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HP: The Artisan's Path Chapter 93
🕑 Added 2024-12-09 22:45:52 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s the first chapter of the week. This chapter is longer than usual because I didn't want the battle to continue into a third chapter.
Chapter 93
The common room erupted into chaos as students stumbled down from their dormitories, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Daphne stood on a table, commanding attention as she explained the situation.
"The castle is under attack," she announced. "Both from outside and within. Intruders have breached the castle through the Chamber of Secrets."
Several students rushed to the window. Their startled exclamations were all everyone needed for Daphne’s claims to be confirmed.
“Beasts are pouring out of the forest,” a third-year cried.
“Is that the Hogwarts statues fighting them?” Another student shouted.
“We don't know the full situation,” Hermione said, raising her voice to be heard over the din. “But we know Harry and the professors are likely involved in the battle.”
Gabrielle looked around. “We’re heading down to the first floor. The intruders in the castle are a danger to the school. Who wants to come with us?”
Neville immediately stepped forward. “Count me in.”
Tracy was next to volunteer.
The Weasley twins exchanged glances before stepping forward as well. "Well, we can't let them have all the fun, can we, Fred?"
"Right, you are, George. Besides, if Harry's in trouble—"
"—then we're duty-bound to help," Fred finished with a grin.
The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team quickly rallied behind them. Oliver Wood and the Chaser trio pulled out their wands, preparing themselves for the battle ahead.
"I'm coming too!" Ginny declared, pushing forward with Ron at her heels.
Percy immediately stepped between them. "Absolutely not! You're both too young for this."
Ginny scowled. “I know how to fight.”
"I don’t care," Percy said. He turned to the second-year students. "You shouldn't be going either. You're only second-years!"
Gabrielle snorted. “Like I care. We're wasting time just standing here and arguing."
She headed for the portrait hole. Daphne Hermione, Neville and Tracy followed without hesitation.
"Stop right there!" the Fat Lady called as they approached. "I can't let you out during an emergency!"
Daphne's wand appeared in her hand. "Move, or I'll blast your portrait to pieces."
The Fat Lady's eyes widened before she swung open with a huff. Oliver, Angelina, Katie, Alicia and the twins hurried after them. Percy shook his head and followed as well.
They descended through the castle, their wands raised, knowing they could be attacked at any moment. As they reached the third floor, the sounds of battle reached their ears. Rounding a corner, they came upon a scene of chaos.
The professors had erected several makeshift barricades in the corridor to slow down the intruders. Two teachers lay unconscious, while the others showed signs of fatigue. Only Sheena seemed unfazed, her spear a blur of motion as she cut through the attackers with practised ease.
"Back!" Daphne hissed, pulling the group around the corner.
Angelina frowned. “What are we going to do?”
The twins glanced at each other. “We may have an idea.”
“No need,” Gabrielle said.
She set her suitcase down, tapping it with her wand. It expanded rapidly until it nearly touched the sides of the corridor.
"What are you—" Oliver began, but Hermione shushed him.
Gabrielle leaned over the open case. "Thibault! We need you!"
A deep bellow echoed from within. Gabrielle waited a moment before flipping a switch on the suitcase. The whirring of mechanical gears could be heard as a platform rose from the depths. Thibault, Gabrielle's massive Bicorn, stepped onto the corridor floor when it arrived at the top.
Percy gasped. “You keep a Bicorn in your suitcase?”
“Thibault was lonely all by himself,” Gabrielle said. “So, I brought him with me.”
Thibault nudged Gabrielle.
"There are enemies around the corner," Gabrielle told him, stroking his flank. "They're wearing black. Take them down."
Thibault snorted, pawing at the floor before trotting around the corner.
"Will he be alright?" Tracy asked.
Gabrielle smiled. "Thibault is special. His magical hide is highly resistant to spells, even more so than a typical Bicorn. Only certain spells are effective against him. They're in for quite a surprise."
As if on cue, a thunderous bellow shook the corridor, followed by screams and the sound of bodies hitting walls. The students peered around the corner to witness a scene of glorious chaos.
Thibault charged through the attackers' ranks like an avalanche of muscle and fury. His first impact sent three wizards flying, their wands clattering uselessly across the stone floor. The Bicorn's magical hide deflected spells with ease, curses bouncing off him like water. His twin horns caught another attacker in the chest, lifting the man clean off his feet before tossing him into his companions.
