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Chapter 45: The Rebirth.
🕑 Added 2025-04-18 11:44:38 +0000 UTCCelestial Ascendancy
Chapter 45: The Rebirth.
Hogwarts.
Elias Black.
I glared at the grotesque thing blocking my path. I didn’t even know how to begin describing it. It… looked like a humanoid… at least in some way, but now it was warped beyond recognition.
Its eyes were glassy, a dull silvery color that just felt wrong. The body was almost the same height as Dumbledore, and the headmaster was hilariously tall for a normal human.
Blue veins stretched across its pale skin, each one pulsing with a strange, almost luminescent light under the moon.
Its face twisted with pain. Every movement made it grimace, but it didn’t take me long to realize it wasn’t because of any real awareness. There was no human intelligence behind those eyes, only raw, murderous rage.
I took a deep breath, conjured several lances of ice, and hurled one with all my might.
The creature tried to move, but the first lance struck dead center, slamming into its chest.
The others followed, slower since they were guided by magic rather than my hand, but almost all of them hit, pinning the thing to the ground.
It screeched in pain.
The sound twisted my gut and made my body freeze for a second, like hearing someone’s soul getting ripped apart.
But it didn’t stay down for long.
With a sickening flex of its elongated limbs, the thing surged with magic and shattered the ice like it was nothing. The wounds it had taken began to smoke as they closed fast. Too fast. The holes in its body sealed within seconds, leaving only faint vapor trails behind.
I spat on the ground, disgusted. There was a smell of rot coming out of his body, and that was when I realized.
Necromancy. And not the usual kind.
I’d read plenty about the necromancy practiced by dark wizards… deep dives into history, journals, restricted texts, anything we could find in the room of requirements, but none of it mentioned anything like this.
Not even Herpo the Foul, one of the worst Dark Lords in wizarding history and the bastard who created Horcruxes, had made anything close to this.
According to what I’d found, his strongest Inferi had been comparable to an adult wizard, adaptable and durable enough that it took a team of ten to bring it down.
But this? This thing would wipe the floor with every professor at the school. Hell, even if you threw in the foreign ones.
It shrieked again, and then it moved… fast, faster than Kiba at his best, even with that speed-enhancing sword of his.
Its twisted limbs threw me off. I didn’t expect the reach they had.
One second, it was across the field; the next, its fist crashed into my cheek before I could raise my arms to block. The blow sent me flying, and I rag-dolled across the ground before managing to force myself upright.
The thing hits almost as hard as Sai when he’s giving his all without enhancing his strength with Touki.
The creature shrieked again… but this time, I was ready.
With a flex of my will, I cast Impedimenta directly at its feet. The spell shattered in a second, but that was all I needed.
I drew my sword out of my soul, its guard and blade inlaid with glinting gemstones, faintly glowing under the moonlight. Leftovers from the gift we made for Seekvaira’s father, polished and reforged into something I could actually put in my sword.
The thing moved like a horror-fueled blur, its limbs jerking at impossible angles as it tried to hit me, his weird glowing veins distracting my vision. Each of his clawed feet slammed into the earth hard enough to leave cracks on the floor. And despite how ragged and unstable it looked, it was fast.
To a standard wizard, I knew this thing was a blur of Blood and rage.
To me? I could see it clearly.
I took a slow breath, ice blooming across my fingertips. The temperature in the field dropped instantly, and mist curled from my lips with every exhale. I could’ve ended this early… or at least, I thought I could do it. I had spells for this, enough firepower to blast a hole through the castle, enough frost to freeze the entire field in seconds, and a blade sharp enough to cut through Sai’s skin with just a bit of force.
But I didn’t use any of them.
Not yet.
Because if I did… I didn’t even want to imagine the kind of collateral damage that would follow after my rage.
So I charged in, sword in hand, its edge wreathed in blue flames, power through pain. Each step cracked the ground beneath my feet, web-like fractures spreading outward.
The creature snarled.
I met it head-on.
I brought my sword down with everything I had, the impact followed by a burst of fire that detonated under its feet. Ice spears and jagged shards followed, impaling its limbs and tearing through its torso. It looked like I had it for a moment until it twisted unnaturally, bones snapping and reknitting mid-motion like broken branches pulled back into place.
