemed almost empty apart from some outlines and purple tones, but once he squinted, he could make out some faint blue on the paper. Almost pressing his nose to the book, he tried to see the picture that had been drawn with colours even magic had been unable to hold forever. A slight blush spread over his cheeks when he finally saw the scarcely- clad female that seemed to be dancing in a blizzard.

Turning the page over, his attention was at first captured by the fiery red picture on the right page. A horned slightly hunched humanoid bull-like demon was staring at him from the drawing. Fire and smoke was everywhere. The creature breathed it, produced it from its skin and in certain places there was a smooth transition from the beast to flames. The young wizard was very glad that he didn't have to face the creature in blood. That it only existed as ink on paper, unable to harm anyone.

It was only then that he noticed that the pictures didn't move. For a moment he contemplated this. It was rare for a book in the library of Hogwarts. According to Hermione such books were normally older than the technique enabling pictures to come to life. How old was this little book, that was as thin as a notepad? Who and why would someone preserve obviously incomplete information for so long?


The Incarnation of Flames and Smoke and the hated and hating Twin of Water and Ice

Since his flames' hunger could only be truly quenched in times of war, he liked to take easily-angered, influential, strong Cissuhanc.

Harry didn't read farther as in that moment an ugly creature crawled over the paper. It looked a little like a gross cross between a snail and a bug with no legs and a smeary body with tiny round insect-wings. A Bookbug, a librarian's nightmare.

A little disgusted he flicked it away and started to leaf through the book, concerned about the its health. Even paper that was in the safe-keeping of magic-users had natural enemies - magical creatures. If Pince knew there was one in Hogwarts, she'd probably call the ministry in panic. Although the thought of a bunch of Aurors searching high and low for a worm hardly as long as his finger nail, made Harry laugh, he reconsidered his earlier instinctive move.

Closing the book carefully, he got off the bed, found the scared Bookbug after a short search and took it to the window. The student got the feeling that the creature was looking at him accusingly through its oozing eyes, but it was probably his overactive imagination. He opened the window and threw the creature into the cold night.

It was a very cold night, decidedly colder than the last few had been. Shivering Harry tried to warm his arms by rubbing them. His jittering breath produced a thick, white cloud in front of his face.

Not giving the sudden drop of temperature any further heed, he tried to close the window, but in that moment a strong gust of icy wind blew into the room, wrenching the two parts of the window from his grasp. With a clatter they hit the wall breaking on impact.

Protecting his face, the teen noticed that in that moment it had begun to snow rapidly and it was picking up, getting stronger by the second. He leant outside curiously, looking up into the clouds that had suddenly swallowed all light and decided to burst forth the white fluff.

Flinching he reeled back. A hand flew to his cheek and he felt a small trickle of warm fluid flow between his fingers. Something had bitten into his skin, but what? Feeling the wound with his hand, he felt something sharp. Whatever had cut was still in there and with with careful fingers he took out. Bringing it close to his face, he first thought it was a piece of broken glass, but on closer inspection he noticed it was melting. It was a small shard of ice.

Forgetting about the window he ran to the door of the room. He clumsily fumbled with the door knob for a moment, before a spark of inspiration ignited and he ran back to his bed, pulling his trunk out from under it.

Leafing through his things, he got his cloak and his broom.

His heart was beating wildly and he was sweating a little. He had an aim so desperate that he could hardly think of anything but following it. It had come back with an irresistible force - that feeling that told him to do something, to go somewhere. Before it had been a slightly nagging feeling at most, but now it was like the call of a siren, begging him - no ordering - him to follow.

Throwing his father's cloak over his shoulders, he climbed on his broom. A part of him, was screaming at him about the foolishness of his actions, but it was drowned by the howling wind.

He had to go out into the storm. Someone was waiting for him.

Kicking off he flew through the window tucking the Invisibility Cloak tightly around himself, not only because he didn't want anyone to come after him, but also because the cloak had on various occasions proven to be very sturdy and it would hopefully protect him from the icy missiles the heavens were shooting down at him.

The storm around him had picked up and the cold was so biting that he had lost all sensation in his legs apart from the pricking of a thousand needles. He no longer had any sense of direction, as he was pushed around by the furious winds and everything was a moving, dancing white. Yet somehow he still knew where he had to go.

He felt no fear whatsoever, no hopelessness. All that mattered was finding what he sought. The storm was an obstacle, nothing more.

Leaning forward he picked up speed flying faster and no longer allowing the storm to play with him like a kite. He had no time to fool around with servants.

Someone was waiting. Someone important was waiting for him. Someone he had been waiting for his whole life as well.

The blizzard around him grew to even greater fury, but Harry didn't notice. He was going too fast and with too much determinition. He was coming closer. Cocking his head he thought he saw something in the see of churning white. A glittering gem on what he thought was the ground.

Flying lower, his breath caught in his throat. It was a palace - in the middle of the ForbiddenForest, which was filled with all kinds of monsters most people only saw in their nightmares. The building itself was a breath-taking sight, completely out of place in this evil forest of old, gnarled trees. Like the castles in fairytales, it seemed to be made of glass.

He made his way towards it. Flying around the highest towers, he admired the intricate patterns on them. He was about to touch one of them, when it occurred to him that he had once more been mistaken. Open-mouthed he realised that the palace was just as little made of glass as the shard that had cut his cheek. It was made of ice and he got the feeling this structure had something to do with the suddenly hard winter.