"Merlin's beard," Oliver breathed, watching in awe as the massive creature wreaked havoc.
Sheena seized the moment, her spear a deadly blur as she darted between the distracted attackers. She moved with fluid grace, each strike precise and devastating. One man dropped as she swept his legs from under him, following through with the butt of her spear to his temple. Another fell to a lightning-fast thrust that found the gap between his ribs.
The remaining professors rallied behind her, flinging spells at the attackers. Even though they weren't experts in combat, their spells hit the mark.
"Now!" Daphne commanded.
Fred and George moved in perfect sync, their twin casting creating a devastating crossfire. Cutting hexes and stunners flew from their wands in an alternating pattern that kept their opponents off-balance.
Angelina, Katie, and Alicia demonstrated why they were Gryffindor's premier Chasers. They worked seamlessly together, one drawing fire while the others struck from the flanks. Their speed and coordination, honed by countless hours of practice, translated surprisingly well to combat.
Percy proved his worth as well, his shield charms protecting the younger students while maintaining a steady barrage of well-aimed hexes. His precision spellwork dropped two attackers in quick succession.
The second-years added their support, finishing off the distracted opponents. They didn’t dare to engage them directly as they were no match for the adults.
Thibault continued his rampage, forcing the attackers to divide their attention. Every spell they wasted trying to penetrate his magical hide was one less aimed at the students. The corridor rang with the sounds of combat—spell-fire shouted incantations, and the occasional pained grunt as someone found themselves on the receiving end of the Bicorn's horns.
The battle ended almost as quickly as it began. The combination of Thibault's raw power, Sheena's martial prowess, the professors' experience, and the students' unexpected help proved too much for the intruders. Soon, the corridor was littered with unconscious bodies, some groaning, others ominously still.
Madam Pomfrey immediately began tending to the downed professors, her face grim but determined.
"I need to join the battle outside," Sheena announced, already moving toward the stairs. She disappeared before anyone could respond.
Thibault trotted back to Gabrielle, looking immensely pleased with himself. She scratched him behind his horns. "Good boy. Stay here and guard this position."
Hermione looked at the map to ensure no intruders remained in the castle. “All clear.”
The students pressed on toward the first floor, ignoring the professors' protests. The intruders in the castle might have been dealt with, but the fight continued outside.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Susan curled in one of Hufflepuff's overstuffed armchairs, a dog-eared copy of "Advanced Transfiguration" open on her lap. Sleep had eluded her tonight, her mind too active with thoughts of recent events.
The barrel-lid entrance swung open, admitting Professor Sprout. Susan's attention snapped to her Head of House immediately—something was wrong. Sprout's usually cheerful face was drawn tight with worry.
"Professor?" Susan straightened in her chair. "What's happening?"
Sprout didn't answer. Instead, she raised her wand to her throat and cast "Sonorus."
Her magically amplified voice echoed through the round tunnels leading to the dormitories: "All students, please come to the common room immediately."
Susan's stomach clenched. Professor Sprout was known for her easy-going nature. To see her this agitated meant something serious was occurring.
Experience had taught Susan that whenever trouble struck Hogwarts, Harry Potter was usually at its centre. Her boyfriend had an uncanny knack for finding himself in the thick of things.
As drowsy students began filtering into the common room, their confused murmurs filling the space, Susan saw her opportunity. Professor Sprout, in her haste, had left the entrance slightly ajar. When the professor was distracted by a question from a prefect, Susan slid out of her chair and transformed into a pine marten form before darting through the doorway.
She made her way to the main corridor before pausing, whiskers quivering as she scented the air. Realising no one was around, she transformed back.
Susan headed for the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall. Her eyes widened when she saw a house-elf pelting down them, his huge tennis-ball eyes wide with terror. He skidded to a halt before her.
"You needs to be getting back to your common room, miss!" the elf squeaked, pulling anxiously at its bat-like ears.
"What's going on?" Susan asked.
"We elvies lost our ability to apparate!" The elf wrung its hands, hopping from foot to foot in distress. "Looky went to investigate and it's... terrible!"
"Tell me," Susan said, kneeling to the elf's level.
"Looky took a peek outside. There be a battle going on. Intruders coming from the Forbidden Forest! Dark wizards and creatures most foul!"
