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ACT3CH8 - There In The Darkness Part 3
🕑 Added 2023-08-13 14:02:19 +0000 UTCAlbus Dumbledore didn’t believe in God. Most wizards didn’t. After all, magic was akin to a force that behaved in certain ways. Like a mechanic, or an engineer, you could make them work for you if you knew how, without needing a god or a goddess or whatever to get involved. But more important than that, it was the fact that Faith was all about letting go and trusting someone else.
And wizards, by nature, weren’t terribly predisposed to surrendering control, not when you had that much personal power in them. Once you had your hands on the primal forces of the universe, it was a little hard to relax and let them slip through your fingers.
But, if Albus did believe in God or some higher power, he would definitely be thanking them for the welcome distraction that came in the form of the knock on his door.
“Come in, Newt.”
The man walked into his office, and looked around with a wry smile, possibly noting how very little had changed since he had last visited him. His fond gaze went to Fawkes who was residing on his stand.
“A recent burning day, I imagine?”
Fawkes let out a loud trill of pleasure.
“Pleased to see you after so long too, Fawkes,” said the man, and took a seat. “I didn’t want to risk a meeting post dinner, so, decided to drop in now.”
“A wise decision,” said Albus with a smile, and gestured to the ever-present candy dish on his desk. Truly, paperwork was the bane of his existence. He had never missed a chance to delegate it to Minerva. Bless her soul, she was a lifesaver. He didn’t know how she was used to it, but he supposed it was the presbyterian strain in her family that brought her up to exemplify perfection in all things, and not let something like boredom pose any risk to the quality and efficiency of her work.
Tonight however, she was busy with young Harry and Nymphadora. And thus, he was stuck with paperwork.
“Lemon drop?”
“Uh, no, I’m fine. Thanks.”
Albus shrugged, unbothered by his refusal. He took one of the candies from the bowl and popped it into his mouth with relish. “I admit I’m rather partial to them, but I can’t expect everyone to share my fondness. Mrs. Scamander too, I believe, does not appreciate its taste.”
Newt’s mouth twisted up slightly, in approximation of a smirk. “That might be putting things lightly.”
Albus heaved a sigh, and a light chuckle escaped his throat. “True. I still think she was a tad bit too harsh. Comparing lemon drops with ear-wax was quite uncalled for.”
Newt chuckled. “I’m surprised Fawkes managed to put up with you for this long.”
“You know of my family’s connection with the great magical birds,” said Albus. “Aella stayed with Credence till his last breath. I’m hoping Fawkes will do the same with me and more.”
Aella was the phoenix that had come to his nephew Credence, formally known as Aurelius Dumbledore, his brother’s child. After his demise, Aella had flown away to the horizon, never to be seen again.
“More?” asked Newt.
“I’m hoping Fawkes will choose a new companion to stay with, and I believe he already has set his sights on someone.”
“Let me guess, Potter?”
Albus smiled. “Fawkes has already healed young Harry once, cured him of basilisk venom.”
Newt arched an eyebrow. “Willingly?”
Fawkes trilled.
“You know as well as I that Hogwarts is more than a school of magic. It lives, and is aware in its own way. It motivated Fawkes to take the Sorting Hat with it, and provide aid to the defender of the castle with a weapon it holds for that very purpose.”
“The basilisk….” Newt began.
“Salazar would never have wanted the basilisk to purge the school of muggleborns,” spoke the Sorting Hat out of nowhere. “But under the influence of that parasite, it became exactly that. There is no other reason why the Chamber allowed the phoenix to pass through with me in tow.”
Newt opened and closed his mouth.
“Harry pulled out Godric Gryffindor’s blade from the Hat, and used it to kill the basilisk,” said Albus proudly. “I did not, of course, explain the ramifications of what he did back then, or what authority it gave him, here, at Hogwarts.”
“And what did you tell him?”
The Sorting Hat harrumphed. “Something about loyalty to himself. Albus Ol’ boy has got a big head. Anymore and he won’t be able to get it through the door.”
“Which is why he uses Fawkes to get around, I imagine,” Newt quipped.
Even Fawkes trilled at that.