It barely staggered.
Then it shrieked.
“What the fuck did Voldemort do?” I muttered under my breath.
It didn’t answer. It probably couldn’t. It just lunged again, nails dripping some sort of glowing blue liquid that hissed against the grass as it fell, melting the ground on contact.
I raised my sword to parry, grunting as the creature’s clawed arms slammed against the steel. The blade hissed where the liquid touched it, but it held. It always held.
My attacks shattered bone, scorched flesh, and froze sinew… but every goddamn time, the monster pieced itself back together like it didn’t give a single shit.
My feet hit the ground. My breathing came faster, not from exhaustion but from panic.
I was losing my mind.
I gritted my teeth, preparing another volley of spells when a sharp crack of Apparition echoed beside me.
“Stop!” Dumbledore’s voice rang out. But I didn’t care.
The thing turned toward him. I cursed and conjured a thick ice pillar between them, blocking its path. Dumbledore wasn’t used to fighting something with our speed, or at least I think so.
Then his voice changed. It wavered into apparent disbelief.
“That's... Lord Nott.” He gasped.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I snapped. “That was a wizard?”
“It’s him,” Dumbledore murmured, more to himself. “I’m sure of it. But something warped him, something I can’t reco…”
He never finished his sentence.
The creature shrieked again and lunged toward him with that same blind, inhuman fury.
Dumbledore fired spell after spell. Stunners, Severing Charms, a full-body bind. The same spell he once used on me during our first spar.
None of it worked.
It didn’t stop.
Before its claw could reach his chest, I was there. I grabbed its wrist and hissed as the venom scorched my skin, but I yanked it away and hurled it across the field before it could tear into the headmaster.
And just like that... Dumbledore hesitated. The wind from our movements stirred his beard and robes. He… the great Albus Dumbledore, flinched.
This thing was beyond him just from its sheer speed.
I stared down the abomination, heart pounding in my ears. Flame and frost licked across my hands, purging the last traces of the venom that tried to eat my skin.
It’s not enough, my instincts whispered. Iris is going to die unless you stop hiding.
“…Fuck this.”
I slammed my blade into the earth. Divine light erupted along my arm as I tapped into the Aetherium buried in my core. My fire was forgotten, and my ice ignored.
Sunlight. Divine sunlight.
A sphere of radiant light formed above my palm, glowing brighter than the moonlight above.
The sky pulsed with its heat.
My blade howled as the light fused with it. The metal glowed, strain and magic creaking through its runes, but it held. Just barely.
I slashed.
This time, when my sword cut through the creature’s arm… it didn’t grow back.
The limb dropped to the ground and melted into a pool of that cursed venom.
I blinked.
Then I smirked sharply.
I surged forward, sword blazing like a piece of the sun, runes sparking to life along the hilt. The monster tried to retreat, but it was already too late.
I poured everything I had into the next strike. The Aetherium flared, and in a single flash of brilliance, a beam of pure sunlight erupted from the blade’s tip.
The creature's body vaporized along with half the field behind it. There was nothing left but the warped, twitching, hissing head.
Ash appeared beside me in a burst of phoenix fire, wings flaring wide in outrage.
“Thank Merlin, you’re here, Ash,” I breathed. “Take this to my Hollow. Now. And be ready when I call you back to save your mum, yeah?”
Ash blinked, nodded, and vanished in another flare of golden flame, the head clutched tightly in her talons.
Dumbledore didn’t move. He stared at the scorched, empty ground slack-jawed.
“What in Merlin’s name was that, Elias?” he asked hoarsely.
In a different moment, I might’ve enjoyed the look on his face. I never used the Aetherium in our spars… not like this, never at this level. Always held back just for safety.
But this wasn’t the time.
“No time,” I said, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him toward the Cup. “We’ll talk later. Probably. Right now, we need to save Iris. And I need someone to keep Voldemort busy.”
He resisted for half a second, but the urgency in my voice must’ve landed.