Susan's mind raced. If intruders were on the grounds, the castle and its inhabitants could be at risk. Was Harry out there, putting his life on the line again? What could she do to help him?
An idea began forming in her mind as she studied the frightened elf. The house elves might not be fighters, but they had their kind of power.
"Let's go to the kitchen. I need to speak to the other elves."
The moment they passed through the pear portrait into the kitchen, they were swarmed by anxious house elves. Dozens of them crowded around, their high-pitched voices creating a cacophony of questions. Susan raised her wand, releasing a loud bang that silenced them instantly.
After explaining the situation, she said, "I'm going to need your help protecting the castle."
"We is house-elves, miss," one squeaked, twisting its pillowcase nervously. "We is not fighters."
The others nodded vigorously.
"I don't need you to fight," Susan assured them, trying to project confidence she didn't entirely feel. "I want you to barricade the entrance to keep the intruders out."
"It be dangerous, miss," another elf whispered, her huge eyes brimming with tears. "Meemy is scared."
Susan pinched her nose, thinking frantically about how she could convince them. Then inspiration struck. "You all know Harry, right?"
"Of course. Master Potter being the Warden," one replied, standing a little straighter.
"I'm sure Harry is out there now, fighting for Hogwarts. Are you prepared to do your duty to the school?"
The elves huddled together, whispering frantically among themselves. Their large ears twitched as they debated, occasionally casting glances at Susan. Finally, they broke apart and voiced their agreement.
“Then let’s hurry,” Susan said.
They rushed to the Entrance Hall. As they reached the top of the dungeon stairs, they saw the students descending the Grand Staircase, their wands illuminated.
"Susan?" Hermione called out, surprise evident in her voice. "What are you doing with the house elves?"
"I'm going to have the house elves barricade the entrance," Susan explained quickly.
Daphne frowned, her green eyes narrowing in thought. "But that will prevent our side from entering as well. What if they need to escape back into the castle? We could be trapping them out there."
Susan's enthusiasm faltered. She hadn't considered that angle.
"Then we create a barrier outside," Oliver suggested. "We can protect the house-elves while they work. Create a defensive position that still allows retreat if needed."
"Great idea," Gabrielle said. "Let's go."
They pushed open the heavy oak doors and emerged onto the front steps. The scene before them made them freeze in horror. The grounds had become a battlefield, lit by spell-fire and burning debris. The animated statues lay scattered in pieces across the lawn, while the remaining defenders were being pushed back by waves of attackers.
Several professors were engaged in duels with others, with Dumbledore and Charlus Potter capturing the most attention. Their spells lighting up the night sky in a deadly light show.
"Oh no!" Gabrielle gasped, pointing toward a massive dark shape. "A Nightmare! What is it doing here?!"
"Focus," Susan snapped, though her voice shook slightly. "If we wade into that mess, we're going to die. We need to concentrate on what we can accomplish."
The house elves spread out in a line, their small hands raised. Working in perfect coordination, they began transfiguring the soil into stone, slowly building a wall in a crescent-shaped arc before the entrance.
The students held up their wands, prepared to protect the house elves from any intruders who might get past the defensive line.
The first beast hit their defences like a battering ram—a massive troll with greyish-green skin and bulging muscles. It slammed its club against the half-finished wall, sending cracks spider-webbing through the stone. The impact made the ground shudder beneath their feet.
"Incoming!" Oliver shouted as more shapes emerged from the darkness.
Two trolls lumbered forward, followed by several dark-robed figures who moved with practised precision, their wands already firing curses.
The students' response was immediate. Daphne and Hermione coordinated their spells, creating a devastating crossfire that caught the nearest troll in the eyes. It stumbled backwards, roaring in pain and rage.
The Weasley twins proved why they were Hogwarts' most notorious pranksters, transforming the ground beneath the second troll into quicksand. As it thrashed and sank, they hardened the ground around it.
"Left flank!" Percy called out, his Shield Charm absorbing a nasty-looking curse. "They're trying to circle around!"
Angelina and Katie moved like they were on their brooms, ducking and weaving through spell-fire while returning their own. Their Quidditch-honed reflexes kept them one step ahead of their attackers.
Behind them, the house-elves worked frantically. Meemy and three others focused solely on repairs, their magic knitting broken stone back together even as fresh damage occurred. The rest continued building upward and outward, their small faces screwed up in concentration.
