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ACT4CH51 - Fear
🕑 Added 2025-03-07 14:51:08 +0000 UTCFrom Daphne’s perspective, the most unsettling thing about Harry Potter was how fiercely ordinary he still tried to appear. Even now—as he led them out of the castle and onto the snow-dusted grounds of Hogwarts—his windswept hair and plain robes screamed “Harry Potter,” yet beneath that familiar façade lurked something unnameable. Something not quite human.
Daphne’s mind raced back to darker days. She remembered when Harry had struggled with his newfound Animagus instincts—a time when he resembled a caged beast, desperately trying to keep the wild within locked away. But that Harry was gone. Today, he was something far more dangerous. Free. Like… like Hecate. A predator cloaked in calm, dangerous because his docility wasn’t borne of restraint, but of sheer, unpredictable whim. The chilling thought gnawed at her: if he wished it, Harry could end everything—Hogwarts, the United Kingdom, perhaps the entire world—without breaking a sweat.
The class was buzzing with whispers as they made their way down to the grounds for their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson after Harry’s return from the calamitous episode at Azkaban. Even in December’s biting cold, murmurs of discontent and awe swirled in the air.
“Outdoor lesson? In December?” piped up Nott, his voice tinged with disbelief.
“Did he even clear this with McGonagall?” Terry Boot added, glancing around as if expecting an answer from invisible ears.
“I heard it’s because of the Gatekeeper thing. He’s not just a professor anymore,” someone whispered, and the room hummed with anxious speculation.
Daphne rolled her eyes at Abbott’s idiocy—yet she couldn’t deny the truth in the chatter. The entire Gatekeeper business was uncharted territory, and even her father had mentioned a top-secret meeting between Harry and some Ministry bigwigs to define his future on British soil. Until that happened, no one dared tread on the toes of the man whom Amelia Bones claimed had defeated You-Know-Who without even being there. If being the Boy-Who-Lived had made him a celebrity, this had transformed him into a living legend—a myth incarnate. And his desperate efforts to appear normal only deepened the mystery.
The absence of Draco Malfoy added its own irony to the day. With his father’s recent death and the subsequent upheavals within the DMLE, the Malfoy family had effectively vanished—Narcissa had whisked her son away to France, citing “emergency family” reasons. Hogwarts was changing, and nothing was as certain as it once was.
Finally, they arrived at a clearing where thirty-eight students huddled together, shivering and exchanging uneasy glances. Harry stood before them, pacing slowly with a measured air, his gaze lingering on each face as if weighing their worth.
“Before we begin,” Harry announced, his voice cutting through the cold air, “I imagine some of you have questions.”
Lilith Moon’s hand shot up. “Is it true? About the Gatekeeper thing?”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the group. Daphne scanned the crowd, noting the mix of fascination and fear in every pair of eyes, as if they were waiting for confirmation that Harry was no longer entirely one of them.
Her fiance chuckled. “I meant questions about today’s class. But knowing all of you, I guess it’s best to settle some obvious questions before we get started.”
The students were listening attentively, with eyes fixed at him. Daphne swore they were waiting for him to start floating with a halo around his head.
Her heart pounded as Harry’s gaze settled on Ron. “Mr. Weasley,” he said with an amused smile, “I imagine everyone’s been talking about me at length.”
Ron grinned. “At length, Professor.”
Harry chuckled. “Good. I’ve read all sorts of ridiculous things in the papers—tried hard to paint me as either the second Albus Dumbledore or the next Dark Lord. I assure you, I have no such ambitions. I’m no match for Dumbledore’s arcane wisdom, nor do I aspire to Voldemort’s mastery of the dark arts.” He paused, then added with a wry glimmer in his eye, “Yes, I am a Warlock with an affinity for Peverell Family Magic and other useful skills I’ve picked up along the way, and I’ve been lucky more than once. As for the Gatekeeper mantle—it’s a job I must fulfil, though I’d have preferred to complete my OWLs first!”
