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(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 467: Fanning the Flames
🕑 Added 2025-05-06 14:00:48 +0000 UTCChapter 467: Fanning the Flames
29 June 1995, Hogwarts
Minerva McGonagall poured herself a glass of whiskey, finally glad that the school year was over. What an exhausting year it was. The attack on the Quidditch World Cup Final, the European School Tournament, the civil war between Lord Voldemort and the Lycans, and her needing to activate the wards to protect the students involved.
Everything had been one crisis after another, and she did her best trying to manage everything. People told her that she did an admirable job. After all, she made sure that her school’s task went according to plan, the students and spectators were safe, and other than, you know, the world almost ending, the award ceremony went according to plan. In the end, Beauxbatons ended up the victor, with Hogwarts being in second place, a valiant effort given that her champions in the last task were all quite young.
The only main issue was that the victorious French champion – she honestly forgot his name – when he got awarded the infamous Ascalon, ended up disappointed. Somehow, much of the main enchantments on the sword were erased, almost destroyed, really, and he threw a tantrum, yelling out that he’d been scammed. Of course, that all paled compared to the true explanation, that Dumbledore’s Light, and probably the source of the blade’s power, was destroyed, while the man ended up dying, trying to bring in the Apocalypse, while working with his supposed greatest enemy.
Minerva had been mentored by the man, but never, in all her years, did she ever expect him to come up with a plan so twisted, so monstrous, that it could have resulted in millions of deaths at the very least. She would say that she lost a lot of trust in him over the previous year, enough that she would never trust him with the safety of her students, not anymore, not after the shit he kept pulling. She had been annoyed with him trying to force his way to Hogwarts, with the ICW backing him, for some agenda that she didn’t even want to figure out. But to see how much had fallen, heard it from his own voice. It simply hit differently, and she learned to truly loathe the man.
The worst of it was the fact that it was two young children who paid the price for it, Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass. The boy hadn’t ended up in her house, and wasn’t that a surprise and a half, but there was no denying how brilliant he was. He had an understanding of magic that bordered on the prodigal. He could weave spells in ways that she simply didn’t understand. It had been obvious that Albus wanted to gain some influence over the boy, who would have grown into a magnificent mage. The girl was remarkable as well, a very bright witch with a lot of potential, and they both died to oppose Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
When people told her that she did a good job, she thought of these two, of Cedric Diggory, of all the children she had failed, and she couldn’t help but feel the praise sour on her tongue. What did it matter if her students were safe when the price was paid by others, by children who should have been under her care? She raised her glass and stared at the swirling amber liquid, the reflection of the office lights catching the edge of her weary eyes. She had fought tooth and nail to keep Hogwarts afloat through a war it had no business being part of, but in the end, it hadn’t been enough. Not for Cedric. Not for Harry. Not for Daphne.
She took a deep breath, downed the rest of her whiskey, and whispered into the silence of her office, “You deserved more than this. All of you did.”
She was about to pour another glass, only for someone to knock on her office door. She let out an exasperated sigh and answered loudly, “Come in.”
An anxious Filius Flitwick made his way to her office, and she slumped in relief slightly. The half-goblin had been just as shaken about the deaths of Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass. It didn’t show, but the endless well of energy and patience he always had noticeably dulled in the last week. He walked in with a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and held up a folded issue of the Daily Prophet like it carried the weight of a tombstone.
“I thought you might want to see today’s headline,” he said quietly.
Minerva took it with a frown, wiped her hands on her robes to shake off the sting of the whiskey, and unfolded the paper. Her jaw dropped.
The Battle of Nurmengard: A War Hidden in Legend
By Rita Skeeter
What began as a presumed duel between two fallen titans has now been revealed to be something far more: a war unlike any our world has seen in centuries. For the past week, experts, investigators, and eyewitnesses have worked tirelessly to reconstruct the events that occurred in and around Nurmengard Fortress on the 21st of June, a night that is already being etched into the history books.
The official narrative initially suggested a final confrontation between former Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, rekindling their ancient rivalry in a last-ditch struggle for control. But as fragments of memories, reports from surviving mercenaries, and even the accounts of a few enchanted Muggle witnesses came to light, the true picture has proven far more complex.
This was not a duel. This was war.
Thousands, yes, thousands, of mercenaries and Lycans reportedly answered the call of Harry Potter, the so-called Raven of Nurmengard. Together, they launched an assault against an army of vampires that some believe hadn’t been seen in such numbers since the Nights of Red Thirst. Aurors and curse-breakers examining the battlefield now confirm that nearly every vampire involved in the confrontation perished in the battle. Some suggest this may be the work of the elusive Red Witch, long associated with ritual magic and mass blood sorcery. However, with her confirmed absence from recent magical affairs, this remains speculation.