"We can't keep this pace forever," Oliver grunted, deflecting another curse. Sweat ran down his face despite the cold night air.
The third troll finally reached its position, its club whistling through the air in a deadly arc. The students scattered, but the beast's wild swing caught the wall, demolishing a section that the elves had just repaired.
The attackers pressed their advantage, and the students' defensive line began to crack. Spells flew thick and fast, the air crackling with magical energy as Shield Charms buckled under the assault.
Katie's scream pierced the night as a sickly yellow curse slipped through her guard, opening a deep gash across her shoulder. Blood immediately soaked her robes as she stumbled backwards, barely maintaining her footing. Angelina caught her friend, dragging her behind what remained of the wall while still casting defensive spells.
"Look out!" Percy shouted, but his warning came too late.
A vicious curse caught George, missing his head by inches but tearing away part of his ear. Fred's face contorted with rage as he saw his twin fall, his retaliatory curse sending the attacker flying backwards with bone-crushing force.
Oliver took the brunt of an explosion, crying out as stone shrapnel peppered his side. He dropped to one knee but kept casting, his jaw clenched against the pain.
Daphne's concentration slipped for just a moment as she saw Oliver go down. That single instant of distraction proved nearly fatal. A curse—deep purple and crackling with malevolent energy—streaked toward her chest. Time seemed to slow as she registered the incoming spell, her body refusing to respond quickly enough.
Her eyes widened in horror, pupils dilating as death approached. Her wand arm moved sluggishly as if trapped in treacle, the Shield Charm dying on her lips. She knew with terrible certainty that she wouldn't be fast enough.
"DAPHNE!"
Neville's voice cut through her paralysis. He launched himself forward with surprising speed, his broader frame slamming into her with enough force to drive the air from her lungs. They hit the ground hard, Neville's body covering hers protectively as the curse passed so close that it singed his robes. The heat of it washed over them both, carrying the acrid smell of dark magic.
The house elves were losing their battle to maintain the barrier. Each repair seemed to last only seconds before fresh damage occurred. Cracks spread like lightning through the stone, sections beginning to crumble under the relentless assault.
"We can't hold!" Hermione shouted, her hair wild and her face streaked with dirt and sweat. Her Shield Charm shattered under a particularly powerful curse, forcing her to dive for cover.
Just as their position seemed about to collapse, the night sky erupted with spell-fire. Streams of light rained down from above like shooting stars, catching their attackers by surprise.
Susan's heart leapt as she recognised the figure leading the aerial assault. Amelia Bones dove through the chaos on her broom like an avenging Valkyrie. Behind her, several red-robed Aurors spread out in perfect formation, their coordinated spell-work cutting through the attackers' ranks.
"Form up!" Amelia commanded, her magically amplified voice carrying over the battle. "Secure that position!"
The Aurors landed in a defensive circle around the students, their shields interlocking to create a solid barrier. Their arrival transformed the desperate last stand into a proper defensive position, with professional discipline replacing youthful determination.
"It's about bloody time," George muttered, pressing a hand to his mangled ear as Fred helped him up. Despite his injury, a grin spread across his face. "Though you certainly know how to make an entrance."
Amelia spared her niece a brief, searching look, assessing her for injuries before turning her attention back to the battle.
The distinctive roar of a powerful engine suddenly cut through the sounds of battle, rising above the crashes and explosions. It was a sound they all recognised—they'd heard it often enough.
"Is that...?" Hermione began, her eyes scanning the darkness.
"The Potter Mobile," Daphne confirmed.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Harry hovered high above the Hogwarts grounds, the enchanted Windwalkers keeping him steady as he surveyed the chaos below. The battlefield stretched out like a deadly chessboard, with multiple developments demanding his immediate attention.
Through the castle's massive doors emerged Dumbledore, his midnight blue robes billowing dramatically as he followed several black-robed Obsidian members towards the main battle.
Near the forest's edge, the massive Nightmare proved why it deserved its fearsome reputation. The beast moved with impossible speed, its midnight coat seeming to absorb what little light remained. A group of Centaurs attempted to keep their distance, loosing arrows that should have found their mark—yet the creature seemed to shift between shadows, avoiding most projectiles. Even Fawkes' intervention proved futile, the phoenix's flames dealing little to no damage.