The crowd erupted in nervous laughter, and even the tension seemed to ease slightly. Yet the questions kept coming.
“But you faced the Dark Lord Ekrizdis,” another student blurted out. “And the Minister herself said ‘you killed You-Know-Who’!”
Harry shook his head. “Firstly, I didn’t kill Voldemort—I wasn’t even present there. My unique thaumaturgy is quite useful against magical attacks, but I merely empowered Minister Bones with what little power I could spare. The credit goes to her and the DMLE forces that fought valiantly.” He leaned forward, voice lowering. “And no, Voldemort isn’t truly gone. Just as he lingered in 1981, he remains somewhere—weak, perhaps, but not vanquished. And as for Ekrizdis... well, I had help. The sword of Godric Gryffindor, combined with my abilities, did the trick.”
Daphne had an unreadable poker face on, knowing exactly what he had just done and aimed for. He had never directly confirmed or denied anything. Rather, he merely gave everyone the impression that ‘I could only do it under specific circumstances that rarely happen in the first place.’ Wasn’t it only natural to be able to do something abnormal under extraordinary conditions?
She hated it. Hated that he was downplaying everything. Not because he was trying to appear humble, but because he truly and wholeheartedly believed that what he did was barely of significance compared to the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort.
Susan Bones followed, voice hesitant. “And the... Anima? You’re stopping it from... spreading?”
Harry snorted. “I am just one guy. The Anima is greater than you or me, Susan. It’s greater than the United Kingdom, than the entire planet, or even Reality itself. The mere idea of one man keeping it at bay is hilarious.”
“But Auntie said —”
Harry raised a hand, pausing her mid-sentence. “I know what she said. Look, the Anima isn’t some other world that peers at us through specific gates. It’s magic in itself. And so much more. Ekrizdis’s actions tore a hole in our reality, creating an imbalance. I just managed to correct it. As best I could.”
“So, you stopped Magic from what? Taking over the world?” asked Nott. “Wouldn’t it be a good thing to just let it change everything for good?”
“If dying or being twisted in all sorts of unknown, unseen ways is a good thing, then yes, I stopped a good thing from happening.”
“But why would it kill us?” Nott pressed. “We are magicals. We are exposed to magic every second of our life. Why would magic kill us? If anything, it could have made us stronger.”
“Made you stronger….” said Harry wistfully. “I reckon you might be right there.” He met Nott’s eyes. Daphne noted the way the other boy froze. “Tell me, Mister Nott. Would you be willing to bow down and kiss the helm of my robes for the rest of my life if I assured you that you would be… say, a quarter times more magically powerful than you are now?”
Nott looked affronted. “Becoming a Death Eater isn’t part of my future goals, Professor.”
“I never said it was,” said Harry softly. “No one just starts giggling and wearing black and signs up to become a villainous monster. So how the hell do you think that happens? It happens to people. Just people. They make questionable choices, for what might be very good reasons. They make choice after choice, and none of them is slaughtering roomfuls of innocents, or murdering hundreds of twisted inferi, or rubber-room irrational. But it adds up. And then one day they look around and realize that they're so far over the line that they can't remember where it was.”
The entire class fell silent.
“It’s not nice. And I don’t like it. But even so, I accept it. For the change has come because of your actions. Good, bad or ugly, so long as you are the one choosing, I can live with it. But when one man decides to change the fate of the world simply because he wants to play God, then yes, I have a problem with it.”
“But it would have made us stronger,” argued Zabini.
“Then delve into the magical arts,” said Harry sternly. “Learn, grow, explore. The Anima has numerous conjunctions scattered across the world. If you have what it takes, go find it. Transform yourself like so many have done before. One’s incompetence and arrogance isn’t argument enough to let a foreign twist the world apart in its own image. And it shouldn’t be.”
Daphne felt the ominous chill that snaked down her spine right then. The finality that Harry had in his tone when speaking went beyond confidence. It was akin to an absolute certainty that he felt that everyone should accept.