Albus turned to Newt and smiled. “Harry is a remarkable young man. I have often thought that he reminds me of you.”
That took Newt by surprise. “Me?” He coughed. “I’m just a caretaker of magical creatures.”
Albus smiled. “And there it is, your inability to accept praise. One would think that growing old with Porpentina would have brought you out of that habit.”
“She knows a lost cause when she sees one.”
Albus rang a little bell on the side of the table, and an elf instantly popped in, serving a cup of tea and biscuits to his guest before popping away. Steepling his fingers in front of him, he asked. “So, how may I help you, Newt?”
“Just wondering why I am here,” the man admitted. “You did not call on me in the last war. Why is this any different?”
“I did not ask you to come fight a war, Newt. You are here —”
“As a visiting lecturer,” Newt finished for him. “But I can smell one of your plans from a mile away, Dumbledore. You dragged me all the way from the States for a reason, and something tells me it’s not the runespoor.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Well, what is it?”
“For reasons more than one, unfortunately,” said Albus. “Tell me, what are your views about young Harry?”
Newt gave him a half-shrug, as if unsure what to say in reply to that. “He’s prodigious for a child of his years. Not very academically-inclined, but pursues knowledge only when it serves an end. An outlier.” He bit into a biscuit. “But, he hides many secrets.”
Albus raised both eyebrows. “Like?”
“Like the fact that he’s far more acquainted with the Chamber than he’d have us believe. Mr. Flamel was quite taken with him.”
“Nicholas has always been rather interested in him,” said Albus. “He was fascinated to hear of an eleven-year-old that could walk away from the lure of immortality and endless wealth. That he was able to do so, while displaying immense courage against the wraith of a Dark Lord is even more commendable. I’m not surprised he wanted to talk with him privately.”
Newt frowned, but didn’t say anything else.
“Unless…” Albus continued, watching his old student and friend carefully. “You think there is something else involved?”
Newt blinked, but shook his head. “Nothing. Probably nothing.”
Albus felt that it was the same sort of Nothing that Harry Potter often gave him in the past.
“Humour me,” he stressed.
“Potter is… hiding something, I think,” said Newt, taking another sip of his tea. “There was a strange pride on his face the entire time we were in the Chamber, almost like a parent listening to a teacher raving about his child’s performance. Barely perceptible, but it was there. And something tells me that Mr. Flamel knows about it.”
“Nicholas has always been a man of secrets. I have worked with him, as an apprentice and then a colleague for over twenty five years, and I barely know him. His inclinations have always been towards the more abstruse aspects of magic, not something I’d consider my cup of tea. Given Harry’s nature as a Vessel, I have no doubt it would attract his attention. If the political situation were any less tumultuous, I’d have tried reopening the course on Alchemy and invited him to teach.”
“You mean you’d have baited him with Potter.”
“I wouldn’t have put it in that way, but essentially yes,” he admitted. “Maybe you are right about Harry keeping secrets, but he has also earned a measure of trust, and I’m not inclined to press for his secrets for the time being. Though I admit I’ve tried strong-arming him in the past.”
“Strong-arming students into doing things. Why does that sound familiar?”
Albus exhaled. “It’s been over half a century, Newt. Don’t tell me you’re still holding a grudge.”
Newt laughed. “I was banned from international travel, and you all but coerced me into becoming a fugitive, hunted by my own brother no less across the streets of Paris.”
“It was for… it was necessary, that time.”
“I know. Never said I didn’t understand why you did. Don’t have to like it though.”
“I did apologise for it, did I not?”
The magizoologist made a show of consideration for a few seconds. “Let’s just say that becoming the Supreme Mugwump has bolstered your ego.”
The Hat harrumphed again.
Albus laughed. “Perhaps. I have made many mistakes lately, several of them in regards to young Harry. But believe me, after everything that transpired with Gellert, I didn’t want to become the same man I was back then. The blood-pact I shared with Gellert made me unable to stand against him, so I engineered others, people like yourself to act in my stead. After Gellert was defeated I… I didn’t want to repeat the same things again and again, and ended up making an entirely different kind of mistake.” He laughed again, and it was a hollow one. “I am simply not suited to be the one in power.”
