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Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian : Ch. 274
🕑 Added 2024-11-02 18:16:04 +0000 UTCChapter 274: "The Thunderbird's Wrath"
High above the graveyard, Harry watched as the Death Eaters shifted uneasily, and Voldemort's face twisted with rage. Charles Potter, a young boy, a fourth year Hogwarts student had managed to injure the most feared dark lord of this generation in a direct duel and not even a sneak attack. This was embarrassing.
Harry couldn't help but let out a laugh, but it quickly faded. He knew this was not the time to gloat. Charles's life was in immediate danger. He had to move now. Harry's spell was not fully ready but it would suffice. It wouldn't be enough to defeat Voldemort, but enough to take care of his followers. The thunderbird shimmered, turning invisible as Harry began his descent.
Down below, Voldemort touched the thin trail of blood on his cheek, his white fingers brushing it lightly. His expression changed from surprise to pure fury, and his red eyes blazed. His voice, when it came, was soft and cold, but somehow more terrifying than a shout could ever be.
"You dare," he whispered, the words filled with menace. "You dare to mar Lord Voldemort's form? For this... for this, you die. AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Charles stood his ground, raising his wand to defend himself. "EXPELLIARMUS!" he shouted, his voice shaky from exhaustion and fear.
As Harry reached Charles's spot and perched on the tombstone beside him, he paused, watching closely. He had certain expectations for this moment. He hoped that, just like in the original timeline, when the spells met mid-air, it would trigger Priori Incantatem—a golden cage, a phoenix song. He hoped, just maybe, to see his grandparents' shades again, even if only for a fleeting moment.
But Harry was destined to be disappointed. Charles carried a different wand, not the twin phoenix wand from the books. When the spells collided, there was no golden cage, no ethereal song. Just a powerful clash that shattered Charles's Disarming Charm, leaving Voldemort's deadly curse racing onward, unstoppable.
Time seemed to slow down as Harry watched the sickly green bolt fly toward his brother. Charles’s eyes widened in dawning horror, and in that moment, he knew—there was no way to dodge it. But Harry ready there to save the day as always.
In an instant, he shifted back into his human form, grabbing Charles and yanking him out of the curse's path. The sudden appearance of Harry stunned everyone, even Voldemort. Before anyone could react, Harry threw Charles toward the Triwizard Cup, which lay forgotten a few feet away.
Charles, dazed and barely understanding what was happening, stumbled and grabbed the cup. In a flash, he vanished—whisked away by the Portkey, saved just in time. He didn't even see the face of his rescuer.
For a moment, the graveyard was silent. The Death Eaters were frozen, too shocked to move. Their master's victory had just been snatched away. Voldemort's red eyes narrowed, locking onto Harry. This stranger had appeared out of nowhere and saved his intended victim.
"Who are you?" Voldemort's voice cut through the silence, cold and demanding. His eyes took in Harry's disguise—piercing blue eyes, jet-black hair. Harry had hidden his true appearance, even though he no longer needed to. Old habits die hard, and Harry took some grim pleasure in the confusion etched across his enemies' faces—the fear that comes from not knowing who or what they faced before being sent to their demise.
Voldemort sneered, his lips curling in a mocking smile. "Trying to be mysterious, are we? It doesn't matter. An impressive rescue, I must admit," he said, his voice dripping with false admiration. "But ultimately pointless. You've merely traded your life for his."
Harry only smiled, his grip on his wand tightening as he surveyed the scene. Then, with a subtle wave of his hand, a pulse of power rippled through the air. Dormant wards, which he had carefully placed long ago, suddenly flared to life. For just a moment, the magic was visible—a dome of shimmering, radiant energy that sealed the graveyard entirely. It glowed briefly, reflecting in the shocked eyes of the Death Eaters before fading into an almost invisible barrier.