“…Why would you need my help if you are capable of that, young man?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Because my next opponent might take everything I have just to survive,” I muttered. “And I’m not leaving Iris alone with whatever fucking monstrosity Voldemort’s become.”
We reached the Cup.
Together, we touched it.
And as our fingers closed around the handles, reality twisted.
And we vanished.
Little Hangleton Graveyard
Iris Potter
Pain pulsed through every inch of my body as I struggled to sit upright. My limbs were heavy, my head pounding, and my magic felt… distant.
The memory hit me hard. Those bony, ice-cold hands grabbing my shoulders in the middle of the crowd. I had thought it was just another spectator, just another civilian. Probably another one asking for a signature.
I was wrong. Oh, so wrong.
I remembered her face as it melted into something cruel and unhinged, eyes glittering with the same madness I’d expected to see in every follower of Voldemort.
Walburga, the witch of the purple flames.
How the hell had she gotten inside Hogwarts? I didn’t know. But once her mask slipped, once I saw her true face… I knew something was wrong. Very wrong.
We’d fought back. All of us. Me, Ginny, Hermione, Neville. But it didn't matter.
My stomach turned as I remembered Neville’s scream. As his arm shattered in her grip, his wand snapped like a twig. He collapsed to the ground, twitching, and the moment I screamed for help was the moment I felt Walburga’s hand on my throat.
Now, I was tied to a tombstone. Cold stone against my back, sticky Blood matting my hair. I could feel a damp, warm patch on my scalp. Probably bad. Everything felt sluggish.
“Oh, look. She’s awake,” Walburga’s cackling voice reached my ears.
I didn’t open my eyes right away. I focused, reaching deep for my magic, but the moment I tried to pull on it, the ropes around my wrists grew hot, burning against my skin.
Magically reinforced. Shit.
“I’m so glad you could join us, Iris Potter,” came a soft, venomous hiss behind me.
I froze.
I knew that voice.
Voldemort.
He was close, right behind me. I couldn’t turn to face him or lift my head properly, but his presence pressed down on me like when the headmaster gave his all during his spars with Eli.
I clenched my teeth, fury bleeding into my very Blood as I forced my head up.
The footsteps behind me were soft, almost deliberate. And I forced myself to look to the side.
And there he was, the monster that plagued my nightmares ever since my first year.
Or… what was left of him.
His body was twisted and misshapen, barely more than a homunculus draped in black robes, skin pale and waxy like it had been stretched too thin over his skeleton. His fingers twitched with unnatural spasms, his eyes filled with malice, and I felt pale.
That’s what tried to kill me all those years ago…? That was what killed my parents?
“I must say,” he rasped, lifting one trembling hand to unfasten his robe, “you’ve grown into a fine sacrifice.”
I didn’t look away. I wouldn’t give him that.
Walburga’s boots clicked against the ground as she circled lazily around the ritual space, her arms folded behind her back as she admired the graveyard. She smiled when our eyes met.
“That look suits you, Iris. The whole bleeding and bound aesthetic,” she purred huskily, “I wonder what my Elias will think when he finds your cooling body when Voldemort is done with you.”
I didn’t answer, but I scowled in her direction. Insane bitch, Elias will sooner destroy the planet than be with someone like her.
She’d get nothing from me.
Voldemort let his robe fall to the ground. It was as monstrous as I expected, but even then, it gave me a pause.
“Wormtail,” he hissed, “begin.”
Peter, the traitor, shuffled forward, holding a gleaming silver dagger and an ornate cup in his shivering hands. His steps were uneven and cautious, but I could see the gleam in his eyes… It was as if he felt sorry for what he was doing.
No… He had no right to feel sorry for everything he had done. He deserved death and a cruel one.
He leaned toward me. It was a mistake on his part.
I surged forward as much as the ropes allowed and slammed my forehead into his face.
Pettigrew screamed and stumbled back, clutching his nose. Blood streamed between his fingers as he wailed like the pathetic rat he was.
Walburga burst into laughter. “Oh, she’s spirited! Delightful. I almost regret leaving her for you, Dark Lord.”
Voldemort turned slowly toward me, the tip of his wand twitching once. “Crucio.”