"How are they controlling something like that?" Harry muttered, watching the Nightmare unleash a devastating kick with its hind legs to send a Centaur flying.
The Nightmare and Dumbledore presented the gravest threats on the battlefield, their mere presence capable of tipping the scales of victory. While the dark creature methodically decimated their forces with supernatural speed and power, Dumbledore wielded magic with precision and potency that few could match. Harry's vision of his grandfather's death lingered like a shadow in his thoughts, adding a desperate edge to his calculations.
Movement from the headmaster's tower caught Harry's eye. Dozens of figures on brooms streamed from the windows.
Harry recognised Flitwick's diminutive form among them. He breathed a sigh of relief, realising they had just improved their chances of winning.
The reinforcements wasted no time, diving into formation and raining spells upon the invaders. Harry marvelled at their coordination—casting complex magic while maintaining aerial manoeuvres was no small feat.
Below, Minerva engaged one of the Obsidian members, her transfigured Scottish claymore cleaving through their shields while she maintained a constant barrage of spells. Professor Snape had flanked the group, his precise curses forcing them to divide their attention.
He spotted Violet Rosier among the defenders, her wand work displaying the skill that had earned her position as the Charms professor, while nearby Sheena carved through another Obsidian member with deadly grace. The knight's enchanted armour deflected spell after spell as she closed the distance, her opponent's growing panic evident in his increasingly wild casting.
The duel between Charlus and Dumbledore erupted with terrifying intensity. Dumbledore struck first, transmuting the earth beneath Charlus' feet into quicksand while simultaneously animating the nearby debris into wooden statues. Charlus responded by freezing the ground solid and unleashing a barrage of blasting curses that reduced the wooden constructs to splinters. The splinters themselves became deadly projectiles as Dumbledore's magic reshaped them into a swarm of razor-sharp arrows.
Charlus conjured a wall of golden flames that took the form of a massive phoenix, its wings spreading wide to intercept the wooden barrage. As the flames consumed the arrows, Charlus pressed his advantage, weaving combat transfiguration with battle magic in a deadly dance.
Boulders became lions that charged Dumbledore while cutting curses and bone-breakers filled the air between them. Dumbledore's response demonstrated why he was once considered Britain's greatest wizard—he transformed the ground into a sea of writhing metallic serpents while simultaneously conjuring crystalline spears that shot upward with lethal intent.
The collision of their magics created visible distortions in the air, raw power manifesting as shockwaves that rippled across the battlefield. Nearby combatants scattered as the duel intensified, neither wizard holding anything back.
Dumbledore transfigured the very air into a poisonous gas, but Charlus countered by conjuring a whirlwind that redirected the toxin towards its creator. The former headmaster was forced to transmute his deadly creation into harmless vapour, buying Charlus precious seconds to press his attack.
Spells flew with machine-gun rapidity—Charlus' expertise with combat magic matching Dumbledore's mastery of transfiguration. The older wizard transformed debris into a flock of razor-winged birds that attacked from multiple angles, while simultaneously reshaping the battlefield to limit Charlus' mobility.
But Charlus’ counter was magnificent—a combination of wide-area flame spells and precision curse work that systematically destroyed Dumbledore's constructs while forcing the man himself onto the defensive.
The duel continued, neither gaining true ascendancy over the other. For the moment, they were at a stalemate.
The vision of his grandfather's death flashed through Harry's mind again, adding urgency to his decision. While his instincts screamed at him to join his grandparents, the Nightmare posed too great a threat to ignore. The creature was systematically eliminating the Centaur archers, and would soon turn its attention elsewhere.
"Right then," Harry muttered, reaching for the necklace that held his shrunken Potter Mobile. He'd taken to carrying it everywhere, knowing its utility was too good to leave it behind.
Descending quickly, Harry touched down and restored the vehicle to its proper size. The familiar roar of the engine provided a moment of comfort as he settled behind the wheel. Without hesitation, he accelerated toward the Black Lake, where the Nightmare continued its reign of terror.
Harry activated the Potter Mobile's shields just as he closed in on the Nightmare. The beast had cornered a fallen Centaur, its hooves poised to deliver a killing blow. Without hesitation, Harry floored the accelerator and rammed into the creature's flank. The impact rattled his teeth despite the vehicle's enchantments, yet the Nightmare barely staggered back a few metres—it's supernatural resilience apparent in how quickly it recovered its footing.