“You’re telling me that the Quilin chose wrong?”
“Perhaps? There are days when I believe you would have been a better leader than I could ever be.”
Newt snorted. “Really Dumbledore? Me, in an office? Why don’t you ask me to voluntarily walk into Azkaban instead?”
“You’d be surprised,” said Albus, smiling. “It is one of those things that Harry has in common with you. He doesn’t seek power, wealth or recognition. He just asks if it is the right thing to do, and he does it. He is the sort of person who, when forced to wear the mantle of a leader, wears it because he must, and finds that he does so quite well. You were the fulcrum upon which the war with Gellert changed, and now I believe Harry will do the same against Voldemort.”
The magizoologist pushed back against his chair, crossed his arms and looked him in the eye. “What are you asking me to do, Albus?”
The Headmaster sighed. “I believe I have made many mistakes with young Harry. After everything that happened with Gellert, I didn’t want to have a repeat with Tom Riddle. Perhaps running a successful Countersight operation against him bolstered my confidence. I began believing that I and I alone, could determine the right manner in which things could proceed, which is what I did against Tom Riddle. I won’t say that I didn’t have my moments of triumph, but since this summer, Harry has proved me wrong. He has shown that when brilliant people make mistakes, those tend to be equally grave. In trying to give him a normal upbringing, I focussed too much on the Boy-Who-Lived and too little on the boy himself. Harry is the last scion of the Potters, and some one of its stature should have been brought up with lessons on etiquette, diplomacy, family traditions, culture and the laws of the society. Instead I was content to let him grow up as a muggleborn, ignoring the fact that the moment he stepped into the wizarding world, he wouldn’t be a muggleborn, but the most famous celebrity in the entire country. Had I actually done things right, had I checked on him, or put him under the care of a wizarding family I trusted, things could have been different.”
Newt said nothing.
Albus let out another mirthless snort. “Look at me. Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, Grand Sorcerer… So much power, so many resources at my command, and yet I allowed a greedy, cowardly man to snatch control from me. I let him push a cruel, vicious woman like Madam Umbridge into this castle and let her play with the future of my students, all because I was looking too far ahead into the future, focussing on Voldemort. I all but ignored the perils my students were facing now. You would think that after living as long as I have, I’d have realised that war is not a game of chess between two minds, war is about economics, politics, intelligence gathering, strategy, subterfuge, sabotage and above all else… alliances. But Harry, in just a summer of the right guidance, took control of the Umbridge situation, and defanged that woman without so much as raising a wand. He took up the mantle of Lord Potter, ascended to Nobility, and manifested a magic that both myself and Gellert sought when we were of his age.”
“You’re talking about the Hallows—”
“The Deathly Hallows, yes. Both Gellert and I believed that gaining the allegiance of the three Hallows could allow us to manifest the power of the Peverell bloodline. But believe me, despite decades of being the Master of the Elder Wand, I have come nowhere close to winning its true allegiance.”
He held up the wand gingerly. “This wand… tolerates me, at best.”
“Tolerates?”
Albus frowned slightly. “I have talked to… Garrick Ollivander in the past, about wand woods and wand cores. Elder wood, he had to say, contains some of the most powerful magic, but scorns to remain with any owner who is not the superior of his or her company. In fact, it takes a remarkable wizard to keep an elder wand for any length of time. It’s why they say, ‘Wand of Elder, Never Prosper.’”
“You have held that wand for close to half a century now, Albus. You won it, from him.”
Albus nodded. “I did, and for some years, this wand served me well. It learnt from me all it could, but as the years ran past, this wand began resisting me. Tolerating me. There are days when I feel the simple act of disarming me might just transfer its allegiance to another.”
“Is that why you use your original wand now?”
Dumbledore sighed. “Perhaps Gellert and I were simply idiots. Perhaps the allegiance of Death cannot be won, perhaps one needs to bow down before it and become its vessel into this world. I do not know why Harry Potter was chosen for this, but it is obvious that Fate and Destiny stalk him.”