I didn’t even blink. The moment the curse hit, my body convulsed and trembled against the rope, my spine arching unnaturally as magic forced my every nerve to scream. I opened my mouth, but I swallowed the scream. He didn't deserve it.
Not even a gasp came out of my mouth.
And after a long moment, Voldemort released the spell with a sneer.
“Stay still, girl.”
I watched, panting helplessly, as Wormtail approached again. This time more cautiously and raised the dagger. His eyes never met mine. He cut me just above the elbow. The pain didn’t register at first. I was too focused on the bowl below and how my Blood dripped into it.
Each drop shimmered unnaturally as it touched the liquid already inside.
Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken.
Bones of the father, unknowingly given.
Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed.
Essence of the divine, Purify his rebirth.
The ritual had begun.
Walburga walked forward, a purple cross appearing into existence behind her as I tried my best to breathe under her might. Her magic was pressing down my body as I did my best to stay conscious, and I saw through blurred eyes as her flames began burning the cauldron with Voldemort inside.
I could feel it.
The air turned heavy, laced with power so old and foul it made my skin crawl. The ground beneath the cauldron began to glow with red runes that pulsed like a second heartbeat. Winds circled the graveyard, even though the night had been calm just moments ago.
Magic was pulling itself into shape.
I wanted to look away… but I couldn’t.
I watched as the cauldron boiled over, as light and smoke swallowed the space around it, as something within the mist grew taller… stronger…
And then I saw him.
His new body.
Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron, steam rising from his skin, his robes reforming with a gesture of his wand. No longer hunched, no longer frail.
He looked… handsome. As much as I hated to admit it, he looked like an aged-up version of his memory during my second year. The same aristocratic look he had, just amped up to eleven.
Voldemort laughed, his voice soft and tinkling, “Marvelous, simply marvelous, my dear Walburga.”
“Just remember our deal, Voldemort,” Walburga huffed, turning away without a backward glance.
“Of course,” Voldemort replied smoothly, inclining his head with unsettling grace.
It made my skin crawl, just how much charisma he exuded now.
Even though I hated him… no, I despised everything he stood for—I found myself leaning forward, caught in the rhythm of his voice.
There was a strange, almost mystical magnetism in his voice.
His gaze flicked to Wormtail. “Your hand,” he said calmly, almost lazily.
Wormtail, still trembling, looked like he was about to weep. “Th-thank you, Master,” he whimpered, offering the stump of the arm he’d already sacrificed.
Voldemort’s eyes flashed crimson. “Your other hand, fool.”
Wormtail flinched and hesitantly extended it.
Voldemort grabbed it with a sudden harshness, yanking it so forcefully I heard the crack of bone pop from the socket. I winced but couldn’t help smirking through the pain.
“Ah,” Voldemort said, glancing down with mild curiosity. “It seems I’ve underestimated my own strength.”
He raised his wand and pressed it gently against the Dark Mark.
“You have done me a great service, Wormtail,” he said softly, almost kindly. “This is your reward.”
With a flick of his wrist, a pulse of silver magic surged through Wormtail’s body. His arm went stiff, then glowed. Before my eyes, a new hand formed. Flesh and Blood.
Wormtail collapsed at his feet, kissing the hem of Voldemort’s robe, eyes full of worship.
Traitorous bastard.
I felt it before I saw it… his magic flaring across the graveyard like a silent explosion. His position had become a beacon, summoning those still bound to him. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing, they’d feel it.
And one by one… they did.
Crack.
Apparition thundered in the night air, followed by another. And another.
Figures cloaked in black appeared at the edge of the ritual circle. One, two, five, and more appeared in the graveyard. Their hoods were up, faces obscured behind skeletal masks, but I recognized some of them. Their figures were relatively easy to distinguish, especially that silvery-blonde hair.
Lucius Malfoy stepped forward first.
He dropped to one knee, head bowed. The others followed instantly, falling into formation like trained dogs, all of them kneeling in a half-circle around their Master, like priests of a cult.
I counted them.
Lucius. Avery. Crabbe. Goyle. Macnair. Travers. Mulciber.