Following a tower down to its roots, he landed. His destination was so near, only a little further and he would meet this mysterious someone. He made his way around the ice-wall, finding the impressive entrance. Intricate, swirling patterns wound their way over the portal's surface, forming something that resembled the blizzard currently covering him in snow and almost freezing him.

Cautiously he walked up to the gates and was about to try moving the gigantic pieces of ice with his bare hands, when they moved on their own accord.

He found himself in a sort of entrance hall. It was lit by strange blue lights that gave off no heat whatsoever and turned the glassy walls into a mysterious piece of art. Shivering he blew his hot breath on his hands and rubbed them, before hiding them in his clothes. It was decidedly warmer than outside though and he could take off his cloak.

Suddenly his ears pricked. Previously deaf from the howling wind they were now able to pick up a very low sound. It reignited his will to search and he followed it.

Crossing the hall he climbed a flight of stairs, somehow knowing exactly where he to go, although the sounds were almost inaudible. A rather big double-door opened before him, as he reached the top.

The previously muffled sound engulfed him and turned out to be music that reverberated around a room easily the size of the great hall. A beautiful voice filled the room with an enchanting prayer mixed into a song. It was in the book's mysterious language and he knew she was begging for someone to come and find her – for him.

He gasped, as his eyes finally found the singer. She was a tall woman with long hair who was holding her arms high above her head, like he had seen magicians do in the old days, when they called upon the greatest powers. That wasn't what really shocked him though. Having seen her before, made not recognizing the icy beauty impossible, even from behind. The picture had done her blue almost see through body and hair no justice and unlike in the book she wore a long flowing white dress with a border reminiscent of snow crystals. The hair was mainly held up by a clasp high on her head, only a few swirling locks tumbling down her back.

It seemed she was unaware of his presence, but he made no move to make himself known, approaching silently.

As though in a trance, he came ever closer to her as her singing rose to a crescendo. He had waited so long for this, but she had waited even longer – far too long - for someone to come and find her. He fell to his knees a small tear slipping down his cheek, since he somehow knew she wouldn't cry for herself and her loneliness.

Her song ending she turned around and startled she took a step back upon seeing him on the floor in front of her. Narrowing her eyes in anger her hands produced a ball of ice, but the young wizard wasn't afraid.

He kept looking into her stormy eyes, keeping her gaze steadily locked with his and did the difficult arm gesture he had only done once before, bowing low. Numb the goddess copied his moves and did the same, her eyes confused, but hopeful.

Coming to his feet, he smiled. Her face remained indifferent, but her eyes betrayed that she was at the very least interested. She looked him up and down, obviously trying to judge his worth. Normally Harry would have been uncomfortable with such scrutiny, but he was not quite himself at the moment.

When she palmed his cheek, her cold hands almost hurt, but he didn't mind. Finally nodding she gave him a surprisingly warm smile.

Suddenly there was a bright flash and he could hear the castle crumble around him. Instinctively trying to protect his head from falling debrit, he expected to be skewered by falling shards in the next moment, but that never happened.

Opening his eyes the palace was gone. Nothing had been left to be evidence of it ever having existed in the first place. Looking around in confusion, he also noticed that the blizzard had turned into a light shower of soft, small flakes of snow. The formerly hostile weather had turned everything into a winter dream, as a thick layer of pure, untainted snow covered everything. The cold bit him no longer it was a pleasant night.

The hole in his heart seemed to have shrunk a little bit, but he wanted no needed to find more. The need to go farther, to search more for them came over him, but it wasn't quite strong enough to make him forget everything again. While he had been gone, curfew had started and if he wasn't back soon, he'd have to answer the questions of his curious friends.

And he lacked answers. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea what was going on himself.

As though in answer a comforting cold encompassed his whole body and he felt someone wrap their arms around him. He whirled around, disentangling himself and saw the mysterious woman.

"What was her name again?" the young wizard thought.

"So hysa ec Shiva, so meddma Cissuhan," the woman replied to his inner wondering a little irritatedly.

Harry jumped. It was this strange language again. Was it only coincidence that she answered that particular question or had she read his mind? Did she just call him, 'her Cissuhan'?

"Oui tu hud vayn sa, tu oui? Oui cruimt ghuf paddan dryh dryd," the goddess admonished him, tucking a strand of dark blue hair behind her long pointed ear.

The wizard shook his head slowly. Even though he was bewildered, he couldn't claim to be frightened by the tall woman and didn't back away from her, even though she was standing closer to him than what should be a comfortable distance.

Gulping the young wizard worked up the courage to finally talk to the entity before him and find out what is going on, but before he could open his mouth, she spoke up again, "E ryja yllabdat oui. Oui syo vaam ruhunat, yc E tu."

Unbidden foreign words flew from Harry's mouth. Words he had never used before, but which just sprang forth from a place deep inside his heart, "Syo fa canja yht pa canjat po aylr udran."

The goddess gave him a rare, but chilling smile and Harry wondered what he had just agreed to.


So hysa ec Shiva, so meddma Cissuhan. – My name is Shiva, my little Cissuhan.

Oui tu hud vayn sa, tu oui? Oui cruimt ghuf paddan dryh dryd. - You do not fear me, do you? You should know better than that

E ryja yllabdat oui. Oui syo vaam ruhunat, yc E tu. - I have accepted you. You may feel honored, as I do.

Syo fa canja yht pa canjat po aylr udran. - May we serve and be served by each other.

AN.: Review please.