She followed his gaze and found him looking at Hermione Granger. The girl shivered and looked away. Daphne remembered Harry telling about the girl’s own brush with the powers of the Prison of Possibilities and being twisted by Ravenclaw’s Diadem.
“Perhaps the Anima could have made us all stronger. It could equally have twisted us into hideous beings. Ekrizdis was able to twist people — muggles, witches and wizards into dementors. What makes you think exposing yourself to the Anima to that degree won’t make it worse?”
He let the pause stretch, the cold air filling the silence.
“Unfortunately,” continued Harry. “The world’s still a little less stable than it used to be. Exposure to the Anima has twisted things… to unknown degrees. There are powers, monsters, demons out there, and that’s why we’re out here today.”
He held his hands wide. “Before the holidays, before you go home to warm fires and family dinners, you’re going to learn what it feels like to run from something you can’t fight.”
Confusion rippled through the students, their faces knitting into frowns.
“What do you mean, can’t fight?” someone near the back asked.
Harry met their gaze. “I mean there are things in this world that don't care how clever you are. Or how brave. Or how many spells you know. Some of them I hold back every single day. And the best lesson I can teach you is this: Live. Escape. Survive. Because some things can’t be beaten.”
More shifting, more glances. Some students laughed nervously. Others just looked pale.
Harry clapped his hands together. “So far, we have gone through shield charms, disarming tactics, and protective enchantments. We have also studied counters to the curses that you have learned last year, and examined contemporary dark magic practices. After the holidays, I plan to run you through offensive and defensive maneuvers, and emphasize on situational awareness and strategic spell use. But none of that matters if you can’t survive long enough to cast them. Which is why this lesson needs to happen now.”
Harry raised his wand. Light flared from the tip, sharp and searing, as a sequence of runes unfolded midair. They spun slowly, each symbol casting a faint glow onto the frost-covered grass. Daphne's eyes narrowed as she studied them—a complex chain of Isa, Raido, and Thurisaz, woven intricately with the unexpected glint of Sowilo. These weren't just protective sigils; they were layered to flow and pulse like a living circuit. Movement framed by stillness. Force tempered with inevitability. Purpose-made magic in its purest form.
She'd worked runes before, hundreds of times, enough to know how imprecise and fickle they were. Each rune could twist upon itself with layers of meaning, interpretations shifting based on the caster's intent, the alignment, even the air itself. No one—not even the most skilled wardmakers—crafted sequences like this in seconds. But Harry had. Effortlessly. Fluidly. As if the runes had been waiting for him to speak them aloud.
Then Harry did something that made her breath hitch. He reached out and grabbed the glowing rune cluster with his bare hand. The light didn't burn him; instead, it wrapped around his fingers like silk, pulsing between his knuckles, slipping into his skin. He held it tight, the glow seeping into his veins until his hand shone like a small, controlled star.
And without warning, he drove his open palm into the ground.
The impact was silent for the span of a heartbeat. Then the earth shuddered beneath them, a low, deep vibration that resonated through the soles of Daphne's boots. The air rippled, carrying a force that felt like the first deep breath of something waking up.
From the frozen earth, massive hedges erupted, clawing toward the sky. They didn't just grow—they coiled, twisted, surged upward like living walls reborn from the soil itself. Leaves unfurled as if remembering how to exist, the branches spiraling into impossible arches high overhead, blotting out the weak winter sun.
Daphne couldn't tear her eyes away. Awe bloomed in her chest, sharp and unwelcome. This was impossible. Runework, by its nature, was delicate—imprecise. Even the best wardmakers spent hours, days, refining their sequences, correcting the smallest deviations. And yet Harry had woven a sequence complex enough to reshape the earth itself in mere moments, as easily as breathing. The maze from the Third Task, she knew that much. But it was more than that. It felt older. Wilder. As though the maze itself was alive, pulsing with the echoes of something that predated even the ground it had burst from.
Within moments, it stood complete—a labyrinth vast, ancient, and terrifyingly aware.