Some I didn’t know. Some I’d seen during the years in the train station picking up their kids… but I was sure of something.
Not all of them came.
Voldemort didn’t speak. He simply turned to look at each of them, the silence dragging long enough that it started to hurt.
The Death Eaters didn’t speak either. None dared rise.
Then, someone shifted uncomfortably.
I followed their gaze, realizing they were all sneaking side glances behind Voldemort.
To Walburga.
She was leaning against a tree just outside the circle, arms crossed, tapping something rapidly between her fingers.
Her phone. The insane woman was literally texting or maybe reading something while the rest of them knelt like sinners waiting for judgment.
She didn’t even look up.
The Death Eaters didn’t speak of it. But I could see the tension on their shoulders.
But they said nothing, not until Voldemort finally broke the silence.
“You return,” he said softly. “Crawling from whatever holes you’ve been hiding in.”
“Some of you claimed to be cursed to escape the law. Others simply… vanished. Thinking I would never return. Thinking I would die against a half-blood babe and mudblood whore of a mother.”
His voice was quiet, but the pressure behind it cracked the tombstone I was tied to. I bared my teeth at his words but stayed silent.
It was not the moment to act. I didn't know when or if Eli would come. I was sure he knew I was gone, but… he had not come yet, and I was starting to worry.
Voldemort felt stronger than the headmaster by a large margin, which could only happen thanks to said ritual. Dumbledore spoke of him during his lessons, but he always said that while he was above him, it was not by such a large margin.
This Voldemort felt closer to Eli rather than the headmaster.
“And yet, here you kneel.”
They started muttering their excuses. Murmured prayers of loyalty, regret, and self-preservation.
“We were deceived, my Lord…”
“Forgive us…”
“We never stopped believing…”
“Silence.” Voldemort snapped.
They obeyed instantly.
Voldemort’s brown eyes burned crimson. “You think words are enough?”
None of them spoke again.
He turned to Wormtail, who was still groveling by his side. “Only one here gave his flesh and service… gave his everything.”
Wormtail trembled with pride, his new pale hand clutched to his chest.
Voldemort took a step forward, standing tall, regal, inhumanly perfect.
“Let it be known,” he said, raising his arms as his magic aura increased. It felt like one was in the middle of an arctic tundra, “I have returned.”
He turned his gaze on them again with a victorious smile.
“No… I have Ascended.”
Author’s note: I… I was tempted to end it here like an asshole, but I like you all too much to leave y’all hanging, lol. Enjoy the rest.
Later.
I watched incredulously at how much asslicking Voldemort’s followers gave him to earn their penance, each and every single one of them prostrating themselves for nearly ten minutes while the megalomaniacal bastard soaked it in like he was a Roman emperor and they were polishing his sandals with their tongue.
“Master,” Lucius Malfoy finally said, lifting his head slightly, “how did you manage this?”
Voldemort didn’t even look at him.
“I am the greatest wizard alive,” he said, his voice smooth and arrogant, like it was the most obvious truth in the world.
Behind him, Walburga snorted amusedly.
Several Death Eaters turned to her sharply, like they had just remembered she was there.
Their masks couldn’t hide their disdain. A few shifted in place, clearly offended by her open dismissal of their Master.
She didn’t care and didn’t even look up from her phone.
“Have some respect,” Mulciber growled, stepping forward. “You stand in the presence of…”
Fwssssh
He didn’t finish the sentence.
With a lazy flick of her wrist, purple flames erupted from her hand and consumed him whole. One second, he was mid-sentence; the next, he was reduced to ash and molten bone, his screams cut off before they even had time to come out of his mouth.
All eyes turned to her. Walburga finally looked up, raising a single eyebrow as she tucked her phone into her pants.
“Control your dogs, Voldemort,” she said coldly. “I don’t like being barked at.”
For a second, I thought someone else might say something. Another outburst, another protest.
They didn’t. They had been cowed in a second.
Voldemort didn’t even flinch. His eyes stayed fixed on the scorched ground for a moment longer before he turned to face me. He ignored the dying embers of what used to be one of his followers.