“All of this is interesting,” said Newt. “But I still do not see where I’m needed, Albus. It is obvious that Harry Potter is a lightning rod that attracts the arcane. I’m a simple man. What role can I play in this?”
“I need your word, Newt, that you’ll guide him when the time comes.”
“You are Albus Dumbledore,” said Newt, frowning. “What can I give him that you can’t?”
Albus smiled. “Someone to look up to. Someone to trust. Harry has all the power he needs. All he lacks is someone that can show him the way. You have the experience of fighting a war on an international scale, far more than me, I might say. That experience is worth far more than anything I can offer him.”
“What about his family? The other professors? Surely there is someone he’d choose to trust over a complete stranger?”
Albus shook his head. “Minerva has never had the moral flexibility needed for the job, and every other person at hand, will be biassed in their own way. I do not believe the Greengrasses have ulterior motives, but they come from a magical supremacist background. Sirius Black has his heart in the right place, but he has tunnel vision where Harry is concerned, and he knows exactly how Harry’s magic-hating relatives have treated the boy in the past—”
“Magic-hating relatives?” Newt echoed.
Albus sighed. “As I said, grave mistakes.”
Newt stayed silent for a moment before speaking. “You fear Potter will become another Gellert Grindelwald?”
Albus chose not to answer that. Partly because he didn’t want to say it, and partly because he didn’t want to cast aspersions on the character of someone so noble and self-sacrificing.
“I want you to consider taking up a permanent position at Hogwarts. Wilhelmina is only here on a temporary basis, and I believe you can bond with Harry over the runespoor. Harry would appreciate someone that does not automatically flinch away at the mention of Parseltongue.”
“I forgot the boy was a parselmouth.”
“One of his many talents,” said Albus. A small smile began to form on his face. “In fact, there is another reason why I wanted you at Hogwarts. I wanted to speak to you about Nagini.”
A dark shadow fell upon Newt’s face like a pallor. ‘I think it’s a bit too late for that, don’t you think?”
Albus blinked. “Newt—”
“You’d think that with Albus Dumbledore at the helm, the ICW would have helped one of its war-heroes from the Grindelwald war.”
Albus winced. Nagini, a snake maledictus, had been one among the many people he had failed to save. She had played a pivotal role in the war against Gellert, and she had been his nephew Credence’s constant companion till his last breath. Post the war, both Albus and Nicholas had tried multiple avenues, but nothing, no potion, ritual or spell could help undo her malediction.
“I did try, Newt,” Albus said. “But we got to no one. Between myself and Nicholas, we tried to seek out ways to counter the curse. Nothing worked. But I have good news on that front.”
“News?”
“Do you remember the young Miss Greengrass?”
“Potter’s… fiance, I reckon?”
“Very same,” said Albus, frowning. “She too is the unfortunate victim of a malediction, a vile curse placed upon an ancestor of hers by the then Lord of Black. From what I’ve heard, she is not expected to survive beyond the next two years.”
Newt stilled.
“One of her ancestors was cursed by the then Lord of Black, her husband if I’m not wrong, because she cheated on him with another. The idea was to young Daphne into the Black family, and use the Family Magic to undo the curse. Hence, young Harry agreed to marry her.”
“He’s marrying an unknown young woman to save her life?” Newt asked. “Is that what you meant by hero complex?”
“He has been that to many,” Albus nodded. “Young Harry saved Miss Granger from a nasty mountain troll back in his first year, little Ginny Weasley from being possessed in second year—”
“The basilisk in the Chamber—”
“The very same, yes. And then in his third year, he saved Sirius Black, and himself, after a fashion, from a hundred dementors using a corporeal patronus. Yes, I’m aware of the power requirements, and the sheer willpower involved. Despite his prodigious talent, Harry has always struck me as the sort of person that doesn’t think much of himself. If anything, he downplays his own talent. Did you know that he is part of a workshop involving three of my professors and an assistant professor to create a new warding technology out of his own brand of thaumaturgy? They are working to synthesise his power of Death to act as a counter for dangerous dark curses…”
Newt sat up straighter. “You mean… like maledictions?”