“Wicked,” said Ron.
“He— he did that with one spell,” gasped Hermione Granger, looking at Harry like she was seeing him for the first time. “What… what spell was that?”
“Not a spell,” said Harry. “Just a request.”
He gestured at the maze. “It’s a copy of what I survived in the Third Task. And now it's yours to navigate."
He paused, then raised his voice. "Form groups of three or four. Quickly now."
Confusion rippled through the students. Daphne exchanged glances with Pansy, Millicent and Theodore Nott as they moved closer together, instinct pulling them into place. Around them, the others hurried to sort themselves out, some still casting wary glances at the maze towering behind Harry.
When the groups had formed, Harry’s gaze swept over them, counting silently. "Good," he said. "Ten groups. The maze does not care how many go in. Only that some of you might not come out together."
A chill passed through the crowd.
Harry continued, his tone even. "Your goal is simple: find the exit. Stay together. Protect each other. This is not about glory or speed. It's about survival. Understand that now. If you abandon your group, you will not last long."
He looked at Daphne's group briefly, eyes lingering on her before moving on. "Whatever is inside that maze... it is not your enemy. The maze itself is. The longer you take, the more it notices. The more it wants."
He stepped aside, gesturing at the multiple entrances that had appeared, yawning dark maws in the living walls. "Unlike the Third Task, there is no trophy sitting in the center. Just the exit. And a lesson.”
A few students exchanged glances. Someone—Boot, maybe—half-laughed. “What’s hunting us?”
Harry smiled thinly. “The maze. So whatever you do, don’t hesitate. No second thoughts. Run if you must. Hide if you can. But most importantly... endure."
Silence fell over the group. Daphne felt the weight of his words settle on her chest, cold and heavy. This was no ordinary lesson. This was something more. Something worse.
As her group entered through one of the orifices, the maze swallowed them whole.
Daphne felt the air shift as they crossed the threshold. Winter’s chill deepened into something unnatural—a damp, suffocating cold that slid down her spine and pooled in her chest. The rustling hedges groaned like living things, and a sour mist clung to the ground. She kept Pansy close on her left and Nott on her right, with Millicent right behind, their wands raised, tiny pulsing orbs of Lumos barely cutting through the fog.
“Stay close,” Daphne whispered, swallowing the tightness in her throat. “Eyes sharp. Wands ready.”
They moved forward. Every sound sharpened—the scuff of boots, the hiss of breath. The hedges pulsed as though they had hearts of their own. Then came the whispers.
Why do they follow you? murmured a voice, cool and silky, curling around Daphne’s ear. They’ll leave you. Just like the rest.
She gritted her teeth. “Ignore it,” she hissed. “It’s the maze. It’s trying to get in your head.”
But the words lingered.
Ahead, the path forked. Left or right. Daphne paused, heart pounding. Nott pointed left. Pansy snapped, “No, right.”
Tension crackled. Daphne saw it flicker in Nott’s narrowed eyes, the way Pansy’s fingers flexed on her wand.
“Left,” Daphne decided. “Now.”
The right path collapsed behind them with a grinding groan, vines knitting themselves into an impassable wall.
The maze didn’t like hesitation.
Shadows drifted from the fog ahead. Human-shaped, shifting between the hedges. Daphne’s mind screamed trap just as a hex burst from the mist, slamming into the ground beside her. Nott fired back. Stunners. Bludgeoners. Light and color flared in the swirling grey.
“Hold your fire!” Daphne shouted. “They’re students!”
Too late. A figure crumpled. A retaliatory volley erupted, streaking through the air in panicked bursts. Spells ricocheted off the hedges, sizzling against the ground.
“Shield!” Millicent barked, raising a shimmering barrier just as another curse collided with it.
“Idiots,” Daphne spat. “They thought we were part of the maze.”
The hedges quivered. The whispers surged.
They’ll betray you, the voices sang. They always do.
Daphne clenched her jaw. “Move. Now.”