The creature raised its head, fixing Harry with a baleful stare through the windscreen. A metallic collar glinted around its neck, but Harry's attention was drawn to its eyes—swirling pools of absolute darkness that seemed to pull at his consciousness. He wrenched his gaze away, remembering tales of how Nightmares could trap victims in endless waking terrors through eye contact alone.
An otherworldly shriek split the night as the beast charged forward. Before Harry could react, it spun with impossible grace and delivered a devastating kick to the Mobile's front end. The vehicle cartwheeled backwards, its magical shields flickering ominously from the tremendous force of the impact.
Fawkes chose that moment to strike, descending in a blur of crimson and gold. The phoenix's flames engulfed the Nightmare's head, drawing another inhuman scream from the creature as it reared back, momentarily blinded.
Seizing his chance, Harry gunned the engine. The tyres found purchase in the torn earth as he accelerated, ramming the disoriented beast again. This time, he maintained pressure, slowly forcing the Nightmare back towards the Black Lake's edge. The creature's hooves left deep furrows in the ground as it fought against the vehicle's momentum.
Just as they reached the water's edge, the Nightmare recovered its bearings. Despite the burn marks marring its face, its partially closed eyes still radiated malevolent intelligence. It reared up on its hind legs, bringing its full weight down on the Mobile's bonnet. The shield charm shattered like glass, and the bonnet crumpled inward with a sickening crunch.
Harry dove through the door as the Nightmare's hooves crashed down again, barely avoiding being crushed along with the vehicle. He scrambled to his feet, heart thundering in his chest as he faced the beast without any barrier between them.
Movement in the lake caught his eye—a massive tentacle breaching the surface like some ancient leviathan rising from the depths. Understanding bloomed in Harry's mind.
"Protect Hogwarts!" he shouted at the Giant Squid.
The Nightmare's muscles bunched, preparing to charge—but it never got the chance. Multiple tentacles erupted from the water, wrapping around the creature's body with crushing force. The beast struggled fiercely against the Squid's hold, its strength equal to or even greater than the lake guardian.
Harry unleashed his entire arsenal of fireball spell cards in rapid succession, the magical projectiles impacting the Nightmare's hide in a constant barrage. Though individually ineffective against the creature's magical resistance, the sustained assault kept it off-balance.
The water's surface broke again as dozens of Merpeople surfaced, their crude spears arcing through the air with deadly accuracy. Each projectile found gaps in the beast's thrashing form, while Fawkes made another pass, his flames splashing against its flank.
Finally, the combined assault proved too much. The Nightmare's resistance faltered for just a moment—but that was all the Giant Squid needed. With one mighty heave, it dragged the creature beneath the dark waters. Harry watched as the lake's surface bubbled and churned, evidence of the brutal struggle happening in its depths.
When the waters finally stilled, the Nightmare didn't resurface.
Harry's instincts suddenly flared to life, warning him of imminent danger. He dove sideways as a curse sizzled past, the spell's sickly purple light scorching the ground where he'd stood moments before.
A figure emerged from the shadows, wearing a white mask. The number Eight was emblazoned across it in stark black ink.
"Obsidian," Harry said flatly, his hand reaching for his wand.
"Do you remember me?" the man asked harshly.
Harry nodded, "I remember you from the attack on the Potter Estate."
“I go by the name, Eight."
"How original," Harry drawled. "I remember you leaving an arm behind. Did you regrow a new one?"
Eight pulled off his mask with his remaining hand, revealing an unremarkable face that could have belonged to any middle-aged wizard on the street. But his eyes—they were dead, empty pools that seemed to hold no humanity behind them.
"It was very inconvenient to regrow my arm," Eight said, flexing his newly regenerated limb. "I'm going to cut off all your limbs. See how it feels to be so helpless. Perhaps I'll start with your legs, then work my way up."
Movement in the grass behind Eight caught Harry's attention. He carefully maintained his neutral expression.
"You're not going to kill me right away?" Harry asked.
"Unfortunately not. You have information I need." Eight said. "I will take pleasure torturing it out of you.”
Harry folded his arms. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
Eight raised his wand, the tip glowing red. "Are you not going to even put up a token resistance?"