Albus smiled. “Like maledictions. From what I understand, Miss Greengrass’s malediction is far more sinister than they previously believed. But, the professors assure me that they are making progress, so there is a chance, however slight…”
“That she’ll be cured? Completely?”
“Yes.”
Newt exhaled. “That’s… great news. Nagini would have been very happy, if she were here.”
Albus blinked. “I don’t understand. Did she…?”
Newt shook his head. “She’s not… dead. Not yet.”
“...Then?”
The magizoologist sighed. “I had sent Nagini to Uagodou, along with my runespoor. The Forest People live there, and they were able to treat her with magical herbs. She stayed in her human form most of the time, but she lost the power of human speech, and could only speak Parseltongue. The curse… it was corrupting her, inside and out. When I met her, she was easily sixteen-feet long, with magic-resistant scales and a predilection for human flesh. I — I got worried, so I asked Tina to consult with the MACUSA president, but nothing worked. Then in ‘88, we heard from the Gruda tribe in Albania, about a shamanistic ritual performed by the Kulshedra-worshippers. We were almost there, when she changed, and went on a killing spree. Four people were killed, and she escaped into the river. No one has heard from her since. We used her blood to track her, but the only thing we can say for certain is that she’s alive.”
Albus’s breath hitched. “Al-Albania, you said?”
“Yes,” Newt’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
But Albus didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed up from his chair, his mind racing miles ahead. If he had learned anything from his long and fulfilling life, it was that magic worked in myriad and serendipitous ways, which might not make sense initially, but later fell into all sorts of patterns that converged into the great ocean of destiny.
“What is it, Albus?”
For a moment, Albus considered not telling him. His innate tendency to keep secrets and be the one to decide on every single action wanted him to conceal everything, and reconsider the entire matter at leisure. But recent events had proven to him how foolhardy and inefficient that way of thinking was, which was also why he had decided to bring in someone he could completely trust.
“There is something I want you to know, Newt. After Lord Voldemort was vanquished in ‘81, he escaped as a wraith. I have always believed that he had managed to tether himself to life using the most heinous of ways and I was right. Not even death was enough to send him into the afterlife. For ten years, I found no trace of him, and believe me, I looked around. Then, our professor of Muggle Studies, Quirrinus Quirrel took a sabbatical to Albania, and there, he was possessed by Lord Voldemort. He tried to break through Nicholas’s wards but failed, which was when we decided to spring forth a trap, to lure him into the castle.”
“I don’t understand,” said Newt. “What has this got to do with Nagini?”
“Everything,” said Albus, looking at him sadly. “Everything, and I’m afraid you are not going to like this. Sometime last year, Harry Potter started having dreams of Lord Voldemort, through the cursed scar that connects, or well, connected the two of them. He always spoke of a large snake that accompanied Voldemort, one that the Dark Lord treated like a familiar. He called her… Nagini.”
“No…” Newt breathed.
“I’m afraid it is true,” said Albus, sighing. “Even Severus has reported the presence of this snake, a large burmese python, with magic-resistant scales and… a predilection towards human flesh.”
Newt clenched his fists and slammed them against the table. “That — that madman —”
“Has Nagini, I believe,” said Albus softly. “As his familiar, if not something… more intimate. I — I always wondered why he attacked the Flamels out of nowhere, after all this time. But if he came in contact with Nagini —”
“She would have told him about the protections surrounding Flamel’s place,” Newt caught on. “She’d have told him how the Stone works. Nagini… if she’s really under his control, there is no way to say what kind of secrets she might have revealed to him, Albus. Everything we found out about the abstruse magic Grindelwald was tampering with, the secrets of Nurmengard, and the—”
“The Hallows…” Albus breathed.
It must have been a portent, for right that moment, his attention diverted by the sound of his wand clattering over the table. Within seconds, the entire table was shaking, the trinkets set up over it making strange noises. A most terrible wind howled outside, the windows rattling out of their frames, the very castle shaking like its very foundations.
“Wha— what is happening?” asked Newt.
