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The Next Lord of Kobol

Chapter 4

Athena's Warning

Disclaimer — None of this is mine.   It’s all for fun and hopefully lots of it!

Beta work by Kokopelli.   Alpha work by Nukular Winter with input from the folks on DLP.

(October 31st, 1996 — approximately ten years before the fall of the twelve colonies)

The numbness Harry Potter experienced when Cedric Diggory died paled when compared to what he felt.  His godfather was gone.  His closest friends shipped to another country.  He'd been given an eight month taste of what a family could be like only to have it snatched away.

Sirius had it worse.  He man lost over a decade in prison before living his final years on the run.

All he had left was the company of an occasional Order member, his two elves, and the man currently trying, and failing, to talk with him.

"Harry," the old wizard said sitting on the edge of the boy's bed and resting his hand on Harry's shoulder.  "I understand the need to grieve and believe me when I say that there is nothing more in this world I would like to do more than give you the time needed to accept Sirius' loss, but we must begin your training again."

"Not today," Harry replied and shook his head from side to side.  "I'm not ready."

"No one ever is.  Alas, my fears have come to pass.  Our attack has alerted Tom to our goal, which is why we saved it for last.  Yesterday, he dispatched a pair of his followers to the cave where Regulus Black stole Slytherin's locket.  Both died, but he now knows what we have done.  My sources in the castle say that Draco Malfoy used the Imperius curse on the Headmistress and they discovered the diadem was missing."

"Wonderful," Harry spat.  "If the snake is one, he'll stick it in a Fidelius protected house and we'll never even get close."

"That charm is not foolproof, as we are sadly familiar with.  Your debt with Mr. Pettigrew or Professor Snape's true allegiance could easily rectify that problem.  A portkey slipped into the creature's food would whisk it away in a similar fashion to Barty Crouch's treachery."

"What's the point?"  Harry demanded.  "So what if I kill him?  Fudge's government is beyond corrupt.  I've seen these new anti-Muggleborn laws they're enacting."

Harry hadn't cracked a spellbook in over a week, but he still glanced at the Daily Prophet.  Starting next term Muggleborns would not be allowed to attend NEWT level classes without the patronage of the head of a pureblood family.  The subsequent articles implied that this was only the beginning of what was being called "A Return to a Great Society."

He saw it for what it was - a method to obligate the muggleborns to the purebloods.  At best it was a form of indentured servitude.  At worst it could be the start of enslavement.

"They are but symptoms of the greater problem.  Once Tom is defeated, the puppetmasters pulling the Minister's strings will scatter like roaches in the light."

Harry wasn't exactly buying what the ex-headmaster was selling.  "Where they will wait for the next opportunity to strike.  Malfoy sent the diary in long before he was aware Riddle was coming back.  They'll let him get away just like last time."

"Not necessarily, Harry.  You were a baby last time.  This time, you have your own voice and the people will listen to you.  I expect it to be more like when I defeated Gellert Grindelwald. You will be elevated and placed in the limelight.  From experience, you already know how uncomfortable that can be."

"Yes," Harry agreed.

"Indeed.  What you must do is learn how to use that limelight to your advantage.  But, you will not be alone.  You will always have my counsel."

"What do you think I should say?"

Dumbledore stood and went to the window.  He stared out into the darkness for a moment before saying, "Find an injustice that you want corrected and make it your cause.  All these legislations against the muggleborn are, in part, a slight against my personal crusade to bring equality to the magical people of Britain.  Since your mother was a muggleborn, it would be a worthy cause for you to adopt."

Harry sighed.  He didn't want to make plans for a life after Riddle's defeat.  "That's assuming we win.  I've been thinking about that prophecy.  Neither can live doesn't guarantee that either will live."

Dumbledore sighed and pulled and object out of his pocket.  He placed the stone in Harry's hand.

"I see my words fail to inspire you.  I will leave that task to those better suited.  This stone was on the Peverell ring.  Tom was unaware of its true power.  It is called the resurrection stone."

"Can it..."

"No Harry," Dumbledore interrupted before Harry could finish.  "It does not.  What it can do is briefly bridge the gap between and allows you to speak with the spirits of the departed.  I will show you how to use it and you make seek both counsel and closure from those in the afterlife.  Call upon Sirius, Cedric, and even your parents.  Heed their words and release the guilt that burdens you.  When you are finished, come to me if you are prepared to live and fight for a better future."