They ran. Nott barked a series of defensive counter-charms, layering a shimmering ward that deflected a snapping tendril. "Glacius Tractus!" he added, freezing a swath of vine underfoot, buying them precious seconds. Pansy flicked her wand in tight, sharp movements, her Ventus charm sending a powerful gust that whipped the fog back and staggered the enclosing branches. Daphne aimed upward. "Confringo!" The explosion above them blew apart an overhanging canopy of vines, raining leaves and splinters, momentarily halting the maze’s advance. Vines writhed underfoot, and the ground buckled like it wanted to swallow them whole.
Something screamed behind them—human, maybe. Daphne didn’t look back.
Shadows pressed in. Illusions sharpened. Daphne saw Astoria, pale and coughing, reaching out with desperate fingers. She heard her mother’s cold, dead voice. Saw Nott and Pansy whispering ahead, glancing back at her like they were plotting to leave her.
“It’s not real,” she muttered. “Not real.”
But doubt gnawed at her heels.
A figure lunged from the mist. Daphne fired a hex. It struck nothing. Smoke. Air.
They skidded into a clearing where the fog swirled like a living thing. A group loomed out of the haze—wand tips flaring. Panic surged. More spells flew, lighting the air in chaotic flashes. Daphne barely ducked a Disarming Charm. “Stop! We're not—”
A red bolt grazed Nott’s shoulder. He snarled, returning fire. “They're not listening!”
“Everyone, down!” Daphne shouted. “Cover!”
They dropped behind a rise of roots as spells ricocheted above them, the air humming with raw magic. Pansy gritted her teeth. “They're seeing things too. They think we’re monsters.”
Daphne peeked over the roots. “We can't stay here. The maze won't let us.”
With a nod, they bolted from cover, weaving through corridors that twisted on themselves, as if the maze didn’t want to let them go. Whispers rose to a scream. Faces formed in the fog. Familiar. Family. Dead. Dying.
Daphne bit her tongue to keep from crying out. “Don’t look! Don’t listen!”
They reached another fork. Both paths pulsed. Both felt wrong.
“Which way?” Pansy gasped.
“Forward,” Daphne said, casting a quick navigation spell. “Then we move right.”
And the maze shifted again, leaving the right blocked.
“Or… left, and then aim for right.”
The hedges surged inward, leaves sharpening like serrated blades, and thick tendrils snaked across the ground, writhing with malevolent purpose. Daphne barely threw up a Shield Charm as one lashed out, striking with enough force to rattle her teeth. The tendril recoiled, only to be replaced by two more, snapping at their ankles, testing their defenses.
“They’re herding us,” Nott said through clenched teeth, swatting away a vine that had curled around his wrist. “Like prey.”
“Not today,” Daphne growled. "Diffindo!”
“Diffindo!” Pansy joined. The spells sliced through tendrils, the severed pieces thrashing on the ground before dissolving into mist.
But the maze responded instantly. More tendrils unfurled from the hedges, coiling like serpents, striking from above and below. Daphne’s heart pounded as they sprinted down a narrow corridor, ducking and weaving as the maze came alive around them.
The air thickened. The whispers grew teeth.
They’ll leave you. They’ll betray you. You’re already alone.
Astoria’s face flickered in the mist beside Daphne, her sister’s voice weak and accusatory. "You didn’t save me."
“It’s not real!” Daphne snapped aloud, her voice shaking. “Keep moving!”
Nott stumbled as a vine snagged his ankle. Daphne yanked him free, casting a hasty Severing Charm. Millicent unleashed a furious barrage of precise Cutting Charms and Burning Hexes, slicing through advancing tendrils with clinical efficiency. "Lacero!" she cast, creating a rotating ring of slicing magic that circled them, warding off the maze's advances. "Incendio!” she shouted next, launching controlled streams of fire that licked at the creeping vines, forcing them to recoil.
They burst into another clearing only to find another group already there, eyes wild, wands raised. No one spoke. They fired.