Albus closed his eyes and delved into the awareness that the Hogwarts wards gave him as Headmaster. It was a sensation he was used to, like a third arm, or an extra pair of eyes, something that connected him intimately with everything that was happening within the castle. The disturbance wasn’t a magical attack coming from the inside or the outside. The wards of Hogwarts had never swayed from his dominion, and neither had they been breached. And yet, this alien power was rising and prevailing all over Hogwarts without the wards even registering it in the first place.
This was dangerous. Utterly, impossibly dangerous.
And he had a good idea of what might have caused it.
“FAWKES!” He called out, and the phoenix soared, his wings already burning with motes of crimson flame. He held out his hand, and Newt grabbed it. The next moment, they were gone in a burst of flames.
....
....
....
The entire room was shaking.
Minerva McGonagall held her wand in front of her like a baton, while Nymphadora looked ready to transform at a moment’s notice. She had already conjured a protego shield around themselves, praying that the defensive enchantments placed on the walls would be enough to contain whatever was about to escape out of the potion. The frothing liquid was still confined within the ritual circle, if only barely, but the floor itself seemed ready to shatter apart and push the liquid and whatever was within it into this reality.
Minerva had already tried to cast a protego bubble around the circle, only to see it disintegrate before her own eyes. The dense, black fumes arising out of the potion burned through her shield faster than dry parchment under the incendio charm. The ethereal sounds of hooves and an unearthly hissing noise coming from everywhere and nowhere and slowly rising in volume, heralding the advent of a terrible something only added to the growing anxiety in her heart.
“Minerva!” She spun around in panic, and saw Albus Dumbledore and Newt Scamander rushing towards her. “The entire castle is shaking—”
“Potter went into the Anima —” She began, only to pause, as a dazzling white something with large, feathery wings, a patronus for all she knew, erupted out of the potion into the air. The next moment, it condensed, taking the shape of a majestic, great horned owl, with motes of liquid white light dropping from its wings. And right after it, bubbling up madly from all over the potion, like some primordial monster, rose massive inky black tendrils, ripping free from the depths of the Anima, hissing as they tried to grab the owl which did its best to evade its reach. The hunger emanating from it was almost palpable, this thing wanted to devour the owl, every hair, every cell. A monstrosity that saw it as nothing but food.
“What… is that thing?” Nymphadora snapped, wide-eyed, sounding on the verge of hysterics. Minerva couldn’t blame her, even the presence of that thing made the world seem infinitely darker.
“I… don’t know,” she said, gripping her wand tightly. “But I know what to do.”
She whipped her wand out, and sent a flare of crimson flames at the tendrils, shielding the owl from being captured. The flames clashed with the tendrils, and were hungrily consumed by them, but it did the job. And then a tsunami of murderous intent dislodged virtually every single thought from her head and hit her as hard as a sledgehammer. Minerva watched with frightened eyes, as the tendrils coalesced to form a floating absence, a black, amoebic nothingness with eyes that looked like blank, malevolent pits of rage. And then a vicious rumbling shook the entire room, as though a localised earthquake was taking place.
“███████ ████████████████████████!!!”
Instantly Minerva went on guard.
Newt had his wand trained on it.
Nymphadora was halfway between morphing and passing out right then and there. Knowing how spiritually sensitive she was, Minerva could only imagine what she was picking up from this malevolent presence.
Albus Dumbledore, though, stayed unfettered.
“This castle is mine, demon,” he said firmly, his impassive expression not faltering at all. “I hold the wards. I call them to order. You are not welcome here!”
He raised his wand — not the cherry wand that she had seen him use for the entire time she had known him, but something else. A long, slender wand, with bead-like circles entwining around it, all the way towards the dagger-like tip. A greyish spell erupted out of it, forming a boundary of grey mist around the thing and swirling around it. She trembled as the thing sent tendrils lashing at them, only to be held at bay by the power of his spell.
“WIZARD!” The thing screamed, a distorted sound, like a radio getting interference. The shape refused to clarify or solidify anymore. “RELEASE ME! THAT VESSEL IS MINE AND I WILL HAVE IT.”
“I cannot allow that, I’m afraid,” said Dumbledore. His voice remained genial and mild, but it was laced with steel and reverberated with raw magical power that reminded Minerva that this was the defeater of Grindelwald. Meanwhile Newt was already drawing runic scripts in mid-air, creating barrier after barrier to hold the demon in place.