Harry stared at the stone in his and while Dumbledore explained how to use it and that it was one of the three mythical Deathly Hallows.  The bigger surprise was that Dumbledore's wand and Harry's cloak were the other two.  Together, the three made the wielder The Master of Death.

"So, I'll be using your wand when I fight Riddle?"  Harry asked, showing genuine interest for the first time since the death of his godfather.

"No.  I'll be fighting him with the three.  Mastery of the Elder Wand must be achieved by winning it from the current owner.  My efforts will exhaust him and you will deliver the killing stroke."

Harry felt both relieved and cheated at the same time.  His frustration must have been evident because the old man smiled and said, "Then again, if you truly out-duel me during our work together, the wand may indeed align itself with you.  I do not make it known, for the legend says the bearer cannot be defeated while holding the wand."

"I'm guessing there's a catch," Harry said.

"Quite correct.  Previous wielders have been hunted, dogged to the end of their days by those who desire its power.  Some ended up with a never ending line of enemies trying to wrest away control of the wand.  For those, every day became a struggle and jealousy mixed with envy destroyed their families and friendships.  I value those more than any power in his world.  I hope my ramblings make some sense to you."

"I think I understand, sir."

"Good," Dumbledore replied and stood from the edge of the bed.  "Now, let me show you how to work the stone and those watching over you can offer words of encouragement."


"Diggory's right, Harry.  You're holding yourself to an impossible standard.  I'll take it a step further.  Other people are responsible for their actions."

Cedric smiled at Sirius Black and continued where the others left off, "I made the choice to take the cup, Harry.  I entered the tournament because I wanted to win it. You didn't.  They tricked you into competing.  The only people I blame for my death are Voldemort and his followers.  You did everything you could."

It did make Harry feel slightly better.

"Besides Harry," Cedric said.  "You need to worry about how you're going to handle all the girls once you finish Riddle.  If Cho was any indication..."

Suddenly, Harry wanted to crawl into a deep hole while Sirius and the others laughed at his expense.  To Cedric, Harry said, "She should still be your girlfriend."

Diggory nodded and replied.  "In a perfect world, she would.  But things happen and it's not always fair."

"See Harry!"  Sirius broke in.  "You've taken this whole chosen one thing to mean that everything is your responsibility.  Do you think I should have gone into Gringotts and left you in the lobby to distract them?  We needed two people down there to track down the Horcrux.  I heard there were two dragons down there.  I'm pretty good in a scrap, but two dragons is way, way out of my league."

Harry threw his hands in the air and said, "You could've left when the Death Eaters got involved."

"Yes, I suppose I could have.  I could have left you down in the tunnels without knowing whether or not you and Dumbledore had found the cup.  I could've ran and just hoped for the best because I'm sure that's what you would have done, right Harry?  You would have just abandoned me down there."

"I'd never do that!"

"So why the fuck do you think I would do that to you, Harry?  I chose wrong on the night your parents were killed and I lived with the weight of that decision until I died.  I chose right in the lobby at Gringotts and my only regret is that I can't do more to help you."

Try as he might, Harry couldn't come up with a response to that.  He was sorely tempted to break the connection, but realized it would just prove his godfather correct.

"See," Sirius said.  "I was responsible for my actions.  I made my choice and if I had to do it again and my choices are die and make sure you live, or run and hope for the best, guess which one I'm going to pick?"

"I think you made your point, old man," another voice joined the conversation.  James Potter had been largely silent after the effusive greetings when the spirits were first summoned.  Like his wife, they still appeared to be in their early twenties and the father and son likeness really appeared to be more comparable to that of siblings.

Harry wasn't sure what to think when it came to his parents.  There was an unexpected level of awkwardness.  Harry knew both Cedric and Sirius.  He really only knew about James and Lily.

"I resent that Prongs!  How many times have I told you that I look distinguished and rakish?"

"Apparently, not enough," James replied.  "Harry, of all the bits of advice I have to offer you, I guess I'll pick this one.  Do anything for those you care for.  If the problem doesn't involve your loved ones, do what is required to solve that problem so you can get back to those that care for you.  Other than that, work on your snogging.  Everyone agrees that it's truly dreadful."