The memories collected, stitched together by Unspeakables and foreign diviners, reveal that Harry Potter not only held his own against Grindelwald but stood equal to him. Multiple exchanges show the young wizard trapping the infamous dark lord using spells no expert has yet identified, wielding unfamiliar magic that defies traditional classification. His duel with Grindelwald was ferocious, spanning the remains of the ruined fortress, and astonishingly, it was Potter who gained the upper hand multiple times, first, with the support of his allies, Alexander Marinakis and an unknown shadow mage, but then held his own after they were taken out of commission. The former headmaster of the Olympus Academy had left his post due to the events of the destruction of Mount Olympus and the deaths of dozens of students, and yet, many believe that he more than made up for this mistake in his fight against Grindelwald and his forces. He hadn’t been seen since, and his son, Perseus Marinakis, was unavailable to comment.
As for the battle itself, it seemed that Harry Potter had everything quite in hand.
That is, until Dumbledore appeared.
When the former headmaster of Hogwarts joined Grindelwald on the battlefield, the tide turned. Potter was overwhelmed, forced into retreat after retreat. And yet, even then, he persisted. Witnesses claim that what followed was not just resistance, but strategy. Potter feigned his defeat, tricking his foes into turning on each other, pushing their fragile alliance into collapse.
Which ended with the very well-known sacrifice, which turned the young man into the saviour of the magical world. Reports confirm that a cataclysmic magical surge followed their deaths and that it was contained through unknown means. That none of the three bodies were recovered has only deepened the mythos surrounding them. While some hold onto hope, most experts agree: Harry Potter is gone.
And yet, the legacy he leaves behind is complicated.
One of the most surprising revelations of the Battle of Nurmengard was the presence of thousands of Lycans, fighting shoulder to shoulder with wizards and witches. Long considered a dangerous and uncontrollable element of magical society, particularly after their bloody involvement in Lord Voldemort’s second rise, their coordinated role in protecting the magical world has prompted a reassessment across Europe.
Led by the late Remus Lupin, a former Hogwarts professor and war veteran, the Lycans fought valiantly, bearing the brunt of Grindelwald’s vampire legions. Witness accounts describe their battle formations, their discipline, and their sheer bravery in sacrificing themselves to hold the line. Lupin himself is said to have died buying Harry Potter enough time to make his move against Grindelwald.
For many, this battle marks a turning point.
Governments across the continent, including Germany, France, and Romania, have opened talks to formally recognise Lycan communities as legitimate citizens, with full magical rights. In Britain, Minister Fudge confirmed that negotiations are ongoing, but noted that Lupin’s death has left a leadership vacuum among the Lycans. “We’re eager to welcome them into our fold,” Fudge stated, “but until they appoint a new official leader, the talks remain preliminary.”
As for Harry Potter, while his courage was undeniable and commendable, it must be said; he was a teenager, not even of age, wielding magic that shook the heavens. Some ask: How did he get so strong? Who taught him? Who watched over him? Others simply ask: What if he hadn’t been on our side?
The ICW has issued a formal statement praising Potter’s bravery but also notes its concern. “A mage of such magnitude, with no oversight, no training institution, no political accountability. This cannot happen again,” one representative from the Spanish delegation noted.
Another German representative further explained why this show of power had so many complications, “That kind of power always has had a price. We do not know what price Mr. Potter paid, and while his sacrifice is valiant, there is no proof that it didn’t have any untoward effects on him. We cannot know, but this sets a bad example to young mages all around the world, which is extremely worrying.”
Still, there is no denying it. The world has changed. Not just because the Light and Dark are no more, not just because the vampire clans were wiped out in a single night, but because a boy rose alone and saved us all.
And as many across the magical world travel to Hogwarts to pay their respect one last time, for the coming funeral in Hogwarts, one question is quietly spoken more than most:
What could Harry Potter have become, had he been allowed to truly shine?
We shall never know, but one thing is for certain: the world he left behind will never be the same.
The headmistress read the article twice. She wouldn’t have believed him normally, but the moving image of Harry Potter seemingly holding Grindelwald captive in some odd sphere that seemed to distort everything around it, a form of magic that she had never heard of before. In this moment, he didn’t look like a teenager, but the very image of the saviour the ministry wanted to show to the world.
She had found the whole thing distasteful, the way they were using the poor boy’s death to calm down the hysterics of Dumbledore and Grindelwald, almost destroying the world. It was conceivable that the boy could trick them, or come up with a way to trap them, but not actually fight them directly.
And yet, he did.