“I believe it’s time we brought this show to a close,” he smirked coldly, raising his wand. “Iris Potter… we will duel. In front of the future of the world. And I will kill you, girl… as a symbol, as a warning, as the start of a new era.”
He pointed his wand at the bindings holding me down and released them with a whisper.
I dropped to the ground, barely catching myself with my one good arm. I was still bleeding, still weak, my body trembling thanks to his cruciatus, but my magic surged back slightly like it could breathe again now that I was free.
Voldemort didn’t go all out at first.
He was toying with me.
Spells came in quick succession. Bludgeoners, Confringos, even a Severing Hex I didn’t manage to counter in time, a big slash on my thigh turning my jeans bright red. I rolled, blocked, and countered where I could. My hands trembled as I summoned my wand back to me with a shaky Accio.
But I was slowing; I could feel my body getting more tired by the second, but he wasn’t.
Still, I made him work for it.
After the tenth exchange, he stopped.
His brown eyes gleamed with amusement.
“You’re stronger than I thought,” he tilted his head curiously. “You’ve been trained well. Was it the headmaster?”
“The power in you is still rough, still unshaped… but impressive,” He mocked.
“Keep talking,” I spat. “I may not be capable of killing you right now, but Eli will do so in my stead.”
He laughed.
Not mockingly… no, worse. Pityingly.
“Oh, my dear girl. You still think he’s alive?” he said almost gently. “Unless Dumbledore worked a miracle, he’s long dead by now. Or perhaps still struggling against my little distraction. It matters little.”
I stiffened.
“No…” I whispered, my heart wavering.
He smiled slowly, the cruel tint on his eyes increasing by the second.
Walburga, for the first time, looked up sharply.
“That wasn’t the deal, Voldemort,” she snapped. “He wasn’t supposed to be killed. You said your trap was meant to slow them.”
Voldemort turned toward her with a smirk that could freeze hell.
“I said nothing of the sort, my dear. I created something… something magnificent. It will keep them occupied for a while. And if Elias Blake dies… then he wasn’t worthy of your attention, was he?”
Walburga stared at him, her eyes cold, but they had a thoughtful glint.
“Fine,” she spat. “But I won’t forget this.”
Voldemort gave her a shallow nod. “I didn’t expect you two,” he said smoothly. “But it’s time I end this.”
He turned toward me again. His expression shifted into a cruel one.
“Avada Kedavra.”
The words hissed from his lips like poison, and the sickly green light flared.
Time… broke.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t even move.
Instead, everything slowed. The world folded in on itself, and I felt my heart stutter.
My life began flashing before my eyes… but not the one I had lived in.
The one I wished I had.
Moments I never got to share with my parents.
Birthday cakes, hugs, bedtime stories. Laughter and love. A life that had been stolen from me before I ever had the chance to live it.
Then, the memories shifted; they warped back to reality.
To the cupboard under the stairs, to the fear I had for my life, to the cold silence of Privet Drive.
Then the train.
That first ride to Hogwarts.
The moment I looked up and met the two people who would change my life forever.
Hermione, with her bright brown eyes and inconsiderate questions at the start.
And Eli… not asking about my scar. Just smiling… like I was a normal girl, like I mattered for who I really was, not the stories they had heard.
When he defended me when Draco tried to sink his claws in, he didn’t even hesitate. Like it was just natural to stand beside me.
I remembered our first year… our late-night adventures, the laughter, the secrets we weren’t supposed to learn but did anyway, and the way we survived Voldemort together.
Then, our second year.
Eli, brilliant as ever, piecing it all together with Mione. That ridiculous plan with the rooster. The way he stood in front of the basilisk with no assurance his plan would work, ready to die for us if it meant we’d live.
Third year. He followed me against the Dementors even when he could not use the Patronus for his protection, refusing to let me fall apart, even when I wanted to.
He never left me.
And this year...
This year changed everything.
The way he trusted us. He shared everything, his powers, fears, the secrets he never told anyone else.
The bond between us deepened until it felt unbreakable.
Our first kiss.
Our first night together, laughing and breathless and sweaty. The way we gave ourselves to him, not because we were afraid of dying, but because we chose him.
Because we loved him. Because he loved us.