Daphne dove to the side as spells ripped past, scorching the earth. "We’re not enemies!" she yelled, but the other group didn’t listen.
“They’re too far gone,” Nott said grimly, shielding them as Pansy launched Stunners in return.
The maze roared—yes, actually roared—as the ground shuddered. Roots tore through the clearing, forcing the two groups apart.
Daphne seized the moment. "Nott, cover the rear! Pansy, clear our path! Millie, keep an eye out for tendrils! Let's move!" Nott spun, firing a continuous stream of Repelling Hexes, while Pansy blasted open the narrowing corridor with a series of explosive bursts. "Run! Now!"
They sprinted through a collapsing corridor of vines and mist, spells flashing like lightning behind them. The maze twisted tighter, the walls closing in, pressing them into a suffocating tunnel. Daphne felt the walls pulse with their fear, feeding on it.
“We’re close!” Pansy gasped.
“How can you tell?” Nott called back.
“Because it’s fighting harder,” Daphne said through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t want us to leave.”
One final corridor. Tendrils lashed out in a desperate, last effort to hold them back. Daphne slashed them away, her arm aching with the effort, and together they plunged through the final archway.
Cold air hit her face. Silence. They were out.
The maze loomed behind them, quiet now, patient, as though waiting for the next fool to step inside.
Daphne collapsed to her knees, shaking. Pansy and Nott stood on either side of her, silent, pale.
She looked back at the maze. "Never again," she whispered.
But before the echo of her words faded, Harry stood before them, waiting at the exit as though he had been there the whole time, watching. His robes stirred in the faint breeze, his expression calm, yet impossibly distant, as if part of him still lingered within the maze itself.
“What was the bloody point of that?” growled Nott. “Putting us into something so dangerous.”
“Oh, my apologies. It’s not like dark wizards will ever waste time in something so silly as advanced preparation and traps after all. They are more likely to hand you out the entire menu of what to expect in neat calligraphy.”
Nott’s jaws snapped shut.
Millicent snickered.
As the rest of the students stumbled out, some supporting each other, others too drained even to speak, Harry’s voice carried easily over the field. "This wasn’t a test of spells or skill," he said, his tone steady and sharp. "You fought shadows in there. You turned on friends. You doubted the people you trusted. That was the maze’s true power—whispers and illusions, not curses. And it worked."
The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Daphne kept her eyes on him, her heart still hammering.
Harry gestured toward the looming walls behind them. "The real world after Hogwarts is much like that maze. At school, if you make a mistake, you can try again. But things out there don’t work like that. A split-second decision can save or kill. Fear will twist your thoughts. Paranoia worms its way into your decisions. Enemies who don’t need to attack because they know you’ll destroy each other first. That was the point of today. To show you how easily it happens. How fast fear makes monsters of us all."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across them. "And none of you are ready for what's coming. You think magic will save you? That clever wandwork is enough? Some of you turned your backs on your friends the moment the fog thickened. Some of you raised your wands against people you've known for years. You gave the maze exactly what it wanted."
Daphne felt the words slice through the cold air. She thought of Pansy and Nott, the way doubt had flickered between them at the fork, the silence that followed every wrong turn.
Harry’s voice softened, but it didn’t lose its weight. "After the holidays, we’re going to fix that. We’ll learn how to hold the line together. How to think under pressure. How to shield the person next to you even when you don’t trust them. Because the next time you step into the dark, it won’t be an exercise."
A long silence stretched. No one dared speak. The wind rustled the hedges behind them.
And then Harry, almost as an afterthought, added. “Alright, so homework time. Get warm. Recover. Introspect. Think about what the maze showed you. Think about whether you liked the person it turned you into."
His gaze lingered on Daphne one last time before he turned away.
And she realized, as they all slowly began the trek back to the castle, that the lesson wasn’t really about the maze at all.
It was about surviving him.
Comments
Aleksandr Mitiunin
Oof, intense
Book reader
What’s the update schedule supposed to be these days?
Afterdark230
Oh my god! That was amazing.