Even the eternally youthful visage of Lily Potter laughed at her husband's needling before adding, "Not every Potter male needs to be some sort of smarmy Casanova.  That kind of rubbish attracts the wrong kind of women."

"Are you saying I married the wrong kind of woman?"  James asked.

His wife ignored him and continued her thoughts, “Pretending to be something you're not is a recipe for failure in that arena.  After all, it wasn't until the biggest git in history here started to show his sensitive side that I began liking him."

James attempted to appear aghast and whined, "Lily, we're supposed to be telling him how he can beat Tom Riddle."

"Oh yes that," Lily said and tried to look thoughtful.  "Step one is to stop beating yourself up for things you can't control.  I think we've beat that dead horse enough already. If you feel we haven't, use the stone and find us a dead horse.  There’s bound to be one around here somewhere."

From all the stories Harry had heard about his mother, he'd thought she was cut from the same cloth as Hermione.  Instead, he saw she was sarcastic and confident with a personality that crowded the room and possibly overshadowed her husband's.  In hindsight, it was probably why everyone had said how she had so many friends amongst all the houses.

"Where was I?"

"Step two, dear," James said in a teasing manner.

"Thank you.  I knew there was a reason I kept you around.  Ah yes, step two is get back to work with the Headmaster.  Personally, I've got a couple of sore points with him about how he's handled everything, so when you give the stone back to him do tell him that I'd like a word...several in fact.  Nevertheless, he is looking out for your interests as far as I can see and you must learn everything you can from him.  Step three is follow his lead and do your best.  That's all anyone can ask of you.  There you have it - victory in three steps."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Harry," she said swishing her hand through his shoulder, in an attempt to pat him.  This caused a shiver to travel through his body.  "The people that accomplish great things in life...they do so because they can take the big problems and break them down into manageable tasks.  They also don't worry about every little problem that gets in their way.  They solve the ones directly affecting the current crisis and come back to take care of the others later."


Well into the night, Harry held court with the spirits of the dead.  He met both sets of his grandparents and received a promise from the Evans that they would have words with Petunia when her time came.  Harry heard stories about his parents that he would've never known otherwise.

Using the stone, he discovered that the spirits could refuse to answer his call.  Of the founders, only Helga Hufflepuff gave him a few minutes of her time.  There was a bit of a gap, in the sense that she spoke the way people did in her time and Harry was forced to find a person who could translate.  His answer came in the form of Barty Crouch, Senior.  The man and Sirius Black shared several angry glares, but Crouch Senior wanted to make amends with Harry.  Through Crouch, Helga kindly explained how her cup worked and told him that it was his to keep.  The others, even Godric Gryffindor, declined when he called upon them.  For some reason that really disappointed Harry.  Helga explained that Godric had a bit of a vanity problem that persisted even in the afterlife and Rowena and Salazaar had gotten into a bit of trouble on her side and Harry got the impression they were being punished for some transgression.

"Harry," his mother said.  "You should go now and get your rest.  Tomorrow, you must start preparing again.  Come back and tell us how your training went."

The spirits disappeared one by one until there was only a single female left.  Harry didn't recognize her.  She wore a simple, but elegant white tunic and wore a large green medallion with a golden rune Harry had never seen before emblazoned in the metal.  Adorning her head was a wreath which held her dark braids in place.  Pale blue eyes regarded him.

"Who are you?"

The spirit said something that he couldn't understand and frowned.  She gestured to his hand and held hers up.

He did so and mirrored her movements.  She went slowly and corrected him several times.  On the fourth attempt, there was a sharp tug on his magic.  This seemed to please the woman.

"Speak now we can," the woman said.

Harry had heard of translation charms, but they were supposed to be complicated and hard to do, far above NEWT level.  This one, though a bit crude, was something that could be done wandlessly.

"Who are you?"

"Athena.  I query your names."  The spell was definitely off.  Maybe he didn't do it perfectly or maybe it would get better as more words were exchanged.

"Harry Potter," he answered and wondered if she was named for the ancient Greek Goddess.  The woman did have olive colored skin and high cheekbones.

She repeated his name in her odd accent and then said, "You are the tombwalker.  You are known to me.  The time of greater suffering approaches."

Harry didn't know what a tombwalker was and wasn't particularly fond of the phrase "greater suffering." 

"What are you saying?"

"My gifts wait in my tomb.  Use them wisely."

"Where is your tomb?"