The Death Eaters stiffened, realizing too late that Harry had trapped them all within anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards. Voldemort’s crimson eyes narrowed, his face darkening as he felt the magic solidify, the wards locking in place. He could sense their strength and purpose, and he recognized what it meant: this stranger had come prepared, and he had planned meticulously for this confrontation. This wasn’t a random attack; this was a deliberate ambush. But how had he known?
Harry had set these wards long ago during one of his many secret trips here in search for Voldemort just for this night. He had planned it all out, down to the smallest detail, and the wards were just one part of that elaborate preparation. Since he intended to make sure these Death Eaters met their end here tonight, he had made absolutely certain that no one would escape, not even by the slimmest margin.
This was going to be a battle without mercy, and there would be no second chances for Voldemort's followers.
Voldemort sneered again, though there was a flicker of uncertainty behind his eyes. "Do you think you can stand against me alone?" Voldemort had never been one to consider anyone his equal. Even now, despite the stranger's careful planning, he believed himself invincible. He was Voldemort, the greatest dark wizard of his age—he could not be bested.
Harry didn't reply. He simply pointed upwards. Confused, Voldemort and his followers looked to the sky. Above them, the storm had grown larger, swirling with power. It wasn't an ordinary storm; it was alive, charged with Harry's magic. Before they could understand what was happening, a brilliant flash of blue lightning split the sky, striking the ground with a deafening roar.
Lightning bolts rained down in quick succession, each one finding its target among the Death Eaters. The thunder drowned out their screams as they fell, one after another, unable to escape the onslaught.
"Impossible," Lucius Malfoy's voice shook as he watched his compatriots fall. "No wizard can control-"
Another lightning bolt silenced him mid-sentence.
Harry, untouched by the lightning, watched the scene with a cold, detached expression. He felt no remorse for the fallen. He found solace in knowing that with each Death Eater he eliminated, countless innocent lives would be spared. These were the people who had terrorized, tortured, and killed—and tonight, they would face the consequences of their actions.
"Your servants are dying, Tom," Harry called out, his voice easily heard over the raging storm. "Can you feel it? Can you feel their Marks fading, their lives feeding my storm?"
Voldemort's eyes blazed with fury, his hatred intensifying with each word. But Harry wasn't finished and did not wait for the Dark Lord to respond. He gave his wand a quick, decisive flick, and from its tip, two Fiendfires erupted—each taking the form of a magnificent thunderbird.
The fiery creatures spread their wings wide, their forms blazing with golden-red light that cast eerie shadows across the graveyard. With a sharp, commanding gesture, Harry sent them soaring towards Voldemort and the surviving Death Eaters.
Voldemort, regaining some composure, reacted quickly. He raised his wand high, and with a hissed incantation, conjured a Fiendfyre of his own—a massive serpent, its body twisting and writhing as it rose to meet the thunderbirds. The fiery creatures collided in mid-air, their flames intertwining in a ferocious battle for dominance. The ground below was scorched by the inferno, tombstones crumbling to ash, and the few Death Eaters who had managed to survive the lightning were caught in the crossfire, their screams swallowed by the roaring flames.
Among them, Peter Pettigrew met his end in a particularly satisfying manner. The rat had transformed into his Animagus form, trying to flee in a cowardly bid for survival. But there was no escape, not this time. Harry watched with cold satisfaction as Pettigrew was engulfed by the flames, his squeals fading into nothingness as his body was reduced to ash. The traitor who had betrayed his family—who had caused so much suffering—was finally gone.
Voldemort was now fully occupied, his face twisted in concentration as he struggled to keep his Fiendfyre serpent in check, battling against Harry's twin thunderbirds. He was forced to stand by, powerless, as his most loyal followers—those in his inner circle, the ones he counted on—were destroyed, one by one, until none remained.
Comments
Ryan
Sweet - cant wait for some of the reactions to this
Ejaaz
The next chapter will take me another day, but I don't want to leave you hanging, so I’ll just say this: the story isn't ending anytime soon.