"There's no need," Harry replied, allowing himself a small smile. "You're already dead."
Eight's eyes widened. Nagini struck, her massive form uncoiling like a spring. Her thick body wrapped around him with crushing force. He struggled against her grip, but he couldn't match the serpent's strength. As they crashed to the ground, Nagini's fangs sank deep into his face with savage precision. Eight's scream cut through the night air, the sound quickly becoming wet and gurgling.
Harry turned away from the gruesome sight, his stomach churning. "Thanks for the help, Nagini. But did you have to do that?"
"Yes," Nagini hissed. "He threatened my nestling. Such disrespect cannot go unpunished."
Harry didn't speak any further. He transformed into his Demiguise form and raced across the battlefield, driven by a terrible premonition. His enhanced senses picked up the sounds of combat ahead.
Dumbledore had disarmed his grandfather, sending Charlus crashing to the ground in conjured ropes. No one else was close enough to help; the other defenders were too occupied with their battles. Dumbledore stood over Charlus, his face twisted in triumph as he spoke words Harry couldn't hear over the chaos.
As Dumbledore raised his wand, Harry launched himself at the former headmaster's face. But Dumbledore spun with inhuman speed, casting a curse that Harry barely avoided. He felt the spell singe his fur as he twisted in mid-air, landing gracefully before reverting to his human form.
"Excellent," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. "Both generations of Potters, here to die together."
With a complex wand movement, Dumbledore conjured a shimmering dome around them, isolating their battle from the chaos outside. "We wouldn't want any interruptions, would we?"
Harry unstrapped his staff, extending it to full length as he dropped into a fighting stance.
"What are you doing?" Charlus shouted, struggling against his bonds. "Get out of here, now!"
"I'm not leaving you to die, grandfather."
"How touching, if misguided," Dumbledore said. "Do you really think you can contend with me, boy?"
"I just kicked a Nightmare's arse," Harry retorted. "Compared to it, you're nothing."
Harry dialled his Velocier skill to eight and charged. His staff became a blur as he unleashed a series of strikes, each enhanced by his supernatural speed. Initially, Dumbledore seemed almost amused, deflecting Harry's attacks with casual flicks of his wand. But when Harry began varying his approach—using his Windwalkers to step into the air and attack from awkward angles—the old wizard's expression hardened.
Dumbledore's casting speed increased dramatically, forcing Harry on the defensive. Spells of various colours filled the dome, each more lethal than the last. Harry's staff spun frantically, barely intercepting curses that would have ended the fight instantly. Despite his enhanced speed, he found himself being systematically overwhelmed by the sheer precision and power of Dumbledore's spellwork.
Desperation drove Harry to dial his Velocier skill to ten—its maximum setting. He'd never attempted this level before, and the strain on his body was immediate and intense. His movements became almost impossible to track, yet each motion sent shooting pains through his muscles. He knew he couldn't maintain this pace for long.
Harry threw caution aside, incorporating increasingly reckless manoeuvres into his assault. He combined aerial acrobatics with rapid staff strikes, unleashing every trick he'd learned. For a brief moment, he seemed to push Dumbledore back—but the former headmaster's defence remained impenetrable.
A jet of sickly green light—the Killing Curse—streaked through the air with lethal intent. Harry's enhanced reflexes saved his life as he threw himself into a desperate roll, feeling the curse's dark energy ripple past him. The spell struck the ground where he'd stood, leaving a blackened crater that smoked ominously.
Without missing a beat, Harry channelled every scrap of magical energy he could muster into his staff. The weapon hummed with power, magical energy crackling along its length like lightning. With a shout of effort, he slammed the staff into the ground, releasing a devastating shockwave that tore through the earth like an earthquake. The ground split apart in its wake, creating a deep furrow that raced towards Dumbledore with frightening speed.
The former headmaster's response was almost casual. He stepped aside with the grace of a dancer. His eyes held not just disappointment but something closer to pity—as if watching a child's clumsy attempts at magic.
"Brute force will get you nowhere, my boy," Dumbledore chided, his wand already moving in a complex pattern.
The earth beneath Harry's feet suddenly came alive. Roots thicker than his arm erupted from the ground with explosive force, writhing like serpents as they wrapped around his limbs. He tried to shift into his Demiguise form, but Dumbledore's counter-spell struck him between one heartbeat and the next—a sickly yellow light that seemed to settle into his very bones.