"I don't know where Kobol is."

"You will one day."

"Do I need what is there to defeat Voldemort?"

She shook her head, possibly not understanding the name.

He tried again, "Do I need what's in your tomb to defeat Riddle?"

"My words not riddles are.  My bequest needed for the Scylla.  To Kobol go you will."

"I don't know what the Scylla is!"

"Know them you will," the woman said in an urgent tone.  "All this has happened before.  All this will happen again if you fail.  Forewarned you now are."

She faded from the room leaving Harry both desperate and confused.

"Wait!  Don't go!  I need to know more." 

He tried to use the stone to call her back, but no one came.


“Is Harry Potter better now?” Dobby asked.

Harry smiled at his elf and replied, “I’m better.  However, I’m kind of hungry, Dobby.  Could you get me something to eat?”

Saying that to Dobby was the equivalent of telling a six year old that Christmas would be celebrated twice a year from now on.  The elf returned three minutes later with a plate piled high with seven sandwiches. It was a reminder to Harry that he might need to be more specific with his requests to Dobby.

“Dobby, can you tell the Headmaster that I’d like to speak with him?”

“Dobby is happy to do as his master, Harry Potter asks!”

The picked up some dirty glasses and was preparing to leave when Harry thought of something.  “Dobby, have you ever heard of The Scylla?”

“No, Dobby does not know who they are?  Is Dobby supposed to know?”

“I’m not sure.  Someone just told me about them and I think I may have to fight them, whoever they are.”

“Then Dobby will stand with his powerful master against these Scylla!”  The elf exclaimed.

That made Harry chuckle.  The memory of seeing the spirit of his other elf’s former master reminded him to send a compliment to Winky as well.  She did her best to blend into the background, as opposed to Dobby.  “You and Winky are doing a great job, Dobby.  Make sure you tell her I said that.”

Based on the elf’s reaction to that, Harry was fairly certain Christmas was now being celebrated four times a year.


"I can see why this might trouble you, Harry," Dumbledore said.  "Though I must say, this translation charm is a thing of simple beauty.  Perhaps when all this is over, I'll be able to break this charm down properly and truly understand it."

Harry could feel his anger rising up and said, "But what is a Scylla?"

"I believe in Greek Mythology, it was one of a duo of sea monsters.  That one was supposedly a multi-headed creature that perched on a rock.  Its partner was a treacherous whirlpool.  To sail too close to the Scylla guaranteed you would lose members of your crew, but if you sailed too close to the Charybdis you risked losing your entire ship.  Given that woman you spoke with called herself Athena and the Scylla was a term for a monster we can conclude that she is warning you about some race of monsters."

"Have you ever heard of Kobol or know where Athena is buried?  Isn't she supposed to be a goddess?"

"Sadly, I have never heard of a place called Kobol or any location known as Athena's tomb.  My visits to that part of the world have been limited, but I do have several friends in both Greece and Italy from my days in the ICW.  Perhaps one of them can divine some meaning to your encounter.  As for your question about the Greek Gods in general, there is a school of thought that they were very long lived and extremely powerful wizards and witches."

"Sirius is right about your talking," Harry said with a hint of a smile.

Dumbledore looked surprised and the young man knew why. It was the first time Harry had been able to say he man's name without anger.

"From what we've gleaned after using the stone.  There shall be endless opportunities for me to converse with people.  That truly sounds like the next great adventure!  But there is much work to be done, Harry.  Are you ready to start anew and redouble your efforts?"

Harry nodded and said, "Yes, but my mum said for you to use the stone and call her.  She wants to speak with you."

The old man laughed, but it was a hollow one.  "I suspected as much.  My decisions regarding your upbringing are about to be called in question and Lily will justifiably want her pound of my flesh.  So mote it is.  Work through you Occlumency exercises and clear your mind while I reap what I hath sown.  When I return, we will focus on your object animation skills.  Conjuration can drain you in a protracted duel, but animating and transfiguring the surrounding environment will give you far more returns for your efforts."

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Author Notes:

Author’s Notes — Another chapter down.   Here you get the first hint of the BSG universe and a sense of things to come.   For information about my original works, visit my profile.   As always, you can visit for information on my original works.   The audiobook version of Prime Suspects: A Clone Detective Mystery will be available on in the next ten days.   The narrator, Jeffrey Kafer, does a tremendous job.