It was a bit humbling that she had someone like him in her classroom, a student who used magic that she didn’t even recognise, who had enough raw power to put her to shame. She had known that he was tricky, that he was extremely clever, but nothing truly prepared her for this.
Without even meaning to, she muttered to herself, “Merlin.”
The Charms master, whose presence she had completely forgotten, chimed in with a comforting tone, “I know. It’s not a hoax, even. I have a few contacts who managed to purchase one of the memory crystals at the event. It was barely a single perspective of a mercenary that apparated away in mere minutes after the fight began, but from how they described it to me, if anything, this is watered down.
“Do you even recognise this spell?” the transfiguration mistress asked.
“Not really. It’s obviously an innovation of his. If I had to guess, it would be a very clever adaptation of the spatial expansion charm, but that would be like comparing the sun to a flame.”
Minerva didn’t know what to say to that, and so, she muttered, mostly to herself, “At least he will be remembered for the remarkable young man that he is.”
Flitwick nodded solemnly, his eyes soft with a kind of quiet awe. “He will be,” he agreed.
She folded the paper with deliberate care and placed it on her desk. “I suppose he was never meant for the ordinary,” she murmured.
“No,” Flitwick whispered. “He never was.”
They stood in silence, the ticking of the enchanted clock the only sound in the room, a silence that Flitwick soon broke, “I almost forgot, the preparations for the funeral are progressing,” he said gently. “We’ve had confirmations from almost every European Ministry, and even a delegation from MACUSA is arriving. I daresay it might be one of the most attended funerals Hogwarts has ever seen.”
Minerva sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Of course they are. Fudge wants a spectacle. Something grand and glorious to show off Britain’s resilience, how we nurtured a hero and stood tall in the face of annihilation. It’s all about image.”
“At least Hogwarts is regaining some of its prestige,” Flitwick offered, trying for optimism. “I overheard a few foreign educators at the ICW mentioning how impressed they were. Our showing in the tournament was enough to put us back on the map, but having Harry Potter among our students… well, it says something about the kind of brilliance this school can foster.”
Minerva gave a weary nod. He wasn’t wrong. Their performance during the tournament had been enough to silence critics expecting an embarrassing defeat, but it was the name Harry Potter, The Raven of Nurmengard, that now carried weight across continents. She’d already received two separate owls from the Department of Magical Education, each outlining increased funding and greater autonomy in structuring the curriculum. The same people who once vetoed her proposals, calling her nothing more than Dumbledore’s replacement, were now championing her ideas. Magical research electives were being reconsidered, especially with so many mastery holders being interested in teaching in Hogwarts once more, and there was talk of reinstating experimental spellcraft labs for seventh-years. She had asked that one on a whim, really, and they just accepted it despite the extra funding it would need.
She was finally taken seriously as headmistress of Hogwarts, not just a placeholder until they found someone better.
And it felt hollow.
“I should be grateful,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I am. He’s done so much for us. But I wish the cost hadn’t been so steep.”
Flitwick didn’t respond, only offering her a look of understanding that didn’t need words.
Her gaze drifted to the window, to the sweeping view of the grounds beyond. The Black Lake shimmered under the late morning sun, its surface placid, reflecting the shadow of the tree Harry had always seemed fond of, spending hours there alongside Daphne. She saw the Ministry’s proposal sitting on her desk, plans for a monument in his honour, a statue most likely, or perhaps a magical painting. She hadn’t signed off on it yet.
But now, watching the tree sway gently in the summer breeze, she thought perhaps that would be the perfect place. It felt more personal in a way, honouring the young man he truly was instead of the saviour everyone seemed to worship lately.
And yet, no monument or honour could change the truth; there would be no more Potters. The line had ended. She could only hope that James Potter had found his son at last, somewhere beyond the veil, meeting the boy he never got to hold.
She wiped a small tear from her eyes and pushed away the newspaper. After all, she had a school to run and a funeral to plan.
AN: I had a completely different chapter in mind when I wrote this, but it kinda came out like that. I wanted a fitting ending for Hogwarts, as in how Dumbledore's influence over it was slowly fading away. I thought about having a funeral chapter instead, but it just didn’t feel right. And as you noticed, now the entire world knows what Harry was capable of, and most of them are sighing in relief that he’s dead. As for this chapter, I don’t know if it came out like I wanted it to; I didn’t have time to re-read it properly, but as usual, I don’t mind rewriting it depending on your feedback. So, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Xemenon
Love the solemn feeling from this chapter.
Tim
Great chapter. What about his workshop with the time turner? I can imagine a scene where Hermionie discovers that years later and feels insanely jealous. I cant help but wonder if Harry and Daphne will reappear after 20 years.