Harry struggled against the roots' crushing grip, but they only tightened further, thorns digging into his flesh through his robes. He could feel his magic responding sluggishly, the transformation that usually came so naturally now frustratingly out of reach. The roots continued to wind around him until he was completely immobilized, suspended several feet above the ground like a fly in a spider's web.
"I don't think I've been this happy in decades," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. "Charlus can watch while I kill his grandson.”
Harry strained against his bonds, but they only tightened further. He caught a glimpse of his grandfather's horrified expression before Dumbledore's next spell hit.
"Crucio!"
Pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced exploded through every nerve in his body. His screams echoed within the dome as Dumbledore maintained the curse, drowning out Charlus's desperate shouts. Through the haze of agony, Harry dimly wondered if this was how it would end—not in a blaze of glory, but trapped and helpless before a madman's revenge.
Dumbledore lifted the Cruciatus Curse, leaving Harry gasping and trembling in his bonds. The former headmaster's eyes seemed to twinkle even more brightly, a disturbing contrast to the cruelty of his actions.
He grabbed the ropes binding Charlus and dragged him across the ground, positioning him directly before his grandson.
"You should have a front-row seat," Dumbledore said. "Watch as I end the Potter line for good, just as I promised all those years ago. There have been many twists and turns, but it was all worth it to reach this moment."
"You're fucking crazy," Charlus growled, straining against his bonds. "Let Harry go."
Dumbledore's response was another Cruciatus Curse. Harry's screams echoed within the dome as fresh waves of agony tore through his body. Through blurry vision, he saw Dumbledore lean forward, studying his suffering with academic interest. Just as darkness began creeping into the edges of his consciousness, the curse lifted again.
Harry blinked, trying to clear his vision. Something flickered behind Dumbledore's head—a horrific visage that seemed pulled from his worst nightmares. A face devoid of skin, all bloody flesh and exposed muscle hovered in the air like some ghastly apparition.
Before Harry could process what he was seeing, a sword burst through Dumbledore's chest. Blood bloomed across the midnight blue robes as Dumbledore coughed, crimson liquid spilling from his mouth.
"What the hell?" Charlus roared.
Dumbledore tried to speak but only managed to produce wet, choking sounds. An arm materialised behind him, plucking the wand from his slackening grip. As Dumbledore crumpled to the ground, a figure seemed to materialise from thin air, pulling off what Harry recognised as his missing Invisibility Cloak.
The being stood naked, its entire body a horror of exposed muscle and sinew.
"I will be taking the Elder Wand back," it announced in a rasping voice.
"Who the hell are you?" Charlus demanded. "How did you get the cloak?"
The creature ignored him, stepping forward to grasp Harry's chin with unnaturally strong fingers. "Why do I feel a familiar presence emanating from you? Who are you, boy?"
"No one special," Harry whispered. "Who are you?"
The skinless being tilted its head in an unsettlingly inhuman manner. "I don't remember. Instincts brought me here. I'm certain I will remember in time."
"Why did you kill him?"
"The Deathly Hallows don't belong to him." The creature glanced around. "I need to go. I have things that I need to check out. This world is alien to me."
Without another word, it strode away into the night, leaving Harry and Charlus staring after it in stunned silence.
The magical roots holding Harry suddenly crumbled into dust, their power dying with their caster. He dropped unceremoniously to the ground, his muscles screaming in protest from the lingering effects of the Cruciatus Curse. The dome surrounding them shimmered and dissolved like morning mist.
Distant shouts reached his ears, but they seemed strangely muffled, as though he were underwater. He could make out his name being called—perhaps his grandmother's voice—but it felt impossibly far away. His vision began to blur, the world tilting sideways as exhaustion crashed over him like a physical force. Every nerve ending still burned from Dumbledore's torture, and his magical reserves felt completely drained.
"Harry!" Charlus yelled. "Stay awake!"
But Harry couldn't fight it any longer. His eyes fluttered closed as consciousness slipped away, the last thing he saw being Dumbledore's crumpled form lying in an expanding pool of blood, the former headmaster's trademark twinkle finally, permanently extinguished.
So, what do you think? In the next chapter, we explore the aftermath of the battle and uncover the reason for Dumbledore's strange fixation on Ginny.
Thanks for reading.