And I wasn’t ready to lose that.
Not now.
Not ever.
I screamed in rage, the sound torn from my chest like it had claws.
Magic… raw, untamed, and furious erupted from my body, from deep within my soul. Magic I didn’t even know I possessed.
It wasn’t a spell.
It wasn’t even intent.
It was my everything. My grief, love, desperation, all of it shaped into a violent pulse of might that tore through my wand and slammed into the sickly green bolt racing toward me.
Our magics collided, and the air snapped.
The field shuddered, and time twisted.
A beam of golden light burst between our wands, blazing like lightning frozen in place. The threads connecting our wands together. A weight that I didn’t understand, but I just knew that it was Ancient and Primal.
Voldemort’s expression barely flickered, but I saw the flicker of uncertainty.
Our wands locked, and magic cracked between us. Sparks danced around the beam, flaring with every heartbeat.
I stood, somehow. Shaking, bleeding, burning, trembling.
But I didn’t back down. I couldn’t. Not while shapes began to become visible through a veil.
And then… they came.
The first shape emerged… flickering gold, but I would recognize that face everywhere with how many times I watched those pictures full of longing.
My mother.
Lily Potter stepped from the stream of light, her face soft, eyes brimming with sorrow and pride.
“Iris,” she said gently. “You’re not alone. We’re here, my baby girl.”
Behind her, my father appeared. James Potter. He grinned warmly. The same smile I expected of him from what Sirius told me.
“Still throwing yourself into danger, huh?” he said with a crooked smirk. “You are just like me, Iris. I’m so proud of being your father.”
Tears slipped from my eyes.
The beam trembled. Voldemort pushed harder.
Other figures began to emerge, a bunch of figures with blurred faces. Instinctively, I knew they were muggles… without enough magic inside their bodies to form the echoes. Then… Barty Crouch Sr.
Voldemort’s previous victims. Their voices filled the air like wind through leaves, soft but insistent.
“Hold on…”
“You’re doing so well…”
“We believe in you…”
But Voldemort was too strong. My arms trembled, and my legs buckled under the strain. The magic between us strained, and I felt the balance tipping.
I was going to lose… I felt it in my bones.
My parents’ faces began to flicker, a worried look in their eyes, tears spilling out freely.
The golden thread started to buckle.
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, and with a final hiss, he surged his magic forward, the green energy overtaking the gold.
And then…
A sound like heaven splitting. The sky cracked… not thunder, not wind. No… it was pure magical might, an ancient, divine pressure that crashed into the world like a tidal wave, pressing everything beneath its weight. It reverberated through the very soul, rattling bone and choking breath. Or at least… that’s how it must have felt to everyone else.
But for me?
For me, it was warmth. It was love.
A thin strand of divine light. Pure, white-gold, and sharper than any blade had any right to be lanced through the darkness and pierced Voldemort’s shoulder.
He stumbled. I didn’t.
The beam buckled for a heartbeat, then snapped back in my favor.
The ghosts solidified. The shapes shouted encouragement as my parents smiled brightly, their worry forgotten.
The golden magic surged as I roared with everything I had. A raw, animalistic fury burst out of me, fueled by grief, rage, love, and the storm of emotions tearing through my chest.
Voldemort growled in fury, his shoulder steaming where the light had struck as his wound began to heal.
I gasped, chest heaving, as I felt the tide finally shift.
With a final heave of effort… I won.
I collapsed onto the grass, my body aching, everything hurting… But I laughed.
Why?
Because everything was right.
And Eli was here.
Comments
InfinityReads99
Always dude! glad you liked it!
InfinityReads99
Glad you liked it!! I feel genuinely proud of this chapter. And yeah, it will happen next chapter, so stay tuned!
InfinityReads99
Heh, wait and see dude.
LothWolf
I wonder if any of the Holy Longinus sacred gears will have some kind of reaction towards Eil since he is a artificial Messiah and has a Divine and Holy power
Hae-Hyuk Shin
Amazing chapter! I can't wait for the fight between Walburga and Eli
Cody Boyd
Thanks for the chapter brother
Cody Boyd
First time first