The earthquake-like rumpling resumed as the emptiness turned its gaze totally on him. “So confident are you in your trinket, wizard!” Minerva sensed a wry amusement in its tone. “Let me correct your ignorance!”
The thing let out another rumbling sound, and a vortex of black energy, a crushing wave of coldness and strength slammed against Dumbledore’s spell. Though the spell held, Dumbledore was instantly brought down to a single-knee, as he tried to hold back against its temper.
It didn’t work. In a split second, the entirety of the room behind it was consumed in a terrible, smothering darkness that came rushing towards them.
Minerva reacted with the only defence she could, as did everyone else.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” she roared, and Newt joined her, and two majestic patronuses — her cat, and Newt’s rottweiler inundated the room with an intense, bright light. Fawkes too was screeching furiously, with waves of phoenix fire radiating out of its fiery plume, while Albus tried to contain the darkness with all his power. Imagine her shock when the darkness simply devoured the light, swallowing it into nothingness as it streamed forth. The patronuses burned brighter, light spilling out of them only to be enveloped by the slithering blackness all around, something that recoiled from the sparks and then came surging back in their wake with frenzied agitation.
“Enough!” thundered Harry Potter, his voice ringing with power and a finality so strong that the weight of the entire universe could rest upon his shoulders. Then, in a softer tone, he said. “I told you! I choose freedom! Freedom to carve my own path. I am not you. Death’s Vessel I might be, but I am not its slave.”
He turned around, and looked at Albus. “Professor Dumbledore, please drop the spell. It is Hunger. It will keep guzzling all your magic until you’re exhausted.”
“Harry,” Albus began, all traces of the dotty old man absent from his visage. “That demon—”
“Is no demon,” Harry corrected. “It is Death, trying to shape me in the same mould as its previous Vessel.”
“But that thing —”
“It’s an avatar of the previous Vessel. A spectre, hoping to lead me in his footsteps.” Harry turned to face the darkness. “Your quarrel is with me. Leave the others out of it. The power that burns within you will burn in mine, and I will direct it where I see fit.”
“Then accept it!” claimed the monstrosity. “Take it within you!”
“HARRY!” Albus warned him. “Do not even think of doing that!”
Harry gave him a saddened look. “I have to, Professor,” he finally said. “I was given this power. I didn’t choose it. That is why it was never in my control. When I was in the Anima realm, Death wanted me to choose the thestral, embrace it and give up my magic. I refused it instead, and chose life, chose freedom, chose magic. That is why it came after me.”
He paused, as if thinking, considering his words.
“But now, I’ll choose it. Willingly. But mark my words, Ignotus. I do not, and will not dance to its tune. We may move together, but I’ll play the music. I’ll set the beat. Not the other way around. I am the Path, and it is me. There is no other way around.”
Minerva shivered at the sight, at the pride in his bearing, the clarity in his eyes, and the absolute certainty in his voice.
“Your defiance will drown you to your end, Harry Potter!”
Harry smiled. “You can’t live in fear.”
He extended a hand out, and a black tendril whipped out of the blackness like a living thing and entwined around Harry’s wrist. Minerva watched in trepidation as his radiant form began to slowly dim into a greyish shade, and even the greyish shade began to dissolve slowly, till he was all but transparent. Only his outline could be discerned. There appeared to be numerous curved lines of two colours — black and white, moving in and out of his outline. It was as if he was nothing but a carrier, with millions of white curved lines flooding into him with frightening intensity, and torrents of black curved lines gushing furiously out of him. Harry’s mouth opened in a silent scream, and the lights in the room flickered, and suddenly, the monstrosity was gone. And Harry Potter, now returned to human form, dropped down to the floor.
It was over.
Comments
Chris
" The idea was to young Daphne into the Black family, and use the Family Magic to undo the curse." I believe it's supposed to be " The idea was to bring young Daphne into the Black family, and use the Family Magic to undo the curse."
Nathaniel Scurry
Absolutely magnificent
